Our first interactions were brief. B sharp.
"Orange gum?" Why orange?
"No thanks."
"You're missing out." I know.
Break.
"What's your name?" Depends who you ask.
"Arthur."
"Like the ardvark." I've heard that one before.
"Exactly, except I can do a lot more than Fur Elise."
"Arthur Way?" He knows.
"Yes."
"Oh, I thought you'd be older. I mean, I know my mom judges, y'know, child prodigies, but I imagined you older." A lot of people think that.
"Your mom's a judge?"
"Why else would I be here? No offense, but I think it's all a load of shit. I like music, don't get me wrong, I just hate what people make it. Pretentious parents dressing up their snobby kids to win awards to make themselves feel like less of failures. It's shit." Finally someone agrees.
Break.
"I'm Frank by the way." That rhymed.
"Arthur!" Fuck.
"I'm going somewhere."
"Bye Arthur." Bye Frank.
Our second meeting was different. D flat.
"Arthur, this is Frank. Frank, Arthur." We've met.
"We've actually met before." You didn't need to tell them, though.
"Have you? Such a small world." Miniscule.
"Arthur, how about you go show Frank your room while I get dinner ready?" That's a command.
"Alright."
Break.
"You have a lot of awards." This isn't even half of them.
"Yeah."
"So, when'd you start?" Too early.
"Four."
"When'd you stop?" Never.
"I haven't."
"I meant when'd you stop caring?" No one's ever asked that.
"Nine."
"So that's eleven years of ebony and ivory and six of agony." More so eleven of agony. But who's counting?
"I guess."
"You guess?" What did you want me to say?
"Yeah. I guess."
Break.
"So your mom's nice." To you, yeah.
"It's a facade."
"What?" She's only nice to you because you're mom's a judge.
"Nothing. She's just strict."
"Ah. Where's your dad?" Wouldn't you just love to know.
"He's on a work trip."
"What does he do?" Drugs. By work I meant acid. Silly me, I forget.
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Is he a pianist too?" You could say that.
"No."
Three knocks.
"Come in."
"Dinner's ready." Oh how I wish it wasn't.
"What is it?" Steak on our fancy plates.
"Steak and potatoes." How'd I know?
"That's rad." It's typical.
Break.
"So, does your son play any instruments?" It's begun.
"He plays guitar." Hopefully he's a professional.
"Ah. What awards has he won?" Don't ask that.
"He doesn't compete. It's more of a hobby." Keep it that way.
"Well, Arthur has been to over a hundred competitions. Isn't that insane?" She says it like it was an accident.
"Wow, Frank maybe you should compete!" No.
"No!"
Break.
"Sorry. I'm sorry."
"What was that about?" Don't ask, Frank.
"Nothing. It's nothing."
"Arthur, would you go to your room. I think you need to calm down." You think I need to disappear.
"Alright."
Break.
Three knocks.
Three knocks with a crescendo.
Six knocks.
"Arthur!"
Our third meeting was grand. G sharp.
"I don't give a shit!"
"Arthur Way, you will not speak to your mother like that!" Sorry, who?
"Arthur? Hmm. I don't know an Arthur! Sorry, you must be looking for someone else because my name is-"
"That's enough!" Is it?
"Gerard! My name is Gerard!"
"Quit it! You're going to stop throwing this tantrum, you're going to go up on stage, and you're going to play your peice!" Why do you get to decide that?
"Why, mom? Why?!"
"Because piano is the only thing you're useful for! Now go up and play!" You don't think I know that?
"I'm going somewhere."
Break.
"Now, to provide some music for our Easter program is a child prodigy that I'm sure you all have heard of, Arthur Way!" Fake enthusiasm.
Walk. Bow. Sit. Play. Tears.
Break.
"Orange gum?" Why does he do that?
"No thanks."
"You played well." That only makes sense. It's the one thing I'm good at.
"Thanks, you did good, too."
"Not compared to you. Are you competing?" I'm always competing.
"I'll be doing Grande Etude De Paganini by Franz Liszt. My mother said.. why're you laughing?"
"I meant in the egg dyeing competition." What?
"I didn't sign up."
"You don't need to sign up. Anyone can do it." That's not efficient.
"I don't know how."
"What do you mean you don't know how? Haven't you dyed eggs before?" No.
"I couldn't. The dye would go from my fingers to the keys. They could stain."
"Oh. I can teach you. We can do the competition as partners." Partners?
"Isn't it for kids?"
"You're not eighteen yet, right?" Almost.
"No."
"Neither am I. Would you look at that? We're both still kids and we can be for as long as we choose, but for now we're actually kids so we're allowed to act like them." Well, you are.
"Okay. Let's act like them." Fuck you mom.
Break.
"Names?" Gerard and Frank.
"Arthur Way and Frank Iero." Iero. I like that.
"Ages?" Not eighteen yet.
"Fifteen and sixteen." He's fifteen?
"Okay, go take a carton of eggs and find a place to sit." Where? There's no tables.
"Rad. Thanks."
Break.
"Where do we sit?" It's just grass.
"Anywhere we can find.
Break.
"The grass is wet."
"Here, those six eggs are yours. The others are mine." Did you not hear me?
"What do we do?"
"You just use the spoon to put them in. Here, I'll put this one in the green and leave it there. The longer you leave it the darker it is, but you probably knew that already. I'll use the markers to turn this one into the Hulk." That sounds easy enough.
"Okay. I'll put this one in the purple."
"What'll it be?" I don't know.
"Uh.. a.. grape."
"A grape?" Fuck, that was stupid.
"Y-yeah."
"Okay. We can have a fruit theme."
"What about your Hulk?"
"Haven't you heard. The Hulk loves fruit." Don't say it.
"He'd love me then." Fuck. I said it.
"What?" Does he not get it?
"Nothing. It's.. nothing."
"Was that a gay joke?" Fuck. Abort, abort.
"Uh.. I, uh. Yeah?"
"You're gay?" What do I do? Do I lie? Fuck.
"Uh..Yeah."
"Oh. Well, I guess the Hulk loves both of us." What?
"You are too?"
"Isn't is obvious? Dude, I dragged you over here to dye eggs with me. That's pretty gay."
"I guess it is."
"So, fruit theme?" So, us?
"So us?"
"Yeah. Us, fruit, and the Hulk." That's unique.
"Rad."
Break.
"In first place, Chad Durfley and Adam Johnson with 'Eggselent Eggs'."
Cheering.
"In second place, Madison Tyler and Patricia Ralph with 'Eggsquisite Eggs'."
Cheering.
"In third place, Margaret Jackson and Ashlynn Taylor with 'Eggs With Eyes'."
Cheering.
"And the runner up is Arthur Way and Frank Iero with 'The Hulk and Some Fruit, Get It?'."
Cheering.
"Arthur, did you hear that? We got runner up?" Wait, what?
"We did? Is that good?"
"Kind of! I've never won before." I'm surprised. You're good at dyeing eggs.
"We didn't win."
"Of course we didn't. But it was fun and he said our eggs names and it was funny!" Yeah, I guess it was.
"Yeah."
Break.
"Wanna go somewhere?" Yes.
"Where?"
"I don't know. Somewhere. The lady that owns this place has a lot of kids so she has an abundance of board games." I love board games.
"Does she?"
"Yeah. C'mon. Let's take one and go somewhere where no one is. I don't really want to talk to anyone here anyway." Me neither.
Break.
"Clue, boring. Monopoly, ew. Apples to Apples, not enough people, Life?" Playing Life with you sounds great.
"Okay."
"I live near here so I know some places we could go. Have you ever seen an empty swimming pool?" What?
Break.
"My fucking house burned down, what the shit?" Is that a phrase people use?
"You suck at this."
"Hardly. The whole thing's a game of chance." Excuses.
"That just means it's realistic."
"You can control life if you want. It's not all random." I'm not sure.
"I guess."
"Your turn." My turn.
"I don't really want to play anymore. It got kinda depressing after my husband took my kids and left me."
"That does tend to make a person wanna stop." I could listen to your laugh forever.
"You think you're hilarious, don't you?"
"I'm a fucking comedian. I crack myself up." I can tell.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask, why're we in a slide?"
"So no one can see us." Why does that matter?
"Couldn't we have just gone into that life guards station?"
"C'mon that's not fun."
"Whatever."
Break.
"Why'd you want me to come here?"
"You're a strange person. I don't get you. Arthur Way, you're a mystery and a half and I just wanted to know the boy behind the piano." Why?
"But why?"
"I heard my mom talking. She was talking to your mom. You were playing, probably, I don't know, and she was talking to your mom and you were like, thirteen, I think. Your mom was talking about your playing and she just, she.. she never mentioned you. Never right at least. She talked about your playing. She talked about your awards, but she never talked about you. She talked like you were some.. thing. Some prize she had won, but I didn't notice then. Your mom seemed to be so proud of you. My mom's a child prodigy judge; I've never been good enough for her because I don't have any special talents. I'm just Frank and I just wanted to know you and I had such high expectations and then I met you and you seemed so.. empty, and I didn't understand. I don't understand you." I never knew.
"My favorite subject was math."
"What?" You heard me.
"I was pulled out of school at ten so that I could practice more. I wasn't even given a warning, it was just, one day I was there, one day I wasn't. At first it was exciting. No more homework, no more teachers. I was real happy.. but then I wasn't. I was ten, Frank! I don't even know how to do long division! Piano is my one skill and it had all of the fun sucked out of it a long time ago."
"I could teach you long division. If you'd like, that is." I'd love that.
"What?"
"We can come here, once a week, and I'll teach you long division and everything else you wanna know about math. I'll bring my books from school and explain the entire lesson to you if you'd like, school starts back up in about a week. Do you have any plans that'd intervene?" No.
"I'm preforming Grande Etude De Paganini by Franz Liszt in three days."
"Then we'll start Monday, deal?" Deal.
"Deal."
