Crush, Crush

I'd never house sat for someone before. It was a week in and I still didn't feel comfortable living in someone else's space. Mikey had asked me to look after his and Clarissa's place whilst they were on their honeymoon. I'd told him previously that I'd lost my job to stop him from asking why I'd been too poor to meet up in Jersey a week before the wedding so we would all have more time together. It wasn't a complete lie... I was technically not working. I'd been fired once they found out I'd be leaving in a month or so and whilst I had another job lined up in Jersey, it'd be a month yet before I was due to start. I knew my lack of income would become a problem as it ate into my savings. I was already staying with the wrong people back in Minneapolis just to keep a roof over my head until my move. So far, the money I had saved for a washer and a new couch had gone to food. I wondered what else I'd have to give up. Mikey's request was just too good an offer to refuse.

He told me we'd talk about my situation when they got back after I made him promise not to tell Clarissa. I didn't want to ruin her honeymoon with news of me being one foot out of line with Davie away from being homeless. I already knew her opinion of him, as did he, and I didn't want a repeat of the previous times they'd clashed over thinking they both knew what was best for me. I tended to lean more towards Clarissa on that one, but maybe because she didn't try to take advantage. Was it kindness that possessed Davie to allow me to stay with him for a while? No, I'd deduced, after listening to his sexual requests for the fifth night in a row as he slid into my room in the middle of the night unwelcomed.

As well as I knew he was bad for me, I also knew he would always be there, at the cost of enduring his advances and keeping him happy by fulfilling the odd request. Sometimes, I was almost disgusted in myself, but then I remembered there was no other way. I'd come to him a few times for help in the past. I hoped my move to Jersey would mean I'd stop doing that.

I read over the rather small to-do list that Mikey had left for me as it sat on the counter. I wondered if he thought I'd buy his bullshit that they really did need a house sitter for a few weeks. They had no pets and I discovered that the indoor plant he'd requested I water daily was actually plastic. They were both often gone for weeks at a time when Mikey toured in the summer holidays and with Clarissa being a teacher, that meant she could join him for a while. I should have known I wasn’t really needed here.

It was horrible to think of how far behind everyone else I'd fallen. Clarissa had a college education and taught senior art and drama. Mikey was out there inspiring thousands of people each night he played. I didn't much follow My Chemical Romance but I knew they'd hit a point where they were big enough to be doing this fulltime. I'd endured a few of their songs on the radio at work where I was unable to slam the console to change the station to avoid hearing Gerard's voice; to avoid wondering if any of the lyrics he sung were about me… to avoid allowing him into my brain, my heart, to torment.

And then there was me. The only jobs I could get were at diners and cafés. I wasn't changing any lives. I wasn't inspiring anyone by handing them a cup of coffee and a paper in the morning. Anyone could do it, and it made me feel insignificant. I knew I was only comparing myself to people I looked up to, to my friends, but the point remained. I wasn't doing anything of value with my life. I existed, and that was that.

My eyes snapped to the front door as I heard the handle jiggle. Mikey hadn’t mentioned they’d be having anyone else over. I was sure I’d locked it. I watched as a hooded figure walked through the now open doorway… only to push back that hood to reveal a dishevelled red mop of somewhat familiar hair.

“You know that’s plastic… right?” Gerard pointed to the plant on the kitchen counter as I continued to pour water over it, only now hearing as it dripped all over the floor. I put the jug down and chucked the tea towel over the puddle as it formed, somewhat embarrassed.

“Of course I know it’s plastic.”

“Why are you watering a plastic plant?”

“Mikey asked me to.”

And there it was; we’d had our first conversation in 10 years. Gerard just stood with one hand on his hip, and the other arm leaned against the doorway. A smirk was forming on his lips the longer we both stood there and I realised that after all these years thinking about if we’d ever meet again, the idea of punching it off his face wasn’t a thought that particularly came to mind after all.

Notes

That took me way longer than expected to update. Sorry guys. Hope everyone's enjoying this so far :)