Silent Dreams

“Do you mind?” Gerard shoved the strands of hair caught in his lashes away from his eyes, indicating the cigarette wedged between his middle and forefinger. I was stunned, I felt as though I was in the presence of some mystical being. But no, it was just Gerard, with the same calmness and striking eyes from when we were little. He spoke softly, and I clung to his every word. It was that moment when it occurred to me that everything sour about my life had diminished, had suddenly gone blindly sweet.

He'd just moved back, he told me. His mom had sent him to live with their grandmother, Elena, who lived in the first house of our street. I hadn't spoken to her in a long time, but only because my mom would never let me go over when I was younger, and even though eventually I was old enough to go with or without permission, I just didn't feel welcome anymore. Even after Gerard and Mikey moved and went to live with their mother, Elena would invite me over for cookies and said she'd let me have the acrylic paints that she'd bought for the boys to play with – the ones they'd never gotten a chance to – on my walk from the bus stop to the house.

I never knew that they were leaving. I hadn't seen Gerard in a week when I walked to their house and asked for them, only to be told by their grandmother that they were gone. My dad had just died passed away three months earlier and then I lost my best friend.

I don't think my heart could have been any more broken at that age.

“So how's your mom?” he said. “And what about June?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh, watching the cloud of smoke Gerard had just exhaled disappear.

“What?” His eyes edged in on me. I certainly didn't miss the fact that the fingers of his free hand grazed mine as we walked side by side.

“My mom is a bitch,” I muttered, the happiness slightly deflating. I'd once read in a magazine that you should never ever, under any circumstances, tell a boy you like anything but airy and meaningless plush. According to Seventeen, anything too personal and pessimistic would drive them away. It's stupid that it kind of bothered me after I spoke, because it's not like I liked Gerard, and only some shallow jerk would be bothered by honesty... right? Still, I was quick to balance out the bad due to my insecurity: “June is a doll.”

“So she's, like, six now, right?” he asked, weary expression vanishing.

“Yeah. She's turning seven next summer. ” I smiled, but my face really lit up again when I remembered his brother, and chirped, “Hey! What about Mikey, how is he?”

“Oh.” It was Gerard's turn to roll his eyes and pull a face. “He's alright. He managed to get out of going to school on the first day, though. He tried to fake being sick, but he was so nervous that he actually threw up this morning when he was in the middle of asking my grandma if he could stay home.”

“Poor thing,” I gushed. If Gerard was a sweet, timid kid, I didn't know what Mikey was. From what I remembered he was terribly, painfully shy, but just as pleasant as his older brother. You couldn't call out his in a crowded room or ask him to play with you without him becoming deeply flushed and probably completely ignoring the question. “Mikey was such a cute kid when we were little.”

As much as I was enjoying the feeling of Gerard's skin brushing against mine every now and then, the sound of his voice and, well, you know, his company in general, I knew it had to end sometime. I would've kept walking if it hadn't been that Gerard came to a halt when we neared the old brick house. He lingered for a moment. “Let me walk you.”

“No,” I said all too fast. “No, don't.” The word 'don't' came out sounding harsher than I had meant it to.

His face contorted into confusion. It's not that I didn't want him to walk me, it's I didn't want him to see my mother. She was always waiting at the door after school, expecting me. When dad died she started receiving three thousand dollar checks every month of his social security, which meant she had nothing to do in her spare time but go to the church and clean, which, in other words, is bullshit. It was the most pathetic thing ever.

“Okay...” he said awkwardly, peering at his house from the side of his eyes. “I guess I'll just – bye.”

At that moment I felt everything we had re-established crumble beneath my feet. There was nothing I could do or say to repair the damage that I had just done, nothing but listen to the words echo in my head, slowly escalating until I wanted to tear my own hair out.

“Bye.”

That was it. I took a deep breath and got ready to march straight up to him, but right when I was supposed to I chickened out, which was nothing fucking new.

Things had been like this for nearly a month, the is the exact amount of time that had passed since I'd spoken to Gerard, and it was gradually driving me insane. We'd pass each other in the halls, I'd see him at lunch, we had two classes together, but it all meant nothing to the universe, apparently, because even in moments when it should have brought us together, it failed to. Pretending not to acknowledge his existence was a lot of work and I'd only do so because I seemed to be invisible to him.

So there came a day when I thought I'd finally talk to him. We were in a lunch line next to each other, he was so close I could smell him, and I slowly was raising my hand to tap on his shoulder, when out nowhere I was slammed against the wall, and the rest is history.

“Sorry!” a tall brunette with clear blue eyes said. There was absolutely no sincerity in her words.

Her name was Mary and she was a bitch but not the selective kind. She was mean to strangers, her teachers, her friends, and probably to her own parents. I didn't take it personally, and although I was annoyed that she and her friends cut in front of me, I took this as a sign to not talk to Gerard, who hadn't even turned to see what'd happened when the small commotion came to be behind him. Surely he wanted nothing to do with me.

At the lunch table where I sat with Emily and our other friend, Ella, I couldn't help but constantly sneak glances in his direction. He was sitting with Mikey and this other kid, Frank, a boy I had for second period that never turned in his homework assignments and was constantly being sent to detention. Mikey seemed to be hard at work on some problems with his head bowed down to a sheet and textbook, and I could see that Gerard was pointing down on his paper and talking, explaining something. Frank seemed to be very much enjoying the pack of skittles that he was indulging himself in.

“Bryony, aren't you, like, gonna eat?” Ella questioned, parting her poofy bangs to one side of her forehead.

I considered this for a moment before shaking my head and tearing my eyes away from his side of the room. They had no idea about Gerard, and I had no problem not explaining to them who he was and how I knew him and why this whole thing was eating away at me. It really wasn't their business and it's not like they could give me some input magically capable of somehow restoring the current condition of my nonexistent relationship with a guy, this practical stranger, that I was obsessing to third degree over.

It was a relief that the day went by quickly. The car ride home – I was now accepting rides from my mom just to avoid having to walk near Mikey and Gerard without any social interactions – was hostile as fuck. None of the other car rides had been this way, but this one was a special one, because it just so happened to be a Thursday night, and that meant six o’clock church.

June was going, no question about it, but it wasn't so easy for her to get me to go. I wasn't oblivious enough to tag along and it's not like there was any form of punishment because I didn't go. I mean, can you really count an awkward, unfriendly atmosphere for usually no more than two days (you can redeem yourself by going to Sunday school) much of a severe handling?

After June and mom left for work, I wandered into the kitchen and towered over the sink as I filled a glass with water. I took a few sips before pouring it down the drain and abandoning the kitchen. I walked into the living room and knelt down before the TV set. It was a really old one from like the '70s that my mom had traded in for our more modern one after my dad passed away. We were only allowed to watch thirty minutes of it, as my mother was against us absorbing too much garbage, but I never listened to her.

The only thing playing on the channel that was actually viewable and not full of static or noise was paid programming, so I settled for a channel advertising curlers you can sleep with. They showed several girls with big teased hair and exaggerated bangs that looked beyond stupid, all of them had unhealthily orange skin and teeth so bright they bordered blue. I tried my best to not think about Gerard because, quite honestly, he consuming my life.

I watched one of the blonde bimbos go on about how much she loved her super cool hair, vowing to myself that I'd try to approach Gerard at school on Monday.