The Sleepless Nights Of Skinny Love

I wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. I look around, to realize that Gerard is no longer on the couch with me and Vladimir is curled up at my side. I gaze towards the kitchen, to see Gerard wearing a red apron and flipping pancakes. The familiar sound of the Smiths floods my ears, and within seconds I can recognize what song’s playing and which lyric comes next. I lift Vladimir and set him on the floor so I don’t roll him over as I stand. I sit up, and push myself to my feet, wandering to the kitchen sleepily. I sit down at the table, to see that it’s 1:00 in the afternoon. “Good morning, sleepy head,” Gerard greets. He slips his spatula beneath a pancake and sets it on a plate, which he hands to me. “Morning,” I yawn. “How long have you been up?” Gerard shrugs. “Not that long. You know, since like 10:00.” My mouth drops open. We went to bed past 3:00 last night; how can he possibly get up that early? “Do you want some coffee?” Gerard offers. “You can look at all the types I have.” I look over the coffee machine, and slowly rise, walking over. I sort through the bags, finding a Pumpkin Spice. I begin making it, and behind me, I can hear Gerard singing softly along with the music. He sets himself down at the table, putting a napkin in his lap. He does the sign of the cross on his forehead and shoulders and then presses his head into his folded hands. After about 20 seconds, he resurfaces, cutting apart his pancake. “You’re religious?” I question, sitting down. I shovel a forkful of pancake into my mouth, which, honestly, isn’t that good. I don’t have the heart to tell Gerard I don’t like it, so I drown the offending breakfast in syrup in order to choke it down. “Devoutly so,” Gerard answers. “That’s actually why I was up at 10:00; I went to church at 10:30.” “Never would have pegged you that way,” I admit. Gerard smirks, taking a bite of bacon. “So what, Christians have to be lame? They can’t like horror movies or bars or smoking?” The only Christian I knew in my cluttered, high crime childhood neighborhood was my aunt. She would always be so quiet, so prim, wearing nice sundresses even in the dead of Jersey winter. She had a hard life, my aunt. All that praying never really got her anywhere. She ended up trying to kill herself with over the counter pain medication, which fried her liver and killed her slowly over the course of a few months. I guess that God wasn’t quite as devoted to their relationship as she was. My aunt was a sad woman with a warm smile. And I know that she would never watch a horror movie, never step foot in a bar, and never press a cigarette to her lips. “I guess that’s my image of a Christian, yeah,” I tell. Gerard smiles, and reaches across the table, grabbing my coffee mug. He takes a long drink before setting it back next to me, and continues to eat as if he hadn’t just soiled my drink. “I’m Catholic, which is actually one of the strictest branches of Christianity. You know, it’s Lent.” “What did you give up?” I ask. “Absolutely nothing,” Gerard answers honestly. “I mean, while I had a lot of things I shouldn’t do as a Christian, I couldn’t bring myself to stop any of them. I probably should’ve quit smoking, but it calms my nerves. I could’ve stopped drinking, but it makes me happy. I definitely should’ve given up in my taking of various medications prescribed to anyone but myself, but they keep me in control. You know?” I don’t say anything, and Gerard takes this as a prompt to speak some more. “Not all Christians are perfect. I hate that stereotype. Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.” He thumbs the edge of his own glass. “But sometimes I wonder if the sinner dies before they reach their future.” I sit there quietly, not sure how to comfort him. I push my coffee towards him, saying, “You can have the rest of this, if you want.” Gerard chuckles, and slides the mug back to me. “It’s yours.” He stands, scraping off his extra food into a Tupperware container, which goes into the fridge. He sets his dishes in the sink, and I’m amazed at how the apartment is so tidy yet doesn’t have a dishwasher. I sit there, questioning, “Why are you a Catholic?” “If you’re talking definitions, it’s because I follow the religion of Catholicism,” Gerard replies. “No, like, why would you choose that?” I paraphrase. “Please don’t be offended, but why would anyone want to be a member of any religion? Isn’t it just a whole set of rules, rules that if you don’t follow, you’re pegged as a bad person? And what’s all this business with waking up early on your weekend?” Gerard actually laughs, and answers, “I dunno. I guess I like the idea that we can all be saved. That God cares about us no matter what, and how Jesus was willing to die for us to be able to fuck up. It’s nice to be a part of something, especially when you’ve been secluded for most of your life.” “Should I be a Catholic?” I wonder. “I can’t make that decision for you,” Gerard points out. “You have to show an interest in your relationship with God.” “I have a relationship with Him?” I ask. “I’ve never prayed, never went to church, I’ve sinned, and I haven’t even really believed Him.” “God loves all of his children,” Gerard answers. “Why? They don’t always love Him back,” I reason. “I feel like it’s because he made them, and he wants to give them all their best chance of eternal life. He doesn’t care you don’t believe him, because he loves you, and he only wants what’s best for you,” Gerard retorts. “It’s why good things happen to bad people. God doesn’t go around smiting the unjust. He gives them a lifetime of second chances, which are rare on this Earth.” “Would he give me a second chance?” “Always,” Gerard assures. He takes my empty plate, setting it into the sink. “Now Frank, I tell you that God grants everyone second chances. What makes you think whatever you did or are is so horrible that you’re exempt from this rule?” I can’t answer him, because I know that he’d hate me for it. “Just wondering.” Gerard grins at me, and asks, “Would you like to go to church with me next Sunday? Anyone’s welcome.” I consider this. Is God really what I need? Will He really forgive me? “I guess I can give it a shot.” Gerard hugs me, promising me, “Frank, you won’t look back.”

Notes

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