Found Missing

Christmas is only two days away yet Belleville has managed to become even more bleak than usual, but I suppose nothing has been right since the absence of Martha. It's snowing, but not the kind of snow that settles. It's mixed with rain so the pavements are slippery and the trees are dripping with slush.

Anne put her best efforts into setting up the Christmas tree. She said that life had to go on, but gave up half way through and retreated to her settee, a glass of wine in one hand, a photo album in the other. I finished hanging the tinsel after she fell asleep.
I've had enough of mulled wine and burnt ginger bread men for the moment. Anne's taken to turning the radio up a little too high and I don't think I can listen to another shitty Christmas single blast through the house. I decide that sitting in the snow, or should I say sleet, until I can no longer feel my toes is a more appealing way to spend my time.

I can see someone walking toward me, shoulders slouched, hands jammed into the pockets of their jeans. Their hood is pulled so far over their face that I can't even make out their features, the only way I can tell it's Gerard is by his choice of Converse'.

He stands in front of me, I rock idly on the park swing.
"How long have you been here?" He asks.
"An hour and a half."
"You're gonna' catch your death, Elfie."
I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders but with no aid - it's not even water proof.
"I'm okay, really."
He nods and shuffles his foot through the gravel. I ask him if he needs something or if he's simply come to invade my peace.
"Mikey said he found you when you were leaving the other night, or morning, he wasn't very specific." Gerard says quickly. "He just said you were in a hurry to get out."
"Well I didn't really fancy sitting around with your kid brother to explain why I was in his house at god knows what time."
"Right, of course... yea, uhh, why were you in our house?"
I bite my lip. "What? You mean you don't remember?"
"No, what-"
"We fucked."
Gerard pushes back his hood and his eyes pop, I nearly choke on my own laughter.
"I'm joking! Nothing happened, someone had to make sure you got home alive, didn't they? You were wasted."
"Don't do that Elfie!" He shouts at me, but fails to hide the amusement in his voice. "If you weren't a girl I'd totally smack you! I honestly thought for a moment-"
"Please, don't flatter yourself Gerard."
"Y'know, for someone so miserable you can be quite funny."
"You must have an odd sense of humor, but thanks."
"No, thank you." He blurts before he can stop himself. "You didn't need to take me home. It was... nice of you, I guess."
"It was nothing." I mean it, it really was nothing. I wish he'd let the topic drop, but he's never been one to give up easily.

"I have The Blair Witch Project on video, I was just wondering if you wanted to, well, watch it? You could come to mine?"
I throw him a doubtful look. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Well, you've wanted to see it since it came out, right? It can be my way of saying thanks, I dunno'..."

I've never seen Gerard behave with such caution, toward me, anyway. He's not once given a second thought to the words exchanged between us, but recently I've dared to acknowledge the way he's softening. I don't know why he's doing it, I can't exactly pin point it either. Maybe, just like Anne's desire to fill the cupboard with endless tins of spaghetti, he doesn't realize he's doing it. Despite our significantly inimical history, I can't help but feel sorry for him.

"C'mon, Elfie, don't make me look like an ass, I'm really trying here."
I have a million and one questions as to why he's suddenly decided to try, but I'm not feeling callous enough to press them just yet.
"Alright, let's go." I stand up and beckon for him to follow me out of the park. "Besides, I guess you owe me for puking all over my shoes."

I can practically feel his grimace from behind my back. I'm lying, of course. Gerard is tactful enough to not throw his guts up over anyone's shoes, even when he is drunk, but he can't seem to remember a moment. I think it's easier to tease him with half truths than to tell him of how I'd listened as he cried himself to sleep; that would damage his pride more than anything I can lie about.