Disorder
Elena Lee Rush
He scribbled out yet another mistake on the lined-paper. That hadn’t made sense…
“Gerard! Are you almost done?!? I WANT TO PLAY MY BASS!” Mikey screeched. He paced around the room impatiently. Upstairs, the door bell rang. “IT’S RAY!” Mikey squealed and zoomed up the stairs. That’s what happens when you give a 23-year-old a Red Bull. “Hey! You’re not Ray.”
“Uhm, no… I’m not. I’m Matt Pelissier. Who are you?”
“My my… we’ve got a strong grip, haven’t we. GERARD! MARK IS HERE!”
“It’s Matt!”
“No, I think it’s Mark.”
“Stop annoying him, Mikey. Hey, Matt. Long time no see.” Gerard reached out his hand to shake his hand, but Matt grinned and pulled him into a man-hug.
“How’ve you been, Gerard?” Matt was a giant… Gerard had forgotten how tall Matt had been. His hair, brown in high school, was long and blonde now. But the roots of his old hair added a bit of a bum-like touch to Matt. It seemed to fit though. Matt had never been a looker, and now was no different; with his scraggly beard and torn clothes, it was like he really was a bum.
“Uh…,” he hesitated, confused by Matt’s appearance, “I’ve been alright. I’m addicted to drugs and alcohol. Which reminds me, when Ray gets here: you guys get to clear out my room and the house for remains of my prescription and beer. I would do it myself… but I’d probably just end up with 20 pills stuffed in my pockets and an apple juice bottle full of beer. What about you, Matt? Been living in the gutter, mate?”
Matt just laughed, “Something like that. Old woman kicked me out of the house, screaming about getting a job. I’ve been bumming off some buddies in New York. Right near the Towers, too. Crazy shit, huh?”
Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… pretty crazy shit. That crazy shit made me want to start the band. I was on a ferry with hyper-maniac-Mikey over there and I saw the bodies falling from the burning building. Where were you when it happened?”
“I can’t say I remember.” Was Matt’s reply. The door bell rang again and Matt was spared from Gerard responding with something cruel.
“NOW IT’S RAY!” Mikey wrenched the door open and there stood Ray, guitar case in one hand and a cart dragging amps in the other. “HI, RAY!”
“Hey, Mikey. Want to give me a hand?” Ray was struggling to get the amps down the steps then over the little ledge that the door rested on.
“SURE!”
“Shut the fuck up, Mikey. You can be such an idiot…” Gerard snapped, feeling a slight prickling beneath his skin. After the 9/11 incident happened, Gerard had tried to stay away from the pills and alcohol and as a result his old personality came and went. Kind of like mood swings…
Mikey feel silent, and looked at Gerard with sad, puppy-dog eyes. He continued to help Ray with the amps, but without so much energy.
Instead of apologizing to Mikey, like he would have a couple weeks ago, Gerard just rolled his eyes and started talking to Matt again. “When was the last time you even picked up a drum stick?”
“It’s been a while. I’m pretty sure I’ve still got it in me, though.” Matt grinned at Gerard, revealing unwashed teeth. Unconsciously, Gerard took a quick step back from Matt.
“Well, we’ll see. Where’s your equipment?” Ray asked. He nodded at Gerard and patted his shoulder. Gerard smiled in response. Matt looked at Ray then Gerard kind of expectantly, as if waiting to be introduced. Ray just eyed Matt with a slightly curled lip. Something about Matt made Ray uneasy…
“In my pick-up.” Matt jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the door.
“Alright, let’s go get it.” Ray clapped his hands together and started out the door, with Mikey and Matt in pursuit. Gerard lagged behind, staring at the notebook sitting on a desk. They were lyrics to the first song he’d ever written: Skylines and Turnstiles. Based on his viewing of 9/11, Gerard hoped it would turn into something miraculous. After all, that was the point of the band.
***
“NO! They doesn’t make sense. This riff would completely clash with the drums. And you can’t have a cymbal there, it’ll take emphasize off of Gerard’s line! NO!” Ray pointed out all the flaws in their music and made demanding suggestions as to what it should be.
“Chill, Ray. You’re like a fucking Nazi,” Gerard muttered. He eyed Matt’s bottle of Corona with lust.
“Oh no you don’t.” Mikey said in a sing-song voice and snatched the bottle away, dumping it into the trashcan.
“Hey! I wasn’t finished with that.” Matt said angrily.
“You don’t need to drink right now. You need to concentrate on fixing your music, dammit.” Ray snapped.
Matt made a mocking face at Ray and erased a part of his own music.
“Okay, Gerard… I like what you’ve done with this line here,” he jabbed his pencil at the paper, “but this needs work and that needs to be a pitch higher. Got it?”
Gerard frowned at Ray, “I think my lyrics are pretty good and they don’t need to change.”
“I was just suggesting something to make it sound better and maybe you should take my ad-.”
“What do you know about singing Ray? You’re just a tall mass of hair that manages a few guitar strokes. You have no singing talent. I don’t recall you in the green tights for the Peter Pan production on fourth grade!” Gerard said in a calmly controlled voice, but his fists were clenched- straining to tear Ray’s hair out.
Ray’s face paled at Gerard’s tone of voice. It was deadly calm, almost like the moments before a hurricane unleashed it worst. He had all these memories of Gerard using a similar tone of voice during high school. Most of them ending with the victim screaming in pain, or whimpering in fear. He knew he had to back down… “Alright. Sorry.”
“Better be…” Gerard muttered and went to lock himself in the bathroom. Ray’s suggestions made sense, but there was no need to let Ray get a big, uh… bigger head over that fact.
“Gerard, right now is not the time to be jerking off!” Mikey’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Fuck you.” Gerard replied, vocalizing the revised part.
“I’m going to go get donuts. Want something, Gee?” Mikey asked. Gerard could hear the rustle of Mikey's coat being slipped on.
“Yeah. Anything jelly-filled.” He sighed and turned on the water, patting his face with wet hands. He felt a wave of nausea wrack his stomach and he hunched over the sink, breathing heavily.
He steadied his breathing and looked in the mirror. A pasty white face with glinting eyes looked back at him. He turned him head and ran his finger over a small scar where a shard of glass cut his face. A flashback to the night, so many years ago, and perhaps his last bit of serious crime.
But breaking into a car seemed juvenile to Gerard now. He hadn’t really caused anyone pain by doing that. Maybe a few hundred dollars and the necessity to cancel a couple credit cards. That was hardly stomach-wrenching pain, though.
What he would really like to do was cause someone pain. Make them succumb to his higher will. Not only would that drive away this withdrawal nausea but it would boost up his self-confidence.
“Gee, your grandmother is here.” Ray said, rapping his knuckles on the door.
Gerard’s eyes lit up and he threw the door open. “GRANNY!” He shrieked before throwing himself at her.
Elena Lee Rush laughed and hugged him back, holding the back of his head close to hers. “Still eager as ever, my little Gerard, hmm?” She pushed him back and inspected him, still holding on to his shoulders.
“Oh yeah. Well, I’m excited today! My new band and I are going to play our very first song. I’m so happy that you’re here!” Gerard squealed. His smile was ludicrously happy and the rest of the band members fought the desire to laugh uncontrollably at his face.
“Is that so? Would you mind if an old woman sat by and heard you strapping-” she pinched Gerard’s cheek, swollen from the heavy smiling, at this point, “-young men play your music?”
Gerard pretended to consider for a moment, “I guess you could watch. If you promise not to touch anything.”
Elena laughed and hugged Gerard again, “I promise. Now, where is that little brother of yours? Last I saw him he was running around with a guitar strapped to his chest.”
“He just left to go get donuts, but I’ll call him back - if you like.” Gerard offered, biting his upper lip and cursing Mikey for his donut craving.
“No, no… Let him go on his little donut adventure. Why don’t you introduce me to all your friends?” She turned her hazel eyes on the rest of the guys in the room, all standing back - kind of uncomfortable to be intruding on family time.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Granny.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Gerard.”
“I know,” he nodded his head earnestly, then pointed to Matt, “This is my best friend Matt Pelissier. I think you remember him from my high school days. He’s going to be playing the drums in our band.”
She reached out her soft, wrinkled hand and shook Matt’s rather larger and much dirtier one. “Yes, I remember you. You never liked bathing much, did you?”
Matt’s smile went from welcoming to sheepish. “Well, I guess I never was a fan…”
“And this is Ray Toro, my other best friend from high school. He’s Mikey’s friend too. He’ll be playing guitar.” Gerard smiled apologetically at Ray, hoping that he wasn’t angry for his outburst and take revenge on Gerard by being rude to his grandmother.
Ray wasn’t the kind of guy to do that though, “Hello, Mrs. Rush. Nice to see you again.”
“Same to you, Raymond. Please, call me Elena. Or if you like, Helen. Hell, you can even call me Granny.” She stopped shaking his hand and started toward the couch. Gerard followed his grandmother to the couch, temporarily pushed off to the side for band practice. She sat down with a great sigh and crossed her legs.
“So, Granny, How’ve you been?” Gerard asked conversationally. Matt and Ray stood at the opposite end of the room, discussing in quiet whispers how this was the happiest they’d seen Gerard in ages.
“Oh, the same. I’ve still got that hip problem. Damn thing needs replacing. And doctors say I’ve got to lower my cholesterol! Which I think is strange because, if you remember, I’m the one always eating your and Mikey’s vegetables when Thanksgiving rolls around.” She laughed, eyes twinkling. “I hope that’s changed though. A man needs greens in his diet to stay healthy.”
“I know, Granny. I eat my vegetables.”
“That’s good, my little boy. Your mother tells me tha- Michael! You’re back.”
“Hi, Grandma.” Mikey said. Obviously some of his hyper-ness had worn off. He stood there, next to Matt and Ray.
“What are you doing just standing there? Come and give me a hug!” She stood up and stretched her arms wide. Mikey hesitantly came forward. He couldn’t help but have this feeling that Grandma Rush liked Gerard just a tad more than him. That was stated by the amount and quality of gifts Gerard received, who was greeted first and who was talked to the most during Grandma’s stay.
“You’ve gotten taller since I’ve last seen you.” Elena noted, having to crane her neck back to see Mikey’s face.
“I’m 23. I don’t think I’ve grown anymore.”
“I must’ve shrunk then, huh? Are you part of this band too?” She let go of him and stood next to Gerard, who had stood up when she stood up.
“Yeah. I play bass… Shouldn’t we get started?” Mikey asked, looking over his shoulder at Matt and Ray.
“Where are the donuts?”
“I forgot my money and the guy working there said I would have to wash dishes if I wanted them so I told him to fuc-,” Mikey looked at Elena and changed the direction of his conversation, “please give me the donuts and I promised I would give him the money later. He didn’t go for it, so I left.”
“Typical Mikey…” Elena giggled. “Now then, let’s hear some tunes!”
After many fair attempts and even more terrible ones, they managed to get through the entire song - Skylines and Turnstiles - with at least two-thirds of it right.
Even with all the mistakes and the necessity to keep on practicing, Ray knew that he was investing his time wisely. Not in a single band had he ever felt so secure about the outcome. This band was going to make it… it was just that wonderful.
((Comments, people... PLEASE))
“Gerard! Are you almost done?!? I WANT TO PLAY MY BASS!” Mikey screeched. He paced around the room impatiently. Upstairs, the door bell rang. “IT’S RAY!” Mikey squealed and zoomed up the stairs. That’s what happens when you give a 23-year-old a Red Bull. “Hey! You’re not Ray.”
“Uhm, no… I’m not. I’m Matt Pelissier. Who are you?”
“My my… we’ve got a strong grip, haven’t we. GERARD! MARK IS HERE!”
“It’s Matt!”
“No, I think it’s Mark.”
“Stop annoying him, Mikey. Hey, Matt. Long time no see.” Gerard reached out his hand to shake his hand, but Matt grinned and pulled him into a man-hug.
“How’ve you been, Gerard?” Matt was a giant… Gerard had forgotten how tall Matt had been. His hair, brown in high school, was long and blonde now. But the roots of his old hair added a bit of a bum-like touch to Matt. It seemed to fit though. Matt had never been a looker, and now was no different; with his scraggly beard and torn clothes, it was like he really was a bum.
“Uh…,” he hesitated, confused by Matt’s appearance, “I’ve been alright. I’m addicted to drugs and alcohol. Which reminds me, when Ray gets here: you guys get to clear out my room and the house for remains of my prescription and beer. I would do it myself… but I’d probably just end up with 20 pills stuffed in my pockets and an apple juice bottle full of beer. What about you, Matt? Been living in the gutter, mate?”
Matt just laughed, “Something like that. Old woman kicked me out of the house, screaming about getting a job. I’ve been bumming off some buddies in New York. Right near the Towers, too. Crazy shit, huh?”
Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… pretty crazy shit. That crazy shit made me want to start the band. I was on a ferry with hyper-maniac-Mikey over there and I saw the bodies falling from the burning building. Where were you when it happened?”
“I can’t say I remember.” Was Matt’s reply. The door bell rang again and Matt was spared from Gerard responding with something cruel.
“NOW IT’S RAY!” Mikey wrenched the door open and there stood Ray, guitar case in one hand and a cart dragging amps in the other. “HI, RAY!”
“Hey, Mikey. Want to give me a hand?” Ray was struggling to get the amps down the steps then over the little ledge that the door rested on.
“SURE!”
“Shut the fuck up, Mikey. You can be such an idiot…” Gerard snapped, feeling a slight prickling beneath his skin. After the 9/11 incident happened, Gerard had tried to stay away from the pills and alcohol and as a result his old personality came and went. Kind of like mood swings…
Mikey feel silent, and looked at Gerard with sad, puppy-dog eyes. He continued to help Ray with the amps, but without so much energy.
Instead of apologizing to Mikey, like he would have a couple weeks ago, Gerard just rolled his eyes and started talking to Matt again. “When was the last time you even picked up a drum stick?”
“It’s been a while. I’m pretty sure I’ve still got it in me, though.” Matt grinned at Gerard, revealing unwashed teeth. Unconsciously, Gerard took a quick step back from Matt.
“Well, we’ll see. Where’s your equipment?” Ray asked. He nodded at Gerard and patted his shoulder. Gerard smiled in response. Matt looked at Ray then Gerard kind of expectantly, as if waiting to be introduced. Ray just eyed Matt with a slightly curled lip. Something about Matt made Ray uneasy…
“In my pick-up.” Matt jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the door.
“Alright, let’s go get it.” Ray clapped his hands together and started out the door, with Mikey and Matt in pursuit. Gerard lagged behind, staring at the notebook sitting on a desk. They were lyrics to the first song he’d ever written: Skylines and Turnstiles. Based on his viewing of 9/11, Gerard hoped it would turn into something miraculous. After all, that was the point of the band.
***
“NO! They doesn’t make sense. This riff would completely clash with the drums. And you can’t have a cymbal there, it’ll take emphasize off of Gerard’s line! NO!” Ray pointed out all the flaws in their music and made demanding suggestions as to what it should be.
“Chill, Ray. You’re like a fucking Nazi,” Gerard muttered. He eyed Matt’s bottle of Corona with lust.
“Oh no you don’t.” Mikey said in a sing-song voice and snatched the bottle away, dumping it into the trashcan.
“Hey! I wasn’t finished with that.” Matt said angrily.
“You don’t need to drink right now. You need to concentrate on fixing your music, dammit.” Ray snapped.
Matt made a mocking face at Ray and erased a part of his own music.
“Okay, Gerard… I like what you’ve done with this line here,” he jabbed his pencil at the paper, “but this needs work and that needs to be a pitch higher. Got it?”
Gerard frowned at Ray, “I think my lyrics are pretty good and they don’t need to change.”
“I was just suggesting something to make it sound better and maybe you should take my ad-.”
“What do you know about singing Ray? You’re just a tall mass of hair that manages a few guitar strokes. You have no singing talent. I don’t recall you in the green tights for the Peter Pan production on fourth grade!” Gerard said in a calmly controlled voice, but his fists were clenched- straining to tear Ray’s hair out.
Ray’s face paled at Gerard’s tone of voice. It was deadly calm, almost like the moments before a hurricane unleashed it worst. He had all these memories of Gerard using a similar tone of voice during high school. Most of them ending with the victim screaming in pain, or whimpering in fear. He knew he had to back down… “Alright. Sorry.”
“Better be…” Gerard muttered and went to lock himself in the bathroom. Ray’s suggestions made sense, but there was no need to let Ray get a big, uh… bigger head over that fact.
“Gerard, right now is not the time to be jerking off!” Mikey’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Fuck you.” Gerard replied, vocalizing the revised part.
“I’m going to go get donuts. Want something, Gee?” Mikey asked. Gerard could hear the rustle of Mikey's coat being slipped on.
“Yeah. Anything jelly-filled.” He sighed and turned on the water, patting his face with wet hands. He felt a wave of nausea wrack his stomach and he hunched over the sink, breathing heavily.
He steadied his breathing and looked in the mirror. A pasty white face with glinting eyes looked back at him. He turned him head and ran his finger over a small scar where a shard of glass cut his face. A flashback to the night, so many years ago, and perhaps his last bit of serious crime.
But breaking into a car seemed juvenile to Gerard now. He hadn’t really caused anyone pain by doing that. Maybe a few hundred dollars and the necessity to cancel a couple credit cards. That was hardly stomach-wrenching pain, though.
What he would really like to do was cause someone pain. Make them succumb to his higher will. Not only would that drive away this withdrawal nausea but it would boost up his self-confidence.
“Gee, your grandmother is here.” Ray said, rapping his knuckles on the door.
Gerard’s eyes lit up and he threw the door open. “GRANNY!” He shrieked before throwing himself at her.
Elena Lee Rush laughed and hugged him back, holding the back of his head close to hers. “Still eager as ever, my little Gerard, hmm?” She pushed him back and inspected him, still holding on to his shoulders.
“Oh yeah. Well, I’m excited today! My new band and I are going to play our very first song. I’m so happy that you’re here!” Gerard squealed. His smile was ludicrously happy and the rest of the band members fought the desire to laugh uncontrollably at his face.
“Is that so? Would you mind if an old woman sat by and heard you strapping-” she pinched Gerard’s cheek, swollen from the heavy smiling, at this point, “-young men play your music?”
Gerard pretended to consider for a moment, “I guess you could watch. If you promise not to touch anything.”
Elena laughed and hugged Gerard again, “I promise. Now, where is that little brother of yours? Last I saw him he was running around with a guitar strapped to his chest.”
“He just left to go get donuts, but I’ll call him back - if you like.” Gerard offered, biting his upper lip and cursing Mikey for his donut craving.
“No, no… Let him go on his little donut adventure. Why don’t you introduce me to all your friends?” She turned her hazel eyes on the rest of the guys in the room, all standing back - kind of uncomfortable to be intruding on family time.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Granny.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Gerard.”
“I know,” he nodded his head earnestly, then pointed to Matt, “This is my best friend Matt Pelissier. I think you remember him from my high school days. He’s going to be playing the drums in our band.”
She reached out her soft, wrinkled hand and shook Matt’s rather larger and much dirtier one. “Yes, I remember you. You never liked bathing much, did you?”
Matt’s smile went from welcoming to sheepish. “Well, I guess I never was a fan…”
“And this is Ray Toro, my other best friend from high school. He’s Mikey’s friend too. He’ll be playing guitar.” Gerard smiled apologetically at Ray, hoping that he wasn’t angry for his outburst and take revenge on Gerard by being rude to his grandmother.
Ray wasn’t the kind of guy to do that though, “Hello, Mrs. Rush. Nice to see you again.”
“Same to you, Raymond. Please, call me Elena. Or if you like, Helen. Hell, you can even call me Granny.” She stopped shaking his hand and started toward the couch. Gerard followed his grandmother to the couch, temporarily pushed off to the side for band practice. She sat down with a great sigh and crossed her legs.
“So, Granny, How’ve you been?” Gerard asked conversationally. Matt and Ray stood at the opposite end of the room, discussing in quiet whispers how this was the happiest they’d seen Gerard in ages.
“Oh, the same. I’ve still got that hip problem. Damn thing needs replacing. And doctors say I’ve got to lower my cholesterol! Which I think is strange because, if you remember, I’m the one always eating your and Mikey’s vegetables when Thanksgiving rolls around.” She laughed, eyes twinkling. “I hope that’s changed though. A man needs greens in his diet to stay healthy.”
“I know, Granny. I eat my vegetables.”
“That’s good, my little boy. Your mother tells me tha- Michael! You’re back.”
“Hi, Grandma.” Mikey said. Obviously some of his hyper-ness had worn off. He stood there, next to Matt and Ray.
“What are you doing just standing there? Come and give me a hug!” She stood up and stretched her arms wide. Mikey hesitantly came forward. He couldn’t help but have this feeling that Grandma Rush liked Gerard just a tad more than him. That was stated by the amount and quality of gifts Gerard received, who was greeted first and who was talked to the most during Grandma’s stay.
“You’ve gotten taller since I’ve last seen you.” Elena noted, having to crane her neck back to see Mikey’s face.
“I’m 23. I don’t think I’ve grown anymore.”
“I must’ve shrunk then, huh? Are you part of this band too?” She let go of him and stood next to Gerard, who had stood up when she stood up.
“Yeah. I play bass… Shouldn’t we get started?” Mikey asked, looking over his shoulder at Matt and Ray.
“Where are the donuts?”
“I forgot my money and the guy working there said I would have to wash dishes if I wanted them so I told him to fuc-,” Mikey looked at Elena and changed the direction of his conversation, “please give me the donuts and I promised I would give him the money later. He didn’t go for it, so I left.”
“Typical Mikey…” Elena giggled. “Now then, let’s hear some tunes!”
After many fair attempts and even more terrible ones, they managed to get through the entire song - Skylines and Turnstiles - with at least two-thirds of it right.
Even with all the mistakes and the necessity to keep on practicing, Ray knew that he was investing his time wisely. Not in a single band had he ever felt so secure about the outcome. This band was going to make it… it was just that wonderful.
((Comments, people... PLEASE))