Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Pretty Little Parade
Sleep
You’d think after spending months in a hospital, being back home would be a relief. You’d think I’d curl up in my own bed and sleep well. No. I lay in bed, the sun gone, thinking about how much easier it would be to be back into my hospital bed right now. My brother finally went home and my mom’s camped out on the couch. I just want to be alone. I don’t want them to walk in tomorrow morning, having breakfast ready, try to wake me up to say goodmorning and find my body cold, pale and dead. In the hospital they’re used to it.
This was a total mistake, I decided. I should go back. Go to hospice. I don’t need to die here. At least in the hospital there’s no mess. Plus, there are cute nurses to watch.
I swing my feet to the side, trying to convince myself to get up to get my phone. I don’t know who’d I’d call to take me back. Probably Wes. Or call 911 and fake a massive internal bleed, I don’t know. But by the time I stand up, dizzily, I hear the soft sound of my doorbell, asking me to buzz someone up. I look at my cell phone, wincing to see the time. 10:54pm. But the time isn’t what catches my eye as much as the beautiful little pixilated image I’ve been dying to see this entire disease.
“One missed call. Aria. 10:04”
My heart beats so fast I think I’ll probably drop dead right then and there. The warm feeling of blood rushes to my head, my palms get moist, and my eyes do the same. Studded, I stand for a second frozen. The buzz noise comes again. I wait a few most seconds to see if it woke my mom up, to see if she’ll get it. She doesn’t. so I make my way to the front door, slowly. Is it her?
I try not to get my hopes up.
‘It was a pocket call,’ I convince myself on the way there.
‘This isn’t Aria.’ I tell myself, as I pass my sleeping mother, totally whipped out on the pull out couch. She was always such a heavy sleeper.
‘This is not Aria trying to get in. it’s probably Wes.’
I stare at the intercom, pressing my finger on it. ‘She can’t possibly be here. She hates me.’
“Hello?” I say into the intercom, and immediately curse myself for not clearing my throat first. I don’t want sound like I’m dying, even if I am.
“Ezra?”
The sound…
That sound…
The familiar melody of the way Aria’s voice flies through the air. Soft, but fierce. Calm and collected and all the while needy and lonely. Sweet and innocent, determined and whole.
It takes me longer than it should have, but I come to and reply, “Hey, Aria.”
“Can I come up?” She says, sounding close to tears.
“Of course.” This reply doesn’t take me any time at all. I buzz her in. I move as fast as I can, walking dead, to the bathroom and do a five second hair and teeth brush, and search around for my deodorant, and finally zip back to my room and trade in my old comfy Pj’s the ones I knew Aria always thought were cute. I wish I had time for a complete make over before she made her way up to my apartment. Out of breath, I shove my dirty clothes under my bed and make the bed.
The light knock on my door, as expected as it was, startles me. I tip toe past my still sleeping mom, and take a large breath before opening the door. She stands there, shorter and tinier than I remember.
"Hey Ezra." She says quietly.
"Hi. Come on in."
I open the door wider and lead her into my room.
"Who, uh." She clears her throat. Who's that girl?"
"My mom." I laugh. "Don't worry about waking her, she'll sleep through anything."
She nods like she has nothing better to say.
"So um," I grab for breath. Walking around is not my forte lately. "How’ve you been?"
Arias eyes scan me up and down. She doesn't say anything but I can tell. She's looking at my weight loss, my dark circles, my needle bruises, my pale skin even in the dim light, and the fact that I still have hair. "I've been okay." She answers, unable to make eye contact. "Um..." She finally looks at my face but still not my eyes. "How are you?" She asks, moving her foot in and out of her flip flop.
I can't decide what to reply with. A snarky "You'd know if you'd talk to me" because I'm slightly hurt over her not contacting me before then.
Or maybe an honest answer like "Not too well, my pain meds and wearing off, but I've been worse." Or maybe I should lie and be the comforting man I never was and tell her I feel great.
I can't decide. So I usher to my bed and invite her to sit down. She understands that I don't know how to answer, and doesn't ask again as she sits down. Luckily, during my five second make over I thought to make the bed, which isn't a hard task considering
I've been sleeping alone.
"I'm sorry for dropping by so late..."
I laugh. "Aria, I'm not forty. It's not THAT late."
"So I didn't wake you?"
I shook my head. "Na. I couldn't sleep."
“Why not?” She asks. She was always overly-interested in the small details.
We have a big issue laying in front of us – I’m dying and we haven’t spoken since she told me “I don’t love you like I did yesterday” and I slammed the door in her face. But she’s asking me why I can’t sleep. And even though I shouldn’t tell her, I do, because it’s easier than making something up that she can see through.
“I slept all day,” I told her. “And I had a lot of nightmares. I’d much rather sit up and talk with you than sleep.”
She smiles, slightly. Then she frowns. “Are your terrors back again?”
Back after the shooting, I had some really bad nightmares. Shortly after I made Aria stop sleeping over because I didn’t want to freak her out. But she saw a few.
After she woke me up, she told me I had been screaming in my sleep. I brushed it off for a while. But she made me explain to her what was wrong. And after such a lack of sleep, I told her. “Well…. Like last night… I had some.. well..” I had looked around my apartment – the same room we’re in right now - grabbing for the words. “They’re not like tremors, they’re worse than tremors, they’re…” I found the word. “They’re these terrors.
And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and –“
“Hey,” she had interrupted me. “Shut your eyes,” she said, making me lay down in my bed. She leaned in “Kiss me goodnight,” She requested, even though at this time it was only around seven in the evening. I kissed her soft lips and let myself relax. “There’s no need to be scared.” She assured me. “Just sleep.” She stayed with me, even though I couldn’t fall asleep, she sat there and waited. “The hardest part is letting go of your dreams.” She had told me.
“No,” I had replied, still wide awake, waiting for sleep to come. “The hardest part is the awful things that I’ve seen.”
She repositioned herself so I could see her face. “Why don’t you tell me what happens in your dreams?”
Reluctantly, I sigh, telling her. "...Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and... it's always..." I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it would all go away. “And I can't... I can't ever wake up. I killed someone.”
She had looked at me with eyes of unapologetic apathy, so much so that the guilt ate at me until I made her leave. She cried as she left. Half because of pity, half because she couldn’t help. ‘How could she cry for me?’ I thought to myself as she left. Cause I didn't feel bad about it.
I never did get to sleep that night.
I snap to and shake my head. “No, they aren’t back. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t believe me, but nonetheless she accepts my answer.
“So, Aria.” I lean back, relaxing my lungs, emptying them and sinking back into the pillow. It’s not the slightest bit hot or sexy, but dang did it feel good. “Why are you here?”
Her eyes look everywhere but into my eyes. “I came to see if you were okay.”
My brain goes dead and I can’t think of anything to reply with, so I just smile a bit.
Not a happy smile cause nothing about this situation says ‘happy’, not a hopeful smile that suggests we should get back together, not a grateful smile like I depended on her to show up, but a ‘I’m glad you came’ smile.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” She continues, saying the words I was hoping to hear. “After we, well,” She finally looks into my eyes for a second, then looks away again. “Broke up, I just kinda, well, I didn’t know you were sick. No one really told me so when I got your voicemail I was really confused. I went on your Facebook and saw that you had cancer…” She shrugs. “I guess I turned into a coward. I couldn’t face you for a long time.” She locks eyes with me finally. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry about the voicemail,” I reply, enjoying seeing her eyes once again. “I don’t remember most of it, honestly. Like I said I was really drugged.”
She smiles. I love her smile.
“It’s fine.” She assures me. “I understand.”
The silence is long and loud, until I break it, as awkwardly as possible.
“Do you want some water or a soda or something?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good, thank you.”
I wonder how long she’ll stay here. I love having her here, even if we aren’t saying a thing.
“Ezra?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember…” she trails off.
“What?” I pry.
I can see her changing the course of the conversation in her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like To Kill a Mocking bird.”
If my face could form into a question mark, I’m sure it would’ve. “What?”
“When I came to visit you… a few days after I got your voicemail… I came to see you. You were really passed out and stuff…”
Oh, great. I probably had droll dripping from my mouth or something.
“I don’t think you knew I was there. Did you?”
I shake my head.
“Oh… well, I came in, you were sleeping... To Kill a Mocking Bird was on tv. So I sat and watched it with you…” She giggles a little bit. “You were mouthing the words in your sleep.”
I turn on the tv and hope it'll relax me.
To Kill a Mocking Bird is on. Aria loves this movie. I sit there and close my eyes and listen to the. We'd cuddle next to each other and watch. She'd usually fall asleep near the end and I watch her sleep and run my fingers through her hair and rub her cheeks with my thumb...
I didn't like the movie all that much. But the things the movie gave to me, that time with Aria after she fell asleep, well, it made me love this movie. I could quote every line of this movie. I sit there with my eyes closed and mouth the words that they are saying. I can feel her presents next to me. I can feel Aria laying next to me, stroking my hair like I did to hers. I feel her fingers in mine. I hear the cold air of her breath on my neck.
“I remember…” I admit under my breath. “You held my hand… and had your fingers in my hair…”
She nods, embarrassed. “You looked really sick,” She says. “Are you… are you better?”
I don’t know if I should tell her the truth or not. My silence answers her nonetheless.
“How much longer?” She asks in a quiet voice.
“Maybe a week… two weeks…”
She makes a small whimpering sound that comes out in a sigh. “I’m so sorry Ezra.”
I shrug. “Don’t be sorry, I’m completely undeserving of your sympathy.”
I finally feel the effects of the day.
“I should probably let you get to bed,” She says, noticing.
“Stay overnight” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen. “W-what?”
“I just mean… it’s late. You shouldn’t drive at night. You can stay here if you want.”
She laughs. “It’s barely eleven thirty.”
I shrug. “Suite yourself.”
She studies my face. “Thanks, though. You’re right, I should leave.”
I don’t want to see her go.
Again.
I wonder if I’m going to die in the middle of the night.
I look up at her and realize she’s crying. She’s trying hard as heck to hide it, but she’s certainly crying.
“Hey…” I say, trying to get her attention.
“I’m fine.” She says immediately. “I’m okay. I’m sorry, oh, gosh, I’m really sorry.” She tries to whip away her tears but they fall faster than she can catch them. I lean over - feeling the pain in my stiches - and grab a tissue, handing it to her.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
I instantly regret my words. I bite my tongue. Curse myself. I rue my entire existence.
This makes her cry so much more. I can’t believe after all this time I’m still hurting her.
“You’ve been sick this whole time and I wasn’t here.”
“It’s my fault,” I assure her firmly. “I made you leave. This was my choice.”
“Do you…” She sniffles. “Do you just not love me?”
“I do love you,” I say, once again biting my tongue. “I wanted to protect you.”
Once more she whips her eyes and stands up. She plants a slow kiss on my cheek. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay?”
The feels that brush over me are so calming that in a trance I agree.
Before leaving, she turns off the light and says, “Get some sleep.”
You’d think after spending months in a hospital, being back home would be a relief. You’d think I’d curl up in my own bed and sleep well. No. I lay in bed, the sun gone, thinking about how much easier it would be to be back into my hospital bed right now. My brother finally went home and my mom’s camped out on the couch. I just want to be alone. I don’t want them to walk in tomorrow morning, having breakfast ready, try to wake me up to say goodmorning and find my body cold, pale and dead. In the hospital they’re used to it.
This was a total mistake, I decided. I should go back. Go to hospice. I don’t need to die here. At least in the hospital there’s no mess. Plus, there are cute nurses to watch.
I swing my feet to the side, trying to convince myself to get up to get my phone. I don’t know who’d I’d call to take me back. Probably Wes. Or call 911 and fake a massive internal bleed, I don’t know. But by the time I stand up, dizzily, I hear the soft sound of my doorbell, asking me to buzz someone up. I look at my cell phone, wincing to see the time. 10:54pm. But the time isn’t what catches my eye as much as the beautiful little pixilated image I’ve been dying to see this entire disease.
“One missed call. Aria. 10:04”
My heart beats so fast I think I’ll probably drop dead right then and there. The warm feeling of blood rushes to my head, my palms get moist, and my eyes do the same. Studded, I stand for a second frozen. The buzz noise comes again. I wait a few most seconds to see if it woke my mom up, to see if she’ll get it. She doesn’t. so I make my way to the front door, slowly. Is it her?
I try not to get my hopes up.
‘It was a pocket call,’ I convince myself on the way there.
‘This isn’t Aria.’ I tell myself, as I pass my sleeping mother, totally whipped out on the pull out couch. She was always such a heavy sleeper.
‘This is not Aria trying to get in. it’s probably Wes.’
I stare at the intercom, pressing my finger on it. ‘She can’t possibly be here. She hates me.’
“Hello?” I say into the intercom, and immediately curse myself for not clearing my throat first. I don’t want sound like I’m dying, even if I am.
“Ezra?”
The sound…
That sound…
The familiar melody of the way Aria’s voice flies through the air. Soft, but fierce. Calm and collected and all the while needy and lonely. Sweet and innocent, determined and whole.
It takes me longer than it should have, but I come to and reply, “Hey, Aria.”
“Can I come up?” She says, sounding close to tears.
“Of course.” This reply doesn’t take me any time at all. I buzz her in. I move as fast as I can, walking dead, to the bathroom and do a five second hair and teeth brush, and search around for my deodorant, and finally zip back to my room and trade in my old comfy Pj’s the ones I knew Aria always thought were cute. I wish I had time for a complete make over before she made her way up to my apartment. Out of breath, I shove my dirty clothes under my bed and make the bed.
The light knock on my door, as expected as it was, startles me. I tip toe past my still sleeping mom, and take a large breath before opening the door. She stands there, shorter and tinier than I remember.
"Hey Ezra." She says quietly.
"Hi. Come on in."
I open the door wider and lead her into my room.
"Who, uh." She clears her throat. Who's that girl?"
"My mom." I laugh. "Don't worry about waking her, she'll sleep through anything."
She nods like she has nothing better to say.
"So um," I grab for breath. Walking around is not my forte lately. "How’ve you been?"
Arias eyes scan me up and down. She doesn't say anything but I can tell. She's looking at my weight loss, my dark circles, my needle bruises, my pale skin even in the dim light, and the fact that I still have hair. "I've been okay." She answers, unable to make eye contact. "Um..." She finally looks at my face but still not my eyes. "How are you?" She asks, moving her foot in and out of her flip flop.
I can't decide what to reply with. A snarky "You'd know if you'd talk to me" because I'm slightly hurt over her not contacting me before then.
Or maybe an honest answer like "Not too well, my pain meds and wearing off, but I've been worse." Or maybe I should lie and be the comforting man I never was and tell her I feel great.
I can't decide. So I usher to my bed and invite her to sit down. She understands that I don't know how to answer, and doesn't ask again as she sits down. Luckily, during my five second make over I thought to make the bed, which isn't a hard task considering
I've been sleeping alone.
"I'm sorry for dropping by so late..."
I laugh. "Aria, I'm not forty. It's not THAT late."
"So I didn't wake you?"
I shook my head. "Na. I couldn't sleep."
“Why not?” She asks. She was always overly-interested in the small details.
We have a big issue laying in front of us – I’m dying and we haven’t spoken since she told me “I don’t love you like I did yesterday” and I slammed the door in her face. But she’s asking me why I can’t sleep. And even though I shouldn’t tell her, I do, because it’s easier than making something up that she can see through.
“I slept all day,” I told her. “And I had a lot of nightmares. I’d much rather sit up and talk with you than sleep.”
She smiles, slightly. Then she frowns. “Are your terrors back again?”
Back after the shooting, I had some really bad nightmares. Shortly after I made Aria stop sleeping over because I didn’t want to freak her out. But she saw a few.
After she woke me up, she told me I had been screaming in my sleep. I brushed it off for a while. But she made me explain to her what was wrong. And after such a lack of sleep, I told her. “Well…. Like last night… I had some.. well..” I had looked around my apartment – the same room we’re in right now - grabbing for the words. “They’re not like tremors, they’re worse than tremors, they’re…” I found the word. “They’re these terrors.
And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and –“
“Hey,” she had interrupted me. “Shut your eyes,” she said, making me lay down in my bed. She leaned in “Kiss me goodnight,” She requested, even though at this time it was only around seven in the evening. I kissed her soft lips and let myself relax. “There’s no need to be scared.” She assured me. “Just sleep.” She stayed with me, even though I couldn’t fall asleep, she sat there and waited. “The hardest part is letting go of your dreams.” She had told me.
“No,” I had replied, still wide awake, waiting for sleep to come. “The hardest part is the awful things that I’ve seen.”
She repositioned herself so I could see her face. “Why don’t you tell me what happens in your dreams?”
Reluctantly, I sigh, telling her. "...Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and... it's always..." I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it would all go away. “And I can't... I can't ever wake up. I killed someone.”
She had looked at me with eyes of unapologetic apathy, so much so that the guilt ate at me until I made her leave. She cried as she left. Half because of pity, half because she couldn’t help. ‘How could she cry for me?’ I thought to myself as she left. Cause I didn't feel bad about it.
I never did get to sleep that night.
I snap to and shake my head. “No, they aren’t back. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t believe me, but nonetheless she accepts my answer.
“So, Aria.” I lean back, relaxing my lungs, emptying them and sinking back into the pillow. It’s not the slightest bit hot or sexy, but dang did it feel good. “Why are you here?”
Her eyes look everywhere but into my eyes. “I came to see if you were okay.”
My brain goes dead and I can’t think of anything to reply with, so I just smile a bit.
Not a happy smile cause nothing about this situation says ‘happy’, not a hopeful smile that suggests we should get back together, not a grateful smile like I depended on her to show up, but a ‘I’m glad you came’ smile.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” She continues, saying the words I was hoping to hear. “After we, well,” She finally looks into my eyes for a second, then looks away again. “Broke up, I just kinda, well, I didn’t know you were sick. No one really told me so when I got your voicemail I was really confused. I went on your Facebook and saw that you had cancer…” She shrugs. “I guess I turned into a coward. I couldn’t face you for a long time.” She locks eyes with me finally. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry about the voicemail,” I reply, enjoying seeing her eyes once again. “I don’t remember most of it, honestly. Like I said I was really drugged.”
She smiles. I love her smile.
“It’s fine.” She assures me. “I understand.”
The silence is long and loud, until I break it, as awkwardly as possible.
“Do you want some water or a soda or something?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good, thank you.”
I wonder how long she’ll stay here. I love having her here, even if we aren’t saying a thing.
“Ezra?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember…” she trails off.
“What?” I pry.
I can see her changing the course of the conversation in her eyes. “I thought you didn’t like To Kill a Mocking bird.”
If my face could form into a question mark, I’m sure it would’ve. “What?”
“When I came to visit you… a few days after I got your voicemail… I came to see you. You were really passed out and stuff…”
Oh, great. I probably had droll dripping from my mouth or something.
“I don’t think you knew I was there. Did you?”
I shake my head.
“Oh… well, I came in, you were sleeping... To Kill a Mocking Bird was on tv. So I sat and watched it with you…” She giggles a little bit. “You were mouthing the words in your sleep.”
I turn on the tv and hope it'll relax me.
To Kill a Mocking Bird is on. Aria loves this movie. I sit there and close my eyes and listen to the. We'd cuddle next to each other and watch. She'd usually fall asleep near the end and I watch her sleep and run my fingers through her hair and rub her cheeks with my thumb...
I didn't like the movie all that much. But the things the movie gave to me, that time with Aria after she fell asleep, well, it made me love this movie. I could quote every line of this movie. I sit there with my eyes closed and mouth the words that they are saying. I can feel her presents next to me. I can feel Aria laying next to me, stroking my hair like I did to hers. I feel her fingers in mine. I hear the cold air of her breath on my neck.
“I remember…” I admit under my breath. “You held my hand… and had your fingers in my hair…”
She nods, embarrassed. “You looked really sick,” She says. “Are you… are you better?”
I don’t know if I should tell her the truth or not. My silence answers her nonetheless.
“How much longer?” She asks in a quiet voice.
“Maybe a week… two weeks…”
She makes a small whimpering sound that comes out in a sigh. “I’m so sorry Ezra.”
I shrug. “Don’t be sorry, I’m completely undeserving of your sympathy.”
I finally feel the effects of the day.
“I should probably let you get to bed,” She says, noticing.
“Stay overnight” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen. “W-what?”
“I just mean… it’s late. You shouldn’t drive at night. You can stay here if you want.”
She laughs. “It’s barely eleven thirty.”
I shrug. “Suite yourself.”
She studies my face. “Thanks, though. You’re right, I should leave.”
I don’t want to see her go.
Again.
I wonder if I’m going to die in the middle of the night.
I look up at her and realize she’s crying. She’s trying hard as heck to hide it, but she’s certainly crying.
“Hey…” I say, trying to get her attention.
“I’m fine.” She says immediately. “I’m okay. I’m sorry, oh, gosh, I’m really sorry.” She tries to whip away her tears but they fall faster than she can catch them. I lean over - feeling the pain in my stiches - and grab a tissue, handing it to her.
“Hey, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
I instantly regret my words. I bite my tongue. Curse myself. I rue my entire existence.
This makes her cry so much more. I can’t believe after all this time I’m still hurting her.
“You’ve been sick this whole time and I wasn’t here.”
“It’s my fault,” I assure her firmly. “I made you leave. This was my choice.”
“Do you…” She sniffles. “Do you just not love me?”
“I do love you,” I say, once again biting my tongue. “I wanted to protect you.”
Once more she whips her eyes and stands up. She plants a slow kiss on my cheek. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay?”
The feels that brush over me are so calming that in a trance I agree.
Before leaving, she turns off the light and says, “Get some sleep.”
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