Red Scars Shimmer on Your China Skin

It’s Sunday and sun sparkles from the window. A strange yet peaceful grin appears on my lips. It’s a sunny Sunday, I can have a good breakfast and maybe park plus a book. I stay a little longer in bed, I roll over on my back and I inhale. Hm-mm I need a shower. I get up and go to the bathroom. I smile even more when I realize that I’m singing an old song. The one I and Gee had written together. But today this thing makes me smile. As I soap my hair and I keep whistling, I remember that it is April. But this morning there is a strange empty, almost an anesthetized calm, which protects me.
I find myself choosing the sweatshirt and coordinating colors. I find myself combing my hair. I put the jacket when the phone begins to ring. I want to let it ring. You would. The void in my hand limps my smile. While the phone rings I feel like a tingling, a distant rumble in my ears. This sunny Sunday fails to thaw me inside. I lift the receiver; the pain starts to move, as the slimy blood.
- Frank Iero?-
- It’s Way-
-Frank…-
-Mickey?- Mickey?
- How are you? It’s been a lifetime since your last call-
- Good- I answer dry. I suddenly discovered how much they resemble, him and Gerard. And I cannot stand it
- All good here. Alicia and I are in Europe for work. So I have to tell you something-
I don’t answer, I let my silence be eloquent. What the hell Mickey wants after almost a year without speaking?
- Called a friend of my brother yesterday, some Dawson. He said he had seen him.-
- He’s dead- it is an automatic response. The bell rings, the two soldiers, his hat and his ring. I remember everything. –He’s dead- I repeat
- His sister works in a kind of retirement home in Tucson - he continues unperturbed, as if he has not heard me - He went to visit her a couple of days ago and it happened that he had to go to this retirement home. He says he saw Gerard.-
I still do not respond. My ears are grabbing the noise, but my brain refuses to process the sounds.
- He says that we should go to Tucson. I am in Europe and mom ... well she won’t ... -
I am on the ground. I hung up. He died. He died.
My heart beats furiously. I feel it, I feel the hope that is being born, this shiver, almost like something stuck between the ribs, that leaves me stunned, that leaves me breathless.
Tucson and Dawson are the two words that rumble in my head as I slam the door behind.