Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Nothing Lasts Forever~MCR~Even Cold November Rain
Mikey
Gerard was on his computer. Again. It seemed like whenever we weren’t doing a sound check or playing a show or doing an interview, he was on that thing. Shut off into his own little world, click-clacking away for hours. And, usually, it didn’t bother me. We all were so bunched together all the time, and I pretty much welcomed anything that kept the living area of the bus empty. But there was just something about seeing him all curled up into his bunk, the laptop radiating heat onto his thighs. I think it was seeing his eyes. They usually would be fogged over and drooping from staring at the screen for too long. But his eyes were still wide and bright and, dare I say it, cheerful. Something had to be done.
“Hey, Gerard,” I began, plopping down on the bunk across from his (I think it was Ray’s).
He made some indistinguishable sound. “Hello?!” I exclaimed closer to his face.
He jumped a little and finally acknowledged my presence. “Jesus, Mikey!”
“Hey, what are you doing on your laptop for hours on hours on hours?” I leaned a little closer, trying to see the screen. He jerked it from my line of sight. “Uh-oh, did someone find a good porn site? You can tell me, you know. I know you’ve been kind of lonely ever since you broke up with Tara.”
Gerard made a face. “It’s been four months. I’ve been over her.”
“Well, you know what they say. It takes half the time you went out to get over a relationship. And you guys went out for a year….”
He scoffed. “That rule goes for chicks. Guys can get over a relationship in two weeks if they have to.”
I rolled my eyes and then realized he had gotten me off my original plan of interrogation. Crafty bastard. “But, if it’s not that, then what are you doing on the computer for such extended time periods?”
“I’m just on Instant Messenger, that’s all.”
I moved so that I was sitting on the bed. “To whom?”
He sighed. “Just this girl.”
“Oh, ho, ho! A girl, is it? How long has this been going on? And have you two, ahem, kadookie-doddled (yes, that is my word for intercourse) yet?”
Death stare. “Mikey, you’re an idiot.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, firstly, if I had, what makes you think I would tell you? Secondly, why do you assume I can’t talk to a girl without having another motive?”
There was a pause. “That means you haven’t yet, eh?”
We both burst out into laughter. “Okay, maybe not,” Gerard conceded. “But, really, it’s not like that all. We’ve only met once. Now we’re pretty much just IM buddies.”
“Do you like her? I mean, as more than an IM buddy?”
He paused. “I suppose…..”
Aw! How cute! But I restrained myself from saying it. “So tell me about her.”
“Her name’s Amy. She lives in Georgia. And she’s….. twenty-two.”
I almost fell off the bed laughing. “Ha, Gerard, you pedophile!”
“And a half!” he said indignantly.
“She’s too young! She’s, like, six years younger than you. Think about this, when you were eighteen, she was twelve! Ha!”
He stopped trying to defend himself and typed something quickly into his laptop, then shut it. Oh, the moody face now.
“Come on, Gerard, I was just messing around with you. It’s not that much of an age difference. And, even if it was, it doesn’t really matter. She’s well over eighteen, and it’s not like you could be her dad or anything.”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered unthankfully.
“All right, well, tell me more about her. How did you guys meet?”
He bit down on his lip. “Well, you know two months ago? When I was in that tornado shelter? I met her there.”
“Oh, nice. But what is she like? Good girl? Or should I be worried?”
Gerard smiled. “No, she’s a very good girl.”
“No drugs?”
He shook his head.
“She’s not a psycho bitch like the last three, is she?”
And another death stare. “Sorry,” I amended quickly. “But I’m just preparing myself. We don’t need another chick hurling raw eggs on our tour bus because you forgot to call her back.”
“She’s not like that at all.”
I made a skeptical face. “Well, I’ll have to meet her to confirm. How about next time we have a week off? You know, in a month? We’ll go down and see if she’s really as good as you say.”
*
Gerard and I bustled quickly into the cab, gagging a bit at the heavy stench of cigarette smoke within. “Where to, folks?” the cabbie asked, a thick southern accent coating every single word.
“Um, 307 Berber Street, please,” Gerard said quickly.
The car set off into motion, moving with the somewhat lethargic move of traffic on the cloudy day. “Is she expecting us?” I asked quietly.
He nodded in response. “I asked her a few days ago if we could come see her. We’re going to her apartment. She said she’ll be taking us out to dinner later,” he finished with a chuckle.
I ruminated silently. “I just realized I don’t know what she looks like. Details, if you please.”
His eyes rolled up into his head a bit. “Um, well, she’s a brunette. White. Kind of pale. Green eyes. Uh, about 5’6. That’s pretty much it.”
“Is she a looker?”
“I would think so. But that’s up for your own interpretation.”
I leaned back into the leather of the seat, musing. I really would not be all that surprised if this chick was butt-ugly. It was harsh, I know, but Gerard did not exactly have the best taste in women. And, seeing as how she was described as a down-to-earth girl, she was probably a tad bit on the disfigured side. I didn’t have any problem with that, though. As long as Gerard didn’t leave her two weeks from now with a shattered heart, resulting in the words “PENCIL DICK” being etched on our bus with spray paint. Speaking from experience here.
The cab stopped outside of an apartment complex, the engine idling quietly as the cabbie drawled, “Twenty-seven even, please.”
Gerard forked over the money and we climbed out of the vehicle, walking into the building and up three floors to Amy’s apartment.
He knocked three times in rapid succession. There was a slight click as the lock gave way and the door swung open. Standing there was a girl.
The girl, of course. This was Amy. This was the girl Gerard waxed poetic about. She…wasn’t what I expected.
She smiled and beckoned us inside, where we plopped down on a lumpy couch in her living room. She strode over to the couch, offering me her hand. “Hi Mikey, I’m Amy Strauss.”
After a moment’s odd hesitation, I took her dainty hand in mine and shook it gently. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’ll get you two some drinks. Um, is Coke okay with the two of you?” We both nodded in unison. Amy smiled again, revealing an up-close picture of her even, gleaming white teeth. “Great. Be right back.”
I waited till she was completely out of sight before turning to Gerard. “Hey, she’s really pretty.”
He chuckled a bit. “Well, what’d you expect, a leper?”
“No, no.” Yes. “I was just surprised to see you picked somebody good-looking who actually has a personality.”
Gerard leaned further in and dropped his voice to a whisper as we heard the refrigerator door slam closed in the other room. “Yeah, well, don’t be getting any ideas, bucko.”
I felt my heart leap as he finished his statement. “Please,” I replied, dawning my best callous voice. “She is so not my type.” And that part was true. I usually went for rocker chicks; tattooed, pierced, argumentative, and very sexual. Amy looked like the complete antithesis of everything I typically went for. But there was just something about her. “Maybe it’s her walk,” I mused to myself as she strode back into the room with three cool sodas in her hands.
Amy handed one to Gerard and one to me and sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch. “So, how’s the tour going for you guys?”
“Oh, really good,” Gerard replied with ease, sipping a bit of Coke. “Not to say that I’m not happy to have a little time off before launching into it again, though.”
She nodded. “That’s understandable. What about you, Mikey? Been sexually assaulted by aggressive fan girls often?’
It took a moment before I was able to speak, just hearing her voice say my name past a polite introduction. “Ah, nope. No sexual assaults here.”
“That’s good, then. Do you guys have a preference of a restaurant then? I mean, we’re not in Atlanta or anything, so don’t expect any delicacies here.”
“Eh,” Gerard began, “we’re not much for delicacies anyway. Give us good old frozen dinners and we’re set.”
I stared a bit more openly at Amy as she tossed a strand of hair behind her shoulder. “Uh, shucks. I don’t have any frozen dinners here, I’m afraid. Um, do you think you’re up for Red Lobster, though? I haven’t been there in years, and I’m eager to take another whack at seafood.”
“Sounds good,” I affirmed before Gerard got the chance to speak. This was odd. Usually, when he wasn’t onstage, he was too shy to step up when it came to the opposite sex. Typically, he just waited till they fell all over him. Then again, none of those girls were ever like Amy. She was…..something different.
Pure. That was the word that I kept repeating over and over in my head as my mind perceived her, walking over to get her car keys and leading us out of her apartment. She was so pure. So completely unadulterated. I shot a glance at Gerard, who was looking at her with what could best be described as a puppy-dog expression. Almost simultaneously, her hand accidentally brushed against mine. Gerard didn’t notice. Her touch felt soft. Her touch felt innocent. And, now staring at Gerard staring at her, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before somebody trashed that innocence.
Gerard was on his computer. Again. It seemed like whenever we weren’t doing a sound check or playing a show or doing an interview, he was on that thing. Shut off into his own little world, click-clacking away for hours. And, usually, it didn’t bother me. We all were so bunched together all the time, and I pretty much welcomed anything that kept the living area of the bus empty. But there was just something about seeing him all curled up into his bunk, the laptop radiating heat onto his thighs. I think it was seeing his eyes. They usually would be fogged over and drooping from staring at the screen for too long. But his eyes were still wide and bright and, dare I say it, cheerful. Something had to be done.
“Hey, Gerard,” I began, plopping down on the bunk across from his (I think it was Ray’s).
He made some indistinguishable sound. “Hello?!” I exclaimed closer to his face.
He jumped a little and finally acknowledged my presence. “Jesus, Mikey!”
“Hey, what are you doing on your laptop for hours on hours on hours?” I leaned a little closer, trying to see the screen. He jerked it from my line of sight. “Uh-oh, did someone find a good porn site? You can tell me, you know. I know you’ve been kind of lonely ever since you broke up with Tara.”
Gerard made a face. “It’s been four months. I’ve been over her.”
“Well, you know what they say. It takes half the time you went out to get over a relationship. And you guys went out for a year….”
He scoffed. “That rule goes for chicks. Guys can get over a relationship in two weeks if they have to.”
I rolled my eyes and then realized he had gotten me off my original plan of interrogation. Crafty bastard. “But, if it’s not that, then what are you doing on the computer for such extended time periods?”
“I’m just on Instant Messenger, that’s all.”
I moved so that I was sitting on the bed. “To whom?”
He sighed. “Just this girl.”
“Oh, ho, ho! A girl, is it? How long has this been going on? And have you two, ahem, kadookie-doddled (yes, that is my word for intercourse) yet?”
Death stare. “Mikey, you’re an idiot.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, firstly, if I had, what makes you think I would tell you? Secondly, why do you assume I can’t talk to a girl without having another motive?”
There was a pause. “That means you haven’t yet, eh?”
We both burst out into laughter. “Okay, maybe not,” Gerard conceded. “But, really, it’s not like that all. We’ve only met once. Now we’re pretty much just IM buddies.”
“Do you like her? I mean, as more than an IM buddy?”
He paused. “I suppose…..”
Aw! How cute! But I restrained myself from saying it. “So tell me about her.”
“Her name’s Amy. She lives in Georgia. And she’s….. twenty-two.”
I almost fell off the bed laughing. “Ha, Gerard, you pedophile!”
“And a half!” he said indignantly.
“She’s too young! She’s, like, six years younger than you. Think about this, when you were eighteen, she was twelve! Ha!”
He stopped trying to defend himself and typed something quickly into his laptop, then shut it. Oh, the moody face now.
“Come on, Gerard, I was just messing around with you. It’s not that much of an age difference. And, even if it was, it doesn’t really matter. She’s well over eighteen, and it’s not like you could be her dad or anything.”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered unthankfully.
“All right, well, tell me more about her. How did you guys meet?”
He bit down on his lip. “Well, you know two months ago? When I was in that tornado shelter? I met her there.”
“Oh, nice. But what is she like? Good girl? Or should I be worried?”
Gerard smiled. “No, she’s a very good girl.”
“No drugs?”
He shook his head.
“She’s not a psycho bitch like the last three, is she?”
And another death stare. “Sorry,” I amended quickly. “But I’m just preparing myself. We don’t need another chick hurling raw eggs on our tour bus because you forgot to call her back.”
“She’s not like that at all.”
I made a skeptical face. “Well, I’ll have to meet her to confirm. How about next time we have a week off? You know, in a month? We’ll go down and see if she’s really as good as you say.”
*
Gerard and I bustled quickly into the cab, gagging a bit at the heavy stench of cigarette smoke within. “Where to, folks?” the cabbie asked, a thick southern accent coating every single word.
“Um, 307 Berber Street, please,” Gerard said quickly.
The car set off into motion, moving with the somewhat lethargic move of traffic on the cloudy day. “Is she expecting us?” I asked quietly.
He nodded in response. “I asked her a few days ago if we could come see her. We’re going to her apartment. She said she’ll be taking us out to dinner later,” he finished with a chuckle.
I ruminated silently. “I just realized I don’t know what she looks like. Details, if you please.”
His eyes rolled up into his head a bit. “Um, well, she’s a brunette. White. Kind of pale. Green eyes. Uh, about 5’6. That’s pretty much it.”
“Is she a looker?”
“I would think so. But that’s up for your own interpretation.”
I leaned back into the leather of the seat, musing. I really would not be all that surprised if this chick was butt-ugly. It was harsh, I know, but Gerard did not exactly have the best taste in women. And, seeing as how she was described as a down-to-earth girl, she was probably a tad bit on the disfigured side. I didn’t have any problem with that, though. As long as Gerard didn’t leave her two weeks from now with a shattered heart, resulting in the words “PENCIL DICK” being etched on our bus with spray paint. Speaking from experience here.
The cab stopped outside of an apartment complex, the engine idling quietly as the cabbie drawled, “Twenty-seven even, please.”
Gerard forked over the money and we climbed out of the vehicle, walking into the building and up three floors to Amy’s apartment.
He knocked three times in rapid succession. There was a slight click as the lock gave way and the door swung open. Standing there was a girl.
The girl, of course. This was Amy. This was the girl Gerard waxed poetic about. She…wasn’t what I expected.
She smiled and beckoned us inside, where we plopped down on a lumpy couch in her living room. She strode over to the couch, offering me her hand. “Hi Mikey, I’m Amy Strauss.”
After a moment’s odd hesitation, I took her dainty hand in mine and shook it gently. “Pleased to meet you.”
“I’ll get you two some drinks. Um, is Coke okay with the two of you?” We both nodded in unison. Amy smiled again, revealing an up-close picture of her even, gleaming white teeth. “Great. Be right back.”
I waited till she was completely out of sight before turning to Gerard. “Hey, she’s really pretty.”
He chuckled a bit. “Well, what’d you expect, a leper?”
“No, no.” Yes. “I was just surprised to see you picked somebody good-looking who actually has a personality.”
Gerard leaned further in and dropped his voice to a whisper as we heard the refrigerator door slam closed in the other room. “Yeah, well, don’t be getting any ideas, bucko.”
I felt my heart leap as he finished his statement. “Please,” I replied, dawning my best callous voice. “She is so not my type.” And that part was true. I usually went for rocker chicks; tattooed, pierced, argumentative, and very sexual. Amy looked like the complete antithesis of everything I typically went for. But there was just something about her. “Maybe it’s her walk,” I mused to myself as she strode back into the room with three cool sodas in her hands.
Amy handed one to Gerard and one to me and sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch. “So, how’s the tour going for you guys?”
“Oh, really good,” Gerard replied with ease, sipping a bit of Coke. “Not to say that I’m not happy to have a little time off before launching into it again, though.”
She nodded. “That’s understandable. What about you, Mikey? Been sexually assaulted by aggressive fan girls often?’
It took a moment before I was able to speak, just hearing her voice say my name past a polite introduction. “Ah, nope. No sexual assaults here.”
“That’s good, then. Do you guys have a preference of a restaurant then? I mean, we’re not in Atlanta or anything, so don’t expect any delicacies here.”
“Eh,” Gerard began, “we’re not much for delicacies anyway. Give us good old frozen dinners and we’re set.”
I stared a bit more openly at Amy as she tossed a strand of hair behind her shoulder. “Uh, shucks. I don’t have any frozen dinners here, I’m afraid. Um, do you think you’re up for Red Lobster, though? I haven’t been there in years, and I’m eager to take another whack at seafood.”
“Sounds good,” I affirmed before Gerard got the chance to speak. This was odd. Usually, when he wasn’t onstage, he was too shy to step up when it came to the opposite sex. Typically, he just waited till they fell all over him. Then again, none of those girls were ever like Amy. She was…..something different.
Pure. That was the word that I kept repeating over and over in my head as my mind perceived her, walking over to get her car keys and leading us out of her apartment. She was so pure. So completely unadulterated. I shot a glance at Gerard, who was looking at her with what could best be described as a puppy-dog expression. Almost simultaneously, her hand accidentally brushed against mine. Gerard didn’t notice. Her touch felt soft. Her touch felt innocent. And, now staring at Gerard staring at her, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before somebody trashed that innocence.
Sign up to rate and review this story