Frank Iero: P.A.

Emma-Lea was formally released into Gerard’s custody eight days ago. Since then he has spent ninety percent of his time with her. At night he’ll watch her go to sleep and stay beside her crib until he’s absolutely sure she’s not going to wake. Then he disappears into his studio and doesn’t emerge until long after I’ve gone to bed. Sometimes I’ll lay in bed awake listening for the sound of his studio door closing followed by his bedroom door opening, just so I know that he will get some sleep. He hasn’t stepped foot in his office since she was born, and I’m not sure if he ever will again.

As for me, I’ve done what I promised him I would. I stayed for the hardest part of all this, but now I have to go.

It took me a while to realise, but I’ve got feelings for Gerard Way. Really intense feelings. When I pass him in the hall, or see him in the kitchen, I no longer think ‘there’s my boss’; I think ‘there’s my Gerard’. And herein lies the problem; he’s not my Gerard. He’s Emma-Lea’s Gerard, and that’s all he’s ever going to allow himself be.

Looking back on the past, I can see that anything we have had was just something brought on by intense emotional pain. It was his break up combined with the stress of Mikey’s cancer that made him kiss me up in the mountains. It was the need for a distraction that made him draw me over and over again. It was the pain from finding out that Mikey’s illness was terminal that made him turn to me that day in his office when he cried. The emotional trauma of the funeral was why he kissed me by the old oak tree. That night in Alicia’s apartment was him needing comfort from physical intimacy. It was the grief that we were both feeling over Alicia’s death that caused us to kiss in the hospital waiting room. All those moments, and none of them were fuelled by love, just sadness and pain.

Gerard doesn’t need me anymore; his career as an artist is essentially over – so my position as his P.A. is now obsolete, and I’m of little use when it comes to caring for Emma-Lea (he has Ellie for that). So I’m handing in my resignation, effective immediately, before he has a chance to ask me to leave. I have to, because I don’t think I could handle hearing him say “Frank, I don’t need you anymore”.

Right now I’m packing up my room. Aside from giving Gerard my written resignation, it’s the last thing that I have to do. All the necessary arrangements have already been made. With so much income and so little to spend it on, I managed to save up enough money to rent a decent apartment and put some nice furniture in it. I signed all the papers yesterday and will move in this afternoon. I’ve also secured myself a job – sure it’s only as a cashier at Walmart, but it’ll keep me going until I find something better. I’ve decided, though, I’m not going to work as someone’s P.A. ever again.

There are two suitcases on my bed, both almost full. I’m packing as quietly as I can so I don’t tip Gerard off about what’s going on. I throw in the last of my clothing and zip up both cases. Pansy, my guitar, is already in her case. I sit the two suitcases, my guitar case, stool, and amplifier out in the hallway by my bedroom door. That’s everything.

I take one last look around. The room looks just the way it did when I first arrived; big, impersonal. A small part of me is going to miss it, but mostly I just want to leave it all behind so I can start fresh. Stepping out into the hallway, I close the door. There’s only one thing left to do now.
I walk to the end of the hallway and knock on the door lightly. Time seems to stretch out as I wait for it to open. Finally it does.

Gerard looks past me to my luggage. His expression is perplexed. “What’s going on?”

I’ve been rehearsing everything I say next for the past week and have it down to an art form. I recite it on autopilot. “Mr. Way, I’d like to thank you for the opportunity you gave me six months ago. I really appreciate you allowing me to live here and paying me more than what I deserved. I know I wasn’t always punctual and that I didn’t have a very good attitude most of the time, but I’ve learnt a lot from working here, and I by no means want to belittle this job when I say this, but it’s time for me to move on to bigger and better things. So I, Mr. Iero, am resigning.” I take a breath and hand Gerard the envelope with my official letter of resignation in it.

He opens the envelope and browses the single sheet of paper for a second, definitely not long enough to have read anything more than the first sentence. His hazel eyes meet mine, and I know he’s trying to see if I’m lying. “You’re not resigning, Frank, you’re quitting. Why?”

I gulp. Just stay confident, Frank; you can do this. “I can’t work here anymore – it’s not challenging me.”

Well, that’s a fucking outright lie. This job is the most challenging thing I’ve ever done.

“And that’s all this is?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. “It has nothing to do with what’s happened between you and me?”

“No,” I lie.

He stares at me for a few seconds before he clears his throat and straightens to his full, intimidating height. “Okay, then, Mr. Iero, I’ll have your final pay check transferred into your account tomorrow. You may use the phone to call yourself a taxi.”

And with that he disappears back into his bedroom. The sound of the door shutting echoes loudly in the hallway. It’s over.

I’d already arranged for a taxi to pick me up at one o’clock. It arrives about ten minutes after my exchange with Gerard; enough time for me to cart my luggage downstairs to the end of the driveway and check the house to ensure I hadn’t forgotten to pack anything. The driver gives me a hand to load all my luggage.

“Ready, sir?” he asks in a think Indian accent.

“Uh...” There’s something I’ve been toying with for the past few days. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do it or not, and knew I probably wouldn’t be sure until the very last second. That last second is now, and despite my doubts, I want to go through with it. “There’s just one more thing I need to do, could you wait two minutes?” I ask the driver.

“Just two minutes,” he replies, and then gets back in behind the wheel.

I quickly jog back inside and run upstairs, back to Gerard’s bedroom. I take a few breaths to steady my nerves before knocking on the door loudly. Gerard doesn’t say anything to me when he opens the door, he just stands there with that steely look on his face.

“Frank, not Mr. Iero, wanted to give you this.” I reach into my jacket pocket and extract a self-recorded CD. “Listen to this when you get a chance.”

He takes the CD and shuts the door again. Not a single word is spoken, but maybe that’s how things are meant to end between us. So I leave them like that – silent – and go back to the waiting taxi. The driver looks at me questioningly when I get in. I nod to let him know that I’m ready to leave. As we drive off toward my new life, I’m left with the lyrics of the song I’ve been writing for the past four months in my head. The only song that’s on that CD I gave to Gerard. The song that, whether I knew it or not when I started, I wrote for him.

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken
These are their hearts but their hearts don’t beat like ours
They burn ‘cause they are all afraid
For every one of us, there’s an army of them
But you’ll never fight alone
‘Cause I wanted you to know

That the world is ugly
But you’re beautiful to me
Well are you thinking of me now (now)

These are the nights and the lights that we fade in
These are the words but the words aren’t coming out
They burn ‘cause they are hard to say
For every failing sun, there’s a morning after
Though I’m empty when you go
I just wanted you to know

That the world is ugly
But you’re beautiful to me
Are you thinking of me
Like I’m thinking of you
I would say I’m sorry, though
Though I really need to go
I just wanted you to know

I wanted you to know
I wanted you to know
I’m thinking of you every night, every day

These are the eyes and the lies of the taken
These are their hearts but their hearts don’t beat like ours
They burn ‘cause they are all afraid
When mine beats twice as hard

‘Cause the world is ugly
But you’re beautiful to me
Are you thinking of me
Like I’m thinking of you
I would say I’m sorry, though
Though I really need to go
I just wanted you to know
That the world is ugly (I just wanted you to know)
But you’re beautiful to me (I just wanted you to know)
Are you thinking of me

Stop your crying, helpless feeling
Dry your eyes and start believing
There’s one thing they’ll never take from you