The Falling Man

We walked to the restaurant, hands awkwardly entwined like a young, teenage couple who had never held hands before.

When did this become so hard? I wasn’t asking for things to go back to the way they once were. I just wanted Gerard to look at me, the look that he gave me that night in the club, the one with the care and concern.

The new Gerard’s eyes were merely filled with this empty feeling that engulfed me.

Dinner was quiet, after a few drinks I saw him loosen up a bit. But his laughter was still nervous. It was as if he was just anxious to get this all over with.

It was becoming more and more of a disappointment.

He paid of the check, grabbing it from me before I even got to look at it.

“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I let you paid, would it?” He asked, looking over the bill as he furrowed his brows.

It wasn’t like he was being gentlemanly in any other way. We headed out of the restaurant just the way we came, Gerard’s hand on the small of my back leading me out.

But as his hand took mine again, he cleared his throat.

“Do you think about the eleventh ever?”

I looked up at him, he was staring straight ahead, focusing on some unknown destination.

Truthfully, I had thought about it a lot. It was hard not to, there were constant reminders everywhere. Every time I heard Katrina cough it was a reminder of what had happened that day, and how I had almost lost her.

“I try not to,” I replied truthfully, feeling the grip on my hand loosen a bit, “Why?”

Gerard sighed lowly, “I think about it all the time.”

He stopped, “Do you want to go up?”

I looked up at the unfamiliar apartment building, pulling my hand away from his and giving him a confused look, “Where are we?”

A smile spread across his face, the first one I had seen all night, “It’s my apartment. I just got a new one.”

My lips broke into an uncontrolled smile, and I threw my arms around his neck, “Oh my God! Gerard, you’re growing up!”

It took his only a split second to react, wrapping his arms around me and picking me up into a hug then placing me back down, “I know, I know.”

He backed up a bit to look at me better, “I just figured that if I was a dad now, I’d need my own place so I could take care of Katrina better.”

If it was possible, he made me smile even wider. He was melting my heart all over again.

“So,” He tucked his hands into his pockets, “Do you want to go up? I want to show you something.”

“Of course,” I said, biting my lip to try to stop my smiling mouth.

I followed him into the entry way, and down the hallways to his apartment door, which he unlocked promptly.

“It’s not a lot, really,” He gave the door a good shove with his shoulder, opening it, “But I figure it’s close enough for Katman- Kat to come visit when she’s older.”

“What did you call her?” I widened my eyes dramatically, even though I knew he meant to call her his little nickname.

“Kat,” He responded quickly, “I called her Kat.”

“No you didn’t!” I feigned horror, “You were going to call her Katmandu! A city, Gerard! Your nickname for her is a city!”

He threw his keys onto a bare counter and slid off his shoes, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

I rolled my eyes, “It would’ve been if I heard it come out of your mouth first. Katrina told me about it earlier.”

He laughed to himself, taking his jacket off and putting it on a kitchen chair, “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

I nodded, mimicking him.

“So,” He looked around, “This is the kitchen. I don’t really have much in here yet, I still have to go shopping for plates, silverware...”

His eyes became distant again, and he shook whatever thought was in his head away, and took my hand, leading me into another bare room, only occupied with a television, a couch, a few large boxes, and a guitar case.

“This is going to be the living room, or what ever you call it,” he scratched the back of his neck, cocking his head to the side, “I want to paint it, I haven’t figured out color schemes or anything yet, though.”

I shrugged, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

My eyes lingered on the guitar, and I pointed to it, “Do you play?”

“I’ve been learning,” He smiled coyly at me and led me closer to it, kneeling down as he opened the case.

I did likewise, tucking my feet beneath me to keep myself decent.

He took the guitar out, held it in his lap as his tuned it lazily, “I’ve been writing a lot. Thinking a lot...”

“About the eleventh?”

He nodded, plucking one of the strings, “A lot about the eleventh. About how all of those people died,” his voice became very quiet and sullen, “How their lives were gone so fast, none of them really made a mark on the world or anything.”

He stared blankly at the carpet, “They’re just a list of names now.”

He looked at me, his eyes holding the same expression they had when I first looked into them that evening, “I don’t want to be like that, Ana. I don’t want to amount to nothing.”

“You won’t,” I assured him, reaching forward and rubbing his knee.

“I want to be able to help people.”

“You can.”

He smiled at me, his eyes finally showing some expression, “I was writing lyrics in the hospital that day. For a song.”

I raised my eyebrows, “A song?”

He nodded, sitting up a bit straighter, “I wrote it, do you mind listening?”

I shook my head, beckoning for him to go on.

He smiled weakly, bending down to strum the guitar, then looked back up at me, “I’m sorry if it sucks.”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t worry about it.”

He strummed the first chord, it was sloppy and out of tune, but still strong. The song built, and he sang softly, letting his voice gradually rise.

‘-And after seeing what we saw,
can we still reclaim our innocence-’

I know it’s kind of cliché, but I’m pretty sure that I fell in love with him all over again at that minute. Not because he was playing me a song, Hell, it wasn’t even remotely romantic, it was because there was something in that song that made me feel so overwhelmed. His voice conveyed these emotions that I had felt and he had felt during that day. And I knew if I was able to feel it, then other people would be able to as well.

And it was then I realized he had something special.

His voice warbled, and I smiled sweetly as he strummed the last chord, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

He nervously licked his lips, “What do you think?”

I just leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, “I think you’ve got something. And you should give it a shot.”

He grinned broadly, pleased with my approval, “Really?”

I nodded, leaning back on the palms of my hands, “Really.”