A Club Called Heaven

She dwelled in my mind for a while, but as time passed she got pushed farther and farther into the back alley of my thoughts.

That is, till, she popped up again. Because this is a cheesy fan fiction written by a teenage fan girl for more teenage fan girls, she has to show up again.

For the sake of the teenaged fan girls.

So, in essence, that’s what happened. She friggin’ popped up again, ‘cuz that’s how she does things. But I didn’t know that yet. It was about a week after Gerard graduated from his art school and he had told me that he’d been asked by a friend to help her move.

So we jumped in his car and drove over. The Smashing Pumpkins blared through the speakers and we pulled up in front of a big fat house I could’ve sworn I’d seen before. We were in the more upstate part of New Jersey, at least a thirty minute ride from our place back in Belleville. He cut the engine and we stepped out.

Gerard rung the doorbell and put out his cigarette. The door opened to reveal that girl from that party years ago. She smiled, “Hey Gee.” He nodded.

She opned the door a little wider and gestured for us to follow. “And hello, Mikes. Bet you don’t remember me, do you?” She turned and smiled. She was short, with long, light brown pulled back with a pink ribbon and lip-glossed lips. But the most catching thing was her darling pair of eyeballs. One was on the verge of crystal clear and the other was a hazy shade of aqua. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a bright pink T- shirt with Michael Jackson on it.

It was Tabbie.

“Tabbie.” I nodded and she giggled. “Damn, I wouldn’t remember myself if I were you,” she shrugged. “But what the fuck!” She sighed happily and turned to walk again.

“Thanks for volunteering, by the way. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.” She stuck her arms out and twirled her polished fingers out as we followed. I turned to Gerard, confused. He looked back with a shrug and a smile.

We turned down yet another hallway and appeared at a kitchen. The hallways were adorned with picture frames. Pictures tell a billion and a dozen words. There were photographs of a couple I assumed to be her parents, it was faded. Then, there were even more frames of two little girls. I didn’t have time to look too closely, but I thought one was Tabbie, the other didn’t look anything like her. Maybe it was a cousin.

At the kitchen table there was a girl. With a mass of long hair that was slightly darker than Tabbie’s. She was surrounded by teacups. A lot of teacups.

Tabbie stood at the entrance, “Julia, Gee and Mikey are here to help us move.” She had an annoyed tone that was accentuated by the hands she held at her hips.

The mass of hair spoke, “I don’t give a fuck, Tabitha.”, she said matter-of-factly.

I couldn’t help but smile, “Guys this is my sister, Julie. I swear to god she hasn’t bitten anyone yet.” Tabbie rolled her eyes and proceeded to pick up all the teacups and put them in the sink. The mass of hair rose but kept her back to Gerard and I, “What the fuckitty fuck fuck? I was using them Tabitha.”

She turned around, squinting and reached for her glasses, “You know very well I need to drink 27 cups of tea a day, Tabitha.”

Ohmymotherfuckinggod.

Why are you so surprised? It’s fan-fucking-fiction.

So, it was Suitcase Girl – who is now Julie.

“She’s your sister?” my voice audibly cracked and everyone turned to me.

Tabbie rose her eyebrows and smiled, “Yeah, why?” She wrapped her arm around her “Don’t we look alike?”

Gerard said with a chuckle, “Not at all.”

Suitcase Girl Julie frowned, “We’re twins, fucktard.”

My eyes went wide and I assumed Gerard’s did as well. “Extremely fraternal, chill.” Tabbie giggled and pulled us into the kitchen. She pushed us down at the table in front of Julie. Her hair was a mess, her freckles glowed, she had mascara running down her cheeks, her glasses were lopsided along with her beanie and she was fucking gorgeous.

Who the fuck looks even remotely nice frowning?

I smiled at her and she got up with a huff. She pulled another teacup out of her hoodie’s pocket and thrust it into her sister’s hands, “Call me when we’re moving.”

She turned to Gerard and I, rolled her eyes, and stomped off in plaid tights and fluorescent Doc Martens.