*******
I didn't dare ask Ray to stay with Frank on Friday night until that same day. I knew that having waited so much only made the possibility of him telling me that he was busy bigger; but I couldn't bring myself to do it any sooner. The excuse I chose to justify my going out was that I hadn't hung out with Bob in months, and he wanted us to remember the old times. It was a bad idea. As expected, Ray didn't take it too well. To him old times with Bob equaled to getting wasted; and honestly, he was right. It seemed like making him believe that it wouldn't be like that this time might be an impossible mission.
We hadn't discuss it too much at the moment because he had things to do at home, but he'd promised to be back at 9. When he did, the questioning started all over again.
"Ray, stop it. I told you I'm not gonna get drunk, I won't drink a single drop of alcohol if that leaves you happy! I just wanna go out with Bob this one night."
"I'd love to believe that, Gerard. But we both know about your problem with alcohol. Even though you tell me you won't drink, I can't imagine how you'll be able to resist when being surrounded by it. Everybody drinks at those places!" Ray rustled. We were trying to keep our conversation at a low volume so Frankie wouldn't catch it from the other side of the room. It wasn't easy for any of us, with Ray striving to save me from an imminent relapse and myself advocating the right to go out without being put in doubt.
"Listen Ray, I know it won't be easy...but I'll be strong, I'll resist. Please, trust me. If I fail, if when I come back you notice that I've been drinking -and I know you would notice- you can go ahead and kick my ass and then next time do anything within your reach to stop me. But allow me this one chance, will you?" I looked him right in the eye while I spoke, showing him that I was being serious, that this was very important to me. Ray knew me more than anyone else in the world, more than my own family. He had to see the sincerity behind my words. I just hoped he wouldn't see the deepest truth.
"Gerard, you keep putting me in awfully complex situations...you know that, don't you?" he rubbed his face. I nodded. "If I say yes and something goes wrong, I'll blame myself for letting it happen. If I insist on stopping you from going, I'll feel like a bad friend for not trusting you. Damn, Gee..."
"So?" I asked timidly. He had a point, I was always forcing him to make hard decisions.
"So...I think you should go. After all I'm not your father or your older brother to ban you, I know that. But please be careful, don't throw everything away. Think about Frankie if it's not enough with yourself."
"I will, and I always think of him." I said. It was because of Frank that I was having that argument with my best friend, because of him that I was hiding the truth from Ray. But if I could bring Frank and his father together, if someone from that fucked up family proved to be decent, then it would be all worth the trouble.
"Ok Gee, but will you tell me what's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned defensive.
"Since you called me the other day I've perceived something. I was waiting for you to open up and tell me, but it doesn't look like you will any time soon. Spill?"
"I didn't tell you anything because there's nothing to say, I'm fine." I asseverated. He wasn't buying it.
"Gerard..." he used his classic 'don't give me shit' look.
"Ugh, alright. The other day when I called you, I'd just had an encounter with Gabriel. He was waiting for me outside the store." I confessed. It was a convincing answer that didn't require lying. It was truly Gabriel that had me worried back then, although during the last two days my mind had been too occupied with the idea of talking to Frank's father.
"Gabriel, after all this time? What did he want?"
"To have me back? He didn't change at all, by the way. I had seen him some days before that -though he didn't see me - and he was playing an unconvincing straight guy with a blond girl." I chuckled.
"Oh, fuck...but how did you feel...?"
"I'm fine, told you." I cut him off. "I was firm with him, didn't let him dominate me. And don't give me that look again, I'm not gonna drown myself in alcohol because of him. Gabriel doesn't have anything to do with my going out tonight, Bob doesn't even know about that and he invited me."
"I can only hope you're being totally honest. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I'm aware of how hard all that shit with Gabriel was for you."
"I do, and I'm thankful for having you." I petted his afro. "I'm gonna go get ready, don't have much time."
******
"D-don't want you to g-go, it's n-night." Frankie pleaded when I was about to leave. He was practically passed out on the couch.
"I'll be back, love, it's only for tonight. You gotta go to sleep now, anyway."
"But...but c-can't if you don't s-sleep with m-me." his voice trembled and my heart ached.
"Ray's going to stay with you until I'm back. You'll see I'll be there beside you by the time you wake up, I won't be out all night."
"N-not the same I...no. S-stay."
"Want me to wake you up when I arrive?" I offered.
"Y-yeah."
"Then I'll do that."
"Let's get you to bed." Ray lifted Frank from the couch. There was no way to make the boy move once he'd reach that drowsy state. Ray had visibly worked out the muscles of his arms by carrying him around.
I tucked Frank in with the sheets and a light blanket, left his glasses on the bedside-chair and handed him his carebear. Puppy hopped on and curled up on Frank's feet.
"Good night baby, I'll let you know when I'm home." I leaned forward to kiss his lips and he pushed me down, not letting me go. After a long kiss Ray finally had to help untangling Frank's arms from around me.
"Told you he's like a tick!" he laughed. "Ok, go before he traps you again."
"I wouldn't mind if I hadn't agreed to pick up Bob at ten. Bye, Frankie! Bye, Ray...and thank you again, man!"
******
As I drove us, I filled Bob in with the details. He opined that I was a good investigator after all.
"And how do we know that this guy's not going to tell us to fuck off? I mean, do you think he'll care about the kid?" he asked.
"From what Tony's mother told me on the phone some time ago, he apparently did care when Frankie was a baby. And he wasn't even sure if he was the real father."
"Is he?"
"I've never seen Anthony myself, but when Linda's former neighbor saw Frank, she said he looked pretty much like him, specially the eyes." I explained.
"He's cross-eyed too?"
"You know? Frankie asked that woman the same! No Bob, she meant eye color and shape."
"Ahh!"
When we entered the bar, it was already packed. I regretted not having thought of arriving earlier, since my idea was to get a spot as close to the stage as possible. I wanted to observe the man I'd be dealing with beforehand.
"Fuck." I cursed.
"What's your problem, you want in the front? Look, those three are leaving." Bob pointed.
"Oh, hurry up then!" I grabbed Bob's arm and dragged him behind me.
"Calm down, I can move on my own!"
"Sorry." I grinned satisfied, sitting on one of the shiny, dark-wooden chairs that matched the table.
It was a nice place. Fairly bigger than the other bars I had been to, but still small enough to maintain that intimate feeling. Except for the stage -which was already enlightened and waiting- the pub's style played with shadows and tenuous illumination. However, white lamps shaped as vertical cylinders hung above each table allowing customers to see each other's faces and whatever they were drinking.
Drinks. People were having all kinds of drinks there, and the mixed smell of beer, wine, vodka and whiskey was inviting, yet enervating for me.
"I promised Ray. I promised Ray and besides, I need to be sober. Who would believe a drunk-ass telling them that a son who they thought dead for 14 years, is actually alive?"
"Gee-man, who are you talking to? I can't hear you." Bob frowned.
"No one, I was...pondering." I screamed over the loud music. It was too loud to converse and someone must have complained, because it was lowered just when I was in the middle of my phrase, making me feel like an idiot. Everybody looked at me, but they soon lost interest.
The waitress -a young, red haired girl with a funny fringe- acted shocked when I told her that I wanted a Coke.
"You sure?" she said.
"Not really, but I want a Coke the same, please." I responded earnestly. What happened next was even more shocking.
"I want a Coke too, please." Bob ordered.
"What? Do you feel fine, Bob?" I touched his forehead.
"Yeah, I just thought it'd make it easier for you." he smiled and then rolled his eyes at the girl. "The things we do for friends!"
"I know!" she smiled. "I'll be right back with your sodas."
Finally, the band was presented and they got on stage. I felt anxious, at first not daring to look up and face that person I was supposed to meet. Meanwhile I listened to their music, and it was actually very good. I was familiarized with blues since my father would always listen to his old vinyls when we still lived all together. Old-school rock -which I loved- had a lot of things in common with blues, also. I found myself enjoying it, nodding to the rhythm; sad lyrics filling my ears but not reaching my brain. I glanced at Bob and saw that he was into the band too, using his fingers as drum sticks on the table.
"That one's Frank's dad, right? The one with the guitar?" Bob suddenly spoke and I looked up for the first time since the band had started playing. "They're pretty alike."
I started by his shoes -black Adidas. Then my eyes traveled up to his worn off, blue jeans and his long sleeved, plain black t-shirt. He was playing a wide, brown electric guitar. I didn't understand much about brands and all that stuff, but I knew it was an old one; those that were larger than most of the more modern guitars and had a characteristic sound that seemed to take you back in time. I thought them elegant.
Anthony balanced his body following the notes. His face was down and his eyes were closed, so I couldn't see much of him. Only his hair, which was darker and much shorter than Frank's, but was combed to one side and had the same waves. He appeared to be considerably taller, though.
The current song was over and they all faced their audience. "Oh, my..." I muttered.
"Told you" Bob laughed.
Anthony looked exactly his age -around 36 from what I knew. If you paid attention to his face from the nose down, not much showed that he was related to Frank; maybe only the jaw a little bit. It was the rest of his physiognomy that amazed me. The cheeks, the forehead. Mostly the eyes, it was almost like looking at Frankie's huge ones. The shape, the long black eyelashes; the way the irises would change and seemingly shine when he smiled. I couldn't distinguish Anthony's color, but they were clear under the bright lights of the stage. Even their eyebrows were identically perfect and curved. I felt as if I was staring at Frankie 17 years later. A handsome grown up man. And I saw no evil in his look.
"Wow, I think there's no doubt, uh?" I whispered into Bob's ear.
"Not one!"
Minutes after their presentation ended, I saw the musicians make their way through the place and take a seat towards the center. It was only three out of the six, but Anthony was there. I waited for them to order their drinks, then I gathered courage and got up.
"Aren't you going to wait a little more?" Bob questioned.
"For what? For them to get drunk so they're more in the mood to kick my ass? No way, I better catch that man sober."
"Gotta say you thought that well. Want me to go with you?"
"No...thanks, Bob. Stay here and be alert just in case. They seem to be nice guys, but you never know."
"Ok then, be polite!"
I walked to their table trying to control my nerves. I was trembling, I was terrified. What I had to tell that man wasn't simple. It was big, huge, terrible in a way.
"Uh...hello." I started, the three men looking at me. I set my eyes on Anthony and he smiled, waiting for me to speak. Identical hazel eyes.
"You're Anthony Iero, r-right?"
"That's me..." he assented.
"I really need to talk to you, it's important."
"If it's to hire us, he's the one in charge." he pointed at the older man besides him; the bass player, I remembered.
"Oh no, it's s-something completely different, but...but I don't even know where to start." I fidgeted.
"Do I know you?" Anthony asked intrigued, though still nicely. It was incredible how I could even recognize some of Frank's gestures in him. Incredible because they hadn't seen each other since Frank was two years old.
"No...you don't. I'm Gerard Way." I extended my shaky hand and he shook it.
"Please to meet you, Gerard. Now tell me, I can't imagine what it's about." he motioned for me to go on, but the words didn't want to come out.
"I...uh...I need to t-talk to you about...your son." I let out in fear. He froze, and it suddenly crossed my mind that he could have had other kids. "Frank."
"Wh-what...what the fuck are you talking about? My baby...he died when he was 4 years old! What do you have to say about him, who are you?" he spat the words with more pain than anger, those familiar eyes immediately filling with tears.
"Well he...he..."
"What's happening here, Tony? Is this boy bothering you, babe?" the drummer appeared and hugged Anthony from behind, kissing his head.
CHAPTER 48
Wasted days and broken dreams,
let it all slip away from me.
And if you pick up the pieces of a broken man,
you'll find a fan of the family.
Yeah, the family.
"I...I don't know Greg, he..." Tony looked up and kissed the other man's lips shortly, confirming my thoughts.
"You don't know? You're crying, Tony, and don't tell me it's nothing!" Greg insisted. I stared at both of them petrified. While Anthony was average built, Greg was rather muscular and tough looking. Your typical drummer, you could say; no one you'd want to piss off.
"Calm down, he's Gerard and wanted to talk to me..."
"What are you looking at?" Greg interrupted the guitarist to address me. "Never saw two men together?"
"Y-yeah, and I have no problem with it. If...if it helps I'm gay myself." I said timidly, not really thinking. What I had blurted out wasn't necessary. It could mean I'd have less to confess later, but it might also do me a disservice.
"Guess you're another one who had enough with women." Tony muttered bitterly.
"Shh, told you to leave the past alone. Now...what were you two talking about, why are you so upset?" his partner pressed. The other two guys left the table and went outside.
"Precisely. I can't forget the past because he just brought it back." Tony hid his face in his hands.
"What do you mean?" Greg's green eyes fulminated me. Anthony began to sob loudly and I tasted my own tears as they rolled down my cheeks. "Tony you're scaring me, what did this boy do to you?"
"He s-said he wants to talk about my son, he knows his name! Wh-what can he say about my Frankie, uh? 14 years! My poor baby's been dead for 14 years!"
"What the fuck? Tell me, Gerard..." Greg stood in front of me and held me by my t-shirt."...is this some kind of sick joke? You better have something intelligent to say or..."
"F-Frankie's not dead!" I nearly shouted. Greg released me and his stare shifted between Anthony and me. The first got up but stayed in silence, trying to process what I had just said. His face was bathed in tears and it made him look younger; he looked so much like Frankie that I had to cover my mouth to suppress a cry.
"You...you two are s-so alike." I spoke with fear. Tony smiled, turning to Greg and hugging him.
"I knew it, I knew he was mine. I've always known it. I...I could feel it, Greg."
"Baby, I hate to tell you this but...how can you believe what this Gerard's saying? I have no idea what reasons he could have to make this up, maybe he's just confused but...your son's dead, Tony. You have the proofs."
After hearing that, Anthony pulled himself out of the embrace. He grabbed his hair with both hands and sat back down.
"I guess you're right. It's just that...this makes no sense, no fucking sense, Greg!"
"Exactly, makes no sense. That's why I don't want you to get all worked up for nothing."
"I'm not lying, I swear, your son's alive. I know it's hard to believe because you've never seen me before. And I know you've been told that he was dead, that you were even given a death certificate. But the truth is that his mother had given him away, Frankie's alive and I know him." I talked to Tony more calmly, seating in front of him. I'd been blunt, yes, but I needed to let it all out before they asked me to leave.
"ENOUGH! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" Greg yelled. He removed me from the chair and began to push me towards the front door.
"PLEASE, LET ME TALK!"
"GREG!" Tony stopped him. "We're all gonna be kicked out if you don't control yourself!"
"But..."
"I feel it here..." he touched his chest. "...that I have to listen to what Gerard has to tell me. I just have to. Why would he come to me with this if it wasn't true? I have no damn fortune, I'm not famous, I don't even have my own house! What could he get from this? Nothing! And he seems to know about me, I don't think it's a misunderstanding."
"Well, you're right there, but how could your ex go as far as to..."
"She was a bitch, Greg." Tony stated simply. "Gerard, can we talk somewhere else?"
"Uh, ok. " Uncertain, I looked over to our table and waved at Bob, who came running.
"I already paid the girl for our drinks."
"Everything's ok." I whispered, seeing his eyes full of doubt.
"Who's that?" Greg questioned.
"He's my friend Bob. I don't know you guys either after all, so if we're gonna leave this place he comes with us."
"It's only fair." Anthony nodded. "Follow us."
"Hey, Jake!" Greg called the singer. "We're gonna be outside for a while so you guys pay, alright?"
"Ok!"
The couple walked through the door, me and Bob close behind. Once we left the bar, they headed left and turned round the corner to where an old, white van was parked. Tony retrieved a key out of his pocket and opened the back door.
"Welcome to the Homeless Mobile, make yourselves at home." he invited us to get in. I suddenly felt calmer. In spite of Greg -who certainly scared me- Iero gave me a good vibe.
The four of us sat as comfortable as possible on the reduced space of the car's floor, which was at least full of cushions to soften the hard surface. They were dusty, though still fluffy enough. The van smelled of cigarettes and snacks. I felt like I could use a smoke, but I didn't want to attempt any move that could put the drummer on guard.
"Tony, maybe you should show Gerard...it'd help him understand why it's so hard to believe what he's telling you." Greg placed his hand on the other's cheek while he talked.
"You sure?" his voice cracked.
"I know it's painful for you, but..." he finished the phrase in secret and Anthony assented, crying again. He continued to do so as he opened a deteriorated leather suitcase and pushed clothes and other stuff aside to reach the bottom.
When he faced me again, he was holding a small, white urn. It was made of lustrous, painted wood and shaped as a chest, even with a tiny lock. The cover showed a pattern of pale blue flowers and vivid green leaves. I knew what it was, and it creeped me out.
Anthony kept his eyes on the object, caressing it with the tips of his fingers, his copious tears crashing on it. A while passed by until he managed to escape his thoughts. He raised the box to my eye-level and I saw a little, rectangular silver plate.
"See?" he murmured. Greg moved closer to him, rubbing his back. I read the plate.
Frank Anthony Iero
1988-1993.
"Oh, fuck..." I couldn't help my outburst. "...how could she...?"
"She...Frank's m-mother..." Tony tried to speak through the pain.
"Linda." I named her to demonstrate my knowledge.
"Yes, Linda. When I came back..." he paused, doubting about whether to give me more information. "I...I was out for two years..."
"...because you were in jail, I know." I completed his line. The drummer's expression communicated that he didn't like my attitude. Tony must have felt him grow tense and placed one hand on top of his.
"It's ok Greg, it's the truth. I have nothing to hide." then he looked back at me. "Guess you also know why I was there."
"Y-yeah, something about drugs." I felt Bob nudging me. "He asked, Bob."
"I see you're well informed. Yes, that was the supposed reason why I spent two years of my life locked up. Really, I'd stopped dealing and had been clean for months. I'd even gotten a decent job so I could claim my son, I wanted him to live with me. I knew there was something wrong with Frank, but Linda would refuse to take him to the doctor. I once made the mistake of telling her that I'd do that myself and she banned me from seeing him. Of course, she said the reason was me being a bad example and a fucked-up...as if she was one to talk! That's when I decided to change my life and get my son back. I was on the right track, but you know...those kind of people I used to hang out with don't let you go that easily. Just when I was looking for a lawyer, the police broke into my house. They found stuff that wasn't mine, I was tricked. And who would have believed someone with my reputation?" the man got deeper into that subject as if he wanted to escape -or at least delay- the other, the one in his hands.
"I still think your ex had something to do with that." Greg opined.
"I don't know, and now I don't care. It's too late, too late." he repeated the last words, squeezing the white urn against his chest.
"You don't have to talk about it, love."
"Yes I have to, Gerard needs to hear it, he already proved that he's not mistaking me for another person." Iero affirmed, then carried on with the account. " Not once did Linda bring Frankie for me to see him while I was in jail. One day she came by herself and told me that the kid was badly sick so she couldn't expose him to more germs. I was left terribly worried. As soon as I was out I ran to see my son. At first I thought Linda wasn't home, 'cause she wouldn't answer the door. When she finally did, she looked at me and started to cry. I swear I'd never seen her cry that way. Never. It took her a long time to be able to speak."
"What a good damn actress." I hissed furiously, but he didn't pay attention.
"Then she made me sit and gave me a paper, a document. One...one saying that my 4 year-old son was dead. Can you imagine how that felt? Four fucking years old, a baby...just a baby. It was some kind of virus that had first affected his brain and eventually also his heart."
"What the fuck?" I exclaimed.
"Gerard, let him finish." Bob hushed me. I couldn't remain quiet while hearing all the lies that woman had told. Couldn't believe it, couldn't understand why. Was she already thinking about the money back then? Did she want to make sure that the kid wasn't with anyone who could link him to her? I honestly didn't know, but it was macabre.
"I asked her to tell me where his grave was, s-so I could somehow be close to my son again. She cried even more, told me she couldn't stand the idea of...of his little body rotting six feet underground, so she'd chosen to c-cremate him. I thought I'd die myself when I heard that. Then she disappeared and came back with this...pretty cinerary urn. My son...in a box. How could I think that the beautiful young girl crying her eyes out in front of me could be lying, that she could be playing with something so serious? What doubt can you have after being handed your son's ashes, Gerard?" he sobbed desperately. Greg took the urn out of his hands and left it over the suitcase. Then separated his legs for Tony to be able to lean on his chest and surrounded him with his strong arms.
"You never saw her again after that?" I inquired, not having any good answers for his questions. He was right, I'd have believed that bitch too. You wouldn't think someone you used to love could be capable of something like that involving her own son. No one with a right mind would.
"No. That day after she told me about Frankie I tried to hug her, I told her we'd get over it together. I was out of my mind, I couldn't think straight and momentarily forgot everything she had done to me. I was willing to stay and try to work things out with Linda. B-but she pulled away, said we were done and she didn't want anything to do with me anymore. She begged me to keep Frank's ashes and decide what to do with them because she needed to leave the bad memories behind and start a new life. In a minute I was out of her house, the door closed in my face and what was left of my s-son in my hands. I knew that she was upset, I could understand her being as torn up inside as I was, but I hated her for pushing me out of her life at the worst moment." Anthony tried hard to keep himself together, taking deep breaths; but he finally gave in an fell into his boyfriend's arms like the broken man he was.
"F-fuck...if only I could have been there I would have tried to save him. Or...or I'd have been with him until the end. Why?"
"Don't think about that now, Tony. You can't go back and it's not your fault." Greg comforted him. They seemed to have forgotten about Bob and me again.
I had no words to say and was crying too much to even try to speak. I took something out of my pocket and put it over the small white urn. It was a recent picture of Frank; he was sitting on a chair smiling impossibly wide with Puppy on his lap. Anthony caught a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye and jumped, crawling across the van's floor like a toddler that had spotted candy. He held it before his eyes and made a sound between whimpering and suffocating.
"Oh...oh my God...oh my God oh my God oh my God..."
"What the fuck did you give to him?" the drummer got closer to spy on it. "OH...GOD!"
"He...he's s-so pretty and cute...isn't he?" Anthony asked Greg while touching the photograph. Smiling, I looked at Bob who also had a huge grin on his face.
"He's beautiful, looks too much like you...specially when you wear your reading glasses. I...I guess we'll have to trust this boy Gerard after all."
"It was taken a few days ago." I informed them.
"Yeah? B-but...he looks so young. By now he should be..." Tony faltered.
"Oh, I know what you mean. He's almost 19, just very small. Everybody thinks he's much younger. It suits him perfectly, though."
"Guess he got that from Linda. Greg..."
"Yes?
"This...this is...oh, God! My baby's alive! He's fucking alive! Can you believe it?" he was now crying tears of joy.
"I seriously never thought it possible but I'm immensely happy for you, babe." They kissed long and deeply, crying and laughing at the same time. Lying to my friend had been worth it, I knew now that I hadn't been wrong.
"Oh my! Gerard, I have so many things to ask you about Frankie but first...how did you know him?" the renewed dad questioned.
"Well...I found him more than four months ago at the other side of the country while back from a trip. He was...dancing among the cars in the middle of the street, so I had to take him with me until I could find out what the problem was. He's still with me."
"What was he doing there in the middle of the street?" he worried.
"He thought it was a disco." I gave a sad smile.
"Shit...what's wrong with my poor kid?"
"At first, all I could get from him was that he'd been in a mental institution until two days prior to that. His mother -who had never visited him before- took him out of there and abandoned him in that spot where I found him. She said she couldn't pay for the place or the medication anymore." I told Anthony, knowing how difficult it would be for him. He gasped and rubbed his neck nervously.
"What the fuck! That...bitch just... dropped him there?"
"Tony calm down please."
"No, Greg. I won't calm down, she's worse than I ever thought! First, she told me he was dead when he wasn't. She had given him away. Then, she abandoned him in the street! G-Gerard... tell me, what does my Frankie have? Why was he in one of those places?" he didn't give me time to answer, he still needed to vent. "I've always known that he had some kind of problem. I remember when he was about five months old, Linda didn't let me see him for several weeks; I don't remember what reason she gave me. When I saw him again, something had changed. She said he'd just been ill. But then time passed by and...and he wouldn't try to speak or walk. He would barely react to what happened around him. M-my mother kept saying that he wasn't my son and I shouldn't care for someone else's 'retarded' baby, that he didn't even acknowledge me anyway. Fuck, how I hated my mother." he stopped for some seconds to recover. It hurt him too much to recall all that.
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