Early Sunsets over Monroeville

I waited. I didn’t try contact Frank for a week and a half. I was even too afraid to check social networks. I told myself that maybe Frank tried to contact me on them but that’s such bullshit. He has only contacted me using Facebook twice. Once just tagging me in a picture from the night of the cocktail party and once messaging me to see if I’d mind said tagging. I don’t ever use Facebook, just the thought of not using it makes me want to more…
I work in the bar though at the moment I don’t really need to. I was tempted to upgrade apartments a few times but I probably won’t get paid that much ever again and when the money ran out I could never afford rent.
I felt much more knowledgeable in my position now, stupidly. I guess having tasted basically every alcohol available in this state I could actually recommend drinks.
“I’ll have two bitters,” some guy says. After I ask for ID, he only looks about 15, I ask him if he’s sure. “Yea, I think so.”
“Bitter, you know it’s incredibly fucking bitter,” I say dryly.
“Yea? What would you suggest instead?”
“Like any other German beer.”
“That’s a very large range isn’t it?” He leans in over the bar, the other guy standing awkwardly behind him. They could be just gay friends, not a gay couple. I don’t see that much but I know it’s possible. Me and Frank are the other side of that case.
Stop thinking about Frank you stupid fuck.
“I’ll have a Bavaria then I guess,” he hums over the noise of the bar. “Have you always worked here?”
“Well this was my bar. But the owner is a friend of mine,” I say awkwardly as I pull his pint.
“Friend?”
“Yea, Bob. Only straight guy in the room,” I smile and nod toward Bob who is on the phone in the corner. I hope this isn’t interpreted as flirting.
“Jake,” he stretches out his hand to shake my free one as I put down his glass.
“Gerard.” I wish I had the excuse to serve someone else but there’s no one else to be served. I usually like the flirting from behind the bar but I still feel wrong thinking of anyone else. Thanks Frank, controlling my thoughts with something there never even was.
“Got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend if you swing like everyone else here,” he grins.
I laugh once, “Yea I have no one and I can swing any way you want.” Okay that was flirting, fuck. The guy just grins at me.
“Jake!” the other guys says, still standing there behind him. “You agreed, don’t be an asshole.”
“Alright, okay,” Jake says standing up and handing his friend the other beer, “I’ll be back a little later, Gerard.” He walks off with his friend and I see him coaxing his friend through hitting on that guy, Dan. Poor Dan. Phil just went to the bathroom and he seems to be awkwardly trying to explain that for the two minutes before Phil returns. I feel I should go help my fan but I can’t really leave my place. Even then, what would I say? I hope I never become famous, I’d probably just spend the whole time trying to help my fans out in some way and never do any work.
By the time Jake does return I’m hanging up my apron. “My shifts over,” I explain.
“Oh no, what a pity!” he seems genuinely disheartened.
“I’m sorry do I have to go, but I work here,” why am I saying this, “So I might see you again.”
“Probably will then,” he grins and for a second he looks like Frank. My entire body stiffens and my face falls. I’m not really good at ignoring my problems and I’m definitely no good at fixing them. I’m kind of the “acknowledge and worry about it for several months” kinda guy.

It’s exactly two weeks since the kiss that ended a friendship. I guess at this stage I’m wondering more about what Frank is doing. Has he told his wife? If he did, did she end up trying to divorce him? I’m sure Frank could be his own lawyer and take every penny they have and then we can run away together to Sweden.
Or maybe he’s just decided to forget about it and will never speak to me again.
Maybe he’s off confessing his sins to the pope in Italy. Asking forgiveness for the sins of lust and homosexuality, though I don’t think you can pray yourself out of them. I wonder if he now believes he’ll burn in hell when he dies… He never really took the religion to that level of seriousness or else he wouldn’t have kissed me. I wish he was a religious pain in the butt, then we wouldn’t have ever spoken and we wouldn’t have kissed and I can go to hell alone.
I drink an entire bottle of jack in the daylight, accompanied by ten cigarettes before I lie on my kitchen floor, staring up at the weird ceiling painting I did years ago. I did it to cover up a suicide note left by the last resident. Apparently they had used the oven, not a pretty way to go at all. It was a young girl too, like seventeen. I don’t know how I missed it when I was checking this place out the first time. It was written in eyeliner but it still wouldn’t scrub off so I painted two big black birds pecking at a brain. Granted, it’s no Late Dawn and Early Sunset over Monroeville.
I have no idea how long I’m lying here, only that its pitch black when I rise. My phone is buzzing on the table and “My Anaconda Don’t” is singing out at me. Mikey changed my ringtone and I have no idea how to change it back.
“Um, hello?”
“Hi, Gerard. It’s Katelyn.” My heart rockets around my chest before plunging into my stomach and emerging as butterflies. “Frank’s wife, I’m sure you recall.”
“I do.”
“I would like to invite you over for dinner.”
“You would?” What the fuck. Maybe I’m dreaming because I wouldn’t put it past me to pass out on my kitchen floor.
“Yes.” She sounds bored of this conversation already and she’sthe one who ignited it. “At two in the afternoon. At my penthouse suite on Sunday?”
What kind of douche refers to their apartment as a “penthouse suite”? “Yea. Yes, I’m free then.”
“Okay, superb. We’ll see you then. I have some matters to discuss with you.” And she hangs up. Well that gives me two days to freak out over what these matters could be. I think I shall start straight away. I text Mikey come over and go into the bathroom to throw up the butterflies.

“Hi Gerard, come in.” Katelyn answers the door. She’s wearing her “Sunday best” which is a less business-like and less-cocktail like dress than any I’ve seen on her before. You can tell it’s expensive but that doesn’t make it pretty. It’s cream and knew length with random blue flowers on it.
“Hi Mrs Iero.” She leads me to the dining table where there is a bottle of fancy ass wine and plates but no actual food yet.
“Frank’s just in the kitchen, he’s cooking today,” she smiles sweetly at the door her husband is behind. “You may take a seat. Oh not there, that’s my seat.”
I nod slowly and take the seat I assume is never used. Katelyn smiles. “So, um you had something you wanted to, uh, discuss?”
“I think its best we wait for Frank, wine?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did she invite me here if she’s just going to reprimand me for kissing her husband and making him rekindle his gay days? Maybe she wants to make me feel very bad. Or maybe stab me. Maybe Frank isn’t hear at all and she’s just going to push me out of the window of her “penthouse suite”.
She pours the wine even though I didn’t reply. It sloshes around the massive glass, red and deep. Like you could drown if you so much as look at it too long. She pours herself a noticeably smaller glass. So her plan is to fill me with alcohol so I admit to wanting to screw her husband.
We sit in silence for a very long time. Katelyn coolly measures me and seems to be not bothered at all by the silence. I, on the other hand, am sweating and probably red as the sunset I painter.
Thankfully Frank does emerge. He’s holding a platter with a sliced roast beef on it. “Hey Gee.”
“Hi Frankie.” Katelyn’s face twitches the slightest bit when I greet her husband with such an informal name.
“Want some beef?” he places the platter on the table between me and his wife.
“Yea, sure. Please.” I let Katelyn dish herself up first. I thought there’s some rule about guests choosing first, but I guess that rule is abandoned when your guest is a million classes bellow you and wants to run away with your husband.
Frank makes a few more trips in and out bring peas, two variants on potatoes, roast vegetables and gravy. Of each bowl, Katelyn serves herself first and then nudges the dish slightly towards me to indicate that it’s my turn.
When he returns, Frank sits down and dishes himself up. “How’ve you been Gerard, haven’t heard from you.” He talks so differently around Katelyn, like every word is chosen carefully.
“Okay. I’ve been working in the bar more, see.” I cut a bit of meat as delicately as I can. “You?”
“Yea I’ve been okay. Cutting through case after case.” There’s silence for a bit while we all eat. I can’t believe frank can cook. I’m beginning to feel like the only person in the world that can’t.
“Um, Katelyn,” Frank says after a while. “You had something you wanted to say?”
“Ah yes.” She puts down her cutlery and steeples her fingers. “Well I really love those pieces you did for us Gerard. And I was thinking that maybe you’d like to do us another? But not a canvas, a mural, if that’s in your repertoire?” I have no idea what repertoire means but I assume it is so I nod. “You see we have this spare room, and well, it won’t be spare for long.”
What’s that supposed to mean. Is she inviting me to live with them or something? “What?” Frank echoes my thoughts but slightly more aggressively than I thought.
Katelyn places a hand on top of Frank’s. He flinches. “Frank,” she says, her expression as soft and sweet as cotton candy. “Frank, I’m pregnant.”
I begin to cough out my wine and some starts seeping from my nose. What a fucking way to drop the baby bomb. I think I’m going to be sick.
When I look over at Frank he’s pale and shaking. He’s facing his wife but his eyes are fixed on the distance. “Why are you saying this now,” he whispers. “What the fuck, why would you say this now? How long have you known?”
“The doctor says I’m six weeks but I’ve known longer I guess,” she’s still speaking like a little angel.
“Oh god,” Frank groans. “I thought we were going to not do this? Not yet? Oh god I thought we were going to wait!”
“Aren’t you happy,” Katelyn smiles sweetly.
“Over the fucking moon.”

Notes

Hi!
So I wrote this...? I... Yea i had planned to be at this general part ages ago. I literally am winging this entire story but i kinda like it like this (the original way would have been weird af). So um yea here.
Okay so there's currently a storm here where i live and one of the windows in my kitchen isn't sealed properly or some shit and yea there is basically a storm blowing in through this one window and my entire house is freezing thanks to it. Also we had snow yesterday and the entire country ground to a halt so it took me an hour an five minutes (it usually takes twenty five) to get to school and i missed my entire first class.
Anyway sorry for that ^ . Thanks for reading this and thank you for all the lovely comments :3 I think I'll be able to update tomorrow and let me know what ya think ^.^