Life on the Murder Scene

A panicked Mikey appears before me. He’s breathing heavy, his eyes big and scared. My older brother is talking at a million miles an hour and I can’t understand any of it. What the hell is happening? Mikey isn’t someone who panics. He’s always kept a level head. If he’s upset about something it has to be big.

Tossing my cigarette in the dirt, I place my hands on my brother’s shoulders. I can’t help him if I can’t understand what the problem is. “Mikey, slow down. What is going on?”

“Gerard,” Mikey answers back quickly, before grabbing my hand and dragging me up the steps to the area backstage.

Gerard is hunched in the corner, fingers curled around the end of his tie. He’s pulling it back against his throat, almost like a noose. My older brother looks pale, his breathing very uneven, coming out in huffs between his dry heaving. As he begins beating his head against one of the metal poles I rush over to him. Dropping to my knees, I place my hand over Gerard’s trying to get him to loosen his grip on the striped tie.

“Gee, hey, what’s going on? Will you talk to me?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even despite the fact I’m scared shitless. He’s never been this bad before. What the hell happened to him in the time it took for the guys to take the stage?

“I can’t do it Makayla. I’m such a fuck up. Everything is going downhill and I can’t stop it. I can’t do this anymore,” Gerard sobs, his forehead coming in contact with the metal pole once again. This time he splits open the skin, blood pouring from the cut.

Turning around I search for something to cover it with. There’s nothing back here. The only other person backstage with me is Bert. I’m not sure where the other guys went but I can’t worry about that right now.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch him bleed or are you going to go get help?” I demand.

Bert just blinks back at me, obviously stoned out of his mind. Not knowing what else to do, I pull my shirt over my head, placing it on the gash in Gerard’s head. He’s still coughing, trying to make himself throw up.

Suddenly, a water bottle is thrust into my hands. I unscrew the top quickly and hand the bottle to Gerard. He takes it from me, dumping the whole thing over his head. Thankfully, he’s released his death grip on the tie and I’m able to slip it over his head. Once I’ve discarded the tie, I begin to rub Gerard’s back. I just need to get him to calm down.

“What happened to make you feel like that?” I question, hoping that I can get him talking.

Gerard shakes his head, “I can’t tell you. You’d be so disappointed. I’m so sorry, Mak. I’m sorry I’ve not been there for you.”

“No, no. Gee, you’re just fine. I’m not disappointed in you. Nothing you do could make me disappointed.”

Gerard falls backwards onto his butt. He’s openly crying now and I use my thumb to wipe his tears away. I need someone else here. I’m not going to be able to hold it together for much longer. Seeing my brother like this kills me. He’s my hero. I hate how useless I am. I hate that I can’t help him more. I hate that I let him get this bad. I can feel myself choking up and turn away, forcing a yawn to try and keep my tears back.

A few seconds later everyone returns. There is a group of EMTs following closely behind the guys. I’m guided away from Gerard, the people in blue shirts taking over. A sopping wet shirt is pulled over my head. I’m too numb to care. Seeing the medics surrounding Gerard, watching them strap various machines to him and ask him questions is too much. I fall to my knees, tears spilling down my face.

Strong arms encircle me, pulling me close to a bare chest. I sink into it, burying my head in the person’s shoulder. A hand rubs up and down my back as I start to shake. I’m having a full on anxiety attack right now and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“He could’ve died. He wanted to die.” I cry out, pulling away from the individual who is trying to comfort me.

“Hey, hey,” hands come to gently cup my face, hazel eyes meeting mine. It’s now that I realize Frank has taken on the task of calming me down. “He’s going to be okay. He was a little too drunk. Gerard is going to be okay.”

Not knowing what else to do, I throw my arms around Frank. He’s sweaty and gross and shirtless but he makes me feel better. I believe what he’s saying, even though I know it is said to comfort me and might not really be true.

“Mak, can I tell you something that may make you laugh?” Frank questions.

I just shrug. This is how Frank makes people feel better. He avoids talking about the real issue and just cracks some dumb joke. I appreciate the fact that he’s not trying to change who he is.

“Gerard lost his pants again today. He stood on top of the fucking speaker for a solid minute before he realized. Thank God he was wearing underwear.”

I can’t help but smile a little. We need to get him a belt or some better fitting pants. He probably just looks like an idiot out there with his pants around his ankles. “We’ve gotta do something about that.”

Frank nods. “Make sure to ask him about it later. He was so pissed.”

“I’ll be sure to record his reaction,” I answer back. I’ve got to get through this. I have to compartmentalize. Talking about it and trying to explain that the way he’s living his life is killing him wouldn’t do Gerard any good. He wouldn’t understand. I have to be okay with just acting like nothing happened.

“That’s my girl,” Frank says with a smile before helping me up off the ground. “Gerard’s going to be just fine, he just got a little upset. Happens to the best of us, right?”

I nod before walking over to my brothers. Mikey is supporting Gerard who, I have to admit, looks a lot better now that he’s got some water in him. I press my lips to my oldest brother’s cheek for a second. I don’t know what I’d do without him.

“Ready to go back to the bus?” Ray questions, his eyes sweeping over everyone. I wonder what he thinks about all of this. Is he as concerned as we are, or is he getting frustrated at the singer? If we were closer I’d ask him, but we aren’t. Ray and I really haven’t talked since he brought me to the hospital. Instead, we’ve fallen into our usual pattern of simply coexisting.

I follow behind the guys, pulling out my video camera and pointing it at Gerard. Once he’s walked a little way from the sage I call out to him, “Gerard, you lost your pants again.”

My older brother spins around, grinning a little, his fingers running through the greasy black mess that is his hair, “It’s the fucking women’s cut; they always fall down.”

Frank lets out a laugh, coming to rest his chin on my shoulder, “Gotta get you a belt, Gerard.”

Gee just shrugs before continuing towards the bus.

While the others relax, Frank and I get a cab to the nearest Wal-Mart. Although I’m still on edge about this part of town, having the guitarist with me calms my nerves. He holds my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles the whole drive. This is nice, being able to be close to Frank without worrying what the others will think.

“Mak, can we talk about earlier?” Frank questions as we browse the aisles, grabbing various food items off the shelf and dumping them into the cart.

“Earlier when?” I question. A lot has happened over the past few hours and I honestly have no idea what aspect of the day he wants to discuss.

Frank lets out a sigh, his hand coming to rest on his hip as he stands in front of the shopping cart, preventing me from continuing down the aisle, “Mak you know what I’m talking about. You kissed me this morning. Like a real kiss, on the lips.”

“Wow, it’s only a real kiss if it’s on the lips? I’ve been doing this all wrong,” I joke, giving the guitarist a wink. “I got caught up in the moment. Sorry if it was weird.”

“No, Makayla,” Frank says, suddenly right in front of me, pushing me up against the shelf behind me. His hand cups my cheek, his breath warm on my face, “don’t you ever think it was weird. All I can think about is doing it again.”

“So do it,” I challenge, eyes never dropping Frank’s gaze.

Frank’s breath catches, teeth grazing over his full bottom lip before they are pressed against mine. I can feel the cold metal of Frank’s lip rig hitting against my teeth as I pull his lip into my mouth. Our tongues brush against each other and I smile into the kiss as Frank moans a little.

“Damn,” the guitarist lets out a sigh as he pulls away, his hand reaching to scratch at the back of his neck. “Damn.”

I laugh at him, rolling my eyes, “Get your head out of the clouds, Frank. We’ve got things to buy.”

“Mak?” Frank says as we continue down the aisle.

“Huh?”

“Will you be my actual girlfriend? We don’t have to tell the guys right away. We’ll figure out how to make it so our business isn’t the bands. I’ll deal with Mikey and Gerard so that you don’t have to. We can make this work. I won’t let it affect my relationship with the band –” Frank rambles on, giving me no choice but to cut him off, throwing all of my concerns out the window.

“Yeah Frank, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Notes