Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 'Cause Love Isn't About Affection, It's About Leadership1 Reviews
"Does he look familiar to you?"
I can't exactly recall how or in what order I managed to get the basics of my new life organized, but I did. Strangely, I hadn't heard from the guys, not once, not even Ray to whom I owed a notable amount of money.
I'd been lucky enough to come across another bar with labour shortage and had been working there for nearly a month and a half. Even though I got off from paying the rent for two months straight, the third one was on its way, and I'd quickly learned that money, above anything else, was an essential in this world.
My name was Avery now, I stole the name I once remember calling a cousin of mine by. I didn't feel bad about it, it was a name I always liked and after all, she had deceased over fifty years ago. I was quite confident she didn't mind.
Also, much to my own amusement, I reinstated my old, original surname - Banker, naturally, since back then a person's surname often implied information on one's occupation, or habitation. My father had been an accountant which was, for the little people, close enough to a banker.
Avery Banker. It felt familiar, and secure. It seemed to fit my mouth in a way that assured me I wouldn't mess up any future introductions by stuttering over my name for five minutes. Avery Banker.
As I'd promised myself, I focused on unraveling the length of my abilities. I ran more than I'd ever ran before in my human life only to find out that I was in very bad shape and not much of a runner due to my very unflexible joints. Another thing I hadn't had to deal with for decades that annoyed the living hell out of me.
After that, I practised on holding my breath only to realize that being able to hold your breath wasn't something achievable through practise and that it wasn't nearly the same thing as not feeling the need to breath, the unnecessity of oxygen.
In only a few days I came to the conclusion that almost every inhuman moment I'd come across during my time with the men was most likely a instinctive reaction to human closeness, or, alternatively, some sort of remnant that had stuck to my body.
After all, I never went through any kind of cool physical transformation visible to the eyes, just some lack of strenght and fast dulling senses and the strange absense of the need to, well... let's say consume.
But neither of the above could explain what Frank had caused.
I even took a young man by the hand in the park nearby, just around the crack of dawn as he was, presumably, making his way home from whatever binge he might've been on. I had known for a fact that if something alike was to happen, I'd have easily killed the guy. But nothing happened.
I felt a little bad about my experiment afterwards but I was quite sure that he would have no memory of some weird stranger grabbing his hand in the wee hours, holding it for a couple minutes and then running off into the woods nearby. And there was not harm done, no blood on my hands, which was pretty much enough to silence my conscience, though I had to admit, it had been a round of russian roulette for the man that night.
After that, I wasn't as scared of normal physical contact anymore. I could shake hands without starting to hyperventilate, I could bump into someone on a busy street without muting a shriek of horror at the thought of me attacking a human being in front of thousands. I even received a hug the other day, from an elderly lady to whom I gave a few spare coins so she could to buy something warm to drink after another night spent under a stack of stained newspaper in the still unseasonably chilly Jersey spring time.
This was about Frank only and I knew I had to supress my need to esperiment further, as I realized that the only way I could find out anything about these strange incidents was to experiment on Frank himself. And even though it bewildered me to no end, during these months away from frank, his life had surreptitiously become the one thing I cherished more than mine.
I'm guessing it would be appropriate to downright admit my little secret obsession over the guy, but I don't see it that way. It's more like an infatuation too short, too doomed, and too far behind the present. And these things resulted in the opposite of what you would think.
I didn't forget him.
He didn't turn into a familiar face from the past, actually, when I realized during one sleepless night that I couldn't exactly recall all of his tattoos with such accuracy anymore, or the precise colour of his skin tone, I freaked out and forced myself to picture his lovely face in my mind until the little details came back and stayed.
After that, I felt like hitting myself for daring to let his features fade.
And after that, I felt like hitting myself for becoming such a pathetic little twat.
And... Yes, after that.. I cried for more than an hour due to the thought of Frank propably having already forgot me. Or even if he did remember me -no, in fact I was sure he did- it would be only as the very random twist in his life that only lasted for a week and left nothing but a merely hourslong confusion and later, a well-installed high-tech antitheft alarm system at his mother's house.
I had yet to grow used to the unpredictability of human life. In my previous life, in different surroundings and different state of body and mind, everything was predictable. There would be no twist that you hadn't seen coming, no turn that would have you caught off guard. Living things could be perceived miles before the actual encounter, occurences sensed hours in advance with a feeling of either warning or simple knowledge of the yet-to-happen.
It had made things much more clear, and currently I felt like I was trapped in a thick fog never knowing what I might run into - or what might run into me- along the way.
I wondered when I'd stop being surprised at the things life threw at you without a warning sign, a signal of some sort.
I wondered if it was something you could grow accustomed to, and if people that'd been born into such a world didn't think of it as big of an inconvenience as I did.
"Avery?" I heard a rough, slightly displeased male voice call out. I realized I'd been wiping the counter mechanically for some time now, too wrapped up in my thoughts to notice. I dropped the rag into the the sink and looked at my colleague standing on the other side of the bar desk.
"Ah" I grinned as I ran my index finger along the counter and brought it closer to my eyes than really was necessary "Spotless" I announced in mock pride.
Mooney - that was what they called him- let out a sigh, softened by a tiny smile.
"Well I can't call you out on imprecision" He laughed a little "But how's the effectiveness?"
I made a face and, after rinsing and wrencing the cloth damp, hurried to the tables and continued doing what I was expected to do - wipe the tables, collect the empty glasses, do the dishes, mop the floor, you name it.
It had been a quiet evening, though the context of a quiet evening held a very different meaning here than it had in Ray's bar -the place was half full, most of the customers were regulars that never seemed to leave the place, and the rest came in ones or twos to drink a late afternoon ale in peace before returning to their homes and families and liabilities.
On a crowded night you could hardly find an unoccupied spot on the floor to place your foot on, Friday nights, Saturday nights, and the occasional Tuesday night which the owner had dedicated to live music, calling it 'the band night'. Most of the bands sucked, but the audience never seemed to notice.
"Here ya go, Ave" Mr.Duncan grunted and shoved his empty pint into my arms, along with a crumpled one dollar bill. He never was a generous tipper, but a tipper non the less.
"Thank you Mr.Duncan. See you tomorrow, then?" I smiled although he had already turned his back and walked halfway to the door.
"Sure, sure" I heard him mumble before he disappeared into the darkening night.
I pushed his stool under the table and decided to take a break. Just when I closed the staff room door, I heard the front door open again but decided to leave the service for Mooney.
I sipped my mineral water while reading the paper I wasn't the least bit interested in and heard Mooney discuss something rather loudly with a person that didn't seem to be anyone he knew.
A moment passed, and I heard my name being called again, this time the irritation in Mooney's voice was apparent enough to make me sigh and take a deep breath before plastering that kind smile on my face he always expected me to wear.
I held the door open enough to see Mooney's frustrated face. He had long black hair, propably dyed, wrapped up in a sloppy ponytail in the crook of his neck. His eyebrows were dark and prominent, and the angry arched shape of them distorted his face with displeasure. This was an expression I'd gotten used to receiving, although it was usually followed with a gentle smile. He had features that didn't do his nature justice - he often looked harsher than he truly was.
"Yes?" I called out from the doorway, my face peeking from between the door and the frame.
"Did boss mention anything about a band tomorrow?" he inquired.
"Not to me, he didn't. But it is Tuesday, right, so there might as well be one" I shrugged.
"The guy here says he's talked to the manager a week ago and agreed on tomorrow night but I've recieved no information on the matter. Does he look familiar to you, have you seen him here, Avery?" He mused, muttering the last part from the corner of his mouth hoping it would go unheard by the man he'd been talking to.
I pushed the door wide open and faced a man that indeed looked far too familiar to me but who - by no means- I hadn't seen here before.
I let the door close right back again and stumbled into staff room, only to decide right after that it had quite likely been the most ridiculous thing to do. I ignored the spinning in my head and peeked through the door again in extreme horror and embarrassment.
It seeemed as if both of the men had frozen for three seconds in biwelderment of my unexpected reaction.
"Avery, you okay?" Mooney asked, by which he meant to say 'Would you cut the fucking weirdness, this is getting embarrasing'
"Avery..?" The man next to him repeated in confusion and I knew I'd been recognized. "But your name is-" He started but was cut off by me storming through the door now to shake his hand and eagerly fill in,
"-Avery, yes, I'm Avery. Very nice to meet you Sir. Say, you have talked to Mr. Brown about the band night tomorrow? I'm afraid I haven't been filled in on this, either. I'll go get the phone and see if I'll get through to him. It'll only take a minute, please, take a seat."
I hurried back to the staff room once again and leaned on the door trying to slow down my heart rate by thought. Then I felt my knees give out and my body slumped into a seated position. I sat there, blank, for perhaps a moment too long, before deciding that I really should make the call and get the man, Gerard, out of here as fast as possible.
His name stuck to my brain as I thought it,
I was fucked. I shook my head as I dialed in the phone number. Mr.Brown hated being disturbed outside of his very minimal working hours, but I explained the matter quickly and got a very strict "Yes. That is correct. We have a deal. It's arranged, understand? Great. Goodbye." in return, without being able to utter a word in between. I put back the phone and without bothering to open the door, called out to Mooney repeating the manager's words.
"I'll take the night off" I added and quickly got out the back door before Mooney had the time to drag my ass back to work.
"Remember you're working night shift tom-" I heard him yell back before the door shut and his words were muted. Oh yes, I remembered - I thought as I started half-running home. - But I wouldn't be caught dead being here tomorrow if he was going to play here.
Nuh-uh, not even if my life depended on it.
So Gerard's back. Did you miss him? -Of course you did.