Frank Iero: P.A.

The wake is a beautiful tribute to Mikey’s memory. Ellie has kept things simple; a table of finger food at one end of the living room, a large framed photo of Mikey on the mantel, and the couches pushed to the sides of the room so there’s room for people to move around and talk. She’s doing her best to speak with all those who attended the funeral, but I notice that she frequently sneaks off to the kitchen. I know that she needs time to breath, to compose herself, so I don’t follow her when she does. Instead, I assemble trays of various canapés and circulate the room like a waiter, or go about collecting dirty glasses, used paper plates, and crumpled up napkins. I offer my condolences to a few people who seem friendly and/or deeply attached to Mikey, but for the most part I stay silent and keep myself busy.

I enter the hallway with a tray of dirty glasses, on my way to the kitchen to get started on washing them up. The front door opens to my left and I turn my head to see who the new arrival is; everyone else has been here for half an hour already. It’s Ray; he offers me a tight-lipped smile as he pushes the door shut.

“Hey,” I greet him. I’m genuinely happy to see him; he’s the only person, with the exception of those I already knew, who made the effort to include me in today’s activities. “How are they?”

He shakes his head, his wild curls bouncing from side to side. “Not too good,” he replies. “Honestly, I didn’t want to leave Gerard and Alicia alone, but I felt like I should make an appearance here, for a few minutes at least.”

I nod understandingly; I feel the same, more or less. Ray takes a few of the glasses from the precariously loaded tray and walks with me to the kitchen. No one else is in here, so we place the glasses beside the sink and take a moment to assemble our thoughts.

“I feel strangely calm,” Ray remarks, leaning against one of the benches; his ankles are crossed while his elbows support his weight. “I tried to not to think about this day much while he was sick, but when I did I assumed I’d be a wreck.”

“I’m calm, too,” I confide, “but that’s only because I’m distracting myself so I don’t think about it.”

He looks upward, pondering what I’ve said. When he looks at me again he shakes his head gently. “I don’t think it’s that. It’s Mikey’s spirit.” He closes his eyes and sighs reflectively. “He had this unique ability to remain calm in the face of trauma; not once during this whole ordeal did I ever see him cry or hear him ask “why me?”, because that’s the kind of guy he was. He persevered. Somehow, I think his spirit has taken over the atmosphere here and it’s giving people the strength to carry on.”

I think about all the mourners in the next room. Not many of them have shed tears since arriving here. They’re all so busy sharing their memories of Mikey that there hasn’t really been time for them to cry. People who have never met before today have come together and are talking like they’re old friends. Ray’s right – it is Mikey’s spirit. He, from what I could tell in the few short months I knew him, could bring people together and inject tranquillity into a room. Like Ray said, it’s the kind of guy he was.

“I guess it’s kind of hard to be sad when everyone’s memories of him are so beautiful,” I muse aloud. “You know, Gerard and I had this fight almost two weeks ago and even though it was his wedding night, Mikey came to find me to see if I was okay. We talked, and I told him things I’ve never told anyone before. And then we raced each other up the stairs as if he was in perfect health.”

Ray chuckles. “Yep, that’s Mikey to a T.” He sighs regretfully. “I wish I could have been at the wedding. I was out of the country for work when I got invited and just couldn’t get a flight back in time, but I’ve seen photos. It was the wedding they deserved to have the first time around. You helped make it happen, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Well, according to Gerard, that’s the only way to put it.” I look at Ray doubtfully. “Really,” he says, nodding for emphasis. “I spoke to him after the wedding to find out how it all went and he basically credited the whole thing to you.”

“What?” I ask in disbelief. Gerard gave me credit for the whole thing?

“Seriously,” Ray continues, “he said you were the, and I quote, "inspiration behind the incredible idea" and that you made it possible to secure the venue, plus you organised the flowers, food, cars, and photography, and got the bride ready.” He pauses, thinking. “If I remember correctly, Gerard said, “If it weren’t for Frank I’d still be consumed by my self-pity. He made me see my potential.” Yeah, that’s what he said.”

My heart flutters as I absorb what Ray’s just told me. I can’t believe that the small things I did have made Gerard speak so highly of me. I mean, he was the one that thought of a second wedding, I just helped out like any efficient P.A. would. But I’m more than glad to be praised so highly by him, which concerns me, but Mikey told me that no one chooses their feelings, they just feel. That’s what I’m going to do from now on; I’m just going to feel. It’s my way of honouring Mikey’s memory, and hopefully my way of sorting through whatever is happening between Gerard and I.

Ray pushes off the bench, the movement catching my eye and shaking me from my thoughts.

“Do you want a ride to Alicia’s?” he asks. Obviously he’s ready to leave the wake himself.

“That’s be great, thanks,” I say appreciatively, “just give me a moment to say goodbye to Ellie.”

“I should go see her, too.”

We walk back to the living room. The mourners are standing in small congregations, someone in each sharing a memory of Mikey. Ellie is seated on the end of one of the couches, curled into Bernard’s side; they’re engaged in conversation with a middle aged man who’s gesticulating wildly.

“Excuse me, Ellie?” I say gently when we’re near enough for her to hear me.

She gets to her feet. “Oui?”

“We’re going to head off,” I tell her, indicating to Ray.

She nods and embraces us both. Judging by how long she hugs Ray, I’m guessing they’ve got history, too. I kiss her cheek and gently guide her back to the couch. When she’s seated I lean over her and shake Bernard’s outstretched hand. Ray does the same when I step back, then we’re leaving the small house and walking along the crowded street to his car. Ray digs a set of keys out of his pocket as we come up alongside a white 1988 Ford Festiva. The car is that old that there’s no central locking feature and Ray has to actually unlock each individual door with his key. I open the passenger door and see that the seat is littered with bills, receipts, and music magazines.

“Sorry,” Ray apologises as he slides in behind the steering wheel. He scoops everything up and throws it onto the back seat.

As I get in, I turn my head to the back and see that it is also covered with Ray’s things. “Do you live in your car or something?” I ask when I spot multiple items of clothing.

He shakes his head as he turns the key in the ignition; a loud rock track blares through the speakers and he quickly reaches for the dial to turn it down. “It looks that way, but no. With my job you never know when you’re going to be meeting with executives or trekking out to some gig at a club in the middle of nowhere; you kind of have to be prepared for anything – that’s why I keep a lot of crap in my car.”

“That must be exhausting,” I comment as we pull away from the curb and head out to Alicia’s apartment.

“It can be at times,” he replies. “Once I came into the office and was told to drive out to New Jersey to watch one of the local bands on our radar perform. The gig had only just finished when I got a call from my boss telling me to go meet another band and their manager for dinner at this fancy restaurant. That little exercise taught me to always keep a suit in my car.” He pauses. “But for the most part, it is an exciting job – you’ve just got to be ready to run a mile at a moment’s notice.”

“Did Mikey enjoy it?” I find myself asking.

Ray’s quiet for a moment, his hands tightening on the wheel ever so slightly; I’ve obviously reminded him of just why he and I are in his micro car together right now. Slowly and quietly, he says, “He absolutely loved it.” A pause. “But it became too much for him when he got sick. Once he started chemo he couldn’t drive to all the places he needed to go, or handle being at the concerts; he was just so tired and lethargic all the time. He tried, though, but our boss eventually restricted him to the office. We all knew how much he wanted to be out there but he took the confinement in his stride and scoured the net for new, interesting bands. He found a couple of good ones, too.” He sighs. “Like I said earlier, he persevered – always calm, never resentful.”

We stop at an intersection, now in the concrete jungle section of New York. We’re not far from the apartment now, and the rest of the ride is spent in silence. I try to prepare myself for whatever state Gerard may be in when I see him, but something tells me that no amount of preparation will be enough.

Ray expertly navigates the busy New York streets and squeezes his little two door into a narrow spot a block away from the apartment. We hop out, Ray puts some change in the meter (something Gerard never does), and then we walk along the paved streets teeming with smartly dressed people. As we reach the apartment block he takes a set of keys out from his jacket pocket and lets us in. I examine the key in his hand and notice it has a photo key ring on it. I squint and see that it is the photo of Mikey and Alicia’s original wedding; this must have been Mikey’s set. We head down the hallway and get into the elevator when it reaches our floor. Silence consumes the small box as it rises two floors. Nerves build up in my stomach as the doors slide open and the door of 3C comes into view. Ray uses another key on the set to open the apartment door, then pushes it open, allowing me to step in first.

The living room is empty. I double check the couch, the corners of the room, and the dining table, but nope, there’s no one. I turn to Ray; he looks a little startled by the vacant room, too.

“They were in here when I left,” he says, checking his watch.

Just then Gerard walks out of the kitchen. His dark sunglasses are hooked onto the pocket of his dress shirt, his suit jacket and tie missing. He nods in acknowledgement to Ray, then he looks to me. We hold eye contact for longer than anyone usually would, no talking or nodding, just looking. I take in his hazel eyes; they’re puffy and bloodshot, just like they’ve been since Mikey was admitted to hospital a week ago. There is a question in those eyes, I just don’t know what it is. Finally, he looks away.

“How was the wake?” he asks, directing the question at Ray and not me, which is odd because Ray was only there for ten minutes while I was there for an hour.

“It was really nice, for what I saw of it,” Ray replies as he shucks out of his jacket. “There was a lot of love around the place.”

Gerard nods at Ray’s answer and heads over to the dining table where he pulls out a chair and slumps down into it. He drags his hands down his face and lets them drop to the table. There’s a vulnerability to him that’s so far removed from everything he used to represent. When I first met Gerard, before Mikey’s illness was made known to me, he would never slump; his spine was always straight, there was an air of authority and power that surrounded him, but that’s all gone now. The death of his brother has broken him. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.

“Alicia is having a lie down in the bedroom,” Gerard informs us, not making eye contact. “She hasn’t stopped crying.” His voice falters and his eyes water, although he tries to disguise it. “I’m worried about – about the baby... what all this grief is doing to it...”

“Is she having any pain, or bleeding?” Ray asks, the concern and fear clear in his voice.

“No, although I don’t think she would notice is she was,” he replies earnestly in a shaky voice.

“I’ll go check on her,” Ray says, already on his way out of the room.

“No,” Gerard says definitively, glaring at Ray. He gets up from his chair. “I’ll go.”

Gerard leaves the room abruptly. It is as if he doesn’t want Ray near Alicia. I turn to Ray and see him rub at his eyes. He sighs heavily and walks over to the couch and sits down. I sense there’s something more going on here. I take a seat next to him.

“That was weird,” I say, hoping it’ll encourage Ray to explain what’s going on.

He shakes his head. “No, I deserve it.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Remember how I said that we got into a fight just before you came to work for him?” I nod. “Well, it was about Alicia,” he continues, sighing again. He scrunches his forehead, touching his hand to it. “I did a stupid thing – a really stupid thing.”

I’m almost scared to ask, but I do. “What was it?”

He gives me a look that conveys how much he regrets whatever it is. “I kissed Alicia.” My eyes widen at his words. He did what?! “We became really close after Mikey was diagnosed, and I developed a little crush. She was upset and I was comforting her. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Unfortunately, Gerard happened to walk in when I did.” He pauses, touching his fingers to just below his left eye. “He gave me a pretty nasty black eye for it – but I deserved it.”

“I thought you and Mikey were friends...” I trail off.

“We were, and if it weren’t for all the trauma I can guarantee that those feelings would have never amounted. I got over it really quickly, though – I’ve been dating this really great girl for the past four months,” he tells me, smiling when he mentions his girlfriend. “Gerard isn’t as over it as Alicia and I are, though. Alicia knew it was a mistake and that I’d never intentionally come between her and Mikey, so we went straight back to being friends. Gerard, though,” he sighs, “we may have patched things up, but he’s still scared I’ll make a move, especially now that Mikey’s gone.”

I consider everything he’s just told me. I can see where Gerard’s coming from – his friend kissed his brother’s wife, his sister-in-law. It’s hard not to witness something like and think that it’s going to break up the marriage. But I also see Ray’s side of things. He made a mistake, and he apologised and rectified the situation – what more could he do?

“Did Mikey know what happened between you and Alicia?” I ask.

“Not as far as I know – Alicia and I agreed to not tell him until he was... was better.” He stops when he realises what he’s said.

The room falls quiet and we sit there together. The realisation that Mikey’s not coming back is starting to sink in. It’s the funeral – it kind of finalises things. Up until now we’ve had distractions – Alicia and Gerard’s grieving, work, the wake – but now that we’re in the apartment and openly talking about him we have nothing left to shield us from the pain. Tears prick at my eyes. I try to blink them away, but it’s no use. They start to roll down my cheeks as I think about Mikey. When Ray sees my tears it sets him off, too. Unlike me, though, he is more discreet; I just blubber like a child.

Mikey was only a year older than me, and now he is dead. He’ll never get to meet his baby, never get to hold them or watch them grow up, never get to walk them down the aisle if it’s a daughter or see them have children of their own. He’s never going to get to grow old with Alicia, or have more children with her – they’re going to miss out on so much together. Mikey lived an innocent life; he was a nice, genuine guy, who, according to everyone who knew him, never did a thing wrong or hurt anybody. Why was he punished when there are so many more people out there who deserve death for their indiscretions? And what about Gerard? How must this be affecting him? His little brother died before him, potentially fifty years before him. That’s not right, and I can guarantee that’s all Gerard can think about. Will he spend the rest of his life feeling guilty about every little happiness that comes his way? I think so. And what about love? Maybe he’ll never leave himself open to falling in love, or being in another relationship, not when he’s witnessed Alicia’s life be torn apart simply because she fell in love. He’ll want to die alone... I don’t want to think about why, but that thought makes me feel like I’ve been sucker-punched in the gut.

“Somehow, she’s fallen asleep,” Gerard says, coming back in the room about twenty minutes later. Ray and I both wipe at our eyes at the sound of his voice; I think we both feel guilty about crying in front of Gerard when it was his brother. “I think I might call a doctor to come by and check her out, just to be sure.”

Gerard passes by us and reaches for the phone the table by the sofa. He presses a button and lifts the receiver to his ears; I assume Alicia’s GP or obstetrician is on speed dial. I look to Ray as Gerard speaks with a receptionist on the other end; he offers me a smile and then gets to his feet.

“Cup of coffee?” he asks quietly.

I nod. “Black, one sugar.”

Ray disappears into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Gerard. I listen to him speak to the doctor.

“No, she says that everything feels fine with the baby, but I’d rather an expert check her over,” he says. He waits for the doctor’s reply. “No, that won’t be feasible.” A pause. “I understand you’re busy and have other patients waiting at the hospital to see you, but Alicia really isn’t in a position to go out today.” He sighs heavily as he listens to what the doctor is saying to him.

I can see Gerard becoming more and more stressed as he deals with the doctor. His back is to me, but I see his free hand reach up to clutch his forehead, then it dabs at his eyes. He answers the doctor and his voice croaks like it does when he’s about to or is crying. I’m his P.A. and his friend, the least I can do is bear some of the burden. I hop up and take the phone from Gerard’s hand. He swivels around and it’s now that I see that he is in fact crying. I squeeze his hand and then push him toward the couch before I bring the phone to my ear.

“Hello, I’m Frank Iero, Gerard’s assistant,” I introduce myself.

A woman’s voice says, “Dr. Susanne Rogers.”

“I know you’re very busy, but unfortunately Alicia had to bury her husband today.” Dr. Rogers sucks in a sharp breath. “As I’m sure you understand, this has affected her greatly, which is why we’re concerned about the baby’s health and would really prefer to have someone come out here and check her over.”

I hear her typing loudly on her keyboard. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Iero,” she says apologetically. “I don’t think I can leave here for another few hours, but there’s another obstetrician just finishing up her shift, Kathleen Moore; I could send her around if you need something immediate.”

“That’d be great,” I say. I rattle off the address to her, then add, “Could you explain the situation to her before she arrives?”

“Oh, yes of course,” she replies.

I thank Dr. Rogers again for her help and then say goodbye. When I put the cordless phone back in the cradle, I turn around and see Gerard looking at me expectantly.

“She can’t get away, but she’s sending another obstetrician in her place. It’s the best I could manage.”

He looks down to his clasped hands. “Thanks, Frank.”

“You’re welcome,” I tell him sincerely.

I’m about to bend down and give him a hug, but Ray re-enters the living room, three cups of coffee in hand.

“Here,” Ray says, holding a cup out to Gerard, then handing me mine.

He takes it cautiously, then meets Ray’s eyes. “Thanks,” he says softly. “And, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Ray waves him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of us sit together on the sofa in silence to wait for the doctor. We’ve reached a balance for the time being. I just hope it lasts, for Gerard and Alicia’s sake.