Frank went for the crayons Grace had bought him and some of the paper sheets Sarah would always send him through me. He was going to take his usual spot on the floor, in front of the coffee table, when he looked at me pleadingly. I knew what he wanted. Sometimes he would have his needy, extra cuddly days, specially if something had recently upset him. With a smile I obeyed his wordless petition, sitting down on the cold tiles Indian style so he could use me as his couch. Once my arms closed around him he was satisfied. He turned to peck at my lips and then began to draw. My legs would surely be numb in a while and sore later, but how could I refuse?
"It seems someone's a little spoiled, uh?" Grace commented, grinning.
"Just pampered much..." I leaned my chin on Frank's shoulder. He shuddered and giggled.
"Oh, I think it's absolutely fine! He needs it and has never had enough, I've always tried but it's hard when you have many more kids to watch..."
Grace and I conversed while Frankie translated all the mental images the party had left him onto the paper. He loved these kind of reminders as much as he adored photographs. The drawings showed his perspective, his feelings at the moment better than any picture. He didn't need any virtuosity or special technique. His drawings were naive and cheerful like his view of the world, and you could easily recognize everything and everyone in them. The same he'd occasionally add notes and names, perhaps fearing that he might forget who was who in the future.
"G-gee...how you wr-write 'Victor'? W-wanna do it r-right." Frank asked. He had drawn the pianist's pink shirt so well that I had to chuckle.
"Oh my, that's so awesome! And it's v..."
"Th-this v?" he traced it in the air with a finger.
"Yep, that one. Then i-c-t-o-r." I listed slowly, giving him time to write it down.
"K-kay, thanks!" he neared his face to the table, concentrating in making the letters neat and cursing when his hand betrayed him. "F-fuck!"
"It looks very good, don't worry. I can read it just fine." Grace chimed in. "You're writing much better and smaller, actually, seems you've been practicing a lot."
"Y-yeah but...b-but still don't kn-know all the r-right letters or h-how to write in other w-ways and...my h-hand fucks up."
"You'll learn with time, there's no rush, kiddo." she ruffled his hair.
The conversation I'd had with Anthony the night before came back to me, and I considered this a wise opportunity to bring up the subject. "Frankie...remember when you said you were too old to go to school and your dad said you weren't?"
"Y-yeah..." he answered uninterested, scribbling some details into his costume.
"I need you to pay attention, it's important." I requested gently, squeezing him a little.
"G-gee, don't move m-me, I'm d-drawing!" he laughed. "I...I am p-paying attention."
"Ok," I decided to believe him. "as Tony told you...you're not too old for school, but I want to know what you think. Would you really like to go?"
"T-to school?"
"Yes..."
"Uh...I...d-dunno...I'd l-like to but...but maybe I w-wouldn't..." he meditated. I peeked at Grace, who wasn't any less confused than I was.
"What you mean, Frankie?" I questioned. The look he gave me said 'you know'. I didn't. "Explain it, whatever it is."
"I...I s-saw schools in m-movies and Mel s-says it's cool...so I'd l-like to go. W-wanna have note-books and all th-that school stuff and m-make friends and l-learn..." he continued to work on his drawing, now coloring with a blue crayon. "...but d-dunno if I can l-learn. It...it's too h-hard and maybe t-teachers won't want me th-there 'cause...I'm like...s-slow and don't un-understand much."
"Of course you can learn, Frankie!" Grace affirmed. "Forget about what that imbecile at the institution told you."
"She's right, babe, he was just an idiot; you've learned many things since I met you. Your writing and reading got better, you corrected some words you'd say wrong...you've even learned how to make cookies and operate the washing machine!" I enumerated. His improvements may be modest and he would still forget things once in a while; but the changes were considerable for only half a year and having in mind all the shit we had been through.
"Al-also learned how to c-clean windows and...uh...u-use the stereo. Yep. And G-greg's teaching me d-drums."
"See? I think you'd do great at school, I have a smart boyfriend." I pulled him back into me and kissed him, ignoring his protests about making him ruin his art. "And you're fucking good at drawing!"
"N-no I'm not s-smart and...and wh-what if the k-kids make fun of m-me or...the t-teachers don't like m-me 'cause I'm s-special and tell me to l-leave?" he released his fear and frustration through the black crayon he was holding, pressing it against the paper with such force that it broke in two. "F-fuck!"
"None of that would happen at the school you'd be going to." I revealed. Frank dropped the pieces of crayon he was mourning and gave me his whole attention.
"Wh-why?"
"Well...since you've never been to school, the grade you'd probably have to be put in is for little kids, and they don't allow people your age there..."
"B-but..." he interrupted me, worried. "...b-boys my age g-go to school too! Or, w-well...a l-little younger but ev-everybody says I look y-younger so maybe I c-can go with th-them?"
"No, because..." I stopped and glanced at Grace, asking for help. Frankie didn't have much idea of how schools worked, he knew almost nothing about grades or levels. He presumably thought that he could just go with kids his age and learn the same as them. How to tell him that things weren't that easy without sounding cruel? Grace crouched in front of us and inhaled deeply.
"The thing is like this: boys about your age go to high school. But...being as old as they are doesn't mean you can go there too. You can't because..."
"Wh-why? 'C-cause they'll l-laugh? Th-there are lots of as-assholes there, r-right? S-saw that in many m-movies..."
"Yeah, well, that's true." she replied sincerely. "Some teens can be very mean with the ones that are different. But that's not the reason why you can't go to high school."
"Th-then why?" Frankie frowned, lost.
"Those kids went to school for many years, since they were little. You can't be put directly into high school if you've never been to school at all, you need to study a lot before that."
"Ah..." he looked disappointed.
"If you'd been able to go to a real school when you were younger, then you could maybe attend one with kids your age now. Sadly, we didn't have one at the institution and you couldn't leave the place to go."
"And...and the t-teacher was an ass-hole and didn't w-want to teach me!"
"He was."
"If...if f I c-can't go to h-high school then wh-what?" now that he knew it was complicated, Frank appeared to want it more than ever.
"You'll need to start school almost from the beginning; but you can't, for example, go to the same grade as your friend Mel, since you're much older." Grace proceeded patiently.
"Wh-why? I w-want to! Y-younger kids are n-nicer to me..."
"I don't know why, Frankie, that's how things are. Parents don't like older kids studying with their children, so schools don't allow it."
"Th-those parents s-suck and s-schools suck and...and th-then I can't g-go!" he cried. I saw him grab a crayon as if it was a weapon and I quickly hid the drawing behind my back.
"Hey! The drawing's not to blame, don't go messing it up because of sucky people!" I immobilized his hands with my free one. "Easy, calm down. I told you that you can go to school, didn't I?"
"Y-yeah, but you l-lied!"
"No I didn't, you'd go to a special school..."
"Uh? Y-you mean...a s-school for special p-people?" he relaxed, curious.
"Exactly, you would probably be with people your age or older, all of them special in different ways. No one would make fun of you 'cause you'd all be the same. And they have nice teachers who have a lot of patience and won't get mad if you don't understand something."
"Wh-what if there's an assho-lish teacher? W-we were all s-special where I lived and...and h-had an asshole the s-same!" he discussed, proving how well he could sometimes reason.
"Now you have many people to defend you, we'd kick their asses."
"K-kay..."
"Would you like to go to a school like that, then? If you don't want to it's fine, you decide." I hugged him, rocking us both.
"Y-yes I want to, s-sounds cool but...if th-there are as-assholish kids or t-teachers then you kick th-them or I won't go an-anymore, kay?"
"Kay, if you don't like it you can change school, don't worry. We still have to find one anyway, your dad's looking."
"K-kay." Frank smiled widely. He stole the drawing from me and returned to work on it. I guessed he was relieved to know he didn't have to start right away. It was a huge thing and the idea had evidently made him nervous. For minutes he worked in silence and I exchanged some more words with Grace.
"G-gee..." Frankie called with a preoccupied voice.
"Yes, love?"
"I...I d-don't wanna be o-out of home m-much...g-gonna miss you and d-dad and Puppy..."
"Shh..." I silenced him with my lips. "We'll make sure it's just for some hours in the morning, so you can be home the rest of the day."
"Th-then it's f-fine! L-love you!" he rotated his body to face me, barely grazing my mouth before he turned to the third person in the room. "D-don't look, Grace...w-wanna kiss him l-lots...with t-tongue..."
CHAPTER 68
'Cause love's such an old fashioned word
and love dares you to care
for the people on the edge of the night
and loves dares you to change
our way of caring about ourselves.
Our after-dinner talk extended for so long, that by the time we remembered to take a look at the clock it was too late for Grace to return to my mom's. Having stipulated that she'd stay with us, we moved to the couch for a little more conversation.
I was entranced by Grace's stories and anecdotes. She was such a good narrator that I felt like I could spend hours listening to her. The intonation she gave to her words, the way she appeared to be seeing it all again before her eyes; she conveyed it so well that it was easy to recreate the images in my head.
I learned several things about Grace, things that made me admire her even more. The nurse was proud of her choices and didn't regret anything. She had dedicated her whole life to work with 'special' people; those who were often neglected by their own family, concealed by society and governments to pretend that they didn't exist. She'd taken care of adults and children, sometimes as a volunteer. She had given them love, treated them like human beings, made them feel normal.
Grace had never gotten married. No man had accepted her way of life, her total dedication to people who, she believed, needed her more. She didn't care that she'd been forever single, same as she didn't mind not having her own kids. She had raised lots anyway, more than she could have ever dreamed of giving birth to. She remembered each name and kept them all in her heart.
No one as deep as she kept Frank, though. Grace couldn't pinpoint what had made her so attached to him, she had seen uncountable cases as sad as Frankie's -and even worse. However, none had moved her this much. No other child had given her such a strong, sudden need to protect them. The sweet woman revealed how she would have loved to adopt him. If she'd been in a better position and Frank's situation hadn't proved to be so complicated, she would have chosen him to legally be her son.
Nothing stopped Grace once she would start talking about Frankie and she certainly had millions of memories concerning him. Sad, happy, touching, funny or just particular. Others had to do with all the verbal encounters she'd had with some nurses -specially the male ones- every time they would want -or succeed- to shoot Frankie with his meds, sedatives, or both.
"It's something that I just can't tolerate." she expressed, enraged. "I approve stronger sedatives applied in that way only when there's no other choice, when all other methods to calm down the patient have been tried and they become dangerous to themselves and people around them. Same with the medication. There are lots of options to administer it without using force. But mainly, I strongly disagree with forceful methods when the nervous episode or unwillingness to cooperate could have been easily avoided. Is it that complicated to make sure there are always chewable candy of all flavors in stock?"
"Oh, you say 'cause of Frankie's preference for strawberry, right?" I asked.
"Yes! Frankie's a rather docile patient, the kid has never refused to take his meds as long as you'd put them into something he liked! Many patients are the same way, you just need to know their preferences. So...is it that hard? Most of the times I have to take care of the shopping myself because the ones in charge tend to forget the candies or they buy the first shit they find."
"S-sometimes they ate th-the candies!" Frankie pointed out.
"Really? You mean the nurses?" I inquired incredulous.
"Yes," Grace assented. "I've seen them many times. Not only nurses, but also doctors. That's why I always try to be around when it's time for the medication, to watch over the kids and prevent problems. Even if I buy candies, I never know if there will be any left by the following day. Sometimes I hide them in my room, but some mornings I'm sent to the other side of the building to assist the girls. When that happens I get terribly worried, and it used to be worse when Frankie lived with us. A very unfortunate coincidence made it that every time I wasn't there to supervise, they'd give him his pills in a lemon candy. Did they do it on purpose or what? They knew he hated those and would go mad if they insisted!"
"Couldn't they put the pills over a toast with marmalade when they didn't have strawberry candy?" I debated.
"Th-they could, but were m-mean. Y-yeah, very. " Frankie shifted his position and ended up lying over both mine and Grace's laps. It wouldn't be long until he fell asleep.
"That's what I'd do if I was in time to stop them from taking other measures. Otherwise, they'd say the patients had to either accept the pills as presented or have them injected. God forbid they misspend one pill because of their own incompetence!" she commented with an exasperated voice. Those were the only moments when her usual serene features were altered: when she'd talk about injustice, abuse, disinclination of those who were supposed to help.
"Th-they grabbed me by m-my arms and legs and it h-hurt and then...th-then gave me shots...as-assholes!" Frank looked up at us, pouting. Grace seemed to get lost in thoughts; pleasant, funny memories probably invading them this time, since she was chuckling.
"Wh-why you l-laughing? N-not funny!" Frank slapped her arm.
"Oh no, baby! I'm not laughing at what you said!"
"Th-then why?"
"I just...remembered the day you learned your favorite word." she explained. The more she spoke, the more she sounded like Frank's mother.
"Wh-what fav-orite word?"
"That's easy!" I laughed. "Asshole, what other?"
"I..." Frankie gasped indignant. "N-not true!"
"Oh, come on, you love to say that word, it's clearly your favorite." I tickled his belly. Frank squirmed and emitted stifled giggles.
"S-stop! Stop!" he pleaded, attempting to catch my hands. He achieved it, but then Grace took over. "P-please, kay! It...it's m-my fave word f-for...for b-bitching!"
"That's better! Good to hear you admit that you're a dirty mouthed midget!" Grace interrupted the torture and gave Frank a suctioning kiss on his cheek.
"Ouch! I'm n-not a midget, m-meanie! I'm..."
"...just small, I know!" she completed his line. "But you do agree with the dirty mouthed part, then."
"J-just a little." he grinned.
"So...you remember when you learned that word, small one?
"N-nope! I...I th-think always knew it 'c-cause it's aw-awesome, yep!"
"I don't think anyone is born knowing how to say 'asshole', Frankie." I opined.
" I d-did!"
"No you didn't!" Grace contradicted him. "Well, that day you were specially clingy, you wouldn't let go of my hand, so when I had to go check on the older kids I took you with me."
"H-how old I w-was?" Frankie's eyelids were turning heavy, yet he fought sleep. He didn't want to miss anything Grace said.
"Uh...let me think...it was during your first year there, you were probably already 9."
"K-kay...go on!"
"You were afraid of those kids, so whenever we went there you'd hide your face against me the whole time. On this occasion we found them watching TV, and the movie showed two people fighting. Suddenly, one of them called the other 'asshole'. You raised your head, repeated the word and started laughing. Then while we were leaving the room, some kids made fun of you or something. You turned round and...oh my, I still remember...you were just this tall." her hand indicated the height one would imagine for a 5-year old. "You stood with your hands on your hips, screamed 'shuddap, assholes!' and walked away all proud."
"Oh my God, I'd pay what I don't have to go back in time and witness that!" I roared with laughter.
"Th-they were all m-moody assholes!" Frank joined me.
"Those boys didn't exactly have a mental illness, they were there for other reasons, you know?" Grace hinted at me. "The poor things weren't the most friendly you could find... Anyway! Frank's first experience with the 'a' word didn't stop there..."
"Oh, I definitely wanna know more but..." I glanced at the clock that read 12:06 am. It was a miracle that Frankie had endured it so late. "...last thing and then we better go to sleep!"
"Yep, I agree." she said before continuing. "At dinner, this buddy happened to not like the meal..."
"Really? Now he doesn't say 'no' to any meal!" I joked.
"Wh-what?" Frank frowned.
"I mean that you eat practically everything lately."
"D-don't call me f-fat, meanie!" he protested.
"I didn't, grumpy. It's actually a good thing that you're not picky."
"I think there was fish that night." Grace recalled.
"Ahh! I never buy fish 'cause I don't like it either, but Frankie ate it once at my mom's..."
"M-mom Donna makes n-not so eww fish...and I w-was very h-hungry." he yawned. I resisted the urge to utter my usual comeback, he could get in a very bad mood when sleepy. "G-grace...tell us m-more?"
"The cook served the fish, and I feared something coming as soon as I saw Frankie's very visible scowl. First he just whined and told her: 'don't like, make me other food?'. Of course, the cook said that's all there was to eat. Frankie cried and insisted and when he got nothing, he threw the full plate -which was luckily plastic- at her and called her 'asshole'. The woman challenged him to repeat it. He did. He began to repeat it over and over and when I tried to shut him up he bit my hand. After a while the other kids decided to imitate him..." again she became absentminded as she thought back and laughed. "We ended up with a choir of little boys chanting 'ass-hole! ass-hole!' and hitting the table with their fists. Our boss wasn't happy at all but...although I didn't tell Frankie back then 'cause it wasn't something to congratulate him for, that woman deserved it. She was an asshole and her cooking was awful. She resigned soon after that, anyway. Mister Iero here did a great job!"
"Didn't Frankie get into trouble?" it shocked me to think of such a young kid being reduced and shot full of sedatives.
"No, he managed to elude them all and ran to hide under his bed. I convinced them to let him calm down by himself." she said with a vaguely sad smile, caressing Frank's hair as he dozed off.
"I think it's time to go to sleep. Grace...are you sure you don't wanna sleep in our bed with Frankie? It's not a problem, really!" I propounded.
"I'm sure, sweety, I'll be fine on the couch. It feels more comfortable than my own bed, believe me!"
"Ok, then. I'll go for some blankets and...I think my mom left some pajamas here." I lifted Frank's legs and got up. "Say goodnight to Grace and come sleep, babe."
"K-kay..." he mumbled groggily. "C-come for me? D-don't wanna w-walk..."
*************
In the morning, before Frankie got up, I cited the dream he'd had two nights ago. Grace told me he had nightmares very often when younger, and a few times she had heard him scream something about a baby. Every time she'd asked him about it, Frank said he didn't remember. She agreed with my theory and, even though she had also suspected it, this probable confirmation that the dream represented clearly affected her. It must be devastatingly hard for someone who had wished Frankie was her son to find out that his biological mother treated him pretty much like an unwanted dog.
Nonetheless she put herself together and smiled warmly at Frank when the boy crossed the kitchen door. She indicated us to sit down and enjoy the breakfast she'd prepared for us. It wasn't a fancy one, since we didn't have with many elements or groceries; it was the sentiment behind it that gave it that special touch. She had made sure to ask us the night before what we preferred to drink and eat. She had rummaged through my drawers and found the prettiest, more colorful tablecloth. Everything was in its place neatly arranged and the toasts -ready with marmalade and all- formed a flower over a rainbowed striped tray I didn't know I owned.
Just like Grace, I pushed the sad thoughts away. We couldn't change the past after all.
I hadn't finished my coffee when the phone rang. I jogged to the living room to get it, thinking it was probably Anthony. He had conceded to Grace the opportunity to take care of Frankie that Friday, but he could never go a single day without hearing his son's voice.
I was terribly wrong, though. The person at the other end of the line was someone I didn't expect to hear and specifically didn't want to hear. Someone who I thought had gotten my point.
"How the fuck do you even dare calling?" I venomously spat at Gabriel. "Didn't you have enough with what you did? Didn't the thought cross your head that your jealousy-filled stupidity could have ruined other lives besides mine?"
"You're admitting that you're guilty of what I denounced you for?" he mocked.
" No, my conscience is clear and there's a reason why I'm not in jail, don't you think? Luckily Frank has a father who knows about us and sees nothing wrong in it. But you know it could have gone wrong, you sick fucker!"
"Oh, please! You talk about being a sick fucker? What do you call your revenge? That subject was something personal, something only I should have decided whether to tell my parents!"
"Gabriel...you're fucking 25. Didn't you wait enough? Aren't you old enough to accept yourself to start with?" I remarked tiredly.
"That's...not...your...business, Gerard! What you did was low. Now my father seems to hate me, my mother had a huge discussion with him while defending me, and my younger brother won't stop making fun of me! Then when I wanted to release some of my anger by calling you, I found out you changed your number. I had to phone all our friends in common to see if someone was still in touch with you and tell them it was an urgency!"
"Steven, wasn't it?" I groaned. He's never been much of a friend of Gabriel, but I couldn't think of anyone else. The poor guy could have never imagined this, though.
"It doesn't matter, don't change the subject! You hate me that much, Gee? Don't you have any good memory of us?" he cried. I could hear him sniffing on the phone and it was unbelievable. Was he serious? When did he become the victim?
"Ok, ok! Point one: you have no right to tell me all this and treat me like a piece of shit when you nearly ruined my life. I could have gone to jail, Frank could have ended up in a creepy madhouse. That doesn't compare to your stupid family crisis, so shut the fuck up. Point two: do you think you're the center of the universe? Well, earth to Gabriel! You're not. I didn't change my phone number because you. Point three: I don't hate you, I pity you, and you killed all the good memories I might still have. Anything else you need to say? I'm busy."
"Don't you understand that I was desperate? I love you, Gerard! I know I might have gone a little too far, but what you did...how could you call my father and tell him that? If you hadn't, now I would be apologizing..."
" Now, we're even. Or not exactly, but I'll give you that if you please fuck off." I cut him short.
"You're right, we're not even. You had things solved, I still have to put up with the consequences of your prank call, you know?"
"Listen, Gabriel: if you fuck with me or the people I love one more time, I'll decorate the whole town and its surroundings with pink flyers proclaiming your flaming homosexuality in fluorescent bold font. I'm sure your macho friends would find it interesting..." I let out, chuckling at the idea.
"What...what makes you think my friends don't know?"
"A hunch, and your stuttering just confirmed it."
"You wouldn't do that!" he screamed.
"I won't if you finally acknowledge the fact that you have no chance with me. It's been over for more than a year, I don't love you, I don't wanna see you anymore so do me one last favor and leave me the fuck alone. Have a nice day, Gabriel." I hung up satisfied.
My smile faded when I came down from my rage-high and saw Frankie looking at me open mouthed. How much had he heard?
"Sorry, I was washing the dishes and he suddenly disappeared." Grace apologized.
"It's okay, I know he can be fast. How long has he been here?" I asked worriedly. I didn't want to talk to Frankie about the problems Gabriel had been giving me, it could turn out to be complicated. He knew I'd had a boyfriend called Gabriel and why we had broken up, but I had never told him when he reappeared months ago and even less that he was the one who denounced me.
"I'm not sure...not much, I guess." she doubted. Frankie was pensive, biting his thumb.
"G-gee...that G-gabri-el...is th-the one that was your b-boyfriend? Wh-why were you c-cursing and all an-angry?" he questioned.
"It was nothing, baby. Just...someone who did some bad things, that's why I was cursing." I tried to escape.
"B-but...you said 'I d-don't love you' and...and o-others things that...p-people tell their b-boyfriends when th-they're angry. Wh-why?" he demonstrated that he had heard more than I thought and that TV could be rather educative.
"Frankie...you're right, it was the same Gabriel I've told you about and I was angry at him. Now I have to go to work 'cause it's getting late," I grabbed his face. "I promise that when I'm back I'll tell you why I was bitching at him and I'll explain everything to you, ok?"
"N-no...wanna know n-now!"
"There's no time, love. We'll talk later, you don't have anything to worry about. Trust me?" I opened my arms, waiting for a goodbye hug. Frank hesitated for some seconds, giving in at last.
"K-kay, love you!"
"I love you too, very much!" I replied with a kiss.
"I'll try to distract him, maybe he'll forget?" Grace whispered as she closed the door. She knew nearly everything about Gabriel, therefore comprehended my fear. I didn't think Frankie would forget, though.
******
The subject was far from forgotten at my return. Frankie jumped onto me, kissed me, told me he loved me. He related everything he had done with Grace: the games they played, what she cooked for him and the TV shows they watched. He showed me the colorful drawing of her he had made and even commented how Puppy seemed to like her a lot. Everything in no more than ten minutes. I thought I'd been lucky...until he dragged me to the couch and invited me to sit down.
"K-kay, now you t-tell me 'bout th-that boy."
"I'll leave you alone so you can talk." Grace gave me a sympathetic look and walked out of the living room.
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