I've Lost My Fear of Falling

I heard some noise from downstairs and a familiar male voice. “Daddy” was home. Sure enough, a tentative knock sounded on my door.

“Come in.” I sighed. What choice did I have?

My father walked in, almost hanging his head. He sat on the end of my bed bashfully, relaxing a bit when I didn’t shoo him away.

“Hey.” he saod quietly, breaking the silence. I could see his ever-charming smile starting to creep onto his face.

“Hello, Gerard.” I returned icily.

“Oh, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” he sighed.

“Obviously.” I snapped.

“Come on.” he pleaded.

“What? Do you think you can just come how after God knows how long and be like ‘Hey Bandit, how’s school? Got a boyfriend yet?’” I ranted.

“You better not have one.” he warned.

“So what if I do? It’s not like you can stop me very easily, with your busy schedule and all.” I spat back sarcastically.

“Shut up!” was all he could come up with.

“Oh, nice comeback. You really should write that one down.” I jibed.

I saw his face soften, suddenly. His eyes closed for a moment and he sighed. He opened them again.

“Bandit, I’m sorry.” he stated, enunciating each syllable.

“I guess I am too. But it’s hard for me when you’re always away.” I admitted.

“I know. I’m going to make a real effort to come home more often, and call more.” he promised.

“Thanks.” I smiled small. He opened his arms feebly, a weak offering of a hug. I hugged him back and he rested his chin on the top of my head, kissing it gently.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” he probed. I giggled and blushed. “I’ll take that as a yes!” he laughed, poking my stomach lightly. “What’s his name?” he asked, still smiling.

“Hudson.” I giggled.

“Where does this punk live and where’s my shotgun?” he asked seriously, but I knew he was joking. I laughed with him.

We sat down for dinner.

“So how was tour, Daddy?” I asked.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for how far my father had come. Lindsey looked at him too, just as interested in his anecdotes of tour as I was.

“It was great, thanks for asking. Less ass-grabbbing this time, thankfully.” he joked.

“Don’t be so crude.” Lindsey scolded, but I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

“Why? Bandit doesn’t care. Do you?” he asked, food in his mouth.

“Nah.” I laughed.

“You see? She’s probably inherited my Jersey mouth.” he laughed.

“She sure has. Don’t encourage her.” Mom laughed. “But at any rate, I was talking about Madeline Marie.” she scolded.

“Oh yeah. Stay in school and don’t repeat anything I say!” Gerard amended quickly.

“Nice save.” Lindsey laughed.

After dinner, I went upstairs to finish my homework.

—Gerard’s Perspective—

I sighed as I helped Lindsey clean up the table.

“It’s good to have you home.” she remarked, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Yeah.” I replied, aloof.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m just tired.” I sighed again.

“Well no wnder. You’re never home. You never give yourself time to rest.” she told me.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wish I could stay home more often?” I snapped.

“Then why don’t you?” she snapped.

“Because I can’t! What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stay home and not live my dream?” I yelled.

“Well you could at least try to give a shit about your family!” she yelled back.

“I do give a shit! I don’t know what else to say to you!” I yelled.

“You need a reality check, Gerard.” she shouted icily, putting emphasis on my name.

“I’m not the only one.” I told her, my voice lowering to a normal volume.

I stomped off and left the house with a slam of the door. I searched my pockets, finding a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. I lit one and took a drag to calm my nerves.

“That’s really bad for you, you know.” I heard from behind me. I saw Bandit, idling between where I was standing and the front door.

“Like that ever stopped me.” I chuckled. She smiled weakly.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You heard?” I asked back.

“How could I not? Maddie’s really upset. You know she hates it when you and mom fight.”

“Yeah, I pretty much blew it, didn’t I?” I chuckled without humor, stomping out my cigarette.

“Pretty much. How are you going to make it up to Lindsey?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Bandit. Come here.” I told her. She walked to me. I put my arm around her and she rested her head in my chest. “Whatcha thinkin’ bout, little girl?” I asked softly after a few minutes of silence.

“I just miss you so much.” she choked. I looked down and saw tears in her eyes.

“Don’t cry, please.” I pleaded softly, squeezing her tighter in my arms. “I’ll do something to fix this, I promise.” I told her.