Sequel: Crush, Crush ›
The Alexander Swallowtail
Twenty
I couldn’t keep my eyes from wandering over to where I’d placed my origami butterfly on the nightstand beside a glass of water and a copy of the book we were reading for class; it had been the only one Mikey had thought to bring with him when he’d visited and he’d decided to leave it with me for something to do in case I couldn’t sleep, as I was stuck in hospital overnight to make sure no permanent damage had been done. I almost wanted something to be totally fucked up. The police had come by earlier to interview me when Mrs Way had been visiting me. They’d been telling me how brave I was for giving them Roxanne’s name, but it wasn’t about that. I wanted her to suffer the consequences of her actions as I apparently had earlier by her hand.
My eyes had wandered back to the butterfly again. I was impressed that Gerard had learnt how to make them, and was glad he was getting along with his project for class. I wondered how hard they were to make and why he’d learnt how to do the one I’d picked out. Was it just for me? Perhaps he didn’t notice. I was almost surprised when he appeared in the doorway a moment later, a bunch of flowers in one hand, his other gripping the strap of his satchel so tight his knuckles were losing their colour. Seeing that he’d been crying as evidenced by the red around his swollen eyes made me feel almost guilty for feeling so angry towards him earlier. In a way, I’d been right, and this had all been his doing but in another way, he had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t the one that had hit me. He was the one that took me to the hospital.
“I hope I didn’t get blood in your car,” I blurted out, which only made Gerard cry harder.
“Are you okay?” he croaked, taking another step closer and placing the flowers on the table beside the butterfly.
“I’m okay,” I assured him, throwing him a gentle smile and hating that in his misery, he hadn’t returned it.
“I thought you might die,” he said softly, resting his hand over mine on my chest. “I thought I’d killed you.”
“You didn’t do anything, Gerard.”
“Exactly. I should have done more to prevent this. I didn’t think… she didn’t seem… and Frank wasn’t supposed to…”
“It’s okay, Gerard. I’ll be fine.” Gerard just knelt there by the bed for a while crying his eyes out, his lips pressed against the back of my hand sending vibrations up my arm with every shaky breath he took in. I was glad Mikey had told him to come visit me. I figured that must have been what had happened, given how much Gerard was hating on himself at the moment and the idea that I was embarrassed to be seen with him floating around somewhere in his mind. I was happy he’d pushed that idea aside for long enough to forget it for now. I wasn’t sure how to prove it false just yet, or if it was even possible after all the damage it had done to him already. It was becoming clear to me that it hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing for him to have said – the idea had been building, and I hated that I’d somehow been promoting it against my will.
“I put my jacket down so you wouldn’t damage the seat,” Gerard suddenly replied to my earlier comment, and I smiled. I was glad I hadn’t wrecked his car, and hoped it wasn’t a favourite jacket of his. “Do you mind if I stay with you here tonight? I can read to you, if you’d like.”
“That would be great, Gerard.” It took a while, but Gerard’s tears finally dried up. He ran his jacket sleeve across his eyes and I finally got that smile, even if it were a little dull. He dug through his bag for a moment then, pulling out his tattered copy of Pet Sematary.
“I’ll read to you from where we turned off the movie,” he told me, and began to flick through the pages. I closed my eyes and waited for his voice to fill my head.
I was partially paying attention to Gerard’s words as he read to me well into the early hours of the morning, his head slowly but surely drooping until he had pulled the chair closer to the bed to lay his chin on the mattress as he continued. I could feel my yawns getting longer and my eyes getting heavier, only slightly aware of the dim pain running through various parts of my body. Gerard turned the page and his voice drifted off, and we fell asleep just like that.
I was the first to wake in the morning as the nurse came in, the expression on her face suddenly softening a great deal as she saw Gerard’s head lolled onto the mattress where I lay, probably giving him a bad cramp in his neck.
“So you got the little butterfly then?” she asked softly, nodding her head towards the swallowtail where it lay still by the glass of water, now filled with the flowers Gerard had brought with him. I vaguely recalled placing them in there the night before as Gerard was reading, busying myself arranging them to keep myself awake a little bit longer. I smiled, the both of us looking down to Gerard for a moment, his messy hair covering the parts of his face that his hand wasn’t.
“You’re lucky to have him,” she commented, and I didn’t bother correcting her. She squeezed her clipboard tightly as she stood, her eyes still on Gerard, then the flowers, the sheets, the floor. She was stalling. I could feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck. Suddenly, the world felt a lot emptier than before. Gerard stirred but remained asleep as he gripped my sheets a little tighter, burying his face a little deeper.
“Darling, it’s your mother,” the nurse managed to get out, a small tear leaving the corner of her eye. Unprofessional, perhaps, but I hardly cared. “I’m so sorry.”
My eyes had wandered back to the butterfly again. I was impressed that Gerard had learnt how to make them, and was glad he was getting along with his project for class. I wondered how hard they were to make and why he’d learnt how to do the one I’d picked out. Was it just for me? Perhaps he didn’t notice. I was almost surprised when he appeared in the doorway a moment later, a bunch of flowers in one hand, his other gripping the strap of his satchel so tight his knuckles were losing their colour. Seeing that he’d been crying as evidenced by the red around his swollen eyes made me feel almost guilty for feeling so angry towards him earlier. In a way, I’d been right, and this had all been his doing but in another way, he had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t the one that had hit me. He was the one that took me to the hospital.
“I hope I didn’t get blood in your car,” I blurted out, which only made Gerard cry harder.
“Are you okay?” he croaked, taking another step closer and placing the flowers on the table beside the butterfly.
“I’m okay,” I assured him, throwing him a gentle smile and hating that in his misery, he hadn’t returned it.
“I thought you might die,” he said softly, resting his hand over mine on my chest. “I thought I’d killed you.”
“You didn’t do anything, Gerard.”
“Exactly. I should have done more to prevent this. I didn’t think… she didn’t seem… and Frank wasn’t supposed to…”
“It’s okay, Gerard. I’ll be fine.” Gerard just knelt there by the bed for a while crying his eyes out, his lips pressed against the back of my hand sending vibrations up my arm with every shaky breath he took in. I was glad Mikey had told him to come visit me. I figured that must have been what had happened, given how much Gerard was hating on himself at the moment and the idea that I was embarrassed to be seen with him floating around somewhere in his mind. I was happy he’d pushed that idea aside for long enough to forget it for now. I wasn’t sure how to prove it false just yet, or if it was even possible after all the damage it had done to him already. It was becoming clear to me that it hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing for him to have said – the idea had been building, and I hated that I’d somehow been promoting it against my will.
“I put my jacket down so you wouldn’t damage the seat,” Gerard suddenly replied to my earlier comment, and I smiled. I was glad I hadn’t wrecked his car, and hoped it wasn’t a favourite jacket of his. “Do you mind if I stay with you here tonight? I can read to you, if you’d like.”
“That would be great, Gerard.” It took a while, but Gerard’s tears finally dried up. He ran his jacket sleeve across his eyes and I finally got that smile, even if it were a little dull. He dug through his bag for a moment then, pulling out his tattered copy of Pet Sematary.
“I’ll read to you from where we turned off the movie,” he told me, and began to flick through the pages. I closed my eyes and waited for his voice to fill my head.
I was partially paying attention to Gerard’s words as he read to me well into the early hours of the morning, his head slowly but surely drooping until he had pulled the chair closer to the bed to lay his chin on the mattress as he continued. I could feel my yawns getting longer and my eyes getting heavier, only slightly aware of the dim pain running through various parts of my body. Gerard turned the page and his voice drifted off, and we fell asleep just like that.
I was the first to wake in the morning as the nurse came in, the expression on her face suddenly softening a great deal as she saw Gerard’s head lolled onto the mattress where I lay, probably giving him a bad cramp in his neck.
“So you got the little butterfly then?” she asked softly, nodding her head towards the swallowtail where it lay still by the glass of water, now filled with the flowers Gerard had brought with him. I vaguely recalled placing them in there the night before as Gerard was reading, busying myself arranging them to keep myself awake a little bit longer. I smiled, the both of us looking down to Gerard for a moment, his messy hair covering the parts of his face that his hand wasn’t.
“You’re lucky to have him,” she commented, and I didn’t bother correcting her. She squeezed her clipboard tightly as she stood, her eyes still on Gerard, then the flowers, the sheets, the floor. She was stalling. I could feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck. Suddenly, the world felt a lot emptier than before. Gerard stirred but remained asleep as he gripped my sheets a little tighter, burying his face a little deeper.
“Darling, it’s your mother,” the nurse managed to get out, a small tear leaving the corner of her eye. Unprofessional, perhaps, but I hardly cared. “I’m so sorry.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Sad. :(