FicWad

Friday night finally came, much to my excitement. I couldn't wait to meet Gerard's friends, or see Gerard for that matter. I found myself being able to hold on to the little string of hope- to life much easier when Gerard was around. It was almost as if the brilliancy he made me feel canceled out the dread from my father. I had never stood up to my father before. Something in my heart made me believe Gerard was the reason I had this time.

Doing a once over on my appearance, I was satisfied with my black rimmed eyes and straight charcoal hair. I pulled my best pair of shoes from the top of my closet, only to have a flying Converse clunk me on the head. I groaned in pain. I thought I could see my father's light flicker on from across the house. “Crap,” I mumbled under my breath. I quickly put the leather boots on my feet. Looking back to my door for reassurance that I wouldn't get caught, I made my escape. The window was already lifted so I crawled out of it.

I ran to the end of my street before stopping to take a breath. I couldn't see my house anymore, I was too far away. I figured I was safe to walk to the nearest Stop & Shop. From there, I would use the pay phone to call Gerard. Gerard would pick me up; and then, let the fun begin.

I was slightly out of breath by the time I made it to the small store, which showed me just how out of shape I truly was. The Stop & Shop was only a mile away from my house. I fished out Gerard's number from my pocket along with two quarters. I dialed his number-he answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” He spoke wearily.

“Gerard, it's Darcy. You remember when you said you'd help if I needed anything?”

“Of course, what's wrong?” I could hear people in the background. The words came out a whisper from the receiver but they were loud enough for me to decipher. “I'll be back in a bit, guys.” I heard groans from his friends, that I was sure about. “It's Darcy. I'll be right back.” The dangling of keys were barely louder than the “Oh's” of understanding from his friends.

“Gerard?” The line had gone silent besides the beeping from my end, telling me I only had 30 seconds before our connection was lost.

“I'm still here, just starting my car. Where are you?” His engine revved before the sound of tires squealing across the road could be heard, obviously speeding like he was in a high speed car chase. Which he obviously wasn't; he was simply rescuing a girl he barely even knew.

“Do you know where the Stop & Shop is?”

“Is it the one by your house?”

“Yeah. Gerard, I've got to go.” The beeping had signaled again. I only had 15 seconds now.

“Wait, just answer this question. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Gerard.”

“Okay, I'm just making sure. I wouldn't want-” His voice died out and I couldn't here anything anymore. I looked at the phone resting in my hands as if staring at it would make me go back in time. What wouldn't he want? What was he going to say? It was driving me crazy and at that moment I wished that I would have had another quarter-another minute would have been perfect. But it was too late, I may never know what he would have said if we had one extra minute. That's the thing though, you always want something more. When someone dies you say, “Why couldn't I see them one last time?” Okay, I can understand that. But once you've seen them once again, what would change? You'll want to see them again. It's as if nothing is good enough. Or how about this: “I wish he hadn't broken up with me.” Once again, I can understand why one would wish for that. But what if he hadn't broken up with you. Sure he's broken your heart, but what if he broke something more, something almost impossible to replace? What if that one simple mistake of holding onto something that wasn't there, something that shouldn't ever be there-what if that changed your life forever? What if that broke your life apart and you could never fix it again? It's as if you can never be fully satisfied. It's as if you always want something more in your life, no matter how perfect of a circumstance it is.

A familiar black mustang pulled up next to me. The driver winked at me and said, “Need a ride, darling?”

I rolled my eyes at him before chuckling and saying, “Shut it, Gerard.”

“Fine. I must say though, you better be nice or I'll throw you out of this car while it's moving. You are, in fact, interfering with my party time. And, you even made me put on cologne.” Gerard looked proud of his accomplishment.

“Hmm, I'm glad you finally decided not to smell. Your friends must think the world of me.”

“Well, we are indeed throwing a party where you'll be the only girl. I must find some way to impress you. I must look sharp.” Gerard then took off his hoodie and tried to tie it around his shoulders like a preppy boy. He then shoved his nose in the air. “Is it just me or do I smell very expensive cologne? Who ever is wearing it must be one stud!”

“Oh yeah, a stud he is,” I snorted. “You should seriously stop talking like that, you sound even more gay than you are.”

“Aren't you charming?” Gerard nudged me with his elbow, making me smirk.

“I try,” I mumbled. I looked out the window and felt material hit my face. I looked at Gerard quick enough to catch him slapping me with his jacket sleeve again. “What the hell?” We both burst out laughing. “Jeez, what was that for?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?”

“You aren't supposed to hit girls. I would have thought your Mum taught you that much.”

Gerard scoffed at me. “She also taught me not to make fun of gay people. And you just did. So we're even.”

“Even, aye? We'll see about that.” Gerard had pulled into his apartment complex. He got out of the car and opened the door for me. Live Wire by Motley Crue was getting more prominent by every step I got closer to Gerard's home. The steady beats of the music matched the erratic thumping of my heart. I started to get nervous. I pulled on Gerard's arm to stop him. “What if they don't like me? I've never actually been to a party before. I don't even know what to do. Maybe I should just go home.” My words started to slur together because of how fast I was speaking.

He shook his head at me. “No you're staying. Besides, my parties aren't huge. I have a small group of friends come over, only 5 people. All we do is hang out. We listen to music, talk about comics, play some Strip Poker.” At those words my eyes widened. “I'm joking, Darcy. Although we may play Magic: The Gathering.”

You're okay, Darce. Stop fretting. You didn't risk getting caught for nothing. Remember, this is going to be the most fun night of your life! “Right, no problems. Everything's going to be fine.” I looked Gerard in the eyes. “Can you tell I'm not breathing?”

Gerard laughed and rolled his eyes. “Come on little girl.” Gerard's hand wrapped around my smaller one and my heart fluttered. He squeezed my palm and pulled me to the front door. The entry swung open before either of us could touch the knob. I short male with hazel eyes and short brown hair stood before us with a goofy grin. I looked awkwardly at Gerard.

The shortie embraced me in a tight hug. Upon releasing me he introduced himself, “I'm Frankie, the hot, cool one.”

“I'm Darcy, the sarcastic, bitchy one.”

Another man stood behind Frankie now. He was much taller than Frankie with brown hair and glasses. “You were right, bro. She does have a cute accent.” The tall man held his clenched fist out to Gerard, waiting for a fist bump. He didn't move though, he was too busy blushing a thousand shades of red.

I had to stifle a laugh. “Cute accent, Gee?” Gerard looked at his feet. My vision shifted back to the boys. “So, do you have a name or should I just call you 'tall dude'?”

They all quirked a smile at that, but Frankie was the first to respond. “That's Mikey- the quiet, awkward one. Also known as Gerard's baby brother.”

I had to step on the tips of my toes to reach him but I gently squeezed Mikey's cheeks. Three more boys were lying on the couch watching some old movie on the T.V. “That's Ray, but you can call him Afro Dude,” Frank began but was interrupted by 'Afro Dude'. “No, she can't, Frank. Nobody can call me that.”

Frank looked back to the other boys on the couch, “Blondie over there, that's Bob. And Matt's the one with the weird looking hair and beard.”

Bob then looked at me, “So if we must have nicknames what can we call you?”

Frank was jumping around, waving his hand high in the air. “Oooh, pick me! Pick me!!” Bob and I both looked at Frank. “What about Pinky Starship?”

That finally broke the ice with Gerard because, at that point, we weren't the only ones laughing. “Guys, don't totally freak her out.” Gerard glanced at me. “I should have warned you.”

“Warned me, no. Maybe just a heads up on Frank's, um, enthusiasm would have helped.”

“Well, let the party begin, darling.”


A flying Cheeto; that's the first thing I noticed. I raised my hand to shield myself from the mini food fight Frank and I were currently battling. I threw a Cheeto at him in return. And he sent it running right back. “Fine, I'm done. You won!”

Frank stopped throwing things at me, a satisfied grin on his lips. “So Snow White, where are you from again?” Frankie had been finding new nicknames for me this entire evening but had finally decided on Snow White an hour ago.

“Ireland, Frankie. My entire family is from Dalkey, Ireland.” I couldn't help but smile in remembering how amazing my family in Ireland was. The love was unmistakable, I wish I had never left.

“What was Dalkey like?” Frankie asked. Everyone had grown silent, staring at me intently.

“Dalkey is a tiny little town that's located in Dun Laoghair-Rathdown county. It's beautiful, simply thinking of Dalkey makes me question why I'm here. Everything is green and healthy. There are two main castles. Archbold's Castle is the most gorgeous in my opinion, it's everything you would dream of an Irish castle looking like. Goat Castle is our Town Hall and Heritage Centre. On Sunday's Grandma and I would go to church, then walk across the street to research at the Heritage Centre. When I was a little girl my father would always take me to the Town Hall for these meetings. I wasn't sure what they were about but I knew they made me feel special. They made me feel like I was a part of something.” A tear slid down my cheek as I spoke. I couldn't help but think of my Nan. She fought with my father when he decided to take me away, she wanted me to stay in Dalkey. My Grand-da went to the pub every afternoon. He'd been going to the same pub for the past three decades. “As I got older my friends and I would go to the sea and swim. I'd run to the sea after school and watch the ferries drift away. It was my way of escaping my hectic life. At a young age I had begged Nan to get me dancing lessons. That's when I learned what passion felt like. I started by learning how to clog, my Grand-da teaching me. After I showed dedication for that my Nan agreed to get me lessons in Jazz Dancing. After that, I wanted to be a ballerina. I was six when I began ballet. I never exactly grew out of that stage. I had ballet lessons every single night. I would dance until my feet bleed. In the beginning of high school, I could barely keep up with school and dancing. I begged my Nan to let me cut some of my training but she refused to let me. She had said, 'I was too good to quit.' So I didn't, but that didn't make anything easier. The stress began to swell, until I could barely breathe anymore. I would swim in the sea until it was pitch black outside, and I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.” More tears were falling down my face by that time. I tried to blot them away and smile at the boys. “That was the best time of my life.”

“Why didn't you stay?” It was Mikey this time.

“My parent's separated and my da decided to leave Ireland and move to New York.”

Mikey nodded to me, a genuine sad expression. “Gee and I can relate to that. Our parents separated too but they got back together.”

“My mom was the same way with me but instead of dancing it was guitar. I wanted to learn how to play when I was 13. She bought me an electric guitar and got me lessons on how to play. After about a year I got tired of it. I told her I didn't want to play anymore but she wouldn't let me quit playing after a year of lessons. I had to drag myself through another 9 months worth of lessons before I started actually enjoying guitar. By the time I was 16, all I wanted to do was play. Playing got me out of my shell, it made me feel complete in a way.” Frank fingered his hair through his fingertips.

“That was dancing for me. I couldn't get enough of it, and when I finally had gotten enough, it was too late. I wish every single day that I could still be a dancer. I miss it some times. The truth is though, dancing can't be a career. I'll be lucky if I can make a career from art.”

“You will, Darcy. Don't worry, darling. You're going to make something of yourself.” Gerard and I had this unspoken translation. He was not going to let me down.

My eyes grew droopy so I closed them. But I quickly fell asleep and didn't wake up until late morning. My head was nestled in Gerard's chest, his arms wrapped securely around me. I felt safe, I felt protected against anything and everything. I felt like he was saving me from my own self, my own loneliness. Gerard had given me something to finally have hope in.