Fortuitous Casualty

I sat calmly in the waiting room chair, trying to not process what was going on. Gerard went to find a doctor half an hour ago, to check up on the tests they ran. We’d been here for about twelve hours and now it was about three in the afternoon. We hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten- unless you counted coffee and lots of it. Gerard was running around like a mad man, unable to calm himself. I couldn't tell if he was happy or horrified at the situation.
“Hey,” Gerard's voice snaps me out of my trance, and I look tiredly up at him.
“Hi,” I respond as he sits down in the empty chair next to me.
“The tests look good.” He says, before clearing his throat, looking down at his hands. “They think he’s fine. That he’s not, y’know, dying.”
“That's good. That's really good.” I say, nodding at him. He nods back, staying quiet.
“What now?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows at him.
“I don't know.” He responds simply, leaning back in his chair.
“You don't know?” I repeat, squinting my eyes.
“Yes. I do not know, Frank.” He responds monotonically back. I stare at him a minute before nodding, sitting back in my chair too.
“We should go sit with him.” I say, standing. He nods, but doesn't stand.
“Can you go in alone? I need to just sit for a minute.” He asks, looking up at me.
“Of course,” I say, leaning down to peck his lips. He accepts the kiss, looking tired as I pull away. I turn and head back into the room, completely unaware of how I should have felt about the situation. I ignore it though, and focus on the calmness in my stomach, letting it take over my body.
I open the door, finding him sitting quietly by the window, lost in thought. This room didn't look like a normal hospital room. It was more personal. An alarm clock sat on the nightstand and a couple other things, and the dresser had a half open drawer, exposing clothes.
“Hey Mikey.” I say, turning his attention to me. He stares and does a half smile, making the action look like it took all his energy.
“Hey.” He returns my greeting, turning back to the window.
“I know this is overwhelming.” I say, sighing. He looks at me like he wants to laugh.
“You couldn't possibly know anything about how this feels.” He shakes his head, almost comically, but I can tell he just feels sad.
“I do though.” I swallow, shrugging at him a little. “I was in a coma. I know it's not the same thing as amnesia, but I know how it feels to wake up in a life that feels worlds away from yours. I woke up about three months ago.” I tell him, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, across from his chair by the window.
“I know that. It's just, It's different. I wasn't just… not conscious. I was a person, just not myself.” He sounds emotional, as if tears are ready to spill over.
“Is that why Gerard didn’t come see you?” I ask, careful with my words. He nods sadly.
“Yeah. I told him I couldn't see him. That was like, three years ago. I didn't know who I was, and he kept showing up with things of mine, or games we used to love, or pictures. I couldn't remember any of it. I told him he was suffocating me. He said that we could get to know each other again, that it didn't have to be the same as it used to, and I told him I didn't want that. That I would never be the same person again, and that I didn't want to see him again.” He tells me, his voice so thick with emotion you could cut it with a knife.
“He understands. He knows.” I tell Mikey, my voice firm. He shakes his head, and I can tell he's crying.
“No, you don't get it. Me and Gerard… we were attached to the hip when we were teenagers. And I lost that. Even if I couldn't remember it, I could still feel the loss.” He explains, finally facing me.
“He will forgive you, Mikey. You will get it back.” I tell him, walking over to the window. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, smiling sadly.
“I’m glad you're here Frank. Gerard was so sad about you when he came to see me. He showed me pictures of you, because I obviously couldn't remember, and talked about you all the time, I swear. The cheesiest shit too. Stuff about how he missed your smile.” Mikey laughs, wiping his tears away. I laugh too, only a little shocked. “Yeah. I never would have thought that this is where we’d end up. I thought that man would never love me back,” I grin, shrugging. I wipe the grin off my face and look seriously at him, looking intently in his eyes.
“We're gonna be okay Mikes.” I say, grabbing his hand. He looks back at me and smiles, nodding.
“I know.” We look at each other for a few seconds before our hands break away.
“Have they said anything about you coming home?” I ask, leaning against the window seal.
“No, I think they were afraid too. Y’know, in case I die.” He says in a humorous voice, as if it were a funny thing. That had always been how Mikey coped, humor. I coped through calmness and Gerard coped through planning. Not the worst coping skills to end up with.
“Well, Gerard says everything looks good. We could all talk about it later when Gerard’s finished with the doctors.” I suggest, making him nod.
“Do you mind if I go get him now? I’m not sure what the doctors have told him exactly.” I ask, straightening my body to exit.
“No, go ahead.” Mikey dismisses, turning back to the window.
“‘Kay, I'll be right back.” I say, crossing the room to leave. I quietly open the door, closing it behind me before walking the short distance to where Gerard sat. He silently stared at his feet, chewing on the skin out his thumbnail on his thumb. I sit next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Hey my love,” I greet him warmly, trying to get him to stop looking so worried. He smiles a little, but the worry doesn't disappear from his face.
“Hey babe.” He responds, his voice neutral.
“So have they said anything else? I thought the tests would be done by now.” I ask, keeping my voice warm in order to ease him.
“Yeah. They are all done.” He nods, pressing his lips together before starting again. “Mikey is fine. There’s nothing wrong. They said he doesn't even need to be under observation, the tests proved nothing wrong. They told me amnesic patients come out of it all the time, and check out within the next 24 hours. I guess it because Amnesic patients have been able to control their lives, just not who controlled it before they got amnesia. We can sign the discharge papers anytime and go.” He rambles, talking as if he was just stating facts.
“Okay. Well let's go talk to Mikey then, yeah?” I say, grabbing his hand and standing. He stands with me, nodding slightly, following me inside as I open the door. Mikey looks up at us blanky before looking down at his hands, and back at us. Gerard and I sit on the hospital bed, looking at Mikey as we settle on the bed. Gerard opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure where to start. Instead, I talk for him.
“So, they say all the tests look good. We can leave whenever you want, I can go grab the discharge papers for you and take off.” I explain, trying to keep it simple. I didn't wanna re-tell everything Gee told me, especially since he probably knew this stuff, because it was his brain disease.
“Okay. Um, then can you get them now? I’m starting to remember how much I hated hospitals before everything.” He shutters and looks at the white walls in distaste. I laugh, standing.
“Yeah, be right back.” I tell him, exiting the room. I rush down the hall and to the nurses' station, politely asking for the papers before returning back to the room. I didn't want to leave them alone for too long, because that meant a long awkward silence- but to my surprise when I get back, they’re talking.
“So I moved into a different house- a mansion really. I still have your bed and dresser, and we can go shopping for whatever you need. When Frank recovered we blew like five thousand bucks on him. Not that I can't afford it.” Gerard cuckles, lacing my fingers with his as I sit down next to him.
“I don't really need all that much, I have a job and stuff-”
“They let you do that?” I ask, taken aback.
“Who?” He asks, confused.
“The hospital?”
“Well, yeah. I live in the amnesic ward, which is basically for patients who rejected care with living relatives. We stay, get jobs, try out therapies for the amnesia, and once we decide to give up on the medicine or our memory isn't coming back, we can leave.” Mikey explains to me, making me nod understandingly. I know regular hospitals don't do that, so I made a note to look up this place later and see what kind of hospital it is. I hand Mikey the discharge papers and smile, before leaning onto Gerard’s shoulder, desperate for more contact. He slips an arm around me, so my head lies where his collarbone ends, and I scoot even closer, nearly on his lap. I was supposed to be mad at him- I think, anyway, but I didn't have the energy. I just wanted to be close to him. I close my eyes an yawn, letting myself finally be tired for a minute. I hear Mikey stand, done with the discharge papers, making me and Gee stand too. Gerard grabs Mikey's bag from the dresser, which Mikey must’ve packed earlier, and we all exit the room. Mikey gives the nurse the papers and accepts them with a smile, clicking away on her computer for a minute before allowing us to leave. I wonder if Mikey has already said his goodbyes- he must have friends, doctors, nurses he wanted to say goodbye to in here, but if he does, he doesn't say anything about it.
Gerard and I lead the way to the car, and I awkwardly realize that I probably wouldn’t- shouldn't really, have passengers seat. Instead I go around to the drivers side and get in the back, making Gerard whine. I giggle and kiss his cheek from the backseat, stretching my back out to reach him.
We begin driving in silence, but I know that it's probably awkward for Gee and Mikey, so I talk.
“Hey babe, we should get something to eat, yeah? I’m sure we're all hungry.” I suggest, resisting the urge to reach up to the driver's seat and draw patterns on his side with my fingertips- something I know calms him.
“Yeah. Do you guys wanna order take out? Mikey, we can get Italian food.” Gerard says, driving steadily on the freeway.
“Actually Italian isn't my favorite. That was after the coma. I remember that I really like Mexican food.” Mikey responds casually, but I know Gerard doesn't take it casually. I know to him it means something more than just food, it was Mikey’s identity. I see him tears up in the mirror and smile a little, and I can't really tell if the tears are bad or good. “I love you Mikes.” Gerard says, his voice lower than normal from trying to keep the sound of tears out of it. “I love you too Gee.” Mikey responds immediately. I smile to myself, secretly taking peeks at each of their content faces.
We ride in silence for the rest of the way home.
*
When we reach the house it's about five, five thirty. The maid and the butler would be getting off right about then, or they were already gone. Mikey stared at the house, keeping his face blank. We park, and this time I grab Mikey's bag, exiting the car tiredly. Gerard leads us into the house and I immediately sit on the couch, making myself comfortable. Mikey looks around the living room, taking it in.
“Did you pick this Frank?” Mikey asks, studying the room.
“Uh, no actually. Gee did.” I respond, setting Mikey's bag on the table.
“Yeah, I picked it out the Franks taste actually. Most of the house is either decorated in Franks style or yours.” Gerard explains, coming to sit next to me.
“Even though…”
“Even though you didn't want to see me or talk to me? Yeah. I stilled hoped y’know,” Gerard responds, smiling a little. Mikey nods, and I can tell he feels a little guilty. He sits on the other side of me on the couch, watching as Gerard pulls out menus of restaurants from the table drawer. I hand Mikey the remote, silently telling him to pick what to watch.
“Mexican, right?” Gerard says, looking at the rectangle shaped menu. Mikey smiles and nods thankfully, telling Gerard just to get him a California carne asada burrito. I get chili reno, and Gerard gets street tacos. Mikey browses through movies, and then shows, until he finds something he likes.
“Do you guys wanna watch this?” He asks, referring to the show on the screen. Shameless. I never really watched a lot of tv, but I knew the show. Gerard had told me about it, said I’d like it. I never got around to watching it. Me and Gee both nod and Mikey plays the first episode, content with our reactions. Though Gerard has seen the series, he doesn't say so to Mikey.
“Do you guys want anything? Water, soda?” Gerard asks, standing to go to the kitchen.
“Soda please?” Mikey responds and I shake my head. Gerard nods and exits the room, leaving me and Mikey to get absorbed in the show. Gerard returns with a soda in each hand, handing one to Mikey and setting the other on the table. He sits back down next to me, and I take the opportunity to curl up next to him, my legs overlapping his. He slides his arm around me and we mold comfortably together, our eyes resting on the TV.
Mikey drinks a lot that night, after the food gets there. Gerard lets him, acting like he doesn't notice, but I can tell by the way he watches Mikey as he takes a sip of alcohol that he’s monitoring him.
I guess my first night home I drank a lot too- but that was for different reasons. That was the first time I was conscious that I could legally drink. Mikey’s been allowed to drink, he’s been of age, but i figured he’s stressed out possibly, or just likes alcohol.
I drink with him, on the account of I didn't have responsibilities the next morning, but Gerard drinks despite the fact he has work. Gerard stops after three glasses of rum, I stop after four, and Mikey i'm pretty sure takes the bottle to bed.
A lot of questions arose the next morning, random things about Mikey, shit like did where did he work? Was he is a relationship with a girl? A boy? Did he go to college?
I don't ask though when he gets up for breakfast the next morning. Gerard was already at work, but he left a note for the maid to make us breakfast; crepes, Mikey's favorite. Gerard had her make strawberry and chocolate crepes, mine and Mikey's favorite flavors. I had made us both coffee and handed it to him as he stepped into the kitchen, blonde hair messy from sleep, his plaid pajama bottoms and black t-shirt crumpled from sleep.
“Good morning,” I say, the cup warm in my hands as I hand it to Mikey.
“Morning, thanks,” he responds, sitting down at the table. I sit across the room and sit down in the chair across from Mikey's.
“Yeah, course. Gerard had the maid make breakfast, he’s already at work. He should be home at about one or two though, he’s been getting off early lately.” I say as I grab tongs and grab a couple strawberry and chocolate crepes, placing them on my plate.
“What do normally do around here?” Mikey asks, disregarding my latter statement.
“Well, I do my classes first, which normally takes me until eleven, and then I read, or sometimes I go out, or swim in our pool.” I respond, shrugging a little. My life was kinda boring.
“We have a pool?” He asks, looking up. I nod in response, taking a bite of my crepes. “Huh. Anyway, you should meet my friends. I met them at work, and it doesn't seem like you have any friends-”
“Hey!” I laugh defensively, cutting him off. “Your brothers my friend. You're my friend.”
“Your best friend is your fiance’ and a guy who just woke up from amnesia.”
“He’s my future fiance’ actually. What is your point?” I laugh again, taking a sip of coffee.
“Gerard doesn't even count and I hadn't seen you in seven years less than twenty-four hours ago.” He says factually, cutting a crepe.
“Which is why our friendship is so strong. We just reunited and were already ourselves again.” i say brightly, out of humor more than anything. He laughs.
“Ah, yes, which is why I want you to meet my friends. Were such good friends I want you to know my life, the way I know yours.” He reasons as I get up to rinse my plate, scrapping it of residue from the crepe.
“Fine. When and where?” I give in, sipping my coffee as I stand by the sink.
“Well, not sure. We usually go out three times a week. There's a band playing at a bar tonight, we were planning on going.” He says as he eats his crepes, his face blank as ever.
“Tonight? That's soon.” I respond unsure if I was ready for that.
“So?” He laughs. “You afraid your gatekeeper is gonna mind?” I realize he's referring to Gerard after a few minutes and I raise my eyebrow, shocked.
“Yeah, right. Gerard lets me do whatever I want.” I respond, sounding as if he said something ridiculous.
“You talk about him like he’s your father. ‘He lets me’.” Mikey says blanky back.
“You’ve been here two seconds and you're already analyzing me and Gerard.” I respond, my tone less calm then it was seconds ago.
“Yeah, but if I’m wrong why are you so defensive?”
“Because you're judging one aspect of my life.” I quickly say back, raising my eyebrows. He shrugs, giving in.
“Okay.” He says simply.
“I'll go tonight, but I don't have a lot to wear.” I change the subject, my tone back to causal.
“What do you have to wear?” He asks in response.
“Um, honestly? Suits. Maybe a pair of jeans, a t shirt or two.” I respond lamely, shrugging.
“Well you're definitely not wearing a suit.” Mikey chuckles. I watch as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lighter. “I’m gonna go smoke, you wanna come?”
“Yeah, sure.” I put my coffee down and follow him outside, tempted to ask if I could bum one. All three of us smoked when we were teenagers, but I kicked the habit in the coma, Gerard kicked the habit after high school, and I guess Mikey never did. We sit on the cement steps that lead down the the pool, Mikey not even bothering with an ass tray.
“You want one?” He opens, holding out the pack to me.
“I really shouldn't.” I say, staring at the cigarettes. He shrugs and sets them on the step, leaving them for the taking. I give in and grab the pack, taking one out and placing it between my lips. He lights in for me and I inhale deeply, resisting the urge to cough after. Mikey watches me, silent.
We sit like that for a minute, him watching me smoke as I became light headed from the nicotine. I take a moment to look him over, see what's changed- something I’d been refraining to do. I’ve been trying not to take in his appearance, afraid of the drastic changes. He seemed changed overall, more rough around the edges. He didn’t look strung out, but part of me wondered if he'd been doing drugs based off the way he looked.
The blonde hair was enough to make me realize this was not the same Mikey I’d known before the accident. He was older, obviously, but in more way than physical. Now he seemed experienced, though not really in a good way. He’s taller now, more lean. The wife beater he wore made his arms look slim, but muscular too. His new nose ring was gray and shiny against his clear, pale skin.
“Gerard would throw a fit if he saw you staring at me.” He chuckles, snapping me out of my trance. I smile sheepishly, taking a long drag of my cigarette.
“Sorry...you just, I don't know, look different.” I say, squinting my eyes at him.
“I could say the same. You gonna tell me what ur tats mean?” He responds, pointing a tattoo I’d gotten done a month ago. I had four so far- birds on my abdomen, a scorpion, Halloween on my knuckles, and ‘forget me not’ with a picture beneath it on my arm.
“Another time. I’m not sure what half of them mean.” I laugh a little, only half kidding. “What about you? Tell me about the last seven years. Everything.”
“Frank, it’s not a light story-”
“Did you think I thought it was?” I cut him off, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, hallows out his cheeks, before beginning again.
“Okay. The first year was the roughest. My body was pretty banged up, along with my amnesia. I had broken ribs that ended up puncturing a lung, which I eventually needed a transplant for. I almost never got the transplant, but I was on death bed so they moved me up the transplant list. Gerard called a lot, came to see me every day, only for an hour or two though. At that time he was more preoccupied with your injuries, something he could help. By year two, I was back on feet. I finished school, got a job, went to college, but I was still struggling. I didn't know what to do for a career, something now I know I made my mind up on before the amnesia. By year three, I was doing cocaine. Partying with rich people I didn’t know, snorting whatever I could, whenever I wanted. I drank a lot too. By year four, Gerard noticed. I started showing up late to things, and when I did show up I was high out of my mind or drunk. He forced me to talk to him about it, and we made a deal.” Mikey swallows, before quickly looking at me and turning back away. “I told him I’d go to rehab if he left me alone. It hurt like hell. I only did it because I was upset that I had gotten caught and embarrassed for the shit that I was doing. It tore him up. But he took me to a rehab, dropped me off, kissed my forehead and left me alone.” Mikey finishes, putting out his cigarette on the cement. “Year five I overdosed, they had to stab adrenaline in my heart for it to start beating again. Year six, went to rehab for the fourth time, dropped all my sleazy friends, got new friends and a good job. The end.”
“Any..love interests?” I ask, taking another drag of my cancer stick. I decide not to question anything else in his story, considering his voice was as open as a brick wall.
“I had a girlfriend, Sabrina. But she was the only one. We were together for like, three years though. Met her in rehab, which is probably why it didn't work out.” He shrugs bitterly, before continuing. “She was in rehab for drinking, which I hadn’t had a serious problem with. I can still drink without losing my head, and so I did drink. She didn’t like it. Speaking up which, you wanna open up one of those pretty little bottles of tequila?”
“It’s nine in the morning.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Nine is the best time! We have some time to fuck around and we’ll be sober by the time we have to shop. And then we'll drink more tonight.” He counters my statement, grinning.
“Fine.” I give in, half giddy and half indifferent. Day drinking wasn't something I’d taken to, but I needed this. Some excitement in my life so I could stop feeling like a housewife.
We gather ourselves and file inside, making a beeline to the kitchen cabinet. He grabs the tequila while I grab glasses and orange juice. He pours tequila as I pour the orange juice, eagerly picking the glasses up when they’re full.
“Ready?” I ask, grinning.
“Go,” He says, tilting his glass in order to drink. I follow his lead, drinking the substance so fast that I can't taste it when it touches my tongue. After several gulps we straighten, pulling the glasses away from our face.
“We're gonna be fucked up.” I say, shaking my head, amused.
“Remember, no puking or you sleep outside.” He says seriously, gripping his glass. In high school we made up a rule that whoever pukes first after drinking sleeps on the porch with a mattress. If we all puked, we all slept outside. Back then we’d mostly slept outside all together, or at least in pairs because we’’d drank so much at a time. Now though, I don’t doubt that he knew how to handle his alcohol.
We lifted our glasses again, taking several more gulps, before finishing off the glass. We stand there for a minute, beginning to feel a buzz.
“We should go sit or something,” I say dumbly, shuffling my feet. Mikey nods, agreeing, and I turn around a little too enthusiastically, heading up the stairs.
“Lets go to your room and buy stuff on ebay for it.” I sound like a child to myself, my voice enthusiastic, and overall just drunk.
“Gerard won’t mind?” Mikey asks, sounding less drunk than me. I shake my head and open the door to his room, stepping into the dull room. The carpet was a fresh gray, the walls white.
“I need to paint the walls. I hate white.” He shivers, sitting down on the floor. I pull out my phone, clicking on the ebay app.
“What color?” I ask him.
“Blue. dark blue.” He responds, looking thoughtfully at the walls. I pause, watching his eyes squint at the white walls. My eyes travel down his face, to his defined neck, down to his arms again. Before he catches me staring again, I continue looking for paint. I buy two cans when I find a nice shade, moving on to the next thing.
“What about posters?” I ask, looking back up at him. He catches my eye, looking at me blankly for a moment, before shrugging.
“I’ll do that later. Here, make a list.” He says, handing me a pen and paper from his bag.
“Okay, put down a queen size bed. Black bed sheets. Black comforter. Gray curtains. Black dresser. Flat Screen tv. Four pillows. A gray lamp.” He pauses, before nodding, signifying he’s done. I search up for tvs, buying the first good sized one I see. Then I look for beds, and I realize when I consider buying a twin size bed that I’m drunk. Mikey looks pretty fucked up too, staring off into space.
“We need to get dressed. And get ready.” I say suddenly, sitting up. Mikey pouts, but obliges. I watch as he gets up and walks over to his suit case, pulling it open. He tosses me a black t-shirt with the Kiss logo on the front, and black jeans.
“You can't go shopping in a suit.” He explains, grabbing some clothes for himself. I wonder if I should leave to get dressed or stay, considering as teenagers we all got dressed together anyway. My question is answer when Mikey starts to wiggle out of his skinny jeans, uncaring of my presence. I begin to strip too, finding it harder with the alcohol in my system.
“We can’t even drive.” Mikey giggles, throwing his dirty clothes by his suitcase.
“We’ll ask the butler to drive us.” I shrug, making him laugh.
“I still can’t believe Gerard has a butler.” He muses, sluggishly shaking his head.
“I still can’t believe Gerard has any of this.” I respond, making him look carefully at me.
“Yeah. He earned it though. He worked hard for you.” He says, nodding. I’m surprised that the statement bothers me, but it makes me feel like I owe Gerard something- that he did something I can never repay.
“We should get going. Will you go ask the butler to drive us?” I ask Mikey, grabbing my dirty clothes.
“Yeah, what's his name?”
“Actually, I’m not sure. The last one got a different job, and I don’t know the new ones name.” i respond, shrugging before exiting the room. Mikey’s right behind me, his footsteps light. He breaks off down the stairs and I continue down the hall to my room, throwing my dirty clothes in the laundry before grabbing my wallet and the keys to Gerard black hummer.
I jog down the stairs, finding Mikey standing with the new butler, a bottle of vodka in hand.
“More alcohol?” I ask, amused.
“The day is young, Frankie boy.”
“Funny you say that, don’t you earn the right to drink through age?” I counter, leading the way out of the door.
“Ah, be quiet smart ass.”

Notes