As we entered the building, the stench of urine made my nostrils sting. I saw Bob cover his nose, uncomfortable about the same thing. There was dirt and spider webs everywhere, and it hadn't been repainted in years; it was impossible to make out the color of the walls. You could hear lots of children crying and screaming, while others were singing together with an adult. Frankie walked so close to me that I had to be careful not to trip over his feet.
We neared a very messy desk, behind which a girl was copying something from a very old, shattered notebook to a more modern agenda. There was no computer in sight, technology hadn't reached this forgotten shelter.
"Sorry, may I ask you a question?" I addressed her. The brunette eyed me with her bored brown eyes, chewing on her gum like a cow.
"Yeah?"
"Is there someone who's worked here for fifteen years or more?"
"Uh..." she scratched her head thinking. "...yeah, I think there are at least two women. My mother worked here for ten years before she left me her place, and they were already here when she started."
"Could I talk to them?"
"Only one works today. HEY, GENE! Watch over here while I go find Maria!" she asked a guy who was fixing a window. As if she had something valuable there that we could steal...
The secretary came back ten minutes later with a slow-walking woman who was no more than 50, though her hair was prematurely gray and her eyes showed the tiredness of years. Maria smiled warmly at us as she shook our hands, and I did remember to introduce myself this time. I could see Frank -who was hiden behind me- looking at the woman intensely, probably finding her familiar.
"How can I help you, young men?" she asked.
"Did you already work here fifteen years ago?"
"I've been working here for exactly sixteen years, why?"
"I'm collecting information about Frank Iero, I know he was brought here around then when he was 4. Not sure of how many years he spent in this place, though." I said. Frankie was still gripping my arm with both his, but he wasn't hiding anymore.
"Oh yes, I remember him." Maria meditated and then suddenly looked at Frank, smiling. "But...is it you, Frankie?"
"Y-yeah, I'm F-frankie."
"I'm Maria, do you remember me? I'd take care of you sometimes and I also helped you learn to speak...together with another woman who used to work here before, Martha." she ruffled his hair.
"Y-yes, I r-remember you! Y-you kicked the evil m-man once 'cause...'c-cause he hit m-me."
"Yes, I did! He deserved it." she then looked at me. "Did you...adopt him?"
"Something like that, better said I found him...long story. Would you tell me as much as you know about him?" I felt a little impolite, but I was anxious.
"Of course, follow me."
She guided us to an even dirtier room with no windows. The only illumination was an antique lamp in a corner. She grabbed it -its cord conveniently long- and aimed it towards a shelving full of cardboard boxes, each one labeled with a year. The heat was unbearable, and it was too humid. "Uh...which year would that be?"
"Let's see...either...1992 or 1993." I reasoned, feeling drops of perspiration running down my face.
"Yeah...I think it was winter, so most probably '93. Let's see." she took out that box, the smell of the old moistened cardboard more perceivable. Then she rummaged through the alphabetically organized files inside. "I wanna be sure I'm not mixing his information with any other kid's in my head, you know? It's been a long time. Here it is!"
"Oh, good!" Bob, who had been in silence so far, exclaimed. He was as curious as I by then.
Maria motioned for us to follow her out of the room, it wasn't a place to stay long. We took a seat on a greasy, green bench against a wall.
"Frank Anthony Iero, 4 years old. His own mother brought him here, she alleged she couldn't cope with his problems." she read the file.
"And you don't do anything about parents like that here?" I asked indignant.
"No, that's how things are in this place. Parents that otherwise would leave their kids in the street, come here because they know we won't ask much; only a voluntary money donation and the kid's ID to take note of the whole name and date of birth." she explained, still studying the paper before her. "We don't even keep the ID's, save they choose to leave them, but it wasn't the case."
"Tell me whatever you can find there or anything you remember, please." I begged her.
"Ok...when Frankie arrived here he had just learned how to walk. He'd still fall down rather often, though he was very hyperactive and rarely stopped moving anyway."
"You mentioned that you helped him learn to speak..."
"Yes, he only spoke a few random words, the rest of the time he would just scream or cry when he wanted something. It took us nearly two years to get him to speak enough to communicate. We had to teach him or make him practice during the scarce moments when we'd manage to get his attention, so it wasn't easy. After that he attended kindergarten for at least...one year and a half, maybe a little more, until he left. He enjoyed it pretty much, back then we had a lovely teacher who volunteered here." she related.
"Did Frankie really have schizophrenia since so early?"
"He did. His mother mentioned how he'd act weird sometimes, and here we noticed that his nervous episodes were a lot worse than you could expect from a child, even an hyperactive one. Other times he seemed absent, or he'd 'touch' the air and smile as if he was seeing something. He was examined by a psychiatrist like all children here, this is the diagnosis..." she handed me a paper that had been attached to the file.
"Frank Iero presents early Schizophrenia, to which he was surely propense to; but probably developed symptoms at a younger age due to brain damage caused by head trauma. Said lesion is also the causative of learning retardation, speech impediment and other possible problems that might or might not make themselves evident with time, since it's not easy to know at such a young age. Antipsychotics are not recommended for small children if not strictly necessary, although mild sedatives could be tolerated." I read.
"They gave him sedatives for three years, though the 'mild' part was only occasionally respected. I always tried to stop them from sedating him too much, but some days when the kid was more nervous they'd leave him drooling like a zombie. Then when Frankie was 7, he started to have like...panic attacks over things only he could see, so they changed to antipsychotics..." Maria recalled. It was a sadly usual thing to do in many public places.
"No one could do something more against that?"
"Sadly, no. It's the same as with that jerk who used to hit the kids. The rest of us tried to get him fired, but no one pays attention to simple employees. And...these children were either found in the streets or abandoned here. They don't have parents to look after them and denounce when things are done wrongly. All we could do was to implant some justice by our own hands. He finally decided to leave." she smirked remembering something. "The only reason why I keep working here, same as another friend of mine, is to ensure that at least someone treats the kids as human beings." she sighed.
I observed Frankie who was playing to catch a paper ball with Bob, not succeeding much but laughing all the same. The woman followed my gaze.
"It's so good to see him well and happy. When Frank left this place I thought about him for a long time, wondering what would be of him. Developing a mental illness like that at such a young age is never good. I was afraid, to tell the truth."
"Yes, his case is pretty serious, luckily the medication does help. And now that you mentioned it, there's a point I'm especially interested to know about: who took him out of here?" I couldn't think of anyone, his mother was out of the question.
"During his..." she searched through the papers in her hand. "...fourth year here, his grandmother came for him."
My eyes opened wide with surprise. Grandmother? The one I had talked to? It couldn't be, she thought Frank was dead. "His father's mother?"
"No, his mother's."
CHAPTER 29
I...
I was standing.
You were there.
Two worlds collided.
And they could never ever tear us apart.
"His maternal grandmother?" I asked in disbelief. Every answer I got brought up even more questions.
"Yes, I remember everything as if it had happened yesterday, it was rather peculiar. The first time I talked to Frank's grandma it was on the phone, she'd just learned that she had a grandson who lived here and called us desperate. The name and date of birth she mentioned matched Frank's..."
"How did she get to know?" I interrupted Maria while trying to figure things out. "From what I found out, after bringing Frank here, his mother told everybody that the kid had died..."
"Aha, this poor lady was shocked and spilled everything to me. It was like this: her daughter talked to a friend and confessed that she'd had a son who died at the age of 4. Though that girl was asked not to tell anybody, she found it too important to keep it secret, specially from her friend's mother. As soon as Frank's grandmother was given that information, she traveled immediately."
"And Frank's mother admitted the truth just like that? "
"No...she told her mother that the boy's health had always been poor and he finally died from a virus or something like that. But...when the woman was leaving, a neighbor passed her bye in a rush and put a piece of paper in her hand." she recounted mysteriously.
"What did it..."
"It said: 'the kid's not dead, insist. Just forget that you knew this from me.' Seems out of a movie, uh?" Maria chuckled. Someone could have thought that she found it funny, but I understood that it wasn't the case. She did care, she cared a lot for the kids -or she wouldn't have paid attention to us. Maria didn't find Frank's story funny, it wasn't that; she was only a tired woman who had worked in a dark, sad place for years. She particularly remembered those stories that had been interesting or out of the ordinary, maybe a doleful replacement for the TV shows she didn't have the time to watch.
I didn't reply right away since I was, again, thinking; attempting to connect that new fragment of information to what I'd previously obtained. Who had given Frankie's grandma the note? It couldn't have been the neighbor I had talked to, or she would have commented about it.
Then I came up with another hypothesis: it may well have been the other neighbor, the one who had refused to help me; and that might be the reason why she did. She had already 'spoken' enough, presumably even gotten into trouble because of it.
"Yes, so far everything related to Frankie seems out of a very sad movie. What happened then?" I asked impatient. "Did Frank's grandma go back to her daughter after reading that note?"
"Not right away, she waited until the following day to face her daughter and then told her that she knew Frank wasn't dead. The grandma pushed and pushed until the girl confessed, and she threatened to forget about their blood bond and denounce her if she didn't tell her where the kid was. I suppose the woman forced Frankie's data out of her daughter too, and that's how she got to us." Maria completed, massaging her neck and making it crackle. She didn't notice me flinching at the annoying sound and continued to do so.
"But there's one thing I don't understand: if Frankie's grandma came for him, why did he end up in a mental institution?" I questioned, rather confused. Bob and Frankie were still playing with the paper ball, now sitting on the floor. Frank appeared to have momentarily forgotten about the bad memories that place hid for him.
"That first time after we talked, I put the psychiatrist on the line and he explicated all about Frank's condition to her. She was devastated before hanging up. A couple of days later, she showed up here crying. An old woman with a cane, I remember that. She told us how she'd have loved Frankie to live with her, that she would have tried if she was healthier or the kid didn't have so many problems. But she was very sick, and Frankie needed to be constantly watched and taken care of -have in mind he was only 8 at the moment. His grandma lived alone, and was thinking of getting herself into a home for elderly people."
"So she just moved Frankie to a new place?" I reckoned.
"She said she had found the best private mental hospital in her city, very close to where she was planning to move so she could visit Frankie as often as possible and make sure he was fine."
"Damn...the only person who cared for Frank and she was too ill to take him with her? Poor woman...and poor Frankie." I sighed, trying not to cry. Frankie came skipping and sat next to me.
"Wh-what you talking a-about?"
"Frankie...do you remember when you left this place?" I inquired. He skewed his mouth to both sides, concentrating.
"N-no I d-don't. One...one d-day I...w-woke up and wasn't h-here anymore. W-was on a p-plane, with an o-old woman who s-said was my g-grandma and... and w-we got out of the p-plane and then she t-took me to the o-other place. Y-yeah! Th-that happened!" he celebrated joyfully, satisfied with having recalled something.
"Your memory is good, Frankie!" I kissed his cheek.
"He can't remember when he left because apart from his medication, he was also heavily sedated that day. Who knows what had been their excuse that time. Maybe Frankie had a nervous fit, or it was just that some idiot here didn't feel like putting up with him." Maria explained sadly. "Frank's grandma wasn't exactly happy to see the child like that, and I suggested that she waited until he was more lucid; but she said it'd be better to leave right away. Frank would be easier to manage and wouldn't get scared on the plane."
All I could do was listen to her and nod, taking it all in. The idea of Frankie being overmedicated at such a young age was barbarian, although I knew that's how things were in those places. Maria stopped talking and searched for something among the papers in her hands.
"Oh, here!" she smiled. "On a happier note, wanna see why I knew he was Frankie?"
"Sure, what is it?" I got closer, Bob and Frank peeping over my shoulders. Maria handed me an old photograph, its edges a little frayed and yellowed. It showed who -no doubt- was Frank when he was about 6. His hair was flatter and cut straight, with a dense fringe falling above his naturally sculpted eyebrows. His eyes were only slightly deviated, but it was the same sweet, innocent look. He had the same sincere smile, the same small nose, it was like looking at the exact same Frankie in miniature.
"Th-that's me?" Frank pointed at the picture.
"Yes, you at 6!" Maria confirmed that I had guessed the age correctly.
"You haven't changed much! The same little face!" I opined.
"He's not even much bigger now..." she pinched Frankie's cheek.
"H-hey! I am much b-bigger than that n-now!" he pouted, crossing his arms.
"It was a joke! Of course you are, bigger and prettier."
"One thing was better, you used the brush back then." Bob laughed tousling the boy's hair.
"Sh-shut up, s-silly! M-my hair hates b-brushes! L-leave it a-alone!" Frank shot back.
"Oh, but it hated them back then too! It was like three of us against this little boy to get him to brush his hair for the picture!" Maria related. "By the way, you can keep the photograph."
"Oh, thanks!" I exclaimed gratefully. I was already thinking of framing it to place it somewhere in the living room. It was such a cute photo.
When I was about to say goodbye, I realised I had yet to ask an important question. "Oh Maria..." I spoke, most probably failing at pronouncing her Hispanic name. "...do you know which mental institution Frankie was transferred to?"
"Let me search, it must be somewhere because I know his grandma gave it to me. Also, people from that place called several times to consult us about Frank and what kind of medication he was on here." she looked into the box that had been discarded on a side. "Here!"
I shoved the little pink paper into my back pocket and thanked Maria once again. I was finally getting closer. Although I wouldn't be able to travel there any time soon, I could at least look it up in the phone directory.
The woman told Frankie to take care and then gave us all a good-bye hug before we left.
**************
Back in the car the three of us chatted about several random things, laughed, and for moments sang when some song on the radio would tempt us to. I was trying to get my mind off the things I had found out, it hurt me to think of all the shit Frankie had been through. He was smiling and having fun now, and I didn't want to let my feelings show, didn't want him to notice my sadness. That was all in the past after all. He was with me, with us, he'd be fine. We'd do everything within our reach for him to be a happy boy and have a life as normal as possible. The love we had for each other would help, I knew it would. It would help us both.
As I thought that, hearing Frank and Bob talking in the background, my lips formed a spontaneous smile. In that instant their voices went quiet and my eyes set on the rearview mirror. In the free space left by my own face, I spotted Frankie's. He was watching me and grinning, knowing I could see him too. We kept staring at each other, communicating without words. A mutual thanks giving, a love declaration, a trust statement.
"Gerard, the wheel! You're supposed to keep it centered! Boy, and you say you don't drink anymore!" Bob spoke from behind. Those last words shook me more than the rest of his speech. Guilt, remorse, fear of my weakness. Yet I didn't say anything about it, no one would know that I had gotten drunk again two nights ago. I'd had a reason to do it then, but now Frankie was back with me. That couldn't happen again.
"Uh, sorry, I was lost in thought."
"It's ok man, just be more careful, you know? Keep your eyes on the road." Bob said. For a moment I thought I had perceived some sarcasm in his advice. Had he noticed us staring at each other? Honestly, it was very probable.
"What about you, Frankie? Hey, boy! Are you here at all?" Bob called him. When I looked up, I saw Frank was still looking at me through the mirror.
"Y-yeah." he responded. I wasn't able to spy him anymore, but then I felt something rubbing the back of my head. I knew it was his face when I heard him sigh.
"I l-love you, G-gee." The tone wasn't childish, wasn't 'brotherly'. It was whispered and seductive, though not soft enough to be secret.
"Oh, Frankie..." I closed my eyes tight for second, as if that could make me invisible.
"D-do you, too? G-gee?" he added, his cheek against mine.
"Yes, Frankie, of course I love you!" I replied, knowing the truth was out anyway. Bob was humming, tapping his fingers on the glass.
"Bob...I...we..."
"Yes? Go ahead Gerard, you can do it!"
"Well, as you must have realised we...Frank and I...feel something for each other. We...I don't know how to call it. We love each other, we love each other very much." I hesitated. Frankie had sat back, and was nodding.
"Congratulation, boys!" Bob told us happily, the last reaction I was expecting. Was he mocking me? Was he being ironic?
"Bob...you're ok with it?"
"Why wouldn't I? It was about time you said it!" he laughed.
"You mean you already knew it?" I tried to calm down and focus on the road.
"I kinda did, intuitively, since those first times when you told me of him. It was something about the way you did it, I hadn't seen you that moved and interested in something or someone in a long time."
"You didn't think anything wrong of it, did you? You know...since I mentioned he was 'special' and all that..." I was trying to remember our talks, worried that he might have a wrong idea of how my relationship with Frankie was. I didn't want that, even if he was fine with it. Bob was an open-minded guy, but I liked things clear.
"What? No, man, chill! I'm gonna sound cheesy and probably make you blush -knowing you- but you sounded in love," he remarked with a camp voice. "not like a perv!"
"Wh-what's a p-perv?" Frankie chimed in.
"Uh...a person who...I think you're too young to know it, but it's bad." Bob stammered.
"I...I'm n-not too y-young! B-but if it's s-something bad then G-gerard's not that. N-no, 'cause he's the b-bes-test boy ever! And...and he's my b-boyfriend. Or w-well, I c-can't say that w-word but we're like b-boyfriends." he concluded. Hearing him say all that, I considered rethinking some things.
"I was telling you..." Bob picked up the thread. "...I already suspected something, even more after last Sunday when I met Frankie. The way he looks at you, the way you care about him, it was more than brotherly. I didn't say anything because there was a possibility that I was wrong. Then, when the kid got angry at you and said something about liking when you kiss, that was pretty obvious!"
"But you still didn't say anything!" I pointed out.
"You changed the subject and I understood you weren't ready, so I decided to wait. You thought I hadn't noticed or I had forgotten? No way, Way! I'm always aware of my surroundings, remember I'm Super Bob!" he finished with a joke, as usual, and laughter exploded from Frank's side of the car.
"And," I wanted to get rid of all my doubts. "you're not surprised that I'm in love with...a boy?"
"Gerard..." Bob chuckled. "I've never seen you interested in a girl. I know you had a girlfriend, and in the beginning I thought you were just too hurt because you had broken up with her. But...time went by and even being completely wasted..."
"Shh!" I hushed him.
"Sorry. Not even when you...couldn't remember your own name did I see you accept a girl's proposal. And man, all girls were crazy for you!"
"Ok, ok. Then I guess that not even in that...state I was able to fool myself anymore." I laughed. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Not at all. Free will, G-man!"
"Thanks, Bob. I'm glad there's someone who seems to know me and has trusted me from the beginning. I had enough with my brother, and I even my mom finding out about me and Frankie gave me some trouble. I still have to tell Ray which could be hard, he's like my conscience..." I whined tiredly.
"Your brother took it wrong? What the fuck? See, I'm not a saint, I'm far from being innocent...but my mind is not that dirty!" Bob was astounded.
"Yeah, I prefer not to talk about it. We had a conversation and things are better now."
"It's ok, then. And really, Gerard, everything's fine. Frankie's obviously happy with you, and totally in love. I look at your ugly face...I see the same. Enough." Bob patted my shoulder.
"G-gerard's not ugly, you as-asshole!" Frank jumped.
"It was a joke! You're both very handsome, I'm the only ugly one in this car." Bob faked a sniff. I turned and saw Frankie hugging my friend worriedly.
"N-no Bob, don't c-cry! Y-you're not ugly, t-told you. Y-you're just not as p-pretty as Gee."
"Really, Frankie?" Bob winked at me.
"Y-yep!"
"However...I might be prettier than Bob, but there's a certain boy with long brown hair and glasses that's prettier than me, so he beats us both!" I threw in. Frankie loosened his belt one more time and kissed my cheek quickly.
"Can one die from excess of cuteness in a reduced space?" Bob questioned.
******
When we arrived home after dropping Bob off, it surprised me to hear music coming from inside. "Is it Rod Stewart?" I wondered aloud.
"R-rob who?" Frankie frowned.
"Oh, he's an old...rocker. You do hear music, don't you?"
"Y-yeah." he put his ear on the door and snickered. "S-something 'bout 's-sexy'."
Upon entering, we found my mom sweeping the house while dancing. I stopped dead and glanced at Frank. His expression was priceless.
"What are those faces? Do I dance so bad?" she grabbed Frank's hands to pull him into the 'dance floor' with her, and he laughed as if someone was tickling him. I was glad the boy hadn't kept any grudge towards my mother.
"N-no I...I l-like it. Y-you're funny!"
"If he says so..." I shook my head, amused. The situation was so opposite to the one we had lived two nights before...
"Oh, shut up! Come and dance with us!" she invited me.
"No, I don't dance!"
"Y-yes you c-can! P-pleeease!" Frankie insisted, still giggling non stop as my mother made him turn with her hand.
"Nooo, I'm really bad, I'd be embarrassed...maybe next time." I politely refused. "Why are you here, mom? Didn't you have to work?"
"I have the week free. I'd asked for it when I thought of having Frank home, you know? So...since now I have nothing to do, I wanted to come help a little, maybe cook something for you." she carried on dancing while she answered. Frank was loving it, and it brought a reminiscence of that first time I had seen him, dancing happily among the cars.
"Ahh...ok! Thanks, mom." I smiled.
I knew deep inside that one of the reasons why she was there was to keep us watched. She had said she was sorry, had agreed that it'd been a mistake to take Frankie away from me, and had apparently understood how much we needed each other. However, I felt that she wasn't completely cool with it, she was still afraid, she wanted to make sure Frankie would be fine with me. I didn't mind, we had nothing to hide. We'd rarely do anything that we couldn't do in front of her. Well, not intentionally at least.
"I saw Ray on my way here, he told me where you'd gone. Any luck?" she was rather breathless, trying to keep up with Frank's rapid moves.
"You could say so, I have the name of the institution. There are other things, but we better talk later." I inconspicuously signaled towards Frank.
I watched them dance for at least half an hour. I only laughed and sang along, they couldn't convince me to join them. The few times I had danced in my life, I was very drunk. The only way I'd dare.
Finally exhausted, my mom announced that she'd go clean the kitchen. Frankie took the animal book from the little table and stared at it.
"Wanna practice for a while, like we were doing the other day?" I proposed. His face denoted annoyance as he swept a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. "You prefer to do it tomorrow?"
"Y-yeah, I'm t-tired to think n-now. C-can I read s-something to you?"
"Of course! Come here." I guided him to my lap and positioned myself so he was lying on top of me, his head under my chin. I loved to have his back against my chest, to feel his warmth, just to hold him close. Frank yawned while he searched through the pages. He had been too entertained in the car to sleep and had skipped his daily nap.
"E-elephants!" he enunciated.
"Awesome, go ahead!"
"El-elephants are...the l-largest m-mammals..." he began to read slowly. "M-mammals are the...the ones th-that drink m-milk from the t-tits of their m-moms, Grace t-told me. W-we're mammals t-too."
"Yep, very well, that's correct!" I nuzzled his hair. "What else?"
"Th-they can w-weigh up to..." he interrupted and looked at me."Wh-what's this number, G-gee?"
"Fifteen thousand."
"Oh! I...I d-don't know h-huge numbers. J-just 'till...uh...one h-hundred...I th-think."
"Well, that's a lot anyway. I'll teach you more some other day, don't worry." I told him. That was surely enough for someone who hadn't been to school or had a family to learn from.
"K-kay. Th-then it says: 'They c-can weigh up to f-fifteen th-thou-sand pounds'. Th-that's a lot, r-right?"
"Yes, certainly a lot."
"S-see? Th-they could crush us!"
"They could if they wanted to, but elephants are nice so they wouldn't. And you won't find them anywhere like...in the street. The ones in the zoo can't get out, they're in cages. And the ones who are free live very far away from here." I illustrated.
"B-but what if m-many many birds h-help them es-escape from the c-cages, uh?" he exposed with his best serious face.
"I don't think they could lift them!"
"Y-yes they c-could!"
"Ok, but they wouldn't crush us anyway, I promise. Keep on reading." I knew an argument like that wouldn't go anywhere. He was very convinced of these things he said.
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