Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Faring Well
“God damn it!” Gerard slammed his fist into the wall after tripping over Mikey’s shoes. He’d been hurrying in to mop the kitchen floor, only to be sent sprawling by a pair of size 4 sneakers. “Michael James Way, I fucking told you to move your God damned shoes! Get your ass down here now and take them up to your room, which you’d better fucking be cleaning!” Mikey crept timidly down the stairs, gripping the banister as though preparing to grab onto it, just in case Gerard tried to drag him by his ankles into the fireplace.
“Sorry, Gee,” he murmured, grabbing the shoes and running back up to his room, which he was, in fact, cleaning.
“This fuckin’ kid,” Gerard mumbled angrily, huffing into the kitchen and taking the mop out of the laundry closet.
“Gerard,” Frank said, his voice devoid of the fear and timidity that Mikey’s had had. “Try being a little nicer to your brother, huh?”
“A little nicer?” Gerard asked incredulously. “What if the social worker had come in and tripped over his shoes? I told him to pick them up hours ago--no, in fact, I ask him every damn day to not leave his shit lying all over the place, but does he listen to me? Does anyone fucking listen to me? No, they don’t. My God, it’s like he wants them to take him away from me--”
“Don’t ever say that, Gerard,” Frank said sharply, cutting him off. “That is a terrible lie, and you know it. Mikey doesn’t want to leave you anymore than you want him gone. You need to stop worrying and just trust that you haven’t lost him yet, and you won’t as long as you’re a good brother.” Gerard shook his head slowly, wringing out the mop over the kitchen sink and beginning to clean the floor fervently. “As long as you’re doing the best you can, you have nothing to worry about.” At this, Frank took the mop from the other teen, leaning it against the counter and grabbing hold of Gerard’s hands. He stroked his thumb over the other boy’s palm, trying to calm him down. Gerard sighed.
“But what if my best isn’t good enough?” Gerard asked. Frank opened his mouth, no doubt to say something inspirational and hopeful, but he was interrupted by the doorbell. “Fuck!” Gerard yelled, then realized that the social worker had probably heard him. “Shit!” he hissed, throwing the mop back into the closet and closing the doors. He threw a towel at Frank on his way out of the kitchen. “Will you dry that up, please? The last thing I need is for her to come in here and slip on mop water because I forgot to do it earlier.” He ran to the front door without waiting for an answer. “Mikey! Get down here! Please!” he added, knowing the social worker was probably listening. He smoothed his shirt and hair, which he had gotten cut so he wouldn’t look immature or unfit. He opened the door.
“Good morning, Gerard,” a woman with glasses and curly red hair pulled up into a bun greeted the teen in front of her. She was tiny, but she still intimidated the hell out of Gerard.
“Umm…Good morning! Good morning, Miss…” Shit. Jesus Christ, he’d forgotten her name. Shit, shit, shit. It was something…it was…Crystal? Christine? Her last name could be a woman’s first name, as well…Shit.
“Christie,” the woman prompted.
“Right, like the mystery-writer!” Gerard said, then barked out humorless laughter. He felt like such a goof. He always acted like this when he was nervous.
“Right…” said Ms. Christie. “Well…Are you going to invite me in, or would you like me to assess you from the doorstep?” She cocked an eyebrow importantly and Gerard jumped, stepping aside and allowing her to pass the doorframe.
“Umm…Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked nervously, following Ms. Christie as she led herself through his house. “Water? Soda? Something?”
“What’s this?” she asked, ignoring Gerard’s question. She had indicated a glass with red liquid in it. Gerard realized that it probably looked like red wine.
“Fruit punch,” he answered quickly.
“Hmm…” Ms. Christie picked up the glass and gingerly sniffed it. “Sure it’s not alcohol?”
“Well--I mean, I’m too young to drink alcohol, or even buy it, so…no. I mean, yes, I’m sure!” Gerard wished he didn’t get so flustered during these things. It just made him seem more guilty of something.
“I understand what you mean,” she said curtly, setting down the glass, satisfied that the stuttering teen wasn’t hiding an alcohol addiction. “Who’s this?” She had walked into the living room, where Frank was seated on the couch, hands on his knees, a polite smile on his face when Gerard walked in. He stood and held out his hand to the woman, who, a suspicious look on her face, shook it tentatively.
“Afternoon. My name’s Frank.” The easy smile on his face baffled Gerard; this woman could make or break the teen’s life on a whim, and Frank was smiling at her?
“What are you doing here?” Through his nerves, Gerard managed to find this statement very rude. Frank, however, remained unfazed.
“I was just helping Gerard clean up before you came,” he carried on conversationally. Behind Ms. Christie, Gerard was shaking his head vehemently, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Frank ignored him. “He was trying so hard to impress you. You know, he was even mopping the floor before you came!” Frank chuckled at this, like an uncle fawning over his favorite nephew. “So considerate, too. When you knocked, he asked me to dry up the water on the floor so you wouldn’t slip and hurt yourself. He’s just too nice.” Frank tipped his head to the side, ever so slightly, a lopsided smile on his face.
“I think I’d agree,” the woman answered, her tone softening. “Very considerate. Mr. Way, why didn’t you mention that earlier? How thoughtful.” She spoke to Gerard, but she was still looking at Frank. Lucky for Gerard, since his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide. He felt a tug at his hand, remembering that Mikey was in the room.
“Gee, if we’re not doing questions, can I go back to sleep?” The little boy rubbed his eye with his fist, trying (and failing) to stifle a yawn. This seemed to pull Ms. Christie back to reality and she reluctantly turned her back to Frank. She leaned down, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, Mikey, but I have to ask you a few questions. I’ll make it as quick as possible so you can go back to sleep, though, alright?” Mikey nodded, Gerard still stymied by this sharp twist in behavior. He followed the woman and his brother back into the kitchen, where the three sat down at the table so she could perform the interview with Mikey that was legally mandated by the state.
“Just tell the truth, Mike,” Gerard told his brother when he’d composed himself enough to notice that the little boy was looking nervous.
“Do you enjoy living with your brother, Mikey?” Ms. Richie asked, back to business, but still less uptight than she’d been before.
“Yeah,” Mikey said, nodding vigorously. “A lot. I love Gee.”
“What do you do together that you like?”
“Well…” Mikey looked sideways at Gerard, who smiled and nodded. “We go to the park, and sometimes he pushes me on the swings. I just learned how to make myself go without anyone pushing me! Gee helped,” he added, grinning sheepishly. “And…We read comics together! Really good ones. Gee knows all the good ones. He even gave me some of his old comic books. I like to read them a lot.”
“Mhmm…” Ms. Richie murmured, making notes on a clipboard. “And what about money?”
“What about it?” Mikey asked innocently.
“Is there enough? Is there enough to buy groceries every week?” Mikey nodded. “What about bills? Does your electricity ever get shut off?”
“Like, turning out a light when you leave a room? Gee says we should always do that so lights don‘t burn out.”
“Not exactly, Mikey. Have you ever walked into your room and tried to turn on the light, or the computer, or something, and it wouldn’t turn on?”
“Nope,” Mikey said, now beginning to swing his feet, as he was getting bored of the questions. Gerard felt a small swell of pride knowing that he hadn’t missed a bill payment since getting Mikey.
“Okay,” the woman said, scribbling again on the clipboard. “Now, Mikey, do you ever see Gerard drink?”
“What do you mean? Like juice? We drink juice sometimes, but Gee says juice has a lot of sugar, and milk or water’s better.” Both Gerard and Ms. Christie laughed at this, but the latter cleared her throat quickly and sobered up.
“I mean alcohol, Mikey. You know, beer, wine, stuff like that. Stuff that he may not let you have.” Gerard was nervous, even though he had no reason to be; he’d never drank in front of Mikey, and he hadn’t even purchased any alcohol since the day he’d picked up his little brother from the courthouse.
“Oh, that. Nope. Once, we went to our cousin Bethany’s wedding, and he had some wine out of Mommy’s glass,” Mikey added, obviously not wanting to lie or omit anything for fear of getting in trouble.
“And Gerard,” the social worker said, turning to the older Way. “The last time you lived in your mother’s care was almost three years ago, correct?”
“Yeah,” Gerard said, hoping she would just leave and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore, at least for a few months.
“Alright,” she said, scratching a few last notes on that clipboard of hers. “That’ll do it.” She stood, walking to the door, closely followed by Gerard.
“Well?” Gerard asked, placing his hand on the doorknob in front of Ms. Christie.
“You passed,” she told him with a small smile. “Mr. Way--Gerard--if I were you, I’d feel very proud of myself. At the age of seventeen, you’ve done things that many two-parent families can’t manage: hold a job, pay bills, hold a household, and not to mention all while attending high school and keeping your grades up, which I’ve been checking on for myself every so often. All you need to do now, Gerard, is relax, and trust that you’re doing a good job. Remember, this is only until you graduate.” With that, and a pat on the shoulder for Gerard, Ms. Christie walked out, leaving behind her an open door, a yawning second-grader, and an incredibly relieved teenager.
So...it's been about a month since I updated...yeah...I'm sorry. I updated my last story on the fifth or sixth of March, and then on the seventh, we started having A Chorus Line rehearsals until 11. On Thursday, we had a special preview of the show, and then we opened on Friday, running through Sunday for a total of five shows. It was so much fun, but very draining. On Monday I worked on an assignment for the Handmaid's Tale that I missed and had to email to my teacher, on Tuesday, we had a five-hour rehearsal for States, which ran from Wednesday to today, and is a thespian competition for the state of Florida. Needless to say, it was an exhausting week. Luckily, most of this chapter was written before I left, and I just had to revise a bit before putting this up. So...yeah. It was a tiring week. Not much of a Spring Break, I guess, but it's okay. I still have tomorrow to relax before going back to school. Anyway, please go comment and subscribe. Let me know where you think this is going. Stay tuned. OverAndOutxx.
“Sorry, Gee,” he murmured, grabbing the shoes and running back up to his room, which he was, in fact, cleaning.
“This fuckin’ kid,” Gerard mumbled angrily, huffing into the kitchen and taking the mop out of the laundry closet.
“Gerard,” Frank said, his voice devoid of the fear and timidity that Mikey’s had had. “Try being a little nicer to your brother, huh?”
“A little nicer?” Gerard asked incredulously. “What if the social worker had come in and tripped over his shoes? I told him to pick them up hours ago--no, in fact, I ask him every damn day to not leave his shit lying all over the place, but does he listen to me? Does anyone fucking listen to me? No, they don’t. My God, it’s like he wants them to take him away from me--”
“Don’t ever say that, Gerard,” Frank said sharply, cutting him off. “That is a terrible lie, and you know it. Mikey doesn’t want to leave you anymore than you want him gone. You need to stop worrying and just trust that you haven’t lost him yet, and you won’t as long as you’re a good brother.” Gerard shook his head slowly, wringing out the mop over the kitchen sink and beginning to clean the floor fervently. “As long as you’re doing the best you can, you have nothing to worry about.” At this, Frank took the mop from the other teen, leaning it against the counter and grabbing hold of Gerard’s hands. He stroked his thumb over the other boy’s palm, trying to calm him down. Gerard sighed.
“But what if my best isn’t good enough?” Gerard asked. Frank opened his mouth, no doubt to say something inspirational and hopeful, but he was interrupted by the doorbell. “Fuck!” Gerard yelled, then realized that the social worker had probably heard him. “Shit!” he hissed, throwing the mop back into the closet and closing the doors. He threw a towel at Frank on his way out of the kitchen. “Will you dry that up, please? The last thing I need is for her to come in here and slip on mop water because I forgot to do it earlier.” He ran to the front door without waiting for an answer. “Mikey! Get down here! Please!” he added, knowing the social worker was probably listening. He smoothed his shirt and hair, which he had gotten cut so he wouldn’t look immature or unfit. He opened the door.
“Good morning, Gerard,” a woman with glasses and curly red hair pulled up into a bun greeted the teen in front of her. She was tiny, but she still intimidated the hell out of Gerard.
“Umm…Good morning! Good morning, Miss…” Shit. Jesus Christ, he’d forgotten her name. Shit, shit, shit. It was something…it was…Crystal? Christine? Her last name could be a woman’s first name, as well…Shit.
“Christie,” the woman prompted.
“Right, like the mystery-writer!” Gerard said, then barked out humorless laughter. He felt like such a goof. He always acted like this when he was nervous.
“Right…” said Ms. Christie. “Well…Are you going to invite me in, or would you like me to assess you from the doorstep?” She cocked an eyebrow importantly and Gerard jumped, stepping aside and allowing her to pass the doorframe.
“Umm…Can I get you anything?” Gerard asked nervously, following Ms. Christie as she led herself through his house. “Water? Soda? Something?”
“What’s this?” she asked, ignoring Gerard’s question. She had indicated a glass with red liquid in it. Gerard realized that it probably looked like red wine.
“Fruit punch,” he answered quickly.
“Hmm…” Ms. Christie picked up the glass and gingerly sniffed it. “Sure it’s not alcohol?”
“Well--I mean, I’m too young to drink alcohol, or even buy it, so…no. I mean, yes, I’m sure!” Gerard wished he didn’t get so flustered during these things. It just made him seem more guilty of something.
“I understand what you mean,” she said curtly, setting down the glass, satisfied that the stuttering teen wasn’t hiding an alcohol addiction. “Who’s this?” She had walked into the living room, where Frank was seated on the couch, hands on his knees, a polite smile on his face when Gerard walked in. He stood and held out his hand to the woman, who, a suspicious look on her face, shook it tentatively.
“Afternoon. My name’s Frank.” The easy smile on his face baffled Gerard; this woman could make or break the teen’s life on a whim, and Frank was smiling at her?
“What are you doing here?” Through his nerves, Gerard managed to find this statement very rude. Frank, however, remained unfazed.
“I was just helping Gerard clean up before you came,” he carried on conversationally. Behind Ms. Christie, Gerard was shaking his head vehemently, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Frank ignored him. “He was trying so hard to impress you. You know, he was even mopping the floor before you came!” Frank chuckled at this, like an uncle fawning over his favorite nephew. “So considerate, too. When you knocked, he asked me to dry up the water on the floor so you wouldn’t slip and hurt yourself. He’s just too nice.” Frank tipped his head to the side, ever so slightly, a lopsided smile on his face.
“I think I’d agree,” the woman answered, her tone softening. “Very considerate. Mr. Way, why didn’t you mention that earlier? How thoughtful.” She spoke to Gerard, but she was still looking at Frank. Lucky for Gerard, since his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide. He felt a tug at his hand, remembering that Mikey was in the room.
“Gee, if we’re not doing questions, can I go back to sleep?” The little boy rubbed his eye with his fist, trying (and failing) to stifle a yawn. This seemed to pull Ms. Christie back to reality and she reluctantly turned her back to Frank. She leaned down, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, Mikey, but I have to ask you a few questions. I’ll make it as quick as possible so you can go back to sleep, though, alright?” Mikey nodded, Gerard still stymied by this sharp twist in behavior. He followed the woman and his brother back into the kitchen, where the three sat down at the table so she could perform the interview with Mikey that was legally mandated by the state.
“Just tell the truth, Mike,” Gerard told his brother when he’d composed himself enough to notice that the little boy was looking nervous.
“Do you enjoy living with your brother, Mikey?” Ms. Richie asked, back to business, but still less uptight than she’d been before.
“Yeah,” Mikey said, nodding vigorously. “A lot. I love Gee.”
“What do you do together that you like?”
“Well…” Mikey looked sideways at Gerard, who smiled and nodded. “We go to the park, and sometimes he pushes me on the swings. I just learned how to make myself go without anyone pushing me! Gee helped,” he added, grinning sheepishly. “And…We read comics together! Really good ones. Gee knows all the good ones. He even gave me some of his old comic books. I like to read them a lot.”
“Mhmm…” Ms. Richie murmured, making notes on a clipboard. “And what about money?”
“What about it?” Mikey asked innocently.
“Is there enough? Is there enough to buy groceries every week?” Mikey nodded. “What about bills? Does your electricity ever get shut off?”
“Like, turning out a light when you leave a room? Gee says we should always do that so lights don‘t burn out.”
“Not exactly, Mikey. Have you ever walked into your room and tried to turn on the light, or the computer, or something, and it wouldn’t turn on?”
“Nope,” Mikey said, now beginning to swing his feet, as he was getting bored of the questions. Gerard felt a small swell of pride knowing that he hadn’t missed a bill payment since getting Mikey.
“Okay,” the woman said, scribbling again on the clipboard. “Now, Mikey, do you ever see Gerard drink?”
“What do you mean? Like juice? We drink juice sometimes, but Gee says juice has a lot of sugar, and milk or water’s better.” Both Gerard and Ms. Christie laughed at this, but the latter cleared her throat quickly and sobered up.
“I mean alcohol, Mikey. You know, beer, wine, stuff like that. Stuff that he may not let you have.” Gerard was nervous, even though he had no reason to be; he’d never drank in front of Mikey, and he hadn’t even purchased any alcohol since the day he’d picked up his little brother from the courthouse.
“Oh, that. Nope. Once, we went to our cousin Bethany’s wedding, and he had some wine out of Mommy’s glass,” Mikey added, obviously not wanting to lie or omit anything for fear of getting in trouble.
“And Gerard,” the social worker said, turning to the older Way. “The last time you lived in your mother’s care was almost three years ago, correct?”
“Yeah,” Gerard said, hoping she would just leave and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore, at least for a few months.
“Alright,” she said, scratching a few last notes on that clipboard of hers. “That’ll do it.” She stood, walking to the door, closely followed by Gerard.
“Well?” Gerard asked, placing his hand on the doorknob in front of Ms. Christie.
“You passed,” she told him with a small smile. “Mr. Way--Gerard--if I were you, I’d feel very proud of myself. At the age of seventeen, you’ve done things that many two-parent families can’t manage: hold a job, pay bills, hold a household, and not to mention all while attending high school and keeping your grades up, which I’ve been checking on for myself every so often. All you need to do now, Gerard, is relax, and trust that you’re doing a good job. Remember, this is only until you graduate.” With that, and a pat on the shoulder for Gerard, Ms. Christie walked out, leaving behind her an open door, a yawning second-grader, and an incredibly relieved teenager.
So...it's been about a month since I updated...yeah...I'm sorry. I updated my last story on the fifth or sixth of March, and then on the seventh, we started having A Chorus Line rehearsals until 11. On Thursday, we had a special preview of the show, and then we opened on Friday, running through Sunday for a total of five shows. It was so much fun, but very draining. On Monday I worked on an assignment for the Handmaid's Tale that I missed and had to email to my teacher, on Tuesday, we had a five-hour rehearsal for States, which ran from Wednesday to today, and is a thespian competition for the state of Florida. Needless to say, it was an exhausting week. Luckily, most of this chapter was written before I left, and I just had to revise a bit before putting this up. So...yeah. It was a tiring week. Not much of a Spring Break, I guess, but it's okay. I still have tomorrow to relax before going back to school. Anyway, please go comment and subscribe. Let me know where you think this is going. Stay tuned. OverAndOutxx.
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