XOXO// Frank Iero

One

Kit

Thursday

Closing shift at the store was probably the worst thing I've ever endured. I had to put back every record and every CD that had fallen off the rack, dust all the guitars, sweep the whole store, take out the trash, turn off all the lights, lock all the doors and then get the late bus home. I begged and begged Joey to give me better hours, like even opening bright and early, but he insisted that I work 6 until 8, every Monday to Friday this Summer.

I guess I was lucky in the sense that I had all day to spend with my friends, but then I would frantically have to hop on the 5:45 bus to Trenton Centre and run in to the shop before Paul went home, so that the shop wouldn't be left unattended. And- if this doesn't give you the creeps then I don't know what will- nobody came in to the store during my hours. Like ever. It was a ghost town. I got maybe six customers in the whole two hours- tops. And those were usually people who "Just wanted to browse"

However, this job was no more than a temporary fix for me. I needed money for the summer, I'd milked my parents enough for all their cash and they were sick of it. So now, I was making nine dollars an hour to sell records and guitars to nobody and to be "Joey's Discs and Instruments" Personal cleaner. Nine dollars an hour and two hours a day for five days a week meant ninety dollars a week, plus grandma money. So, all in all I was kind of doing okay. My job was only extremely tedious for two hours a day.

After some organising of records, I picked up the red handled sweeping brush and began to clean the dusty floors, making sure to get into all the nooks and crannies, when I found something left on top of a stool where people would sit while playing guitar.

A small, A5, red leather bound notebook. It was messy, with doodles decorating the front cover. I picked it up and brought it back to my counter, opening it to see if there was a phone number inside. Having a phone number inside a book was probably a bit of an old fashioned thing, and I was right. No number inside, but it did say "Don't fucking read this."

Curiosity got the best of me and I opened turned the page.

Dear Diary,
Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if mom never left. I know it impacted me greatly, but I'm not really sure if I can pick out the specifics of when and how. I'm sure it has affected my relationship with women, and probably leaves me on edge, thinking all my friends are going to abandon me. When it's just you and your kind of shitty dad, there's not a lot of room for talks about feelings, nor is the idea of therapy even entertained. Which is why I bought this book. I can at least organise how I feel or think in here, maybe even write a couple of songs. Neil called me a loser when I told him I was going to buy a diary, so I told him I changed my mind, and I'm gonna make sure he never sees this. Nobody is ever gonna see this. In fact, if anyone ever sees this I think a lot of people are gonna be in trouble, like dad, Marina and some kids at school. Either way. This is just for me, thank fuck.
XOXO- Me

I smiled when I read it. It was like reading a book, but one that felt really really real, like way more relatable than all these books that thirty year olds write and try to appeal to young adults, this was like an actually good young adult novel. I felt like I was getting to know this stranger, and their complicated relationship with their dad. I flicked to the next page.

Dear Diary.
Me again. Today I kissed Marina for what I hope is the last time. None of my previous attempts at a breakup were successful, but I really think that this time was the last. She makes me feel so poorly and it just drains me to be around her. I hate that I've wasted so many kisses and so much money and effort on her. I know if her big brother sees me around town then I'm dead meat, so I guess I gotta start keeping my head down in Trenton Main. Despite Trenton's extremely ugly appearance, I suspect that now without Marina driving me crazy, everything will become flowers and sunshine around Jersey. I won't have anymore bruises or bloody noses because of her, and my hair will be as thick as ever because she won't be pulling it out. God. I hate myself for letting her do that to me. You always hear the ads on the radio about abuse, but I always thought it was something that drunks did to their wives, not something that 18 year old girls did to their boyfriends. I'm okay now though, I don't have to keep pretending that I fell down the stairs or walked into a tree.
XOXO- Me

I felt my stomach sink reading that page. I wanted to find whoever owned this book and give him the biggest hug. I somehow couldn't feel any guilt for reading the book, all I could feel was sympathy and some sort of strange closeness to whoever was writing in these pages. I folded the book closed and put it inside the countertop. I'll read some more tomorrow, I said to myself.