As I dip my paintbrush in the big bucket of warm coffee cream coloured paint I stare at the patterns the brush leaves in the thick liquid as I move the brush in circular motion. The aroma of the paint hit my nose and I'm starting to feel dizzy. I need more coffee. Or maybe whiskey. I get up and leave the paintbrush on the side of the bucket as I lazily walk over to the kettle.
"Is everything okay?" Gerard says and I sense worry in his voice. I didn't turn around but I know Gerard too well to think that he'll give up on asking until he receives an answer. "And don't lie to me, I can tell when you're not saying the truth." He adds with a small quiet giggle. It sounded almost as if he reminded himself of a few situations we had in the past where he detected my lies. Gerard knows me too well.
"I just need to sleep more. I-" I stop and cover my mouth with my hand before I say too much and let my eyes express the sadness inside me. But I decide to continue knowing that Gerard will understand me. Or at least, try to understand.
"I over-think everything too much, it stops me from falling asleep, then all the nightmares and pain and hopeless plans of making things better and not being in control of feeling so fucking lonely and useless-" I can't continue. Tears are running down my cheeks and I'm short of breath. My heart is pounding. I'm about to break down again when I feel Gerard's arms wrap around me.
Crying has never felt right to me; when you cry, you’re weak. The people around you know how you feel without having to ask, and I don’t like that. I don’t like my emotions just being out there. But Gerard makes me feel comfortable with his arms around me, enough to stop thinking about everything and so I cry for what feels like forever until Gerard tries to supply anything. “I know you might not accept this, mainly because you barely accepted my help, but maybe you could get some medical help?”
I pull away from the hug quickly. “You mean like a,” I try not to sound too offended, but I grit my teeth at the next word to leave my mouth, “shrink?”
“What’s so bad about a shrink? I had one, and no not a-“
“Listen, I’m not insane or some fucked up drug addict okay. I don’t need therapy, and I don’t need to talk about how I fucking feel to someone who doesn’t even know me. I need to sleep.”
“Well, uh, If you’re quite done,” Gerard sighs, and hurt look in his eyes. I don’t understand if I was the one who upset him, but I’d probably guess so. I’m quite good at fucking up. “I was going to suggest sleeping pills, not a shrink.”
“Do they really work?” I sniff, and try not to think about how disgusting my tear stained and snot covered face looks. “I’ve never tried them but I- they might help.”
“We’ll finish painting and then I’ll get you some,” Gerard smiled weakly. But then he sighed, looking at me seriously. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t sleeping Frank? The world doesn’t stop with the band, I told you to look after yourself. I’m still your friend, not just an ex-bandmate. You can still talk to me.”
“Don’t talk about that like you get how I feel. You don’t understand and you never will. That band wasn’t your life, and losing it didn’t cost you your family, so you don’t get to fucking talk about it,” I snap, pushing myself off the kitchen counter to get away from Gerard. I have to push past him a little, and as I bump into him he grabs my upper arm tightly.
“I do get it. That band was great, we did things that nobody can match, we changed kids’ lives,” Gerard sighs and relaxes his angry grip on my arm, but not enough so I can break free. “I went through the sadness too Frank. But this isn’t even about the band, this is about having no trust in me anymore, and I’m not okay with that.”
