This Is How I Disappear

“I don’t need your pity talks,” I recite shakily, like I have to all the shrinks my mom sent me to. “I can handle my own problems. I’ve heard it all before, okay, and it’s never helped, so, just stop.”

Gerard stands and walks toward me slowly. He pauses when he’s just a few inches in front of me, and my body longs to close the distance, but I know it can’t.

Why not? my brain inquires.

Because I don’t want to push him away, I reply sadly.

He brushes past me towards his bedroom, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But before he’s completely past, he grabs my hand and tows me along with him. What’s going on? I panic. What’s he doing? Why are we going to the bedroom? Brain, what’s happening?

Um, my brain explains, guess you’ll find out.

I think my eyes have popped out of their sockets, and do I have asthma? Because it’s getting really hard to breathe.

Since when do you have asthma? my brain asks.

I don’t know, I answer. Now?

I think it would be really pathetic if you had a panic attack just because he’s leading you to his bedroom, my brain intones. I mean, for whatever reason he’s taking you there, it’s still highly pathetic.

Gerard lets go of my hand and goes to the dresser drawer, as I stand in the doorway trying to breathe again. In through the nose, my brain chants, out through the mouth.

Okay, I interrupt, regaining my composure, I’m fine.

Good, ‘cause he’s coming back, my brain warns, and Gerard walks over holding a paper. He hands it to me, and on the photo is Gerard with black hair, and a guy with dirty blonde hair and glasses. Cute, my brain observes, taking in the blonde. Shut up, I respond, curtly.

“That’s my brother, Mikey,” Gerard tells me, unnecessarily pointing at the blonde.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply, confused as to how this came up. “The cop.”

Gerard nods, and continues, “He was bullied in school. All the time. It was really bad. Sometimes, he even had to go to the hospital.”

I swallow, remembering the times I had to go the hospital.

“Day after day, he’d come home with bruises on his face and body. And I couldn’t do anything about it. He wouldn’t tell me who did it at first. It was killing me. I tried to alert the school about it, but they said there was nothing they could do. I tried to call the police, but they said it wasn’t their job to stop bullies. The asses.

“Then one day, Mikey didn’t come home from school, and he wouldn’t pick up his phone. I called the cops, who didn’t care; the school, who said he left. I drove to the school, ran around the whole thing looking for him, calling him the entire time. I went to the park he liked to sit at next. I found him there. He had a gun in his mouth and tears running down his face. I had to talk my own brother out of killing himself right in front of me. I promised him I would fix everything. Finally, he put down the gun, and I took it. We went home, and once he was asleep, I took that gun, and I went to all the bullies’ houses, and I shot them all in the head. I murdered five kids for my little brother. What wouldn’t I do for someone in the same situation as he was?” Gerard lets the question hang in the air, as I stare mutely at him.

Nothing breaks our gazes, until someone starts banging on the door to the basement. We both startle, thought I do more than he does, and turn towards the sound. “Time to pay the rent, Gee!” the apparent landlady calls.

“Alright!” Gee—I like this nickname, Gee—hollers back. “I’ll give it to you in the fucking morning!” I raise my eyebrows at the casually used swear word.

“Right now, Gee!” she bellows back. “Or I call the cops!”

I stare at Gerard with wide eyes, but he just smiles at me. You know, just making my heart stop and all.

“Fuckin’ hell, alright already!” he yells, unconcerned. “I’ll get it to you in a minute!”

“You better!” she retorts. “I’m getting sick of your nonsense!” Footsteps retreat up the stairs.

I furrow my eyebrows at Gerard. “Don’t worry,” he says calmly. “She likes me.”

I give him a dubious look. “No, really,” he insists. “We always talk like that. She loves it.”

I nod, completely unconvinced.

He checks his watch. “Okay, it’s almost noon, so in a minute, I’m gonna call your mom again.”

“Why?” I ask, genuinely perplexed.

“Because,” he explains slowly, “she brought cops.”

“How do you know she brought cops?” I wonder, nervously.

“Because she said what the cops would have told her to say,” Gerard answers, staring his watch down as if it will get intimidated and go faster.

“She sounded pretty genuine to me,” I mutter.

“No, seriously,” Gerard says, handing me the burner cell so I can punch the number, “watch cop shows. It’s exactly what they say.”

It starts ringing, and I hand it back to Gerard, biting my lip again.

“Don’t do that,” he tells me, brushing his fingers over my lip briefly. I obey, because defying that touch would be physically impossible.

The phone gets to three rings before my mother picks up, during which time Gerard explains, “She’ll have dropped off the money and be in an unmarked police van, so they’ll have to wire the call through to the van. This is one way you can tell cops are involved.”

I nod, and my mom is on, saying, “The money’s there. Now, give me my son.” Her voice is surprisingly strong and fierce. A flash of warmth goes through me, but then I feel cold.

What’s her name? Gerard mouths at me during his dramatic pause.

Linda, I mouth back.

“Linda,” he growls, “I thought I told you no cops?”

She hesitates for a moment. “I didn’t tell the cops,” she replies, putting on her ‘I’m surprised you would think that’ voice that she uses when she’s lying.

“I’m not an idiot, Linda,” Gerard says.

“You’re an idiot to mess with my son!” she explodes, before composing herself. “I don’t care about the money, okay? I only care about my Frank. Please. I did what you said, now let him come back to me!” she wails.

Gerard lets her sob for a long moment before speaking. “It’s too late. You could’ve saved him, but you brought cops. Say goodbye to your son.” He puts the phone to my ear as my mouth drops open. What is he doing?

“Frankie!?” my mom screeches and I cringe away from the noise. “Oh my god, Frankie, I love you so much! It’s gonna be okay! I’ll get you out of there!” Her words turn to indiscernible blubberings.

I swallow hard. “Mom, don’t worry. I’m okay. I–I love you too.” My voice isn’t working right.

Gerard is just pulling the phone away from my ear when someone starts banging on the door. “Gerard Arthur Way!” the landlady booms, and Gerard doesn’t shut the phone before my mother gasps.