A Determined Person

Saturdays: usually reserved for mucking about before grading papers on Sunday, because even teachers put things off for as long as we can.

I would have woken up about half past one in the afternoon, except her Royal Higness Sneaky Pete whined at me at 5:30 in the goddamn morning, expecting me to cater to her every whim and let her outside.

Which I did. I didn't want there to be dog piss in my living room.

Here's a life tip, for those who want it: there is nothing on cable at 5:30 in the morning. It was sad, just how bad it was. It was times like this that I'm thankful for the majesty of Netflix, along with Mad Men.

The next few hours were spent watching the show and trying to keep my mind off of Gerard. I'm not ashamed to admit that I had dreamed about, but it was innocent. Just a quick flash of his face, and that was it.

And yet, that doesn't explain why I had the YellowPages open to the 'W' section. Yes, I was fairly desperate and, as I searched for 'Way, Gerard', I tried to come up with a reason to call him. Discuss Mikey's performance in class? Nah, Mikey's a good kid. I'm completely enamored with you and wanted to hear the sound of your voice? How about not? I want to collaborate at Faculty Follies? That's the ticket.

Finally, I found him. I quickly got my phone and out in the listed number, hoping that this was the right Gerard Way. Then again, how many Gerard Ways are in the Los Angeles area? Answer: one.

"Hello?" He answered after a few rings. I noticed that his voice wasn't as nasally and had less of a Jersey accent, and I realized that— nope, that's not Gerard.

"Hey, Mikey, it's Mr. Iero," I told him. "Is Gerard around?"

"Umm..." The younger brother started and I heard a muffled: "Gee. Your boyfriend wants to talk to you." followed by Gerard's voice gasping (more of a whimper?): "Bert?"

"No, dumbass, Frank," Mikey said and I smiled as I imagined him rolling his eyes.

After a moment, Gerard said: "You're calling early. Mikey, leave."

"I'm still sleeping!" Mikey whined, his voice barely audible.

"Leave!" Gerard exclaimed and, after a silent pause, he added quieter: "Sorry about Mikey. Like I said, you're calling early."

"Is nine-thirty early?" I asked and laughed a bit.

"Yes," Gerard answered, deadpan. "On a Saturday, too. For shame, Frank."

"Well, I apologize," I said sarcastically and leaned back into the couch cushions. "What did you guys do last night?"

"Why do you care?" He asked, laughing slightly.

"Because I'm looking for a convenient segway to my next topic, but I also genuinely want to know."

"If you must know, Mikey slept over at my house and we watched Lord Of The Rings."

"Elijah Wood, am I right?"

"Oh my God, yes," he sighed and I had to force myself to move past how dirty that phrase was, especially when he said it like that. "Mikes and I talked about that last night."

"Awesome," I said. "Anyway, here's my topic change: I want to perform with you during Faculty Follies."

After a moment, he whispered: "No shit?"

"No shit," I replied. "I'm decent with a guitar. And I'm a shitty singer, but—"

"Dude, if you think you're a shitty singer, you haven't heard me," he joked. "I sound like if Billy Corgan and Kurt Cobain had a love child, and that child's voice was their singing voices combined. That child's voice is my voice."

"What're you talking about? Corgan and Cobain are fucking great," I argued.

"They are; that's not even open for debate," he said. "But together? That's me, and I suck."

"And I swallow," I said before I could stop myself. One thing about me: I have little to no impulse control.

I could practically hear his smile as he slowly asked: "Did you just make a dick-sucking joke around the gay guy? Because that, honey, is no joke."

"Dick-sucking is a favorite pastime of mine," I agreed. Fuck it; if he could figure out my sexuality by the lengths of my fucking fingers, I might as well scream it from the mountaintops.

"Are you the sucker? Or the suckee?" He asked and I scoffed.

"I get sucked," I said. "Daddy always gets what he wants."

"For the love of God, call yourself 'Daddy' one more time, and I will find where you live and knock your teeth in," he threatened. "I'm from New Jersey, I will slit you."

"Where from? I'm from Kearny," I told him.

"Shit, Mikey was born in Kearny!" He cried. "I'm from Summit, but we lived in Belleville until I went to college and my parents divorced while I was over here at Berkley and Mikey came to live with me. Then, Mom moved out here so that Mikey could keep going to this school and still live with her."

"I was in Jersey up until a few years ago, when I came down here for no reason other than I wanted to be as far away from the Jersey hellhole that I grew up in," I explained. "I'm like a pop-punk song."

"'You lipstick, his collar, don't bother angel, I know exactly what goes on'," Gerard started and I laughed a laugh that made Sweet Pea howl next to me.

"You do sound like a Corgan/Cobain baby!" I cried. "Shit, man, you're good!"

"You, Frank Iero, must be deaf," he laughed. "Anyway, back to business: yes."

"Yes what?"

"I would like to perform with you."

Fuck yeah! "Awesome," I said, trying to contain my excitement. "I'll call you tomorrow, maybe?"
"Sure, that's good," he said. "Wait. How'd you get my number?"

"YellowPages, bitch," I said. "Why did you have to kick Mikey out, and out of where?"

"Just now?" He asked. "My bedroom, because he's nosy little shit. It was either spoon the string bean or have him sleep on the couch, and I am not letting my baby brother sleep on that couch."

"Makes sense," I said, nodding. "Alright, I'll let you guys sleep some more. Have a good day, Gerard."

"You too, Frankie," he said and hung up.

I obsessed over 'Frankie' for the rest of the day.

Notes

Sorry for (A) the long wait and (B) the short chapter. Dance practice and horrible depression are taking up most of my time.

xoøli