FicWad

Amy
The following months proceeded as I thought they would. Radio silence. Even Mikey, who I had come to think of as a good friend, didn't speak to me anymore. I can't lie. I was a little hurt. I expected to be ignored by Gerard. From his sensitive younger brother...not so much.

"Whatever," I refrained constantly. "Can't define my life by a band." My life wasn't interesting. I didn't put on shows. I didn't have thousands of people fawning all over me everywhere I went. I didn't make a lot of money, and I didn't care. My life was about me, from here on in. About making some small bit of difference. There were bigger problems than my emptiness. There were things to be done in this town. Books to sell, articles to write and ship out. I got a few published here and there, even. There were rallies, gay rights and reproductive rights and anti-war. I'd paint posters and yell and feel happy for weeks. I was completing myself, by myself.

It's funny how one call from that boy can ruin all that resolve.

He called about nine weeks after his last "visit." His voice was clear, sharp like glass. But there was an undercurrent of pain, or discomfort, or regret. Something bad, and something unspoken.

"Hey, Amy."

"Uh, hi."

"How have you been?"

"Pretty good. What about you?"

"It's been okay. I haven't, um, haven't had a drink since I last saw you."

I paused, uncertain of what to say. "How's that gone?"

"Hard. Really hard. That thing about it getting easier everyday? Pretty much a lie."

"But you haven't slipped up. That's the important part."

"Yeah." It was awkwardly quiet for about twenty seconds. "Have you, have you thought anymore about....what I asked?"

I didn't know what to say. Except maybe, be honest. "No. I haven't thought about it."

"Well, I'll be back around there in a few weeks or so. You still have time to mull it over and all."

"I'm not saying yes, Gerard." He didn't say anything. "I can't, I can't just give up my entire life because you think I'd be fun to have around." Be fun to have as a plaything, I wanted to say but didn't.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life. I just want you to see if you might like having me in it for awhile."

"It's not so simple as that. I have job. Granted, it's just a bookstore, but I can't take off months at a time and expect to keep it."

"What's more important to you? Writing or selling stuff other people wrote?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mikey told me you write. And, I...well, I," he trailed off uncomfortably.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, spit it out."

He was making small, barely discernible groans of discomfort on the other line. "You're going to get pissed. But just hear me out. Um, y'know how a few months ago you sent Mikey those stories?"

"He showed you?!" Fucker is going to die, I silently vowed.

"Um, no, not exactly. I..."

"Gerard, you didn't! Goddamnit, you violated his privacy, and mine! You're such a fucking asshole, I really can't even articulate how much of a fucking asshole you are."

"Okay, fine, accepted, but---"

"No, no 'but!' I'm done with this shit. Fuck you." I pulled the phone away from my ear to push the off button, before I heard his voice yell out, "WAIT, WAIT!" I don't know why I did. "Just one minute, please. Sixty seconds."

"I'm listening."

"You're a good writer. You're a, you're a fucking great one. And I want you to be able to grow, and get even better. I want you to have experiences, great ones. I want you to have the inspiration you fucking deserve. There's no better place to get it than on the road. Believe me, I know."

I paused, flustered. "That's still no fucking excuse for what you did. If I wanted you to read my stuff, I'd tell you. It bears repeating: you're a fucking asshole."

"Okay. Okay, I'll accept that. But don't cheat yourself. Just promise me you'll think about it."

"Fine. I'll think about it. But I deserve to know why you really want me to come, not this bullshit about allowing me to grow as a writer."

"I really do want to see that happen."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What else?"

Gerard sighed. "I just want you with me. Everything's empty. I do stuff, I go places, I talk to people--nothing compares to this. Even getting yelled at by you. It's the best things have been in...a long time."

I didn't have a comeback this time. He continued, "When you're not around, a part of me disappears. The part I like the best. I know that in a minute or two when we stop talking and I'm just sitting here alone, I'm going to have to fight the urge to call you right back just to hear your voice. The world's just...not as good."

I still couldn't say anything. "Are you going to come with me?"

"I told you I would think about it."

"Please say yes, Amy. Please say yes."

"I have to go now."

"Okay. Okay, we'll talk later."

"I have to go now."

"I'm going to call you tomorrow."

"I might not answer," I shot back.

"I'm still going to call."

"All right, well, bye."

"Bye, Amy." He paused. "You going to hang up?" No, I want to keep hearing your--

"Yep," I said before hitting the button.

And then it was me and the walls, the walls and me, with the empty phone in my lap.