I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

Own Private Hell

Mikey

I wake up with a start; lungs leaping into my throat as blurry eyes sweeping over the colors and shapes that fill my vision. Wracking my brain I try and remember where I am and why I'm not waking up in my own bed. I sweep my hands over the blankets, letting out a sigh of relief as my fingers curl around a glasses sized lump. Gerard's room comes into focus as the events of last night come flooding back. Groaning, I roll to the edge of the bed, almost stepping down on to Ray.

Hopping over him, I squat down, gently placing a hand on Ray's shoulder. He rolls away, burying his head further into the pillow, his arm flailing out to ward me off, "Five more minutes."

"No can do," I glance at the Batmobile clock sitting on the dresser. If we want to be on time for the first bell we need to leave in five minutes. Although I can hear movement, I don't stick around to see if Ray is actually getting up. Gerard will leave him if he isn't ready to go when we are. I'm sure Ray knows that.

Trudging up the stairs I change into my school uniform in a trance. Despite Gerard drinking himself into a stupor last night wasn't actually that terrible. It felt nice to talk and laugh with people who seemed genuinely interested to hear what I have to say. They all handled Gerard so well, avoiding the usual rage that comes with his drinking. For the first time in years, I felt like I might actually have people in my life that I could connect with. As I adjust my tie a little bubble of hope pushes away at the dread.

Gerard and Ray are sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mugs held tightly in their hands. For once my brother looks like he actually slept, the usual tiredness that clings to his face missing this morning. Getting my own cup of coffee I sit across from my brother, the clock above the oven catching my attention. Gerard's clock downstairs must be busted. Knowing we have almost thirty minutes, I settle into my chair, enjoying my breakfast. The coffee helps settle my stomach and knock out the last of my headache from last night.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," Gerard says, staring into his coffee mug, lips tightly pursed together. After a few seconds, he gets up, digging a pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket as he disappears outside.

Ray gathers up the empty mugs running them under water, "Breakfast of champions, huh?"

I offer up a shrug. They aren't around in the mornings. They all make sure he gets home and then disappear to lick their own wounds. I'm left to deal with the anger that drains from my brother as he sobers up. Gerard being up and coherent enough to make and drink coffee is big. Typically he barely pulls himself out of bed, still too drunk or hungover from the previous night. As far as mornings go, this one is miles ahead of what we've had recently.

"Let's go," Gerard shoves the front door open, causing it to bang off the front wall, the hole created by the knob growing just a little. Ray and I gather our things, heading out towards the driveway. In the doorway Gerard stops me, palm hitting into my chest. "Inhaler?"

"Shit," spinning on my heels I hurry back up the stairs, tearing my drawers apart as I search for my lifeline. Once I find it, sitting beside my keyboard, I rush back down the steps, jumping over the last two.

Mom is up now, bustling around the kitchen. She throws together sandwiches, shoving them into paper bags. As we all try and push through the door she distributes the bags, wishing each of us a good day. She's more than we deserve, being our rock in every situation. There's nothing Gerard or I could ever do to pay her back for everything she's done for us in our lives.

"Alright – " Gerard runs his fingers through his hair, forcing it away from his face. "– For once we actually aren't going to be late."

We all pile into the car, Gerard shoving the key into the slot. The engine sputters, roars, and then goes silent. My brother groans, leaning into the turn as he tries to start the car again. The car shudders, lights on the dash flickering. I watch my brother's face contort, eyes ablaze, eyebrows so screwed together they look like they may become one.

And then the black hole opens, words spewing forth, "Goddammit! You motherfucking piece of shit! Fuck you!" Gerard bangs his fists against the steering wheel, the horn letting out a weak honk.

I glance into the backseat. Ray sits with his feet planted firmly on the floor, nails digging into the faded fabric of the seats. He keeps his gaze downcast, avoiding making eye contact with my brother in the rearview mirror. The car sits in collective silence, everyone waiting for the other's next move, calculating how they should react.

Gerard's fingers curl around the key, twisting it quickly. Nothing happens, the car joining the growing silence.

"Fuck," Gerard throws his door open, rolling out the car, kicking at the tires, "Looks like we're going to be late."

At the end of the driveway, a horn honks. We all turn, watching as the driver rolls down the window, sticking her head out the window. Emily smiles at all of us, the wind catching her hair creating fire, "Need a lift?"

Ray bounds down the driveway, pulling open the back door of the car.

Gerard stands with his hand on his hip, flipping the car key between his fingers. He glances over at me, "What do you say, little brother? Walk or ride?"

"That's not a question, Gee," I answer before walking down the driveway. The inside of Emily's car still looks brand new. The backseats are soft tan leather and the whole inside of the car smells like girl with just a faint hint of cigarettes and something earthy. Frank is already sitting in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dashboard. Gravely punk music flows through the speakers, Frank and Emily singing along as Gerard finally gets into the car.

"Everyone settled?" Emily questions, eyeing us in the rearview mirror as Gerard fights with the seatbelt.

"Let's go," Gerard responds through gritted teeth.

As we draw closer and closer to my own private hell called high school I wish Emily hadn't driven by our house. At least then I could have been able to avoid this feeling of impending doom a little longer.