I didn’t talk to my mom for the first week or so that I was back home. In fact, I actively avoided her. She sent me some texts which Jordin tried to get me to respond to, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her. I couldn’t believe she had just thrown my dad away after almost thirty years.

On the other hand, when Gerard and I weren’t on the phone we were exchanging an unending stream of texts to each other. I couldn’t get enough of him. He was a godsend right now while I was sitting in my childhood room clutching a bottle of half gone whiskey, staring blankly at my laptop screen. It was a little past five in the evening and I was on my side on my bed, feeling dead. My heart was beating so slowly, but so heavily. I was barely breathing. I hadn’t gotten out of bed all day and was just really hoping that my dad and Jordin would leave me alone and not knock on my door.

I couldn’t help but worry that I was ruining Christmas but I comforted myself by realizing my mom had already done that. As if on cue, my phone started ringing. I shook myself out of my sedated stupor to reach to my nightstand to grab it, expecting it to be Gerard. It wasn’t.

“What,” I said slowly. I heard my mom scoff in the background before replying.

“Hello, Charlotte. I haven’t heard from you since you got back and was just calling to see how
you were doing,” she said.

“I’m fine. Fuckin’ tired.”
“Are you drunk?” I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, and I didn’t really care.

“What makes you say that?” I spat. My tongue felt tied up in my mouth, twisted around my teeth and making it hard to breathe. That was probably normal.

“Jesus Christ, Charlotte, am I ever going to be able to have a conversation with you sober? Or a conversation at all?” My mom asked, and I felt something fracture in my heart. As mad as I was at her, she was my mom, and hearing her say that cut, but my sadness quickly turned to anger.

“Yeah, probably not, mom, that tends to happen when you fuck your children up irreparably.”

“Call me back when you decide to be less of a bitch.”

“Talk to you never.”

She hung up and I tossed my phone off to my side. Didn’t care if it was cliche. Didn’t care if I never talked to her again. Just wanted to stop thinking. Wanted to stop feeling. I pinched my nose and drained the rest of the alcohol. My chest fucking burned and I rooted around blindly in my nightstand drawer. My room was exactly like I had left it years ago, and my blades were still there. I popped the case open, pinching one between my fingers. My shoulders started shaking with laughter. I didn’t know why.

I didn’t know anything, except how good it felt to feel my blood dripping down my forearm and onto the dark carpet underneath my bed. I let my arm dangle, increasing the blood flow. At least it was cold enough so I didn’t need to worry about wearing short sleeves.

I wasn’t thinking about Gerard when he called me. I didn’t even want to pick up the phone. I glanced over at the screen, a picture of me kissing him on the cheek as he smiled into the camera. He had such a pretty smile, with his tiny little teeth. I loved him so much. My phone kept pulsing with vibration, but I didn’t pick up in time. I didn’t want to get blood on my sheets, so I just let it go to voicemail.

I should call him back, I thought. I really should. I shouldn’t ignore him. I just wasn’t sure if I could talk coherently currently. But I did it.

“Hey, I just tried calling you,” he said after picking up the call. “What’s up?”

“Heeeeeey. I was. I was talking to my fucking mom. T’was super, super bad,” I enunciated. Or, I thought I did.

“Oh. That’s shitty, I’m sorry,” Gerard said quietly. “What are you doing?”

“Lissssten. I’m not really feeling well. I don’t know if...know if…” my eyes widened as I felt something creeping up my stomach. Oh my god I was going to throw up. I dropped my cellphone and leaned over the bed, vomiting onto my carpet. Eventually I was just dry heaving after emptying the contents of my stomach. I heard Gerard shouting on the phone, probably wondering what I was doing. I snatched my phone and went to the bathroom to wash my mouth out, putting the phone up against my face again.

“Charlotte what the fuck just happened,” Gerard hissed.

“I just threw up,” I admitted. Wow I felt a lot better.

“What else happened?” The edge to his voice was scaring me. It was like he knew what I had done. Immediately, self hating thoughts flooded my head. He would be so upset. I couldn’t tell him. But if I didn’t tell him I would be lying to him. “Charlotte.”

“I’m sorry!” I sobbed, wanting to throw up again. At least this time I was in the bathroom. I heaved into the toilet, knocking my head on the counter on the way down. “Gerard, I want to die.”

“Charlotte, don’t say things like that. Don’t. Are you safe right now?” He asked, his voice strained.

“I’m sitting...in my fucking bathroom. Covered in...blood.” I drawled. I heard him mutter something. I was such a fuck up. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop repeating that.

“Is your dad or Jordin home right now?”

“Probably. I don’t fucking know. I’ve been in my room all daaaaay.”

“Great. Just great. Okay. Okay. I need you to do something for me Charlotte.”

“What.”

“I need you to get out of the bathroom and give the phone to your brother, please. Please.” Gerard was pleading. My heart was breaking.

“Why?” I narrowed my eyes, leaning against the counter to get to my feet.

“I need to talk to him about something. Can you do this one thing for me, Charlotte? I love you.
Please?”

The door to my room rebounded off the hallway wall with a loud bang.

“JORDIN,” I said, staggering two doors down to his room. He peeked his head around the corner of his door, eyes widening with horror when he saw me. I had pulled a jacket over my torso so he wouldn’t see the blood, but I’m sure I looked like a mess.

“Charlotte what the fuck-” I didn’t say anything to Jordin, just shoved my phone in his direction. He eyed me wearily before reaching out to take it, holding it up to his ear. “Who is this?”

I leaned against the hallway, panting. I did what Gerard wanted. That’s all I needed to do. I sunk down to a sitting position, ignoring my dad when he walked up the stairs and into the fiasco. I just stared at the ground between my knees, listening to Jordin talk to Gerard. Probably about me. I had a migraine and everything was echoing and blurry. Whenever I moved my head, it was like my body was struggling to keep up. I heard my phone beep when Jordin hung up the call.
That was the last sound I remembered before I careened over onto my side, hitting my head against the ground. Pain. Pain. Darkness.

---

I was sweating. My armpits were sticking, my bangs were plastered to my forehead. I couldn’t take a whole breath in. I began to panic, starting to breath faster. I was going to suffocate, wherever I was, in this cocoon of heat. I twisted around under the blankets, trying to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Finally, I opened my eyes. Jordin was sitting in my armchair. I was in my room. He was looking at me. My mouth was so dry.

“Holy shit, I have the worst headache,” I croaked. He just handed me a glass of water. I was just trying to remember what we had been talking about earlier. My arm was sore. There was a bump on the back of my head.

“Me too,” Jordin said wearily, and I couldn’t tell if he was glaring at me or if I was just having a hard time seeing.

“Did you talk to Gerard last night? I think he wanted to talk to you? Did I give you my phone?” I asked, letting out a long sigh.

“Yes, I talked to Gerard. It was a very fun first conversation, Charlie.”

“Really?”

“No, it was fucking terrible. Do you not remember anything?” Jordin’s voice rose in spite of his obvious attempt to control himself. “Anyway, thanks to Gerard, you’re not dying right now.”

“Why?” I wasn’t sure what I was asking why to. I just wanted to go back to sleep. “Can I just be alone? I Just. I want to sleep.”

“You’re not going back to sleep. It’s Christmas Day.” My head spun. It was Christmas Day? Had it been Christmas Eve yesterday? What?

“No it’s not,” I said.

“Yes, it is. And Gerard is blowing up both of our phones because he's so worried about you. I'm afraid he's going to have an aneurysm.”

Shit. I needed to call him.

“I'm sorry. Mom called me last night,” I tried to explain. Jordin just nodded.

“I know. She called me and tried talking about it but there was more important shit to do, like making sure you didn't fucking die.” Jordin looked so tired. And it was all my fault.

“I'm sorry.” We sat in silence after I apologized. My phone started ringing, and Jordin handed it to me after looking at the screen.

“You should probably answer that,” he said, standing up. “I'm going to go take a nap.”

I answered the call, taking a shaky breath before apologizing.

“Charlotte stop. First off, I love you. Second off, I’m going to talk and I need you to not interrupt me,” Gerard wasted no time in cutting me off. My heart was pounding in my chest. He was breaking up with me. This was it. This was over.

“Okay,” I mumbled, ready to start crying again.

“I love you. You are one of the single most important things to ever happen to me. I’m so happy I met you and gave you that cigarette that day. I’m so grateful that I wasn’t your professor this last semester so we could actually get to know each other better. I love you. And I don’t care if you think me saying that again and again diminishes its meaning, because I think it all the time. I love you. And you need to go to therapy. You need to get better. You’re sick. And I love you, and I will be here every step of the way-”

“Oh my fucking god, I go to therapy, okay? When will people believe me when I say that?” I fired back, instantly regretting my sharp tone with Gerard. I just heard him sigh.

“Having a prescription and emailing an RN in the mental health office at campus once in awhile doesn’t count as going to therapy. You need a structured plan to get better. Charlotte, I don’t want you to die. I want you to be here with me for a long time,” Gerard continued softly yet firmly. Deep down, I knew he was right.

“I love you,” I said, my voice wavering.

“I love you and you’re all I’m thinking about right now.”

“Are you in Jersey?” I asked, feeling bad that we were just talking about me and my stupid decisions.

“Yep, I am. It’s cold here. A lot colder than California. Hold on one second, Charlie,” I heard some muffled voices, then laughter. “Sorry, Mikey was trying to talk to me. But we’re all here.
And I love you.”

“Maybe someday I’ll meet him,” I said. If I wasn’t dead first. That was so stupid of me to think. But I felt like I was being told to see the big picture then told to look out of a straw. “I’m sorry to ruin your Christmas.”

“You didn’t ruin my Christmas, you saved it. If you didn’t give the phone to Jordin, maybe you would have ruined it. But the important thing is you are going to get help and I will always be here for you, because I love you.”

“Gerard Way, you are the love of my life and I miss you so much,” I couldn’t help but sniffle.

“Charlie honey, you are amazing and I’m never going to tell you that too much. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? We’re sitting down to dinner, and we all wish you were here,” Gerard said. My heart fluttered a little. His family knew about me? His family wanted to meet me? Somebody cared. We hung up and I just laid in my silent room for a while. I needed to get up and get dressed and try to be normal for my dad and Jordin. I didn’t need to be their burden, they were having a hard enough time as it was.

Frank was texting me to have a merry Christmas. I think Gerard had let him know something had happened and he was peppering me with funny pictures he found on the internet, or some inappropriate jokes he read, trying to get me laugh. I got up, pulled on some clothes, did my makeup, and tried to bring some life into my face. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, my skin stretching uncomfortably around my chapped lips. I felt like a doll. I didn’t feel real.

“Well hello beautiful!” My dad called from the couch as I walked down the stairs. “Look who’s finally awake!” He rose up to give me a hug.

“I love you dad,” I said stiffly. Even though it was only him and me in the living room, I felt a million eyes on me. I felt like I was responsible for the shit this family was going through.

“You are so precious to me Charlotte,” My dad said before giving me a kiss on the top of my head. Jordin seemed to be up in his room, so my dad and I sat down to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. He made me some hot chocolate, and I talked to Gerard again during it because he wanted to know how I was doing. My dad managed to wriggle the phone out of my grasp despite my joking attempts at stopping him, but my dad insisted on speaking to “this mysterious Gerard I’ve heard so little about but have talked to so much.”

The laughter coming from my dad, and also my phone speaker, was enough to quell my doubts and warm my heart a little bit. It was Christmas. I hadn’t ruined Christmas, I had to keep telling myself again and again. I hadn’t ruined it, I hadn’t really saved it either, but it would get better. It had to.

Because God knew it certainly couldn’t get any worse from the night before.

Notes