So Long, Not Goodnight

Chapter Eleven

Gerard tried to keep himself from crying as he took another drag of his cigarette. Frank stared down at his feet and then cleared his throat. "Jesus, Gee." Frank took a step near Gerard and Gerard took a step back; away, ashamed.

"She died because of me," Gerard's lips trembled and he broke down and sobbed.

"Why the fuck would you say that, Gee?" Frank looked confused. "You helped her! She was being fucking raped and you helped her! You could have been like 'Fuck this' but you stood up for her, Gee!"

"But if I were to never have stopped and if I were to have kept on driving, she could have still been alive right now," Gerard took another pull of his cigarette.

"Or those assholes could have killed her after they tortured her, Gee. You at least tried to help her."

Gerard exhaled, wiped at his eyes, and turned around and headed back towards the pulpit. "Gee, wait!" Frank called out and followed him.

"I'm sorry, Frankie, I shouldn't have dragged you into this..." Gerard slowly climbed the stairs and his silhouette grew smaller and smaller as he made his way to the back room. Frank followed at his heels into the room that they were so intimate with each not an hour ago. Gerard was extinguishing the candles and the room filled with smoky fog. Each wisp of smoke that climbed towards the ceiling appeared as a ghost ascending to heaven. Soon, the room felt like it was a sea of souls and Frank felt like Hades and that Gerard was his Persephone. As the smoke dissipated, Frank noticed that Gerard was staring up at the cherubic painting that was on the far wall. For a moment, they both stood and stared in silence at the painting like they were visiting an art gallery and admiring the work. "What do you think happens when we die, Frankie?" Gerard asked without taking his gaze from the hanging picture. "Do you believe in God?"

Frank smirked, eyeing Gerard as Gerard started at the angels. "No, Gee, I don't believe there's an almighty god watching over all of us people and there's some shithole like heaven or a hell, even though I'm sure if there were, they'd have some sick concerts down there, dontcha think?"

Gerard didn't respond. He just fixed his gaze on the ground and no longer the painting. Frank sighed and reached for Gerard's hand. Gerard pulled away and grabbed at his opposite arm awkwardly. Frank felt heartbroken at Gerard's gesture. "You shouldn't," Gerard whispered, looking anywhere but at Frank.

"Shouldn't what?" Frank asked looking directly at Gerard.

"Shouldn't be with me, Frank." Gerard's voice trails off as Frank pulls his face to his own.

"You'll never make me leave," Frank almost shouts at Gerard. "Don't you understand, Gee? You give me a REASON to believe when there doesn't seem to be anything to believe in. But I believe in us."

Gerard reluctantly finds Frank's gaze.

The silence was staggering. The small tinkling noise of the rosary beads against the doorframe echoed in the silence. The darkness outside was interrupted by a silent flash of lightening, flashing red like taillights through the stained glass. The storm played a stop-motion cinema in the darkness of the auditorium; Frank's and Gerard's silhouettes the main characters of the performance. Gerard reached out and touched the swaying beads feeling a sad spark hit his fingertips. His tears became silent as he tried to compose himself. The air began to chill and their breaths began to fog. Was this only due to the night seeping through the cracks and settling from the outside in or had Helena found her way inside? Gerard found himself on the brink of hyperventilating as he looked over his right shoulder past Frank to the vacant altar catching the candles begin to spark and catch one by one. Eyes wide open, Gerard felt himself almost float towards them, passing by Frank whose lips were moving in slow motion and silent. All Gerard could hear was the quiet sound of wax beginning to pool and drip; it almost sounded like gentle crying.