Sequel: Gerard Way: Artist ›
Frank Iero: P.A.
Thirty Four
The periodic beeping sounds of hospital machines fill the room. Mikey’s pale, lifeless body is tucked tightly beneath the mint green blankets. I’m standing in the doorframe, watching on as Gerard sits with his little brother in what could be his final hours. He’s holding Mikey’s thin hand between both of his, leaning his forehead against them. It’s a tender, beautiful moment between two brothers.
I’ve been standing here far longer than is appropriate. Since Mikey was brought in two days ago neither Alicia nor Gerard have left the hospital, until two hours ago that is. Ellie, who has been an absolute angel in going between homes and hospital to take care of everyone, managed to convince Alicia to go home for a few hours to get some sleep. Alicia put up a good fight, but in the end when Ellie said “the baby can’t handle what you’re putting yourself through right now, dear”, she agreed to leave. However, the condition was that someone had to stay with Mikey at all times; of course Gerard stepped in – he was already doing it anyway. On her way out to take Alicia home, Ellie asked me to make sure I kept checking on Gerard. That is why I’m standing where I am, but really, all I had to do was just pass by the room every so often.
The doctor who’s been caring for Mikey taps my shoulder. He offers me a pleasant smile before casting his eyes over his clipboard. I take a few steps out into the corridor and gesture for the doctor to follow.
“How much longer do you think he’s got?” I ask when I’m certain we’re far enough away that Gerard won’t hear the question nor the answer.
He rubs his finger and thumb over his stubble as he examines his clipboard again. “Well...”
“Honestly,” I say.
He nods understandingly. “Honestly... twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” My heart jolts at his words, but I nod. “The cancer has spread through his body very quickly, his organs are shutting down, he’s in a lot of pain and we’ve had to give him an obscene amount of pain relief to manage it, which is why he can barely keep his eyes open,” he elaborates.
“And there’s definitely nothing more that can be done for him?” I query, although I already know what his answer will be.
“I’m afraid not,” he replies. “All we can do for Mr. Way now is keep him as free of pain as possible; everything else is a waiting game.”
I feel tears prick at my eyes as I comprehend everything he’s said. I take a quick glance through the window at Gerard; he’s still clutching Mikey’s hand but now his lips are moving. Mikey has so little time left and I don’t think Gerard realises just how soon he’ll be gone.
“All that aside, though, Mr. Iero, I stopped by to check how he’s going. Do you think you would be able to take his brother from the room while I examine him?” he asks.
“Sure,” I reply.
We enter the room together, the doctor clearing his throat to make his presence known to Gerard. Reaching Gerard, I place my hand on his shoulder lightly.
“Come on,” I say gently, “let’s go get something to eat from the cafeteria.”
He shakes his head. “I have to stay with him.”
My eyes shut painfully as I hear his croaky voice; this will be harder than I thought. I move my hand to his elbow and attempt to tug him up.
“You can’t do anything for him right now, Gerard,” I say as kindly as I can. “We’ll come back when the doctor’s finished, I promise.”
If it’s at all possible, he grips Mikey’s hand tighter and lowers his head back down to lean on their hands. Before me is the picture of a broken man.
“Please, Gerard,” I beg.
Finally, he releases Mikey’s limp hand and pushes out of the plastic chair he’s been planted in for the past six hours. I curl my arm around his shoulders and guide him out of the small private room. He moves with me easily, but only because he’s too numb to everything to fight me. I navigate the sterile corridors until we reach the cafeteria.
“Go take a seat,” I instruct, directing him to one of the round tables, “I’ll grab us a couple of coffees.”
He does as I say, looking broken and miserable. As I stand at the counter and order our coffees (and muffins) my eyes wander back to Gerard’s face and my mind thinks of the situation he’s in. In as little as two days from now he could be brotherless. He and Mikey have always been so close – nothing else in the world could destroy him the way this will.
What worries me the most is how he’s going to respond to all of this. One of two things could happen: he’ll either break down completely and be afraid to be alone, or worse, he’ll revert into himself, push everyone away, and fall back into old habits. I want to be there for him when it happens, but I’m concerned that he won’t let me be.
“Here you go, darlin’,” the large cafeteria lady says as she slides two Styrofoam cups toward me. She taps her fingers on the buttons of the cash register. “That’ll be $16.24.”
I grab my wallet out of my back pocket and extract the twenty sitting in there. She takes the money, opens the register, and hands me my change.
“Thanks,” I say.
I tuck the paper bag with our muffins in it under my arm and take hold of the coffees. As I start to walk away the cafeteria lady calls me back.
“You look like you could use someone to talk to,” she says in her thick southern accent. “What are you in for?”
I sigh heavily; she’s right, I do need to talk. Looking about I see that the cafeteria is essentially empty except for a few people who are already seated with their food, so I place Gerard’s cup down on the counter and take a sip of my own. It sears my throat but I welcome the pain.
“See that man over there?” I ask her, point to where Gerard’s seated; he’s staring blankly at the wall in front of him. She nods. “His younger brother is dying.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath, but she manages to keep her tone even when she says, “That’s just awful. I imagine he must be very young if he’s younger than that man.”
“He’s twenty,” I tell her regretfully. “When he goes, it’ll tear him apart.”
She tucks a strand of her curly red hair behind her ear and leans forward onto the counter. With sincere brown eyes, she says, “I’ve seen many a gay couple come through here, and the only advice I can give you is to stick to your boyfriend like glue; he’ll need you to put him back together when his brother’s death tears him apart.”
Gay couple?
Boyfriend?
No!
“No, no, he’s not my–”
She holds up her hands to stop me. “Now, now, there’s no judgement here.”
“No, you don’t underst–”
“Now, go over and help him through this difficult time.”
Apparently I have no choice in the matter. Seeing as she won’t listen to reason, I pick up Gerard’s coffee, give her an awkward smile, and head over to the table Gerard chose. He is so far away in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice me sit down across for him, nor does he realise that I’ve placed a cup of coffee in front of his hands.
We sit in silence. Despite the presence of other families, patients, and medical staff in the cafeteria, it feels as if it’s just us. While Gerard stares off into space, I stare at him. This is the first time I’ve been able to watch him without the fear of being caught out; I know right now he can’t see past the blur of his own thoughts. His hair is mussed, greasy – a result of not showering for two days – and is visibly knotty from the numerous times he’s dragged his fingers through it in frustration. Red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes stand out against his pale skin. His cheeks are blotchy from the tears he’s been secretly shedding. His lips are redder than usual, dry and cracked; he’s been gnawing on them a lot.
My eyes travel down from his face, over his slumped shoulders, to where his hands lay loosely clasped together on the laminate table. His nails are uneven, chewed down to their stubs. I look beyond his hands to his wrists. The scars from his self harm remain. It’s a stark reminder of the dark, dangerous place he could return to when Mikey passes away. What makes it worse is that, this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to pull him out of it.
I look up to the clock in the cafeteria; we’ve been gone about fifteen minutes. The doctor would be done by now, and I’m sure if Gerard had realised that himself he’d been on his way back to Mikey. I’m not going to make him aware of it, however; he needs to take a few minutes out from that hospital room, whether he thinks he needs it or not. He also needs to take a few minutes out of his mind.
“Considering this is hospital coffee, it’s actually pretty decent,” I remark casually. “You should try it.”
To my surprise, he actually lifts his coffee to his cherry lips. It’s only a tiny sip, but it’s an improvement.
“Good?” I question.
“Mmm,” he mutters in a non-committal way.
I sigh. This is so difficult.
“How about you try your muf–”
“He’s going to die today, isn’t he?” Gerard asks firmly, turning on me and staring me down with his damaged hazel eyes.
I’m unsure how to respond. Do I tell him the truth and divulge to him the prognosis the doctor gave me? Or should I lie and give him some kind of false hope? What does he want from me?
“Tell me the truth, Frank,” he demands.
Sometimes his uncanny ability to read minds, in particular, mine, can come in handy, but it still freaks me out.
“Maybe,” I reply, flicking my eyes up to his briefly then back down to my coffee cup. The doctor’s words circulate in my mind. Should I repeat them to Gerard?
“Maybe?” he asks. “Does that mean you think he has more time? Weeks, months, maybe?” He sounds hopeful. Damn, what have I done? “Maybe he just needs time to sleep, and then he’ll be back to how he was.” He pauses. I risk a glance up at him; he looks reflective. “I should organise a vacation for him and Alicia for when he’s well again – they could use a break before the baby’s born. Actually, I might –”
“Gerard!” I say sternly, breaking him away from his planning. I drag my hands down my face until they’re pressed together resting on my lips like I’m saying a prayer – I guess I kind of am. “Gerard,” I say softly. My tone is enough to cause his lips to quiver; he knows what’s coming. I take in a steadying breath. “Gerard, Mikey doesn’t have weeks or months... he barely has days. I spoke to the doctor earlier; he said that Mikey only has twenty-four to forty-eight hours left.”
The second the words are out Gerard crumbles. Tears begin to flow from his eyes and his hands fly up to cup his face. Strangled sobs erupt from his throat. I reach out to take hold of his wrists; he pulls away the instant I make contact.
“Gerard,” I sooth.
He removes his hands and looks at me fiercely, his eyes redder than before, the tears still flowing rapidly. He scrapes his chair back along the linoleum floor as he makes to stand and slams his palms on the table. I watch on as he takes the coffee cup in his hands and throws it at the wall behind my head angrily. He swivels on his feet and storms out, assumingly to go back to Mikey’s room.
What have I done?
I take a final gulp of my coffee, leave it on the table, and chase after him.
When I get back to Mikey’s private room I find Gerard exactly where I expected him to be – sitting in the plastic chair by the bed. I stay by the door, just like I had done earlier. These are Gerard’s final moments with his brother and I need to stand back and let him have them, no matter how much they may destroy him.
“His hands are so cold, Frank...” Gerard croaks. Cold hands are sign of the body shutting down, I recall. “I haven’t heard his voice in so long...”
I think about that psychological process that they’re always talking about in movies where someone in a coma can still hear you. Apparently the last sense to die in the body is hearing. With this in mind, I take a few steps toward Gerard and place my hand on his shoulder.
“You may not be able to hear him, but he can still hear you... make him feel through listening, Gerard,” I say quietly. “Keep him involved in this world.”
“Music?” he asks, turning to face me with that sad, broken look across his features.
I nod. “If that’s what you think he’d like.”
He squeezes Mikey’s hand and then let’s it go. Reaching into his front pocket he extracts his iPhone. He slides his finger across the screen and types in his four digit code quickly to unlock it. A few slides and taps on the screen later and he has his music library open. I watch as he scrolls down the songs menu to the P’s. His finger hovers over ‘Poetic Tragedy’ by The Used.
“The Used were the first band you discovered,” he says aloud to Mikey, “and you loved this song the instant you heard it...” He sniffs and wipes at his left eye with his finger. “I’m sure you’d want to hear it now, Mikey.”
Gerard selects the song and pushes the volume up high so the sound fills the room, effectively making the noise of the machines fade away. He places the phone on the table beside the bed and resumes holding Mikey’s hand as the music play. I feel like this is their moment, so I take a step back and make to leave.
“Stay, Frank,” Gerard says just loud enough for me to hear over the song. “Please...”
His right hand is outstretched. I walk over to him and cautiously place my hand on his open palm. His fingers curl around mine. He tugs at my hand and pulls me down until I get the hint to perch myself on the arm of the plastic chair.
Together we, the three of us, share in this beautiful moment of music appreciation. If Mikey can truly hear what’s happening, I’m sure on the inside he is smiling.
There’s this really emotional vocal section of the song about two minutes in, and I prepare myself for it because I know it has the potential to make me cry. I wonder if it will solicit the same reaction from Gerard.
Here it comes...
“He feels alone... His heart in his hand - He's alone... He feels alone... I feel...” Gerard sings aloud powerfully, the words being ripped from his lungs.
Oh my God... Gerard can actually sing... his voice... it’s so beautiful. Perfectly beautiful. Or should that be beautifully perfect?
“Gerard...” I say, still trying to get my head around what I just heard. The song carries on in the background. “You never mentioned that you could sing like that.”
He shrugs, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his brother’s hand. “It’s one of those things that I’m not sure if I’m good at or not, so I keep it hidden... but Mikey always said he loved my voice.”
I squeeze his hand. “Gerard, I love your voice.”
He says nothing to that, and for the rest of the song we remain silent. When it finishes Gerard selects another song and the process begins again. I don’t know how long we sit like that, going through songs that Mikey loves, but eventually there’s a knock on the door and Ellie enters with Alicia in tow. Gerard didn’t sing anymore after ‘Poetic Tragedy’.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Alicia says when I look at her quizzically. She rounds the bed and takes hold of Mikey’s free hand, dropping down to place a kiss on his forehead. “I’m back, baby.”
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” I say, getting to my feet from my position on the arm of the chair.
Gerard looks at me, almost as if he wants me to stay, but as he says nothing, I continue on my path out of the room. Ellie joins me in the corridor; we stand by the window to the room so we can still see what’s going on in there through the partially open blinds.
“He’s not coping at all,” Ellie says, opting for English over French. She’s staring at Gerard’s back through the window.
“I know,” I reply as I remember what happened in the cafeteria. The doctor’s words also come back to me. I tell Ellie.
Her hand clutches at her heart as an audible gasp falls from her lips. “No... no, surely he has more time than that?”
I shake my head. “I think Gerard knows it’ll be today.” Ellie cringes at my words. I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should call your husband and kids – so they can come down and say their goodbyes.”
A tear streaks down her porcelain skin and I can see her fighting back the rest that threaten to fall. She looks downward and shakes her head ‘no’. “It wouldn’t be fair to Gerard and Alicia – they need to have his last minutes, not us.”
“I know I didn’t know Mikey as well or for as long as everyone else, but I spent enough time with him recently to know that he saw you and Bernard and your children as his family, and right now he would want to be with his family,” I tell her with absolute sincerity. “So, go call them.”
Ellie pulls me into a massive hug and leaves a wet kiss on my cheek. She mutters into my neck how right I am and that I’m not allowed to leave either. When she pulls back from the embrace she gives me a watery smile, then heads further down the corridor, presumably to go outside, digging in her handbag as she goes.
With Ellie gone I’m by myself again. I turn back to the window and continue to watch the scene before me unfold. Alicia is looking down, talking to Mikey. I squint at the bed and am able to see that Mikey’s eyes are half lidded; he’s awake... just. Alicia pauses her speech; I look down to Mikey’s mouth and see it moving a little. At least Gerard will be able to hear his voice once more. I see Mikey’s head, with great effort, turn to the right side; Gerard must be speaking to him. I’m mentally cursing the fact that Gerard chose to sit on that side of the room; I’d love to be able to read his lips right now and see what he’s saying – or at least be able to see the emotion on his face. As I’m unable to see Gerard properly, I avert my attention to Alicia. Tears are falling from her eyes and she is straining to keep the sobs from escaping her lips. She absentmindedly rubs her pregnant belly as she watches Mikey and Gerard interact. I glance down to Mikey in time to see him turn his head back to his wife. He says something – I can’t tell what – that causes her to look up to the window and then back down to him. She places his hand on her stomach, helps him rub it affectionately, then places it back on the bed carefully. Gerard rises out of his chair, squeezes Mikey’s hand once more, and then he and Alicia both walk toward the door.
“He wants to see you,” Alicia says, coming out into the corridor with Gerard.
I glance at Gerard, mentally asking if I should go in. He seems to understand and nods, drawing Alicia into his side as his way of telling me that he’ll look after her. Hesitating for a few seconds, I then find the courage to take a step forward and head into the room. Mikey watches me through his drooping eyelids as I approach him; I sit down in the chair Gerard vacated.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. What else can I say?
“Frank,” he says faintly, his lips staying parted to take in a breath. He blinks slowly, opening his eyes halfway again. “Take care... of... my... my brother... and Alicia.”
Acting on instinct, I take his hand between mine; it’s terribly cold, essentially frozen. “Of course, Mikey – I promise I will. Just relax, don’t waste your breath on me – use it on them.”
He tries to shake his head, but it comes out more as his head just lolling from one side to the other. “I... can feel... that... it’s... time.”
I join his words together and realise what he means. He’s just seconds away from death. I feel the tears prick at my eyes and find myself shaking my head ‘no’. “Just hold on,” I struggle to say, “I’ll go get Alicia and Gerard. Just hold on.”
“No...” Mikey breathes out. “I... won’t... l-let... them see m-me die...”
His eyes close slowly and don’t reopen. I squeeze his hand tightly and call his name frantically. This can’t be happening.
“Mikey... come on, open your eyes!” My vision blurs as I try again to get him to communicate with me. “Please, Mikey...”
And then it happens. The one sound I never wanted to hear in this room. One long, continuous beep sounds from the machines around us. I look up to the monitor and the evidence is there.
Flat line.
“He’s just in here,” I hear Ellie say.
I turn my head to face the doorway just as Ellie appears with her family. Beside them are Alicia and Gerard. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. Everyone looks at me, listens, hears the definitive sound of the end, and in that moment everyone crumbles. I will never for as long as I live be able to shake the vision of Alicia screaming and dropping to her knees, pulling at her hair, begging for him back. But more than that, for the rest of my days I’ll be haunted by the vision of Gerard running into the room, crawling onto the bed, and grabbing Mikey’s shoulders to shake him violently as if it’ll bring him back.
Gerard’s voice screaming Mikey’s name as the male nurses drag him out of the room echoes in my ears as I stare at Mikey’s lifeless body before me.
This is the end.
I’ve been standing here far longer than is appropriate. Since Mikey was brought in two days ago neither Alicia nor Gerard have left the hospital, until two hours ago that is. Ellie, who has been an absolute angel in going between homes and hospital to take care of everyone, managed to convince Alicia to go home for a few hours to get some sleep. Alicia put up a good fight, but in the end when Ellie said “the baby can’t handle what you’re putting yourself through right now, dear”, she agreed to leave. However, the condition was that someone had to stay with Mikey at all times; of course Gerard stepped in – he was already doing it anyway. On her way out to take Alicia home, Ellie asked me to make sure I kept checking on Gerard. That is why I’m standing where I am, but really, all I had to do was just pass by the room every so often.
The doctor who’s been caring for Mikey taps my shoulder. He offers me a pleasant smile before casting his eyes over his clipboard. I take a few steps out into the corridor and gesture for the doctor to follow.
“How much longer do you think he’s got?” I ask when I’m certain we’re far enough away that Gerard won’t hear the question nor the answer.
He rubs his finger and thumb over his stubble as he examines his clipboard again. “Well...”
“Honestly,” I say.
He nods understandingly. “Honestly... twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” My heart jolts at his words, but I nod. “The cancer has spread through his body very quickly, his organs are shutting down, he’s in a lot of pain and we’ve had to give him an obscene amount of pain relief to manage it, which is why he can barely keep his eyes open,” he elaborates.
“And there’s definitely nothing more that can be done for him?” I query, although I already know what his answer will be.
“I’m afraid not,” he replies. “All we can do for Mr. Way now is keep him as free of pain as possible; everything else is a waiting game.”
I feel tears prick at my eyes as I comprehend everything he’s said. I take a quick glance through the window at Gerard; he’s still clutching Mikey’s hand but now his lips are moving. Mikey has so little time left and I don’t think Gerard realises just how soon he’ll be gone.
“All that aside, though, Mr. Iero, I stopped by to check how he’s going. Do you think you would be able to take his brother from the room while I examine him?” he asks.
“Sure,” I reply.
We enter the room together, the doctor clearing his throat to make his presence known to Gerard. Reaching Gerard, I place my hand on his shoulder lightly.
“Come on,” I say gently, “let’s go get something to eat from the cafeteria.”
He shakes his head. “I have to stay with him.”
My eyes shut painfully as I hear his croaky voice; this will be harder than I thought. I move my hand to his elbow and attempt to tug him up.
“You can’t do anything for him right now, Gerard,” I say as kindly as I can. “We’ll come back when the doctor’s finished, I promise.”
If it’s at all possible, he grips Mikey’s hand tighter and lowers his head back down to lean on their hands. Before me is the picture of a broken man.
“Please, Gerard,” I beg.
Finally, he releases Mikey’s limp hand and pushes out of the plastic chair he’s been planted in for the past six hours. I curl my arm around his shoulders and guide him out of the small private room. He moves with me easily, but only because he’s too numb to everything to fight me. I navigate the sterile corridors until we reach the cafeteria.
“Go take a seat,” I instruct, directing him to one of the round tables, “I’ll grab us a couple of coffees.”
He does as I say, looking broken and miserable. As I stand at the counter and order our coffees (and muffins) my eyes wander back to Gerard’s face and my mind thinks of the situation he’s in. In as little as two days from now he could be brotherless. He and Mikey have always been so close – nothing else in the world could destroy him the way this will.
What worries me the most is how he’s going to respond to all of this. One of two things could happen: he’ll either break down completely and be afraid to be alone, or worse, he’ll revert into himself, push everyone away, and fall back into old habits. I want to be there for him when it happens, but I’m concerned that he won’t let me be.
“Here you go, darlin’,” the large cafeteria lady says as she slides two Styrofoam cups toward me. She taps her fingers on the buttons of the cash register. “That’ll be $16.24.”
I grab my wallet out of my back pocket and extract the twenty sitting in there. She takes the money, opens the register, and hands me my change.
“Thanks,” I say.
I tuck the paper bag with our muffins in it under my arm and take hold of the coffees. As I start to walk away the cafeteria lady calls me back.
“You look like you could use someone to talk to,” she says in her thick southern accent. “What are you in for?”
I sigh heavily; she’s right, I do need to talk. Looking about I see that the cafeteria is essentially empty except for a few people who are already seated with their food, so I place Gerard’s cup down on the counter and take a sip of my own. It sears my throat but I welcome the pain.
“See that man over there?” I ask her, point to where Gerard’s seated; he’s staring blankly at the wall in front of him. She nods. “His younger brother is dying.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath, but she manages to keep her tone even when she says, “That’s just awful. I imagine he must be very young if he’s younger than that man.”
“He’s twenty,” I tell her regretfully. “When he goes, it’ll tear him apart.”
She tucks a strand of her curly red hair behind her ear and leans forward onto the counter. With sincere brown eyes, she says, “I’ve seen many a gay couple come through here, and the only advice I can give you is to stick to your boyfriend like glue; he’ll need you to put him back together when his brother’s death tears him apart.”
Gay couple?
Boyfriend?
No!
“No, no, he’s not my–”
She holds up her hands to stop me. “Now, now, there’s no judgement here.”
“No, you don’t underst–”
“Now, go over and help him through this difficult time.”
Apparently I have no choice in the matter. Seeing as she won’t listen to reason, I pick up Gerard’s coffee, give her an awkward smile, and head over to the table Gerard chose. He is so far away in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice me sit down across for him, nor does he realise that I’ve placed a cup of coffee in front of his hands.
We sit in silence. Despite the presence of other families, patients, and medical staff in the cafeteria, it feels as if it’s just us. While Gerard stares off into space, I stare at him. This is the first time I’ve been able to watch him without the fear of being caught out; I know right now he can’t see past the blur of his own thoughts. His hair is mussed, greasy – a result of not showering for two days – and is visibly knotty from the numerous times he’s dragged his fingers through it in frustration. Red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes stand out against his pale skin. His cheeks are blotchy from the tears he’s been secretly shedding. His lips are redder than usual, dry and cracked; he’s been gnawing on them a lot.
My eyes travel down from his face, over his slumped shoulders, to where his hands lay loosely clasped together on the laminate table. His nails are uneven, chewed down to their stubs. I look beyond his hands to his wrists. The scars from his self harm remain. It’s a stark reminder of the dark, dangerous place he could return to when Mikey passes away. What makes it worse is that, this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to pull him out of it.
I look up to the clock in the cafeteria; we’ve been gone about fifteen minutes. The doctor would be done by now, and I’m sure if Gerard had realised that himself he’d been on his way back to Mikey. I’m not going to make him aware of it, however; he needs to take a few minutes out from that hospital room, whether he thinks he needs it or not. He also needs to take a few minutes out of his mind.
“Considering this is hospital coffee, it’s actually pretty decent,” I remark casually. “You should try it.”
To my surprise, he actually lifts his coffee to his cherry lips. It’s only a tiny sip, but it’s an improvement.
“Good?” I question.
“Mmm,” he mutters in a non-committal way.
I sigh. This is so difficult.
“How about you try your muf–”
“He’s going to die today, isn’t he?” Gerard asks firmly, turning on me and staring me down with his damaged hazel eyes.
I’m unsure how to respond. Do I tell him the truth and divulge to him the prognosis the doctor gave me? Or should I lie and give him some kind of false hope? What does he want from me?
“Tell me the truth, Frank,” he demands.
Sometimes his uncanny ability to read minds, in particular, mine, can come in handy, but it still freaks me out.
“Maybe,” I reply, flicking my eyes up to his briefly then back down to my coffee cup. The doctor’s words circulate in my mind. Should I repeat them to Gerard?
“Maybe?” he asks. “Does that mean you think he has more time? Weeks, months, maybe?” He sounds hopeful. Damn, what have I done? “Maybe he just needs time to sleep, and then he’ll be back to how he was.” He pauses. I risk a glance up at him; he looks reflective. “I should organise a vacation for him and Alicia for when he’s well again – they could use a break before the baby’s born. Actually, I might –”
“Gerard!” I say sternly, breaking him away from his planning. I drag my hands down my face until they’re pressed together resting on my lips like I’m saying a prayer – I guess I kind of am. “Gerard,” I say softly. My tone is enough to cause his lips to quiver; he knows what’s coming. I take in a steadying breath. “Gerard, Mikey doesn’t have weeks or months... he barely has days. I spoke to the doctor earlier; he said that Mikey only has twenty-four to forty-eight hours left.”
The second the words are out Gerard crumbles. Tears begin to flow from his eyes and his hands fly up to cup his face. Strangled sobs erupt from his throat. I reach out to take hold of his wrists; he pulls away the instant I make contact.
“Gerard,” I sooth.
He removes his hands and looks at me fiercely, his eyes redder than before, the tears still flowing rapidly. He scrapes his chair back along the linoleum floor as he makes to stand and slams his palms on the table. I watch on as he takes the coffee cup in his hands and throws it at the wall behind my head angrily. He swivels on his feet and storms out, assumingly to go back to Mikey’s room.
What have I done?
I take a final gulp of my coffee, leave it on the table, and chase after him.
When I get back to Mikey’s private room I find Gerard exactly where I expected him to be – sitting in the plastic chair by the bed. I stay by the door, just like I had done earlier. These are Gerard’s final moments with his brother and I need to stand back and let him have them, no matter how much they may destroy him.
“His hands are so cold, Frank...” Gerard croaks. Cold hands are sign of the body shutting down, I recall. “I haven’t heard his voice in so long...”
I think about that psychological process that they’re always talking about in movies where someone in a coma can still hear you. Apparently the last sense to die in the body is hearing. With this in mind, I take a few steps toward Gerard and place my hand on his shoulder.
“You may not be able to hear him, but he can still hear you... make him feel through listening, Gerard,” I say quietly. “Keep him involved in this world.”
“Music?” he asks, turning to face me with that sad, broken look across his features.
I nod. “If that’s what you think he’d like.”
He squeezes Mikey’s hand and then let’s it go. Reaching into his front pocket he extracts his iPhone. He slides his finger across the screen and types in his four digit code quickly to unlock it. A few slides and taps on the screen later and he has his music library open. I watch as he scrolls down the songs menu to the P’s. His finger hovers over ‘Poetic Tragedy’ by The Used.
“The Used were the first band you discovered,” he says aloud to Mikey, “and you loved this song the instant you heard it...” He sniffs and wipes at his left eye with his finger. “I’m sure you’d want to hear it now, Mikey.”
Gerard selects the song and pushes the volume up high so the sound fills the room, effectively making the noise of the machines fade away. He places the phone on the table beside the bed and resumes holding Mikey’s hand as the music play. I feel like this is their moment, so I take a step back and make to leave.
“Stay, Frank,” Gerard says just loud enough for me to hear over the song. “Please...”
His right hand is outstretched. I walk over to him and cautiously place my hand on his open palm. His fingers curl around mine. He tugs at my hand and pulls me down until I get the hint to perch myself on the arm of the plastic chair.
Together we, the three of us, share in this beautiful moment of music appreciation. If Mikey can truly hear what’s happening, I’m sure on the inside he is smiling.
There’s this really emotional vocal section of the song about two minutes in, and I prepare myself for it because I know it has the potential to make me cry. I wonder if it will solicit the same reaction from Gerard.
Here it comes...
“He feels alone... His heart in his hand - He's alone... He feels alone... I feel...” Gerard sings aloud powerfully, the words being ripped from his lungs.
Oh my God... Gerard can actually sing... his voice... it’s so beautiful. Perfectly beautiful. Or should that be beautifully perfect?
“Gerard...” I say, still trying to get my head around what I just heard. The song carries on in the background. “You never mentioned that you could sing like that.”
He shrugs, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his brother’s hand. “It’s one of those things that I’m not sure if I’m good at or not, so I keep it hidden... but Mikey always said he loved my voice.”
I squeeze his hand. “Gerard, I love your voice.”
He says nothing to that, and for the rest of the song we remain silent. When it finishes Gerard selects another song and the process begins again. I don’t know how long we sit like that, going through songs that Mikey loves, but eventually there’s a knock on the door and Ellie enters with Alicia in tow. Gerard didn’t sing anymore after ‘Poetic Tragedy’.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Alicia says when I look at her quizzically. She rounds the bed and takes hold of Mikey’s free hand, dropping down to place a kiss on his forehead. “I’m back, baby.”
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” I say, getting to my feet from my position on the arm of the chair.
Gerard looks at me, almost as if he wants me to stay, but as he says nothing, I continue on my path out of the room. Ellie joins me in the corridor; we stand by the window to the room so we can still see what’s going on in there through the partially open blinds.
“He’s not coping at all,” Ellie says, opting for English over French. She’s staring at Gerard’s back through the window.
“I know,” I reply as I remember what happened in the cafeteria. The doctor’s words also come back to me. I tell Ellie.
Her hand clutches at her heart as an audible gasp falls from her lips. “No... no, surely he has more time than that?”
I shake my head. “I think Gerard knows it’ll be today.” Ellie cringes at my words. I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you should call your husband and kids – so they can come down and say their goodbyes.”
A tear streaks down her porcelain skin and I can see her fighting back the rest that threaten to fall. She looks downward and shakes her head ‘no’. “It wouldn’t be fair to Gerard and Alicia – they need to have his last minutes, not us.”
“I know I didn’t know Mikey as well or for as long as everyone else, but I spent enough time with him recently to know that he saw you and Bernard and your children as his family, and right now he would want to be with his family,” I tell her with absolute sincerity. “So, go call them.”
Ellie pulls me into a massive hug and leaves a wet kiss on my cheek. She mutters into my neck how right I am and that I’m not allowed to leave either. When she pulls back from the embrace she gives me a watery smile, then heads further down the corridor, presumably to go outside, digging in her handbag as she goes.
With Ellie gone I’m by myself again. I turn back to the window and continue to watch the scene before me unfold. Alicia is looking down, talking to Mikey. I squint at the bed and am able to see that Mikey’s eyes are half lidded; he’s awake... just. Alicia pauses her speech; I look down to Mikey’s mouth and see it moving a little. At least Gerard will be able to hear his voice once more. I see Mikey’s head, with great effort, turn to the right side; Gerard must be speaking to him. I’m mentally cursing the fact that Gerard chose to sit on that side of the room; I’d love to be able to read his lips right now and see what he’s saying – or at least be able to see the emotion on his face. As I’m unable to see Gerard properly, I avert my attention to Alicia. Tears are falling from her eyes and she is straining to keep the sobs from escaping her lips. She absentmindedly rubs her pregnant belly as she watches Mikey and Gerard interact. I glance down to Mikey in time to see him turn his head back to his wife. He says something – I can’t tell what – that causes her to look up to the window and then back down to him. She places his hand on her stomach, helps him rub it affectionately, then places it back on the bed carefully. Gerard rises out of his chair, squeezes Mikey’s hand once more, and then he and Alicia both walk toward the door.
“He wants to see you,” Alicia says, coming out into the corridor with Gerard.
I glance at Gerard, mentally asking if I should go in. He seems to understand and nods, drawing Alicia into his side as his way of telling me that he’ll look after her. Hesitating for a few seconds, I then find the courage to take a step forward and head into the room. Mikey watches me through his drooping eyelids as I approach him; I sit down in the chair Gerard vacated.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. What else can I say?
“Frank,” he says faintly, his lips staying parted to take in a breath. He blinks slowly, opening his eyes halfway again. “Take care... of... my... my brother... and Alicia.”
Acting on instinct, I take his hand between mine; it’s terribly cold, essentially frozen. “Of course, Mikey – I promise I will. Just relax, don’t waste your breath on me – use it on them.”
He tries to shake his head, but it comes out more as his head just lolling from one side to the other. “I... can feel... that... it’s... time.”
I join his words together and realise what he means. He’s just seconds away from death. I feel the tears prick at my eyes and find myself shaking my head ‘no’. “Just hold on,” I struggle to say, “I’ll go get Alicia and Gerard. Just hold on.”
“No...” Mikey breathes out. “I... won’t... l-let... them see m-me die...”
His eyes close slowly and don’t reopen. I squeeze his hand tightly and call his name frantically. This can’t be happening.
“Mikey... come on, open your eyes!” My vision blurs as I try again to get him to communicate with me. “Please, Mikey...”
And then it happens. The one sound I never wanted to hear in this room. One long, continuous beep sounds from the machines around us. I look up to the monitor and the evidence is there.
Flat line.
“He’s just in here,” I hear Ellie say.
I turn my head to face the doorway just as Ellie appears with her family. Beside them are Alicia and Gerard. I can feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. Everyone looks at me, listens, hears the definitive sound of the end, and in that moment everyone crumbles. I will never for as long as I live be able to shake the vision of Alicia screaming and dropping to her knees, pulling at her hair, begging for him back. But more than that, for the rest of my days I’ll be haunted by the vision of Gerard running into the room, crawling onto the bed, and grabbing Mikey’s shoulders to shake him violently as if it’ll bring him back.
Gerard’s voice screaming Mikey’s name as the male nurses drag him out of the room echoes in my ears as I stare at Mikey’s lifeless body before me.
This is the end.
♠ ♠ ♠
I've had this chapter written for about 3 months now, and I just couldn't hold onto it any longer, so you're getting it about 12 hours early. I understand I have now probably become the most hated person on the internet for the content of this chapter, but for the story to progress this had to happen. When the story reaches it's end, you'll understand why.Also, I really want to see you guys bring this story to life through art, so I'm extending this fan art competition another week, with the reward for the best being the following chapter a week in advance. And trust me, Chapter 36 is one you really want to get your hands on early. So, you can send me your pictures via Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/rachel.ferrett.5), as links to them on DeviantArt if that's your thing, or message me through Mibba if you'd like my email address to send them to me that way. I've received some great stuff already, so please keep it up. I love you guys <3
Coming up in Frank Iero: P.A. ...
I’m crushed to him, and he cries into the crook of my neck, making it damp. I wrap my arms around his back and rub it comfortingly.
“Mikey! I want Mikey!” he wails loudly, bawling my shirt in his fists.
“I know... I know,” I say soothingly.