Life on the Murder Scene

The next morning everyone gathers in the living room, sipping from mugs of coffee and munching on various breakfast foods. Frank and I sit on the couch, passing a bowl of Corn Flakes back and forth, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone else. No one has brought up what happened last night and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one that pulls the pin on that hand grenade. Frank seems to have the same sentiment, only grunting his good morning to Bob and Ray. My older brothers stay more towards the kitchen, their backs up against the wall with the television against it. They whisper quietly back and forth over the tops of their mugs. We have to leave to start shooting the Helena video in two hours. It’s going to be a shit show if no one is willing to say more that three or four words to each other.

“Mak, can I talk to you for a second?” Mikey says into his coffee mug.

I nod, getting up and walking down the hallways towards the room my brothers are staying in. Mikey follows soon after, shutting the door behind him so that we at least have the illusion of privacy. If I know the other members of the band though, they’re all standing outside, ears pressed to the door trying to figure out what we’re saying.

“Does Frank make you happy?” Mikey blurts out, coming to sit on the bed next to me.

I smile, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. “Of course he does Mikey.”

My older brother frowns a little, chewing on his lip while he thinks. I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, not wanting to escalate the situation anymore than he already has. “He treats you alright?”

I laugh, “Mikey, you already know the answer to that. Who else would sit on the floor with me while I had a panic attack over undercooking spaghettiOs?”

My older brother laughs, remembering the recording of the band’s first album. We’d traveled to a studio in Newburgh, New York. Everyone there basically lived off of canned meals. I was in charge of heating up a can of spaghettiOs for Gerard and had brought them to him still cold in the middle. My older brother hadn’t cared, but I’d lost it, sitting in the living room in tears because of my anxiety. Frank, although high out of his mind, had left the other guys and his girlfriend at the time, Jamia, to come and sit with me. He’d insisted that it was fine and that Gerard wasn’t affected at all. If that isn’t someone who treats you right I don’t know what is.

“I love him, Mikey. I’m not sure if that’s hard for you to hear, but it’s the truth. He’s amazing to me. I promise we won’t let our relationship influence the band or anything like that,” I continue, hoping to drive the point home to my brother who still eyes me skeptically.

“I know. I’m sorry I over reacted last night. I just don’t want to see you hurt by anyone, but especially not someone that I’m close to. I wouldn’t be able to look over at him everyday and know he broke your heart Mak.”

“He won’t!” I interject. “Even if he does, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

Mikey sniffs, pushing his glasses back up his nose, “I just still see you as that little four year old, in tears, running for Gerard when you fell and skinned your knee.”

I giggle, taking my brother’s hand in mine, “I’m not that little kid anymore Mikes, but I do still need my brothers. I need you to support me and encourage me and tell me that I’m not going to fuck up today because I’m really scared I’m just going to forget everything.”

“You’re not going to fuck up today Makayla,” Mikey smiles, pulling me into a one armed hug. “I want you to know that I’ll support you and Frank, just tell him not to fuck up or he’s out of the band.”

My brother and I laugh, holding onto each other a second longer before getting up and walking back into the living room. I retake my seat next to Frank, resting my head on his shoulder. He presses his lips to the top of my scalp, arm wrapping around my shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fantastic,” I answer back with a smile.

We travel to the church in a big white van. Frank, Gerard and I sit in the back row of seats while Mikey, Ray and Bob take up the middle. Our driver is a plump, bald man who nods a lot. Big Worm sits in the passenger seat, his hand flying to the dashboard anytime our driver puts on the breaks a little hard. Frank lies out across Gerard and I, his head in Gee’s lap and his feet propped up against the window. As we drive through the crowded streets, I draw on the guitarist’s knee. My older brother keeps his eyes fixed on the buildings outside the window, very obviously lost in his own head. So far he’s been doing really well. I hope it stays this way.

There is already a group of people gathered on the sidewalk outside the church when we arrive. The van has to go around the back and all of us are led in through the basement. It’s surreal. My friends have created this thing that so many people love and care about. “How did they find out where we would be?”

Frank grins as he begins to thumb through the clothes that are set out for everyone; suits with button up shirts and ties in various hues of grey. My dress hangs at the end, a black strapless thing with a red under slip and belt. As I walk forward and touch it I realize that it’s made out of satin. What the hell have I gotten myself into? This is all too real. Can I really do this?

“Hey, hey,” Frank coos, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be amazing. Don’t over think things.”

“They used satin,” I mumble. “This dress is probably ridiculously expensive.”

Frank giggles in my ear, “Welcome to shooting a music video.”

We are then ushered off to hair and makeup. The boys are sent to one side of the room while I am brought into another. It’s small and stuffy and the lights are really bright. The dress is slid on first, to make sure that it fits. Once a few new stitches have been put in and the length fixed it’s pulled off and I’m sat in a makeup chair, Frank’s pullover my only form of clothing. I sit there for what feels like forever, people fussing over my makeup and hair. I can hear music playing and know that the guys have started filming.

After another thirty minutes Frank walks in, grinning when he see me, “Hey there beautiful.”

I stick my tongue out at him, scrunching up my nose. My boyfriend is wearing black suit pants with a black button up. His tie is black and grey stripped. They’ve painted red over his eyelids, some rimming the underside of his eye as well. It’s funny to see him with makeup on even if he does sometime swear it for stage shows. “How’s filming going?”

“Oh we’ve just been doing sound checks and getting everything set up. There are so many extras out there. It’s crazy. Did you know you’re going inside a coffin?”

“What?”

“Well, you are dead in the video.” Frank laughs, walking closer to me and taking my hand. “It doesn’t seem that scary. I’m pretty sure it’ll be open the whole time.”

I nod, as the makeup artists clear away. Once again they bring out the dress and it’s pulled over my head. I stand and look at myself in the mirror. Never in a million years did I think I would be doing this.

I’m lead out into the main area of the church. People are running around everywhere, checking equipment, moving around lighting, and instructing people where to stand or sit. For a few minutes I just exist in the middle of it all, not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing. It is only when I see Michael that I being to relax. He gives me an approving smile before jumping into the directions that I’m supposed to follow.

“You’ll be in the coffin at the beginning of the video. Just lie there with your eyes closed and look dead. You’ll have some flowers or something. I need to talk to Mark. Anyway, right after the so long and goodnight part the camera will pan over you and you’ll open your eyes. Mark will give you some kind of cue. Then as the can you hear me starts you’ll be lowered out of the coffin and you’ll start your dance. Right now it’s just at the front of the church but like I’ve said before make it yours. After that you fall back into the coffin and the boys carry it out.”

“Wait, will I be in the coffin while they’re carrying it?”

Gerard, who must have been listening to our entire conversation lets out a laugh, his hand coming to rest on my exposed shoulder, “God no. We can barely lift the damn thing as it is.”

“Thank God,” I respond, letting out a sigh.

“Is everyone ready? Quiet in the pews!” Mark, the director, calls as the rest of the guys move to their places on the alter.

I wait for a stool to be brought out and climb into the coffin. The soft silk feels weird against my skin. There is a small pillow set up against the end for me to prop my head up on so that the camera can see me. One of the assistants hands me a bouquet of red roses. I’m fine until the bottom of the coffin is shut over my feet, partially trapping me in. Being slightly claustrophobic the small space and knowing I can’t get back out without assistance makes me nervous. I curl my hands around the stems of my flowers, digging my nails into the skin. This helps to calm me down and I’m able to close my eyes and keep my breathing even as the first few cords of the song begin to play. Maybe this will go smoother than I thought.

Notes