Married In My Mind

“What am I supposed to call you then, huh? What the fuck is going on here?” Frank asked. His voice didn’t waver which meant that he was really, really, really pissed. I’d only seen him look this mad once before when Bob dropped his favorite guitar and damaged the mechanics for the pickups.
“Hi Frank.” I squeaked, smiling like a fucking idiot.
So much for keeping my cool.
“Here… uh… follow me.” I said under my breath, glancing around to make sure no one was watching and practically dragging Frank into the bathroom with me.
“Do I even wanna know?” he asked softly, once I’d locked the door behind me. He crossed his arms and gave me this look like he was an angry parent talking to an unruly teenager.
“Probably not.” I mumbled, glancing around the room at everything except Frank.
“Are you doing this to get back at me or something?”
“No.” I said softly.
“Cause if you are that’s… that’s so not fucking cool.” he spat.
“I’m not.” I insisted. “I swear.”
“Like…. not fucking okay.”
“Not everything is about you.” I said coldly. “Sorry if that’s hard to believe.”
I finally stole a glance at his face. My heart jumped at the amount of anger and confusion I saw.
“What the fuck, Gerard?”
“What, Frank?”
“You’re fucking selling drugs?” He hissed.
“It’s complicated.” I shrugged.
“Are you on drugs?” He asked. I could hear worry in his voice. He took a step towards me and I flinched back against the door. For whatever reason I was expecting him to hit me. Instead his brushed his fingers along my jaw. I fought the urge to lean into his touch, sliding along the wall, away from him.
“Why are you interrogating me?” I asked.
“Just answer the question.” He said sternly.
“I’m not on drugs, okay? Chill the fuck out.”
“Don’t fucking tell me to chill out.” He warned softly, angrily.

We stood there in silence for a moment. The white noise of the party soundtracked the unbearable tension in the air around us in the tiny, well-lit bathroom.

“Do you need money? Is that why you’re doing this?” Frank asked.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. He just didn’t get it.
“Bert put you up to this didn’t he? We can get you out of this. I’ll get you out of this-”
“Frank, shut up.” I snapped. “No one put me up to this. It’s just… something I do… It’s just a way for me to escape like anything else.”
“Escape from what?” he asked, swallowing hard. He was starting to freak out.
“From this. From how much I’ve fucked up the things between us.” I shrugged, motioning between the two of us. “It just seemed like the only thing I could go out and do where you wouldn’t follow me. Cause you hate Bert.”
“This is about me, then.” he said solemnly
“Sort of. In an indirect way I guess...”

There was another unbearable pause.

“What the fuck was I supposed to have done differently?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “I thought… if you had me then this wouldn’t happen. You’d stay clean. Am I not enough?”
“Frank…” I breathed. “Don’t make this about you. I told you it’s not about you. I’m the one who’s fucking up. You can’t blame yourself.”
He took a slow deep breath, chewing his lip fretfully.
“Anyways, I don’t have you. I never will.” I said, admitting it to myself for the first time. He looked so sad I wanted to grab him and kiss him until he couldn’t feel anything. Until neither of us could feel anything.
“Don’t say that.” He whispered, “There’s no way for you to know-”
“Frank, stop.” I interrupted. “Stop pretending things are gonna work out for us.”
“Even if…” He swallowed, shaking his head, “Gerard this is still so fucking stupid. And dangerous… you could relapse again. You could get arrested. This has to stop.”
I actually laughed then.
“Don’t laugh. I’m being fucking serious here. This is stupid.” He scorned.
“Frank, you’re lecturing me on not selling drugs when you were about to buy drugs from me. You realize how fucking hypocritical that is, right?”
He sort of just gaped at me then.
“Just… everything’s fine. Calm down.” I sighed.
If I said it out loud enough, maybe it would start to be true.
“This is not fine, Gerard. Quit being delusional.”
“Stop pretending like you care.” I countered. I didn’t mean to say it. It just kind of came out.
It caught him off guard, I think, because after that he snapped.
“Are you fucking listening to yourself right now, Gerard!?” He yelled. “If you honestly believe I don’t care I’m more than happy to fucking show you what that looks like.”
Before I could say anything he pushed past me and slipped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I stood in the bathroom for few minutes trying to convince myself this was fine. I tried to tell myself there wasn’t a better way to have handled the situation.
Me and Frank were over. We didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t up to us. It never had been.
All I’d done was hammer the last nail in the coffin.

I slipped out of the bathroom and was immediately met with the eyes of an angry partygirl. She shoulder-checked me as she slipped past me, slamming the bathroom door shut behind her.
Perhaps the only bathroom on the first floor of a raging party wasn’t my best choice for working through our breakup.

There was a moment where I considered trying to chase after Frank. He couldn’t have gone far. I could text him. Even if he wouldn’t tell me where he’d gone he’d read whatever I wrote.
I wandered through the crowded dancefloor, through the kitchen, ending up on the sidewalk in front of the house. I looked up and down the street but couldn’t see my angry ex-quasi-boyfriend anywhere.
~

Frank didn’t show up for band practice the next day.
Or the day after.
Or the day after.
No one could reach him. He’d turned his phone off after the second day.
I tried to pretend I wasn’t fucking panicking. But I was.
Nail biting.
Fuzzy, raising thoughts.
I couldn’t focus on anything.

“Gerard… would you please just go get Frank? He’s probably fucking waiting for you at his apartment like a fucking girl.”
I looked up and Bob was staring back at me.
“Seriously, you’re fucking useless today.” Bob continued. “Just go get your boyfriend so we can get back to the music.”
“He’s not my-”
“Save it.” Ray cut in. “Just go get Frank. Please.”
“You mean… you- you guys know?” I stammered.
Ray nodded.
“You guys are about as subtle as a turd in a punch bowl.” Bob shrugged. “It was cute for the first 5 minutes but you really need to wrap this up...”
I glanced over at Mikey who was just staring off into space with a guilty expression.
“You told them, didn’t you?” I asked softly.
“They figured it out on their own.” Mikey said, still not looking at me. He must’ve had something to do with them ‘figuring it out’ judging by the look on his face.
“Wait… you guys are cool with it?” I asked.
“Always were, dude…. It’s a little weird, I guess? I don’t wanna like, watch you guys suck face or whatever.” Ray grimaced, “But yeah… wouldn’t ever stand in between two people in love.”

I just stood there, too weirded out by idea that Bob and Ray knew the whole time and didn’t care.

“We know there’s the whole thing with the label but… we can totally cover for you.” Bob added. “But look, I had to hang out with the shitty relatives on my mom’s side of the family this weekend. I got some shit I wanted to work out on this here drumset.” He tapped the snare with his drumstick. “I can’t do that if you guys are being all weird so let’s worry about the details later. Go. Get. Frank.”
“Ahm… okay? I’ll- I’ll try. He’s pretty mad at me ‘cause I-”
“We don’t care.” Ray interrupted, putting his hands up to silence me. “For the love of God, just go get him!”
“Okay. I’ll… I’ll do that.” I said, backing towards the door.
I practically ran down the hall and out the door towards my car. I didn’t even bother to text Frank before driving for his house. The worst case scenario would be that he wasn’t at home.

I practically scraped the side of my car off in a rush to park outside of his apartment building. I pressed the button for his apartment. He buzzed me in without even turning on the intercom to ask who it was. I took the stairs up to his floor, two at a time.
I started to get anxious as I meandered down the hall towards his apartment. He would still be mad about the drugs. I would stop if it meant we could be together. I was probably going to stop with the drugs either way. I’d never hang around Bert again if that was what Frank wanted.
I slowed my pace as the door to his apartment came into view at the end of the hall. I hadn’t thought about what I was going to say.
Maybe Frank didn’t even want to hear what I had to say.

I had to try, right? If not for us, for the band.

I hesitated for a moment before knocking on his door hard and firm.
It swung open.
“Oh! Hey Gerard! Thought you were the pizza guy.” Jamia said warmly.
I glanced down, noticing she wasn’t wearing pants. There was an awkward pause as my brain put together why Jamia would be answering Frank’s door in her underwear.
“Um. Do you normally answer the door for delivery guys in your underwear?” I asked. I didn’t even really process what I’d asked until it had already fallen out of my mouth. Maybe that was a rude thing to ask.
“No. Not usually.” She laughed. “I guess I didn’t think about it. Me and Frank were just-”
“I uh… I gotta go.” I interrupted, swallowing hard.
“Are you sure? You just got here?” She said, furrowing her brow and cocking her head to the side, “Frank’s in the shower right now but the pizza guy should be here any minute. Frank’s just helping me-”
“No. I uh…. Tell him I’ll call him, okay? And just… sorry for interrupting.” I mumbled, quickly turning and walking away without looking back.
“Suit yourself!” She called after me. “We got supreme pizza with extra olives. You’re missing out, loser!”

Extra olives sounded fucking great.
Maybe I could choke myself to death with them?

Notes

gotta love those misunderstandings. hahahahaha. oh dear.

-m