7I wave goodbye to the circle of teenagers I've been talking to, and walk around the side of the stage to the dressing rooms. The moment I turn my head away from them, I drop my fake smile, keep my eyes locked on my boots, and bite my lip, guilt eating me alive. Lyn-Z... Bandit! My beautiful wife, and my amazing daughter. I glance at my cell...has it really only been two hours? Just two hours since I lied through my teeth? Just two hours since I said I was fine, and everything was going great, and that I'd call them again as soon as I could. None of these things are true. I'm cut about this entire situation, quite literally, and it couldn't really be any worse if we were trying to make this tour shitty, and I wasn't going to call until the guilt went away. The guilt will never go away. A life of misery or a life of guilt? For the sake of my child, and of Frank's kids, I think I'm going to have to choose the life of misery. But I can't see Frank anymore. No. It will make my life miserable and guilt-stricken. I don't have the capacity to deal with both of these feelings at the same time.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of it, I'm sorry for everyone involved. It doesn't need to be like this. I could change it. Whatever I choose, and whatever Frank chooses, is going to massively affect almost everybody we know. Our families, our friends, each other... No. He's right, he was right all along. I have to choose Lyn-Z and Bandit. He has to choose Jamia, the twins and Miles. It's the only way we can stay sane, really. Though I'm sure it'll drive me insane.
Inside our dressing room, Mikey is playing Ray's guitar while the owner leans over his shoulders, laughing when Mikes messes whatever he's trying to play up. Frank is drinking coffee, his back to me, chatting to a couple of the crew members. They laugh, and then Ray laughs, and Mikey does too. And I am completely alone.
Some guy in a black t-shirt opens the door and leans his head through it. "Five minutes," he barks, then leaves like he was never even here.
"Show time, guys!" grins Frankie, winking in my general direction. I think it's in my general direction, anyway.
And, it is. Everything is about to kick off. This is the beginning of everything; I'm quite sure that it's the beginning of the end.
X.x.X
We finish our set ten minutes late, and our tour manager shakes his head disapprovingly, thoroughly pissed off, because apparently we have to pay $1000 for every minute we go over. They'll subtract it from what they were going to give us. Nobody seems to care. It was worth it; it was a good show. The crowd was amazing, and I completely forgot. What happens offstage stays offstage. You can't drag your real life misery up there with you. The fans want a good show; a reliable band to play without collapsing into wails of sorrow. We did it. We kept sane for them. They think we're okay. We will be okay.
We travelled here separately: Ray and Frank went in the van with all our shit, and Mikey and I followed later, in a taxi. I was still talking to Lyn-Z when they left, and even though I hate lying to them, I liked talking to my daughter - it reminded me of what I was potentially about to give up. Since I'm not planning on calling again, I wanted to talk to Bandit for as long as possible. But now we're all ready at the same time, so we all climb into the back of the van. I desperately want to talk to Frank, but not in front of everybody else. So when we go back to the hotel room (we're back in our original places, because we made up earlier, and everything is as about as fine as it could be) I ask Frank if he thinks we should talk. He nods, though doesn't speak, and sits on his bed, kicking the floor and averting his gaze. I look right at him though, daring him to make eye contact. Eventually, he does, but I have to look away then, because his eyes are beautiful and they're telling me to reconsider choosing my family over him.
Biting my lip insecurely, I finally gather the nerve to speak. "Frank, we need to talk about this again. About us."
A minute passes, and he doesn't respond. I look down, so I can't see him, and my hair washes over my face, blinding me. I blink, and then keep my eyes shut because it feels so good to be so detached from everything. However, someone lifts my chin up, and I look up, straight into Frankie's glimmering eyes. He brushes my hair out of my eyes and smiles sadly.
"I know, Gee. I know." He laughs humourlessly, his hand still touching my hair, and tucks it behind my ear.
"Well...what...what..." I can't finish. I don't know what to say; but then again, I never know what to say to him; not when we talk about shit like this.
"I know, Gerard. I know what you mean. There's nothing to talk about though, is there? We both need to make a decision. Either way, we get hurt. All we have to decide is who we're going to hurt on top of ourselves. And I think the fact that we both have kids changes everything. They need their daddies. We can't leave them; not while they're all so young. We have to hurt each other, Gerard, don't we?"
I nod slowly, the fact of the matter finally dawning on me. "I'll miss you," I say, and cough, because I'm all choked up and ready to cry. The back of his hand presses against my cheek: his hand is cold and my face is hot and vulnerable. Cold hands, warm heart.
"I'll miss this," he sighs, looking around the room glumly. "But it has to be this way. Would you rather hurt your family, and my family, and me, as well as yourself? Or just me and you? You know what the answer is, Gee. You know what we have to do. And it hurts like hell, I know that, but we can't keep lying to each other, and we can't keep lying to our wives and our children. There was a time when...well, it was never really acceptable, was it? You were with Eliza, and I was with Jamia...but it was different. I gave you a choice. Me or Lyn-Z. And you chose her. I would've chosen Jamia over you, if you had offered. It's just how it will always be. We have to accept that; have to live with the consequences of what we've done. And, I'm sorry Gerard, but we just can't go on like this. We have to think of our families now. Of our children."
"I...You're right, Frankie. You're always right. I'm just going to miss you so much. It feels so final, so definite..."
"Gee..." He breathes my name, but doesn't continue, and neither of us speaks. It's so intense, this moment...you could slice it with a knife. Every movement, every letter of every word is so carefully planned that nothing seems real anymore. It's like a dream, or a movie...it's all scripted. But this is real life. We're living this. We have to do this, together, but we must be apart. Together-apart.
After that, there is a long silence, and eventually Frank falls asleep, having already curled up on my bed. When he starts to snore lightly, I pull the covers gently around him, and kiss him once, briefly but passionately, on the temple. That will be the last time I kiss him. The reality of that consumes me so much that I feel I do not exist anymore: without him, I am nothing. But with him, I am so much less.
The End.