Nature was calling, so I decided to make a stop at a gas station. "I need to go to the bathroom and get my hair wet to refresh myself, too. You coming?" I asked them both.
"Nah." Bob shrugged, causing me to roll my eyes. Didn't he want to get out of the car so badly twenty minutes ago?
"Frankie?"
"N-nope."
"Sure you don't have to pee?" I didn't want any accidents in the car.
"S-sure. Gee...d-do you think P-puppy's ok?" Frank had said that he couldn't find his dog when we were about to leave. I'd told him I saw him under our bed and that he probably didn't want to go because it was cooler in the house. Then we had left before he could think more about it, but I knew we may have some trouble when back home.
"He is, don't worry. Ok, behave while I'm gone... children. " I specially glanced at Bob.
The visit to the gas station appeared to have taken me more than I thought. By the time I came back, they had evidently left the car to buy some snacks and sodas and were now eating voraciously, spreading crumbs all over the backseat and the floor.
"BOB!" I screamed, opening the door. "Frankie's supposed to eat lunch in a while! And normal sodas make him hyper."
"Come on, G-man! Live a little, it's just for today!" he hit the back of my head playfully.
"Hahahaha G-man! Th-that's so f-funny!" Frankie spilled the Coke he was drinking while laughing. I was resigned.
"Ok...have something for me? At least we won't have to lose time stopping again to eat."
"Of course." Bob threw me a pack of Doritos and a soda -that I didn't catch.
"Thanks!"
"But you let me drive now." he demanded.
"I don't know, Bob, it's only a little more than an hour until we're there, so what for?"
"I just want to, please? My car's been dead for months." he insisted. I finally accepted with the hope that things would be quieter if he wasn't in the back with Frank.
When I raised my head after picking up my can, I saw Bob opening one too, only that it wasn't a soda. "What the fuck? Oh, no no. If you're driving, you're not drinking."
"Gerard, you've turned into something worse than my mom! It's only a fucking can!" he excused himself.
"I don't care, not here." I reached for the beer and snatched it from his hand. I was going to throw it out of the car but, tempted by the smell, I drank from it.
"Now that is unfair! Didn't you say you had stopped drinking?" Bob said indignant.
"Fuck off, it was just some sips. And you're the one who's gonna drive, aren't you?"
"C-can I t-try it?" Frankie waved at me.
"No!" Bob and I retorted at the same time.
"K-kayy...evil m-men."
"Fuck..." I ended up getting rid of the beer, tossing it through the window.
******
"I think it's here, right?" Bob stopped and pointed at a small house with cracked white paint, a little ahead from where we were and across the street. I checked the paper with the address.
"Yep, it is. I don't want to visit that exact house, anyway. What if she still lives here? I don't think she'd be much help." I meditated. Then I got distracted by Frankie who had his head out of the car, looking around intensely with an odd expression on his face.
"Frankie, do you recognize this place?" I tried, pulling him inside just in case a car passed near us.
"Uhm...d-dunno...yeah. M-maybe. Yes, m-maybe I d-do?"
CHAPTER 23,PART 2
"Bob, keep him inside for now." I instructed him, getting out of the car and heading to one of the houses next to Linda's. They all looked pretty similar, although that one was better taken care of. A woman around her middle thirties, with short black hair, answered the door.
"Yes?" she waited for me to talk, but my nerves were acting against my will.
"I...eh...am looking for a woman called Linda. I was told she lives around here?" my voice trembled a little.
"She doesn't live here anymore, moved like ten years ago, you're...late."
"Well really, I only need to know some things about her...or better said about her son, Frank."
"What? Oh no...I can't help you, sorry. Her son died when he was a little kid, so I don't know what you could need to know." she spat, attempting to close the door. I stopped it with my shoe.
"But he's not..."
"Get off, I don't want problems. Eh...try two houses from this one, that woman will be leaving the country soon, so I don't think she'll mind talking to you." she closed the door violently, barely giving me time to withdraw my foot. Why did she look afraid of talking? Why the fact that the other person would be leaving soon made things any different? Oh well, I'd try.
The other woman was just a little older. Her hair was light brown and curly, and she was wearing no make-up. As she opened the door I could see lots of big cardboard boxes piled up inside.
"Hello, how can I help you? I don't wanna buy anything..."
"Hello, ma'am. Don't worry, I'm not a vendor." I told her. "First of all, I want you to know that I don't work for the police or anything similar. I just need information for a good cause, I promise."
She looked at me as if I was crazy. "You're not telling me what you want, boy."
"I need to know something about who used to live next door, Linda. Your neighbor two houses from here told me to talk to you..." I explicated.
"Oh, what a coward...I don't understand what she's afraid of, that bitch Linda's been gone for a long time now," she shook her head. It'd all started to slightly scare me.
"What can you tell me about her son Frank?" I asked the question once again. She seemed nervous, but also kind of sad.
"The poor kid died when he was...no more than 4, I think."
"Stop that! I know he's not dead!" I lost my patience and spoke without thinking. She gasped, surprised.
"Oh, you do? Do you happen to know where he is, too? How do you...?" she trailed off.
"Yes I do, but I can't say anything else without having some answers first."
"Ok..." she sighed, sitting on a long bench on the porch. "I like you, so I guess I can tell you what I know."
I sat next to the woman, anxious as I had never been before. "Anything you can tell me will be helpful." I encouraged her.
"Linda moved here when she was 17, alone. Her mother had kicked her out of her house, or she'd escaped, not sure. We overheard it from a fight she had with a friend that had once come looking for her, but we couldn't make out the details. It was something about drugs. We'd talk to her once in a while, but we never became real friends. As soon as she got here she started to hang out with the worst pack. Then this guy Tony began to frequent her house too often, though he wasn't the only one. A friend told me he was on hard drugs too, and he eventually became a dealer."
"Was his last name Iero?" I interrupted her.
"Uh...I don't remember, really. As I said, my friends and I weren't too close with them. I know his family was Italian."
"It's ok, continue." I smiled politely.
"News run fast here, and a few months later everybody knew she was pregnant. She stopped seeing her gang and would speak to us more. She told us she'd broken up with her boyfriend because he wouldn't quit drugs and that wasn't good for the baby. Honestly, I don't think she had quit them either, maybe she just needed an excuse."
"But that guy gave the kid his last name..." I noted.
"Oh, I see you're well informed. Well yes, Tony accepted Frank as his, even if Linda probably didn't know herself who the father was. She'd only allow him to see the baby a few days a month, though." she took a moment to drink from a bottle of water I hadn't even realised she had in her hand. "Linda's 'friendship' with us didn't last much. Even pregnant she was dating other guys, and she never talked to me again until one day when Frank was...5 months old maybe."
"What brought her to do it again?" I felt that it was awkward to let her speak alone.
"She knocked at my door desperate, I'm sure she was drunk or on drugs -maybe both. When I followed her to her house I saw her baby on the floor, bleeding and unconscious. She explained that she was changing his diaper and left to get something. The poor creature fell from a tall table, on his head. He had a huge cut. I wanted to call an ambulance, but she disconnected the phone. Just...ripped off the cord. I tried to get out to ask for help, but she pushed me to the floor and told me to stay there with her. I washed the baby's head, stopped the blood as much as I could and bandaged it. Also applied some ice because it had swollen, but Frank wouldn't wake up. Almost two hours later he did, then Linda took him away from me and urged me to leave."
I couldn't even breathe as she told me all that, I felt a rush of pain inside me. "Oh my God...and you never called the police or anything? No one denounced her?"
"Believe me, I wanted to. But she menaced me, told me that if I opened my mouth my family would get it. She knew many dangerous people, you know?" she seemed ashamed. I nodded, not having a better answer. "I don't know how that kid survived. Anyway, Frankie was never too normal after that. We'd hear him cry practically the whole day, and he wouldn't pay attention when someone talked to him like he used to. Months went by and he wouldn't say a word, not even half a word. I advised her millions of times to get him checked at the hospital, but she'd just tell me to shut the fuck up, that the kid was ok and was just too young. Tony noticed something wasn't right too, though I don't think she ever told him what had happened. When he left, Frank was more than 2 years old and he still wouldn't attempt to speak or walk..."
"Do you know why Tony left?" I interrogated her, feeling like a cop.
"Yes...he was in jail. Something drug related for sure, he was there for two years."
"But what happened in the meantime? Why was he told that Frankie died?" I wanted to know more.
"A year after Tony disappeared, Linda's relationship with the kid got worse. She had never been the type to have patience with kids, and even less one with problems. She'd scream to him all the time and though I never saw her doing it, I'm afraid she maybe did something more than that. The child wasn't easy to deal with, but who could blame him? When he was 4 and had finally learned to walk well enough she...got rid of him." she let out, clearly moved by the memory.
"Any idea of where she took him?" I asked, hopeful.
"Yes, it's like a...public home or shelter for kids with any kind of disability. The people there people don't ask many questions, they say those children are better there than in the street and that's all that matters. We saw Linda leave and come back without the boy, so she had to tell me and the other woman you met. She knew we wouldn't buy her lies, but Tony did. When he was released, she told him Frank had died."
"How didn't you tell him he hadn't? I know you said you were afraid but..." I was aghast, I couldn't understand how they could keep something like that unsaid.
"Around that time she was dating a new guy who worked for the government and had 'connections'. He was the one who got Linda a fake death certificate to show Frank's father. He also threatened us in person, said we could lose everything. They lived here together for four more years until he was promoted and they moved."
"Oh my God...oh my fucking God..." I couldn't stop repeating that.
"I...I'm aware that we did wrong, but we were too scared. Can you understand...?"
"Uh...I just realised we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Gerard, sorry, I'm too nervous." I seriously couldn't believe I had been so rude.
"I'm Clare and what I told you is all I know..." she drank from the water bottle again.
"That was a lot, just one more thing...could you tell me where that shelter is? Maybe they know something..."
"Sure, but they won't receive you today, they're closed on Sundays." she pointed out. The search would be longer. "Do you have something to write it down on?"
"Yes." I got out my notebook and a pen and took note of the address.
"Now it's your turn: what do you know about little Frankie and how?" she requested. I bit my lip, not knowing if I should talk. Then I heard someone scream.
"Frankie! Come back here, boy!" Bob came running behind him. Frank fell a couple of times but got up as nothing. He got to me and hugged me.
"M-missed you, Gee!"
"Sorry, Gerard...I got distracted just one minute and he opened the car's door!" Bob said panting.
"Oh! This is Frankie? The Frankie?" Clare asked. I nodded.
"Wh-who's her?" Frank whispered in my ear. He was sitting on my lap and had hidden his face as soon as he heard the woman talk. I signaled for her not to answer. I didn't want to tell Frankie anything until I collected more definitive information and decided how much it would be good for him to know.
"She is...an old friend of mine, Clare"
"H-hi!" the boy looked at her.
"Hello Frankie, you're so pretty!" she touched his cheek. Frank recoiled a little, blushing. "I'm glad he's at least fine and healthy." she added eying me.
"I'm doing all within my reach for him to be as fine as he can." I said.
"You know? Now that I see him I have no more doubts about a certain thing." Clare spoke in a cryptic manner. "His eyes are exactly like Tony's."
"Wh-who's Tony?" Frank blinked. His attentive moments were rather inopportune sometimes.
"Tony...is a boy who used to live in this neighborhood." Clare replied.
"Ahh...and wh-why you said m-my eyes are l-like his? Th-they're crossed t-too?" Since the oculist had told him that there were many people with his problem, he was waiting to find one.
"No, but he has the same eye color and shape."
"Y-you know? G-gonna have glasses s-soon!" Frank commented with more confidence.
"Yes? That's cool!" she brushed a lock of hair out of his face.
"Y-yeah. I...I c-can't see well. C-can't read n-nothing, but n-now I will!" he went on cheerfully.
"Then I'm sure you're gonna love your glasses. And you'll look very well with them." she smiled, though I could see pity behind that smile.
"Bob, could you take Frankie to the car again for a while?" I presumed Clare had things to ask, and I didn't want to speak in front of the boy.
"Sure!"
"N-no! S-staying here!" Frank refused.
"Come on, Frankie! I saw a place where we can buy some ice-cream." Bob stood in front of him and crouched, offering his back.
"Y-yeah! I...I want i-ice-cream!" he changed his mind and climbed on Bob.
"Please Bob, don't let him fall and don't go too far!"
"Won't and won't!" he waved.
"He's so sweet..." Clare breathed out as soon as they left.
"He is..."
"Is he...oh damn, I know this word is hideous. I don't want to sound offensive, but I can't think of any other way to say it..." she rambled. "He's like...retarded, right? Sorry again, I..."
"It's ok, I know you didn't mean it wrong. And no, he's not. Well, he does have some mild brain damage -which I now know the cause of, but it's not that serious."
"Only mild? He's a lucky boy, I thought he wouldn't even survive that day...he was so small and his little head was so swollen and bleeding..."
"Considering that, I guess he was indeed lucky. Nowadays he has the speech impediment and difficulty to learn or understand certain things. He's childish, yes, though that might also have to do with the fact that he was in a mental institution most of his life until a little more than a month ago, when I found him." I mentioned.
"You found him? Where?"
"In the street. Linda got him out of the institution and then abandoned him." I clarified.
"Oh God...how could she...but why was the kid there to start with? From what you said there was no reason enough to..."
"Well, there kinda was. Frankie has a more important problem that's not directly related to the head trauma. He's mentally ill, schizophrenic. He's medicated, but it's a severe case."
"Oh poor kid, but it's obvious that you've taken good care of him! So, you found him and took him with you?"
"Yes, I just felt like I had to. Anyway, I'm interested to know if he has any more family apart from his bitch of a mother, and why he was in a mental institution at the other side of the country..."
"I wish I could help you more, but I don't know about that. I never knew where Linda's mother lived or saw any other family visiting her." she said, pensive.
"It's fine, I'll pay that shelter a visit soon."
We talked for a little longer and then Clare gave me a telephone number where I could find her once she moved. She wanted me to communicate with her if I found out something more about Frank. She also handed me some cookies for him before we left.
"So?" Bob inquired when I got into the car and started it. I tried to ignore the hand shaped marks of ice cream on the headrests.
"So...I got some answers, convinced myself even more about certain people's assholeness and added a next stop to my search."
"W-want ice-cream G-gee? S-still have s-some!" Frankie shoved the cone in front of my face. His innocence and sweetness made me feel angrier about what I'd learned. I smiled at him and gave the ice-cream a try.
"Mmm, it's good!"
"Then...we're going for the next stop now?" Bob questioned.
"Nope, just home. It'll have to wait until next weekend, the place's closed on Sundays."
As I drove, I thought of how someone could make a movie out of Frankie's life and his 'family'. And I was sure there was still a lot more waiting to be revealed.
CHAPTER 24
When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye.
You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather in a beautiful world.
I wish I was special, you're so fucking special.
"Frankie, put your head inside!" I heard Bob tell him.
"N-no, it's hot and I l-like the air!" Frank retorted.
"Frankie do as Bob says, I'm serious." I intervened, now and then spying them through the rearview mirror.
"B-but...no...d-don't want!" he whined, trying to reach the window again.
"I know you don't want to, but it's dangerous. There are a lot of cars passing by and I'm sure you like your head where it is, don't you?" It was hard sometimes to stay cool at his stubbornness. What's more, after learning all I did from that woman, I wasn't in the best state of mind to be patient.
"Come on kid, Gerard's right!" Bob's strong arms held him in place, but Frankie wouldn't give up so easily.
"D-DON'T CARE, L-LEMME!" he twisted his body and kicked.
"FRANK, ENOUGH! If you even try to stick your head out one more time I'll close all windows, understood?" I said firmly. There was silence followed by sniffling. I turned my head and saw him staring at the window, tears falling down his cheeks.
"Y-you screamed to m-me. And...and c-called me Frank. Y-you're angry, d-don't like it."
"Nah, Gerard's not angry, he's worried about you getting hurt. Come on, let's sing some songs?" Bob invited.
"N-no. I l-like when G-gee kisses me, not wh-when he gets an-angry at me." Frank uttered in a low voice, though not low enough as to not be heard by me -and therefore Bob.
"What does he mean by...?"
"Frankie, I'm not angry, really." I spoke before Bob could finish his question, hoping I would distract him at least for the moment. "I just don't want anything bad happening to you. I'm sorry...don't cry, please. We can sing together, the three of us!"
"K-kay." he answered softly.
Once we began to sing random songs, Frankie seemed to cheer up and Bob appeared to forget about what Frank had said. Hopefully, the boy's unintentional hint would not bring any trouble.
******
"Bob...you're overexciting him." I warned him, listening to Frank's chocked laughter.
"Don't be a party pooper, Gerard! The boy's having fun." He replied, mercilessly tickling Frankie.
"P-please I...ahhh s-stop! Hahahahahaha s-stop!"
"It seems to me he's telling you to stop, already!"
"Ok, ok! The Master of Tickles will allow you to keep your life for today, young lad!" Bob announced. I got a glance of Frankie sitting up, breathing heavily.
"Here, have some water." I passed him a bottle. "Drink slowly."
"Let me help you hold it, better now..." Bob could act as immature as Frankie for moments, but he was being really nice to him. "Gerard, I was gonna ask...why do his hands shake like that?"
"It's because of the medication, a side effect." I explained.
"Oh..."
"H-hands always d-do this." Frankie shrugged. "D-doesn't hurt."
"Well, that's good to know." Bob said. I bet he was as surprised as I'd get day by day at how naturally Frank reacted to those problems that seemed such a big deal to us. It was kind of funny that while people would usually feel sympathy -or even pity- for his condition, he'd just talk about it like it was nothing and smile right after saying the meds made it better.
******
The first thing Frank did when we got home was look for his pet. I waited in the living room, afraid, expecting him to come back crying because he couldn't find it and thinking of how I'd manage the situation. To my relief, he reappeared looking totally calm. He said Puppy was still under the bed and he didn't want to wake him up, so he'd left him a plate of food there.
I was aware, however, that it may be just a matter of time until Frank's mind stopped projecting the dog. I knew how important Puppy was for him and I hadn't been able to come up with any potential solution that wasn't going to hurt him. I'd considered getting a real dog, but then Ray would have to take care of two kids while I was at work. No idea sounded good to me, I'd have to improvise when the moment came.
That night Frankie fell asleep right after we finished dinner. The car ride had left him tired and more so Bob and his games. In spite of my car being hot as hell, my friend had said that he enjoyed the day a lot and I could count on him for next weekend.
I tended to be overprotective of Frank, sometimes I'd even act like a grumpy old man; but rethinking it, it was maybe not so bad for him to have someone to play with in a more child-like way. I imagined that he missed playing with other kids. Bob might not be exactly one, but he was about Frank's age and his inner child was always willing to come out.
As I sat there with Frank's head on my lap, brushing his hair with my fingers, that hairless spot was left uncovered. Now it meant more, it caused my heart to ache. I slid my fingertips along the pink, wrinkled scar. It must have been deep enough for stitches, although it'd been left to close by itself. There was a slight depression on that area, which made me think of what a miracle it had been that he survived. A baby's cranium is so tender...
Frankie stirred and smiled in his sleep, exerting his unconscious contagious power on me. You just couldn't avoid smiling when Frank did. I would never understand his mother, nothing I could find out would help me understand what she'd done to such a sweet boy.
******
Next morning I woke up to the phone ringing. If it wasn't that I had to go to work that early anyway, I would have killed my brother.
"Gerard, are you there?" he asked, since all he had gotten from me was a grunt.
"Yeah, I'm here. I was sleeping before you called, you know?"
"Sorry bro, I wanted to call before leaving for college."
"And what for, Mikey?" I wasn't friendly when I'd just woken up, to anyone but Frankie. My morning mood would magically disappear at the sight of him.
"To let you know that Alicia and I are gonna go visit you this afternoon. You get outta work at 4, right?"
"Yes, but Frankie has an appointment with his psychiatrist at 5."
"Oh, when should we be there, then?" he seemed determined to come over this day.
"Uh...I'd say 7 to be sure. You have the keys, so if we weren't home yet you just let yourself in, ok?"
"Ok! Gotta go now, bye Gee!"
"Bye, Mike!"
"M-morning!" Frankie stretched. "Wh-who were you t-talking to?"
"Good morning, babe!" I kissed him. "My brother Mikey, he's gonna visit us with Alicia later today."
"M-Mikey doesn't l-like me."
"That's not true. He was a little angry at me and having a bad day when you met him, but you'll see he's rather nice." I tried to hide my own worries. Though definitely a nice guy, my brother had always lacked patience for kids. Frankie was dangerously similar to one.
"K-kay." he yawned indifferently.
******
The appointment with doctor Goldberg went well. He spoke to Frank alone for half an hour and then called me in, telling his assistant to watch Frankie for a while. The teen only agreed when promised some sweets.
Goldberg said the improvement had been as good and normal as expected in a little more than a week. Considering that, and no serious side effects having appeared, he opined that it'd be better to stick to the same medication and dose for the time being. About Frank's hallucinations, it was time to try telling him that it was all in his mind.
"But...how do I do it?" I questioned.
"Frankie is more able to understand it now, and he must be aware that some of his 'friends' visit him less often when he's under medication. So, whenever you notice that he's hallucinating, inform him as simply and delicately as possible that what he's seeing is not real. It's important for him to hear that you believe him. Those hallucinations are as real to him as this chair is to you. Question what he sees, not the fact that he's seeing it. He knows he has an illness, so use that. Explain that his head makes those things up and that's why only he can see them. However, if Frankie becomes too nervous or upset, leave it for the moment. Don't insist much." he concluded. I was looking at the floor. "Do you have any questions?"
"No, it's just that...it makes me a little sad to tell him his gnomes or the little people are not real, he likes them." I confided honestly.
"I understand, but Frank needs to know, he has the right to. He won't stop seeing them because of that, but he'll at least learn to discern reality from what it's not. The way they use that information varies from one patient to another, though."
"Ok then, I'll try."
When I commented that Frankie would be getting his glasses the following day, the doctor thought that it could be of great benefit to him. It would bring him more in contact with his surroundings and give him wider possibilities to entertain himself. In a clear contrast to the good news, Mark's expression changed considerably when we touched the subject of Frank's education. I told him all I'd gathered from my conversation with him and the man looked sad, worried, as shocked at the lack of tact and professionalism of that teacher as I'd been when I heard the story from Frank.
This evidently changed things, yet the psychiatrist didn't appear to give up hope on Frank. After being deep in thought for a moment, he smiled reassuringly and suggested something to help improve his attention span and comprehension skills. It was of great importance for him to be able to learn new things. I'd have to ask Frankie to read something -easy and not too long- and then tell me what it was about. If he wasn't able to, he'd have to try reading it again. He might need to do it several times to actually understand what he read. We were supposed to work on that for short periods of time each day to start with, not to force him; and even stop before if he wanted.
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