The Sleepless Nights Of Skinny Love

We get into Gerard’s car, a shitty little grey car that’s a host for rust. Upon entering the vehicle, the inside is even worse. Various trash, clothing, and random possessions litter the floor and backseats. Gerard clears a McDonald’s bag and a backpack, throwing them into the back, and gestures towards the passenger seat. I sit down, and Gerard follows, not thinking to put on his seatbelt as he pulls off towards his home.
We arrive soon at an apartment complex. Gerard parks in the attached lot and saunters slowly to the building, myself close behind.
Gerard’s apartment is on the fourth floor, and he is panting by the time he climbs all of the stairs. He coughs and pounds on his chest with his fist, wheezing,
“I’ve got to quit smoking.”
“Me too,” I agree, my head light and mouth dry.
He pulls his keys out of his pocket, fumbling them to the floor while trying to find the right one. We both bend over and reach for them, his icy hand clasping over mine.
Gerard blushes even more than I do, and withdraws his hand as if I’d burned him. I hand him his keys, and he mutters a thanks as he opens the door.
“Sorry if it’s not very neat. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.”
I step in, to see Gerard’s living room. It’s a large area, with a cushiony blue couch on the far end. Right to my left is a litter box, so there must be a cat somewhere. There’s an alarmingly large bookcase that could kill twelve men if it fell over, but it’s not just filled with books, but also action figures, board games, and a stuffed caterpillar. His game console is a Gamecube, and it lay on the floor with the controller attached.
I walk in further, passing the coffee table, which has Playboys casually strewn out across it and an old mug of half drunken coffee.
Gerard removes his jacket, tossing it on the couch. He steps out of his shoes and looks around as if he’s searching for something.
“Missing something?” I question, examining his bookcase. I read the various titles, Rats Saw God, 1984, and A Clockwork Orange, among others. I classify his book taste as intriguing, and instead of evaluating more fine literature I inspect an even finer redhead in a random issue of Playboy. I set the magazine back down, to see Gerard in the attached kitchen, looking under the table.
“Just wondering where my cat is,” Gerard answers. “Vladimir!”
I snort. “You say my name is shitty, but you name your cat Vladimir?”
Gerard doesn’t take offense to this, but just seems genuinely confused. “He’s Russian.”
A soft pinging of a bell indicates a house cat, Gerard’s to be specific, rubbing its head up against my leg, wrapping itself around me practically.
“He likes you,” Gerard informs. “He doesn’t like many people. He’s kind of like me that way.”
I can’t help but notice that I must be part of a slim selection of people Gerard enjoys being around. I take it as a compliment, even though some wouldn’t want the friendship of a cynical, antisocial strange man.
“Do you want a drink?” Gerard offers, pulling a bottle of white wine from his kitchen cabinet.
“I’m actually 20, so…. Yes,” I respond. “As long as you’re okay with that.”
“I’d rather you get your illegal beverages here where someone can keep an eye on you rather than by yourself,” Gerard reasons, pouring two glasses.
I stride over, Vladimir at my heels. I take a sip from my wine, and Gerard picks his cat up and cuddles it, hugging it and planting a kiss on top of its forehead before setting it back down.
“It’s weird to see you… affectionate,” I tell honestly.
“Frank, you gotta know something about me,” Gerard begins. He takes a gulp of his wine, and proceeds, “I care exclusively about three things in this God forsaken world. And those three things are Mikey, the future investments of Playboy, and Vladimir.”
I raise an eyebrow. “The future investments of Playboy?”
“Great company. It’d be a shame to see them throw their money away,” Gerard retorts.
I chuckle and take another drink, setting out and wandering some more.
“You’re welcome to explore a bit,” Gerard calls. “It’s a small place, so it shouldn’t take long to grow accustomed to it.”
I find what can only be Gerard’s bedroom. It’s actually impeccably tidy, the Star Wars bed set made, the floor clean, and his desk organized. He has a loft bed, and his desk, covered in drawing supplies, is tucked underneath. A blue cat bed sits at the foot of the desk, and a teddy bear is the only thing besides the bedding to sit on the mattress. He has a crate in one corner, which I walk over to see what it contains. It’s full of movies, including, but not limited to, all of the Lord of the Rings series, all of the Star Wars saga, and a large selection of horror films. I lift the crate and return to the living room, where Gerard is sat on the couch, glass of wine in hand, Vladimir in his lap. I sit next to him, begging,
“Can we watch some of these? I’ve been dying to see some of them.”
Gerard grins, and tries to hide it behind another drink of wine. “Whatever you want.”
I stand, popping Audition into the DVD tray. I begin, “Can I ask you a personal question, Gerard?”
“Shoot,” Gerard approves.
“You’re at least 21, and even older if you’re Mikey’s bigger sibling. So why is it that you still have a teddy bear on your bed?” I tease.
“Frank, my father gave me that. He died, and it’s all I have left of him,” Gerard informs, his voice cracking.
I turn around, apologizing, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Gerard nods, takes another sip of wine, and then laughs, “I’m just fucking with you Frankie, but don’t make fun of me in my own home. It’s from my father, but he’s alive. I am sentimental about it, though.”
“Here comes the real question,” I preview. “Do you sleep with it?”
“You can’t ask a lady that,” Gerard tsks, polishing off his glass of wine.
I start the movie, hurrying back over to the couch to sit and grab my drink.
“This is nice,” Gerard sighs.
“The movie?” I question.
“No,” Gerard replies. “Company.”
Gerard and I talk as the credits roll, and the Fox and the Hound goes in next. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the badger being angry at the fox.

Notes

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