Gerard and Frank talk over some coffee.
Gerard looked everywhere. All her favorite places to go, her friends’ houses, her relative’s houses. He even called her mother, who was very dismayed to learn that Gerard had lost her daughter. Yet, she seemed to have vanished into thin air, being nowhere except in every waking thought of his every waking hour.
Upon hearing the news of Lindsey's mysterious departure, all the members of the band promptly offered Gerard their homes. Uninterested in going much of anywhere, Gerard stayed put, convinced that Lindsey was very likely to return home at any given moment.
At one point, the doorbell rang, and Gerard, although he had only just gotten out of the shower and wore nothing other than a towel round his waist, dashed quickly to the door in hopes that it was his beloved. To his surprise and slight embarrassment, it was Frank who he found standing upon his doorstep.
"Hey." Frank had said, looking over Gerard in a way that may not have been entirely innocent, "I've come to discuss a few things, if you wouldn’t mind."
To Gerard, this clearly translated into: "The guys don't trust you to be by yourself, so they needed someone come over here and make sure you weren't slitting your wrists, and I drew the short end of the stick." but nonetheless, Gerard smiled, greeted his old friend, and let him inside the house.
He excused himself to change into proper clothes, a notion that looked as though Frank was about to protest; although he nodded and resolved to wait for Gerard at the dining table.
Finally in a shirt and black sweatpants, Gerard bolted back downstairs. He poured Frank a cup of coffee, and they discussed.
“Well, we obviously can’t go through with the album until you work out this – thing.” said Frank, as he took a sip of his cup.
“I don’t want to delay you guys or anything. Unfortunately, I don’t think you guys can find a replacement or anything.” Gerard said thoughtfully.
“A replacement, are you daft?” Frank stared at him, looking confused. “We’d never replace you. Anyway, the vocals aren’t even the issue. We haven’t started writing any new songs!”
“So, work on some of those and get back to me when you’re done.” Gerard muttered, whilst drinking his mug of coffee.
“Well… that’s what we were kind of waiting for you on.” Frank twiddled his thumbs.
“You guys can write just fine on your own.” said Gerard.
“But Gee, you’re the best writer in the band!” whined Frank. “I mean we’ve all written parts, but we’re already busy writing the guitar parts. Lyrics are mostly your area of expertise!”
Gerard sighed and leaned back in his wooden chair. Upstairs, Bandit began to cry, as she often did when she had not been with her mother for a long time. Gerard buried his face in his hands, and Frank could not help but feel the heavy weight of pity befall him.
“Hey.” Frank said as he stretched his hand out to grasp Gerard’s wrist and pry it from his face. “Don’t worry about it too much. The album can always wait --- management might have a fit if we don’t meet the deadlines, but fuck ‘em. We all know you’ve got a lot going on right now.”
“Thanks Frankie. I’ll try to whip up some lyrics and send them to you guys either way. I just hope that they’ll be anything decent, considering how shitty I feel.” Gerard sighed, downing the last half of his cup, slightly wishing it contained some alcohol.
“Well, you know Gee, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way – but they say the best art is produced from the saddest artists.” Frank shrugged, “I mean maybe there is a bright side to this – maybe all these powerful emotions can lead to some amazing ballad. Not that you don’t have the power to do all that when you’re happy of course, and I always prefer you to be happy – but I’m just saying. You could use it to your advantage.”
\Gerard nodded his agreement. Frank brought up a new game he had recently picked up, and the change of subject was welcomed with open arms. They talked as though nothing had happened, and for just a little while, Gerard felt okay again.
They reminisced a bit longer, and Gerard eventually proclaimed that he had grown tired. Frank did not entirely seem to believe him, but gave him and understanding smile.
“I’ll be in town for a couple of days if you need me.” Frank told him as he got ready to leave. “Just at the Days Inn on Sunset. I have some other businesses to attend to anyway.”
“That’s good to know Frankie.” Gerard nodded, although it was clear to both of them that Gerard more wanted to be alone at the time. He escorted him out of the door, exchanged a small embrace, and Frank left his home.
Once in his car, Frank pulled out his phone. Now unseen by Gerard, he called Mikey with a positive, although uncertain report of his brother’s well-being.
Meanwhile, Gerard went upstairs to Bandit. She had ceased her sobs but still sniffled slightly, looking up at her father with big, brown eyes. He smiled at her and picked her up, as she latched onto his shoulders. Gerard brought her to a rocking chair in the room, one he had often found Lindsey in. He sat upon it and rocked them both gently. She stared up at him with such faith in her eyes. He held her small hand in his and began to serenade her with a soft lullaby. Finally, Bandit smiled.
He sang her a lullaby that her mother often sang to her, and this was perhaps the only reason she reacted so well to it. He knew every lyric, because he heard her sing the song so often. Hearing it coming from his own mouth now, he cringed at how lame it sounded coming from him. Only Lindsey knew how to properly sing this song. The melody complemented her voice well, and at times when hearing her sing it, he wondered who was really the best singer between them.
Bandit fell soon to sleep, and so did Gerard. He slept in that wooden rocking chair, splintered and old though it may be --- for he decided it was better than sleeping alone in that horrid bed of theirs for another night.
When Gerard awoke the next day, his first impulse was to check every email account, check his phone, and check his text messages for any sign of contact from his beloved. A daily ritual this had become, and so it was repeated every hour. When his search yielded nothing of importance to him, he sullenly went to the kitchen and prepared breakfast.
After feeding himself and Bandit an array of hashed browns and scrambled eggs, Gerard settled down upon the couch in the living room, organizing some papers on the coffee table. While could by all means tear down the now useless nursery, and transform it back into an office, Gerard had not been able to even gaze at the door of it without becoming filled with an insurmountable amount of sorrow.
He took a few blank papers and a pen. He thought of Frank’s suggestion and decided to attempt to act upon it.
Gerard would start with a few words that popped into mind: sadness, misery, depression, loneliness, fear, hurting, I think I’ll die if I don’t find you again soon, yatta yatta… then he would cross it out in a cloud of black ink from his ballpoint pen, and try to think of something better.
Yet it was useless. Everything useless. Useless like that nursery, useless like all their money, useless like all the music, useless like his existence, useless like his efforts, useless like his whole proposal to her. All of it fucking useless!
Gerard sat heavily breathing, thinking of tons upon tons of useless things in his life – until finally, he is struck with an idea.
His heartbreak slowly turning into the optimism one feel’s when they’ve just acquired an excellent idea, Gerard set to work. He set out another blank paper, and wrote at its very top one word:
And for the first time in nearly a month, the sun seemed to shine brightly once more.