Now I know you've been seeing red, don't put a pistol to your head. Sometimes your answer's heaven sent, your way is so damn permanent. 1 страница

CHAPTER 1

Now I know you've been seeing red,
don't put a pistol to your head.
Sometimes your answer's heaven sent,
your way is so damn permanent.

There I was, driving, on the way back from my dad's house. Just knowing that I had a three-day ride ahead seemed to make me even more tired than I already was.
"I should have stayed for the night." I muttered regretfully. But really, that wouldn't have been a good idea. The tension between my father and me during my stay had been unbearable. He'd been maybe right to be mad, I was mad at myself after all. I had fucked up really badly over the last months. I had spent nearly all my money in the worst way. I had forgotten to pay my bills and was now riddled with debt. As if that wasn't enough, I'd ended up losing my job. I brought that on myself.

Releasing one hand from the wheel, I searched for my cigarettes in the pocket of my worn-out jacket. I grabbed one and placed it amid my lips, using the blue lighter that had been laying on the passenger's seat to get the unhealthy stick ignited. I took a deep drag and let it out slowly, watching the smoke escape through the car's open window.
The street I was traversing was almost deserted, so I permitted myself a moment to relax and contemplate the night sky. Being only 8 p.m. the full moon wasn't too high yet, though it was particularly luminous. I enjoyed the cigarette, leaning my head on the back of the seat while the sweet summer breeze blew on my black hair.

I laughed bitterly remembering my father's face when I told him what the main reason for my visit was. He had looked indignant when I asked for money to pay my debts. It was bound to happen, but I didn't have any other choice. I'd reached that conclusion after spending several days lying on my bed, just staring at the ceiling and pitying myself; using the little savings I had left to ruin my life even further, getting dangerously deeper into a path that I knew would be too hard to abandon later.

I had suddenly reacted, realised that I'd screwed up enough. It was crucial to stop my fall before things got worse, I was still in time. I decided that I should get a new job and make it last. However, to try and start all over again, I needed money. And I didn't need it in a month but now, or else I'd end up homeless. My savings were barely sufficient to keep me fed.

I couldn't ask my mom. She worked as a nurse and was always making miracles to get through each month, taking care of the house and helping my younger brother support his studies. I had thought of calling my father; but knowing him, this wasn't a subject to discuss over the phone. That's why I'd opted for talking to him in person.

After my parents got divorced, my father was offered a new job that required him to move across the country. My brother Mikey and I weren't little kids anymore, so he'd considered it the best option.
Even though it was definitely far away, in this case the long trip would give me time to organize my thoughts.

We hadn't seen each other in a year and my dad seemed blissful when I arrived, regardless of how shattered I looked. It was such a pity -yet no surprise- that his joy didn't last. His expression had grown gradually darker and darker as I confessed that I lost my job and explained how it'd occurred. He had stood up and paced the room furiously while I filled him in with the details, describing what I'd been up to lately. There was no use in lying if I wanted to change my life.

He had screamed at me. He had cried and I'd joined him, repentant. I had begged him to forgive me, promised I would make the right choices this time; I only needed his help. He had finally given up and agreed.

Right after leaving his house I'd driven to a bank to deposit the money, calling my best friend to ask him to withdraw it. I wanted my debts taken care of immediately, and I trusted Ray with my life.

******
Honks woke me from my recollection, and only then I noticed that I had reached a main avenue. I was used to my quiet town, so the loud noises and bright lights of this bigger city made me feel uncomfortable, suddenly small and lost. All of the confidence I had been gathering on the way to my dad's, all of the things I'd tried to convince myself of, all of the plans I had made appeared to be slipping off my hands at that exact moment. I felt like giving up. I was nothing. I was convinced that if I died no one's life would change. Sure, my family would be sad, but they'd go on with their lives. My friends would be hurt, but they'd get over it eventually. No one depended on me. I wasn't a person who was making a remarkable difference in anyone's life.

My dark thoughts got interrupted by yet more honks mixed with angry screams. The traffic was stopped. When had I hit the brakes? I couldn't tell. I was amazed at how I was still be alive, bearing in mind that most of the time I wouldn't pay attention while driving.
I stuck my head out of the window to see what was causing the jam, and what I saw was nothing I could have expected.

There was a small person dancing among the cars, happily skipping from side to side of the avenue, twisting and turning with both arms wide open and making reverences in front of the cars' lights as if they were spotlights. It seemed to be someone very young, though I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Long hair -at least shoulder length- covered the stranger's face, and the tight jeans and loose, red t-shirt weren't revealing much more.

The drivers were getting impatient, yelling at the dancer and hitting their horns untiringly. Some, tired of waiting and being ignored, passed him/her by hazardously close. I felt a chill. The teen was apparently unaware of the danger, now jumping up and down and clapping hands. What was wrong with this individual? Was he/she on drugs?

I couldn't endure the sight, couldn't stay there and watch someone die. Not thinking twice, I quickly parked my car at the side of the road and got out, running towards the little person.
"Come on! Let's get you outta here, they'll run over you!"
"L-lemme dance!" answered a childish voice that didn't help me decipher the gender.
"You're stopping the traffic, this is not a place to dance..." I continued patiently. I heard a choir of insults coming from the drivers.
"Of...of c-course it is! Th-this....this is a d-disco, don't you s-see? I...I s-saw it on TV!"

Seeing no other option, I picked him/her up by the waist and dragged him/her to the sidewalk kicking and screaming.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked, keeping my hand on 'its' wrist now. No answer.
"Hey..." I reached out for the face and got the hair out of the way. I was met by a pair of bright, hazel eyes, pupils rapidly and continuously shifting. That wasn't normal. Perfect eyebrows, perfect nose, perfect skin. Too pretty to be a boy, but that's what he was. I knew it by the barely discernible shadow over his also perfect mouth. He, who didn't look more than 15, smiled to me widely, extending the hand I wasn't holding.
"H-hi! I'm F-frankie. W-wanna be my f-friend?" he said enthusiastically. As I shook his hand he jerked his head weirdly, like a nervous tic.
"I'm Gerard, pleased to meet you."
"I...I like y-your name." he stammered. With yet another smile he blinked, trying to focus his eyes but failing. I couldn't help mirroring the smile, he was endearing. Although surely high.

"You're coming with me until I know what's up with you, little man." I walked Frankie to the car, unlocked the passenger's seat and motioned for him to get in. He didn't fight me. Once I was also inside I stared at the boy. He seemed out of it; swinging his legs, scratching his head compulsively, murmuring under his breath and now and then shaking.
"Frankie...where do you live?" I asked. Nothing.
"Did you hear me?" I insisted. He jumped when I touched his hair, startled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Now that I got your attention, would you tell me where you live?"

Frankie looked up at me, his eyes once again unable to stay focused. He seemed to sadden for a moment, then grinned.
"Y-you seen the giant f-flowers?"
"What...what giant flowers? Where?" I got confused by his random change of subject.
"Duh! Ev-everywhere!" he stated, visible irritated.
"Uh...no, sorry." My answer made him frown, but he kept silent. I went straight to the point. "Frankie...what did you take?"
"Wh-what?" he tilted his head.
"Did you...how do you say it...sniff something?"
"Hahahahahaha d-dogs sniff! I'm n-not a dog!. I...I like th-them, though." he laughed.

I paid attention to the way he talked. He mostly got stuck at the beginning of sentences and also struggled with some words in the middle, but spoke the rest rapidly.
"Let's see then..." I sighed loudly, arming myself with patience. "Did you inject yourself with something?"
"Uh? Y-you don't do th-that to yourself. No. N-no you d-don't. S-someone else d-does. But F-Frankie was a g-good boy. N-not necessary. Nope." he shook his head and continued to talk to himself.
"What do you...?"
"W-wanna candy?" he offered out of nowhere, showing me his empty hand.
"Maybe later, thanks..." I tried to smile. This Frankie boy was really fucked up.
"K-kay!"
"Did you take any pills?" I proceeded with the interrogation. Frankie opened his mouth and hit his head with his hand, as if he had suddenly remembered something important.
"N-no I didn't! I...I sh-should have...I gu-guess. Yes. D-definitely. B-but there was n-no one to give them t-to me. I...I didn't take m-my pills. N-no I d-didn't." the boy affirmed worriedly.

And that's when my theory completely changed.

CHAPTER 2

All my friends live on the floor,
tiny legs and tiny eyes.
They're free to crawl under the door;
and, and someday soon so will I.

I watched Frankie grab his entangled, dark brown hair with both hands while he rocked his body back and forth. I'd have to leave my inquiry for later, evidently. Anyway, I'd already come up with a more reasonable hypothesis: his state might not be self-provoked but the result of some kind of mental illness; and he hadn't been taking the needed medication.
"I d-didn't...I should h-have..." he murmured once and again. Not knowing what to do, I reached for his back to try and soothe him. That's when I noticed for the first time that he was carrying a small, black backpack.
"Shh, let me help you take this off so you can get more comfortable. Frankie...can you hear me, kiddo?" I made my voice as gentle as possible. He stopped moving, turned to me and nodded.

After I slid the very light bag off his shoulders and threw it to the backseat, Frankie seemed to relax. He closed his eyes -that were still set on me- tightly, opening them a couple of seconds later, his pupils always restless. With an angry sigh he shut them once again, keeping them like that for a little longer and breathing deeply. I waited in silence, unaware of whatever it was that he wanted to achieve. Finally, Frankie's eyelids slowly raised and he looked at me, grinning satisfied. His pupils were still now and I supposed that had been his goal; it made it easier for him to fix his eyes on me. He was cross-eyed, though. I reckoned that he was the cutest image I had seen in a long time.

"Y-you are h-handsome." he complimented me, making me gasp. While he talked, his two hazel orbs resumed their dance. Annoyed, he quickly combed his long locks so they covered his face. "Wh-why you s-smiling like th-that? M-my eyes, right? Ev-everybody laughs, I..."
"No." I brushed the hair back off his forehead, pushing it behind his ears. "I think your eyes are very pretty and I wasn't laughing, I was smiling because you're cute."
"I...I am?" he smiled.
"Definitely."
"I...I l-like cute-ness. D-dogs are c-cute. A-and little p-people who l-live in things, a-also." he whispered the last part secretly.
"Oh, I've never seen them, so I can't tell." I alleged, not entirely paying attention. I had remembered that we were parked at the side of an avenue, most probably in a wrong place. The last thing I wanted was to have problems with the cops.

I took a few minutes to meditate, observing Frank trace patterns on the glass and sing in a low voice, his head jerking unintentionally once in a while. I couldn't leave him alone. It was clear that the boy had no notion of danger; he hardly had notion of reality. However, I was at the same time afraid of getting myself into trouble. I knew nothing about this Frankie.
"How old are you, boy?" I decided to ask, concerned by how young he looked.
"Uh?" he muttered, his forehead against the window.
"How old are you, Frankie?"
"I...I'm...I th-think...18. Y-yes, 18." he answered happily. I gave him an incredulous look.
"Are you sure?"
"Y-yes I'm s-sure! Th-the number on the c-cake said 18 and...and th-there were 18 candles, I c-counted them!" he waved his hands frenetically.
"Ok, I believe you then!" I decided to take his word for true and hope that it was, indeed, the truth. At least he wasn't a minor. Being found with a mentally ill minor would mean to fuck up a million times worse than with anything I'd done in the last months.

"Well, we better get moving." I fastened Frankie's safety belt and he grumbled, instantly attempting to set himself free.
"N-no."
"Hey, hey, hey! Leave it on!" I ordered firmly.
"I...I d-don't l-like it."
"It's necessary to keep you safe."
"Ok." he pouted, kicking the air. "B-but I h-hate it. Y-you should kn-know that."
"Fine." I started the car and got back on the road.
"N-not fine, not f-fine, not fine...n-no."

******
Minutes later, his constant murmurs were getting on my nerves. I wasn't going to be rude and tell him to stop, so I thought of bringing the conversation back and confirm my suspicions.
"Why don't you tell me something else about you, Frank?"
" F-frankie. " he corrected me.
"Sorry, Frankie. Where do you live?"
"I...I d-don't know how to g-get there or the a-address, no. But...b-but I don't th-think live there a-anymore. No. M-maybe. Y-yeah. N-no..." he trailed off.
"Well...can you describe the place where you lived?" I helped him. He concentrated for some seconds, frowning.
"It...it w-was very v-very big and...and al-almost all walls were wh-white. A-and I lived w-with many more k-kids. S-some were f-funny. O-others screamed a l-lot. It s-scared me. Yes. Oh, and l-lots of m-men and women with white c-clothes. Th-they took c-care of us." he looked down at his lap. I had been obviously right.
"So it's just as I thought...he's crazy and lived in a mental institution." When I realized that I had said that aloud, it was too late. Frank opened his eyes wide as dinner plates.
"Y-yeah, I think th-that's how they called the p-place but...I'M N-NOT FUCKING C-CRAZY, YOU MEAN AS-ASSHOLE! G-GRACE SAID I'M S-SPECIAL!" he screamed, his face red with rage, grabbing my jacket and shaking me. I wasn't expecting such a reaction. Struggling to keep the car from straying from the road, I got hold of Frank's arms with my free hand.
"Frankie please be quiet, I'm driving!"
Y-YOU CALLED ME C-CRAZY!"
"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, I should have never used that word. You're right, you're just special just like that Grace said. Who is she?"
"Y-you...you w-won't say it again? P-promise?
"I won't, never again, I promise."

Although he continued to breath heavily, he gradually calmed down. I let go of his arms and he crossed them over his chest, sulking and scrutinizing me.
"I...I f-forgive you t-this time. O-only this t-time! And...G-grace...she w-was who looked af-after me. F-Frankie can't be al-alone." he shook his head rapidly. That last sentence sounded like he was repeating something he'd heard someone say. Even his tone changed.
"How long had you been in that place?" I pressed. Frank was now taking things out of an imaginary container in his hand and 'eating' them, undoubtedly tasting and enjoying them.
"Uh...a l-lot of time. B-but I think I w-was in a dif-ferent place when I w-was littler. N-not sure. But a l-lot of time in th-this one, y-yeah." it actually sounded as if he was speaking with his mouth full.
"Ah..."
"S-sure you d-don't want some c-candy? C-come on, try th-them, they're y-yummy!" he invited. Deciding to play along, I made my fingers grab an invisible sweet and thow it into my mouth. Frank's gesture of approval was worth it.
"Mmm, you're right, it's good! Grape, isn't it?" I guessed. Frank sniggered.
"Y-you don't have a p-palate, Gerard? It...it's s-strawberry!"
"Oh, right! I'm so stupid sometimes!" I smacked my forehead, making him giggle.

Everything was silent for several minutes, the quietness occasionally interrupted by Frankie's unintelligible murmurs. He stirred on his seat, unable to stay quiet for too long. The city lights faded behind us as I drove the familiar route that would take me home. Not any time soon, though.
"B-bored....bored b-bored bored bored..." Frankie sang. "T-tell your gnomes their j-jokes are not f-funny."
"Uh..." I froze. What should I answer? Was it okay to play along when he was imagining things? Should I tell him that there was nothing there? I wished I knew what was the right way to proceed, but I didn't even know what his problem exactly was. All I could do was to test the water. "What gnomes?"
"Wh-what you mean which g-gnomes? Th-the ones living inside y-your glove box h-here! What others c-could be?" he answered matter-of-factly.

It was too hard. Even thought the things Frankie said were rather funny and he seemed happy with his hallucinations, I felt sorry for him. I was afraid of screwing up, yet I had to try different options.
"Frankie...there's nothing there." I said softly, spying him sideways to see his reaction.
"Wh-what? Th-they live in your c-car and you never s-saw them? W-well, stop l-looking at the r-road and watch th-them, then!" he spat exasperated. Checking that it was safe to do so, I turned my head and looked inside the spot Frank was pointing at.
"Hahaha, they s-seem to like y-you!" he laughed.
"There are no gnomes there, Frankie. It's all in your head." I caressed his hair. He knocked my hand off.
"TH-THEY'RE NOT IN MY H-HEAD, TH-THEY'RE IN THE G-GLOVE BOX! A-AND YOU'RE F-FUCKING BLIND IF...IF YOU C-CAN'T S-SEE THEM! SH-SHUT UP! WH-WHY YOU DO TH-THIS TO ME, UH? OF...OF C-COURSE THEY'RE TH-THERE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, stammering more than ever and hitting his fists against the back of his seat. But as furious and nervous as he acted, he still wasn't crying. I hadn't seen him cry so far.

I admitted to have made the wrong choice. The most advisable thing to do until I could find out more about Frankie's problem, was to keep him calm and not antagonize him.
"Wait, I see them now! They were hiding from me, that's all! Or maybe they were having fun with you, you know? They wanted you to think that you were the only one who could see them."
"Oh, f-fuckers!" Frank straightened up and smiled, sticking his little finger into the 'gnome- house'. "Wh-what you th-think of them?"
"They seem to be funny guys!" I improvised.
"Th-they are...u-usually."

******
All the screaming made Frankie tired and soon he got comfortable on his side, just staring out of the window.
"Did you...escape from that place?" I wanted to know. His big eyes scanned me briefly, but he diverted them right away.
"N-no! I...I l-liked it there."
"Then what were you doing alone in the street?"
"W-waiting...but she n-never came b-back for me." he rustled.

CHAPTER 3

Daddy won't discuss me
what a state I must be.
Mommy couldn't stand
living with a wind-up toy.

"She? Who?" I sensed that something might be very wrong. At first, Frank didn't seem to hear me; he kept on playing with a loose thread on his jeans. I waited, since I didn't think it wise to push him. After a while he raised his head, blinking rapidly.
"M-my mom." he simply stated before going back to his task, a little hole beginning to form on the right knee of his pants.

A million thoughts went through my head. Not one of them was good. Why was a boy like him alone in the street if he had a mother? How had he gotten there? It wasn't my intention to upset him, but I needed more information if I was going to take him with me.
"And...how did you get to the place where I found you? How did you leave the institution...and why?" I continued to interrogate him, trying not to let my interest in that mysterious boy make me forget that I was in the middle of a treacherous route. That part of the road was poorly illuminated.

After uttering the question, or better said bunch of questions, I thought that I was, perhaps, pestering the poor kid. It looked like he had a big enough mess in his head by nature. I was about to reformulate my quiz when Frankie spoke.
"M-my mom t-took me out of the p-place where I w-was. S-said she c-couldn't pay f-for it or...or the p-pills." he stopped to look outside and squealed out of nowhere. "Awwww, l-look!"
"What's it?" I followed his gaze to find out what had amazed him like that, and all I saw were the city lights in the distance. Was it just it? Was he imagining something else? It was hard to tell with Frankie. "The lights?"
"Y-yeah! S-so pretty..." he answered in a soft voice, his face glued to the glass and his mouth hanging open in awe.
"Hadn't you seen them like that before?"
"N-no. Wowww..." he shook his head. How could I be so stupid? Of course he hadn't. He'd spent his whole short life locked up in a mental institution. Nearly everything from the outside world was new to him.
"They're very pretty indeed."
"Yes...NO! G-go back W-wanna see!" he complained when the car made a turn and the spectacle was out of sight.
"I can't, Frankie, I'm sorry. We need to take this path to go home. But we'll pass other cities by on our way, so you'll be able to see something like that again, ok?"
"Oh...k-kay." he nodded cheerfully.
"Frank. Uh...sorry, Frankie, can I ask you something else?" I shot. I was too intrigued for my own good. And exhausted, and nervous, needing something to keep me from falling asleep on the wheel.
"Yep."
"You told me that your mom took you out of the institution because she couldn't pay for it anymore, right?"
"Y-yeah. N-nor for my p-pills. I...I n-need my pills. H-head's a mess. A-always is...b-but now's w-worse. B-bad...bad bad b-bad bad bad. N-not good. B-bad." he ran his fingers through his hair in all directions.
"Shh...don't think about that now. We'll see what can be done when we arrive." I quietened him, freeing one hand to accommodate his long, slightly curly hair. "Was your mother taking you home with her?"
"I...I gu-guess. She...she t-told Grace s-she would. B-but...maybe no? 'C-cause...'cause th-then...why she l-left me th-there?"

While Frank was talking, I studied him. He looked pensive, puzzled, trying to comprehend what had happened. Yet not sad. He had enough reasons to be sad and cry his eyes out from what I'd gotten to know -or guess- so far. But he was either too brave or his mental illness didn't let him show some emotions.

He was now hitting his own head with his palm, not exactly gently.
"Where did she leave you? And please don't do that, kid, you're gonna hurt yourself. Calm down...there." I grabbed his hand and kept it in mine, rubbing it with my thumb. He took a deep, shivering breath and collected himself once again.
"Sh-she...she d-drove...and drove...a l-lot and then she s-stopped. She...she t-told me to g-get outta the c-car and said 'H-have to go s-somewhere and c-can't take you w-with me. W-wait here until I c-come back f-for you.' And...and sh-she left. Sh-she didn't k-kissed me goodbye. N-nope. M-moms kiss their k-kids on TV, she d-didn't. W-weird."

The way in which he'd talk for moments...it was mechanical. Besides his stutter, something else was particularly odd. He was telling me about how his own mother had left him as if it was just a story. And the only detail out of the woman's behavior that Frank had though weird was the lack of a goodbye kiss.
I felt my eyes watering. I wished I could stop the fucking car and hug Frank. Then I realised that I wasn't even sure if he'd let me. Maybe he didn't like to be hugged or wasn't used to it and would freak out.
"So she left you around the place where I found you?"
"Y-yes...right n-next to the d-disco." he smiled. He was smiling. So confusing.

A consequential idea suddenly popped up in my mind: what if that event had just taken place and Frank's mother was actually going to return? Although...which mother would leave her mentally unstable kid, who had never been 'outside' before, alone in the street waiting?
"Frankie, how long had it been since your mom left by the time I met you at the...disco?"
"Uh I...I d-dunno." he shrugged, tossing his head. That nervous tic was becoming stronger. Anxiety, most probably.
"Try to think about it, it's important."
"L-let me th-think...it w-was...morning. Y-yeah morning, 'c-cause I woke up r-really really e-early that day. I...I d-don't like to w-wake up e-early. N-not at all. Yes...I th-think it was still m-morning when she left. And I w-waited. And...and night c-came and...then it w-was day again. Yes. A-and night once a-again and...th-then I was b-bored and, and I w-walked...and I saw it: a d-disco!"

I was going to tell him that the street wasn't a disco, it was dangerous for him to think that; but I was left pondering about the amount of time he'd been there waiting: almost two days. Almost two fucking days in the same spot until he finally moved, possibly because the medication had totally worn off; everything began to distract him and he couldn't think straight anymore.
"Y-you...you think I sh-should go back th-there and wait m-more?" he asked sincerely, and I felt my heart break. "M-maybe I d-didn't wait en-enough?"

There was no way that bitch could have ever thought of going back for Frank. As if throwing her own son into that place when he was little hadn't been enough, now she had abandoned him in the street. She didn't give a fuck about him, didn't even try to find a safe place. She didn't care if he got killed by a car or any other terrible thing happened to him. How could she? How could she look at Frankie's face and do it? So young, so helpless, so confused, so sweet and pretty...

"Tell me...did your mom visit you at that place?" I let that question out terrified of the answer.
"N-no, hadn't s-seen her b-before. I...I knew she w-was my mom cause G-grace told me. G-gerard...you th-think I should go b-back and wait?" he questioned. My fear was justified, and Frank had no clue of how impassible and heartless his mother had been.
"No, Frankie, I don't think she'll come back for you. I'm sorry." I said more bluntly than I had intended. I was so furious.
"Oh...k-kay." he shrugged emotionless.
"But don't worry, I'll take care of you and won't ever leave you alone." I promised, wanting to make him feel safe. I was certain that he was scared and upset, even if he wasn't able to demonstrate it.

He closed his eyes, repeating his 'eye-movement-stopping routine'. When seconds later I turned my face to him, I was confronted by those shiny pupils drawn towards the lacrimals, attracted to each other. Without discontinuing his stare, Frank loosened his seat belt. He helped himself up with the back of my seat, came closer, and kissed my cheek. Briefly, childishly. Then he sat back on his place, refastening the seat belt.

It took me several minutes to recover from what had happened and the strange feeling in my stomach. Something he'd previously said came back to me: 'You're handsome.' Bad timing.
I had to push that out of my head. Frankie would say random things all the time and sometimes didn't even seem to know why. What the fuck was I thinking? What was wrong with me? Only one thing was relevant: Frankie was obviously able to show his feelings, he just had his own way to do it.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04