"Just a movie, just a movie. It's gone now, see? Only a silly ridiculous woman selling silly ridiculous things." I pointed at the screen. It was one of those 'Call now!' shows, and someone wearing a weird old fashioned dress was trying to sell some even weirder implement with a long stick I couldn't figure out the use for.
Frankie looked, smiled a little, and hid his face against my chest again. I was expecting him to say something, to voice his feelings; but he didn't. I didn't want to insist on the subject until talking to Goldberg, who would be seeing Frank in two days. All I could do for now, was to try and replace the awful image in his mind with something more cheerful.
"We better watch some cartoons before going to sleep." I turned to Nickelodeon.
"Y-yes. I w-want no guns. N-no guns." he whispered.
"No guns, love. But you don't need to be scared, it's not real. They're actors, no one really gets hurt on TV shows or movies."
"I kn-know, G-grace told me b-but...I d-don't like it. Th-this..." he placed his hand on my shoulder."... is r-real. G-guns suck."
"You're totally right, Frankie." I rested my forehead on his. He had a very special gift. Every day he demonstrated wisdom with simplicity.
******
The next morning I advised Frankie to go back to sleep after giving him his pills. He'd had a rough night and woken up several times crying. I knew what his nightmares were about even if he hadn't told me. The words he'd murmur in his dream made it easy to imagine: gun, blood, dead, alone.
It was already midday when I was in the kitchen and saw Frank pass me by on his way to the patio. He carried something big in his arms, so I had to follow him. Why was he going out? Why hadn't he looked at me or kissed me good morning? He'd never forget to do that.
It turned out that he wasn't heading for the patio. He, instead, stopped by the tiny laundry room. I spied him from the door, noticing that the entangled mass in his hands had Batman drawings on it. It was our bed's sheets. Frankie crouched in front of the washing machine and threw them inside. When he got up, staring at the appliance, his long, baggy t-shirt lifted and I saw that his blue boxers were wet. I must have made an unconscious sound that he heard.
"H-hi." Frankie said startled, looking at the floor. He was ashamed.
"Hello, Frankie!" I kissed him as if nothing had happened. "Slept better at last?"
"Y-yes."
"Want me to teach you how to work the washing machine?" I asked him. He had never paid much attention while I'd do the laundry, and now I thought that doing it himself would help him feel better. I also didn't want to show how worried I was about him peeing his bed so often. It was another issue I would have to converse with his psychiatrist.
"Y-yeah." he nodded.
"Ok, but first take off your boxers and put them in there with the sheets. Your shirt will cover you."
"K-kay." he quickly complied, one side of his lips curved into a semi-smile. "B-but you always s-see me naked an-anyway."
"True!"
I performed the complete procedure slowly, speaking out the instructions for Frankie to comprehend them. I knew that I'd have to repeat them next time, probably more than once, but I didn't mind. Frank would end up remembering eventually, and he rarely forgot things once he had learned them thoroughly. Besides, it was comforting to see the satisfaction on his face when he discovered a new task that he was able to do.
"It'll be done in a while, now go change so you can have your late breakfast." I pinched one of his ass cheeks.
"Ouch! G-going!" he rubbed his butt, pouting.
"Too tempting!" I shouted after him as he got into the bedroom.
******
Another week went by. A week of nightmares, wet beds and washing machine lessons. Not every day, but too often for my -and Frankie's- liking.
Goldberg said that poor Frank was still too affected and frightened. It would take some more time and patience to expel the reminders of that day from his memory. The doctor was, however, satisfied with the way the medication was working. Even if it might seem excessive to us, calmness was very important for Frank at this point; otherwise it would have been a lot harder for him to cope with everything. We were told to not touch the subject save Frankie did first. The psychiatrist preferred to take care of that during their sessions now that the boy was luckily opening up a little more to him. He also recommended that we suggested activities to keep Frank's mind occupied. Never imposing anything, always letting him choose and decide. I talked about the way in which we had handled the 'wet bed problem' and Goldberg said we had done the right thing. It was essential to spare Frankie any stress or guilty feeling, and show him that no one was angry at him, that it was an accident. About his fear of going out, the doctor told me to give him one more week before insisting. Then we'd have to start little by little, without expecting him to walk ten blocks on the first try.
Frankie was still pretty quiet most of the time, although more spirited and talkative. For moments he'd follow me everywhere around the house as if he was afraid of losing me. Arguing that my arm needed to rest, he helped me with everything he could: to dress, undress, bathe and even clean the house when he was feeling up to it. He loved to be helpful and didn't mind if he ended up exhausted.
He was being very affectionate, always willing to kiss, touch, be as close to me as possible; but his sexuality seemed to be anesthetized. It wasn't a problem for us, since our relationship wasn't about sex. We enjoyed the contact, to feel each other with all our senses. We didn't always need a sexual release to be content, so I was in no hurry.
Two days ago I had returned to my work, finally feeling that our life was slowly getting back on track. My wound was cicatrizing well, and my arm had regained a high percent of its mobility. That hadn't stop my mother from visiting whenever she could to make sure that we were doing fine. Ray had also spent a considerable number of hours with us nearly every day, but he would never annoy me like she did.
The previous afternoon I had succeeded at making Frank leave the house and walk farther than five steps. It was a good start, even if he asked me to go back inside as soon as we reached the corner. So yes, things were generally better.
******
I left the store waving at Sarah and adjusted my jacket. Fall was finally making itself present, covering the sidewalks with yellowing leaves and turning the air colder. I liked how things looked during fall, though I didn't like the weather that much.
When I raised my eyes from that crunchy, ochre carpet to set them on the path ahead, I saw the last person I could have expected -or wanted- to find waiting for me. He was leaning on a lamp post, staring at his shoes and smoking nervously. I hurried to pass him by -hoping that he hadn't seen me come out- but I didn't get too far. A firm and decided hand grabbed me by my left arm and turned me around.
"FUCK YOU, IT HURTS!" I screamed, thinking more about the pain in my resented shoulder than the person who had caused it.
"Sorry, I...I didn't know. How are you?" that voice I had gotten to know so well spoke timidly.
"I'm fine, you?" I replied shortly.
"Not so good...I've missed you, Gee. I've missed you so much. I've tried living away for some months, tried to forget you, but it didn't work." he sounded sincere, and I guessed he was. But I knew better than to let him get to me.
"Don't...call me that. What do you want, Gabriel? Have you been stalking me or what?" I spat, not allowing him to touch me.
"No, I swear I haven't! I accidentally saw you leave this store one day."
" Sure. " I rolled my eyes.
"Gerard...don't be like this. I miss you."
"Congratulations? I don't."
"That's because you've replaced me already." he said. How could he talk about replacements? Since I didn't answer, he went on. "You're into little retarded kids, now?"
"What did you just say?" I got a hold of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. I had never been a violent person, but he was crossing the line. Just thinking that he could have been following me was enough to make me feel uncomfortable. And now he was picking on Frank.
"You heard me! That day when I saw you, you weren't alone. You left hand in hand with a kid that couldn't be more than 15. Don't tell me he was your friend, I was able to tell that wasn't the case." he huffed. I realised that he must have spotted us minutes before we were attacked and that gave me a chill. Not that what happened was in any way connected to Gabriel, but I didn't like to know that someone else had been stalking us that same day.
"He's 18, for your information. And what damn reason do you have to call him retarded?" I kept my grip on him. "What is it? That he wears glasses? That he's cross-eyed? How does that translate to him being retarded?"
"How about...that he stutters and speaks like a little child?" he retorted.
"I'm sorry if we're not all perfect like you, Gabriel. I think you're just a pathetic, jealous bitch." I couldn't believe how he was acting. He sure had his flaws back then when we were together, but he'd never been that disdainful. He didn't use to be one to mock people's defects.
"Oh, yeah?" was his only reply, followed by a smirk.
"You're an asshole, and you're creepy. Get out of my sight, please." I let go of my ex and stepped back to give him space.
"Gerard, I'm sorry. It's just that...I still love you." his blue eyes softened and he stared at me pleadingly. I knew that he was telling the truth. He had probably never ceased to love me. I had seen the love in those eyes while he was begging me to stay that sad day. However, my love for him had been instantly murdered when I saw what he was capable of, when he told me what the 'conditions' were for us to be together.
"Gabriel...it's been about a year, get over it. I did. And I'll remind you that you were the one who fucked things up." I tried to walk away, but he stopped me.
"I know, but I want to be with you again. Please, give me the chance." he whined on the verge of tears. I wasn't exactly thrilled.
"Interesting. And tell me, Gabe," I pronounced his nickname with faked sweetness. "would you let the world know that you're a queer, even your family? Would you tell that new blond girl of yours the truth and stop playing with her?"
"Hey! Who's the stalker now?"
"Just a coincidence, 'baby'. Now answer me, would you?" I repeated the question. There was hope in his eyes and a timid smile attempted to adorn his lips. I did feel kind of cruel at that moment, but I needed to know. I needed to put him to the test. Then he got serious again, avoiding my eyes.
"You know I can't."
"Oh, no no. Use your verbs correctly, Gabriel: you don't want to. " I corrected him. He hadn't changed.
"I can't! You know my family would disown me!" It was odd to see him cry, he didn't use to. I had always been the one doing it; asking questions, feeling like something that needed to be hidden, something he was ashamed of. But he'd always manage to convince me that it was for the best. Until that afternoon.
"Oh, yes. So, to save your own pathetic ass you'll spend the rest of your days living a double life and using people! Honestly, at this point I'm not even sure that your family is as bad as you've always made them seem. I think it's you who has the problem." I responded, proud of my firmness. The roles had been inverted.
Gabriel sat on the floor against the wall, sobbing, his head in between his knees. I sighed loudly, memories of the good old times playing with my mind. I lost control over my spontaneous braveness and allowed a tear roll down my cheek. My hand reached out to touch him, but I contained myself. He lifted his face.
"I can't...I can't, but I do love you, Gee. I do love you."
"I don't, Gabe. I don't, I'm sorry. It was good while it lasted. I've loved you a lot, don't doubt it. But it's over, it's been over for a long time. You ruined it. I know it hurts to hear it, but you need to assume responsibility for your acts." I talked to him as gently as my shaken state permitted it.
"And...wouldn't you let me be with you once in a while at least? I won't ask you to leave that kid." he tried.
"No."
"You could even be on top if that's what you want. Really, I don't mind as long as it's our secret!" He was really desperate, but not even desperation could kill the coward in him. He was piteous.
"Look, for the love I once felt for you, take my advice." I said, disorienting him. "Ask for help, professional help. Do it for you and for the people around you. You won't be able to be happy until you accept yourself, what you are."
"But I..."
"Good luck, Gabriel." I kissed the top of his head and left.
"I'm sorry..." I heard him whisper. I truly hoped he was and would seek help as I told him. That's all I could do for him, I wouldn't let him ruin me twice. I had a new life, a new love, a new attitude.
But bad habits die hard. I chose the longest path home so I'd have more time to calm down, smoking three cigarettes in a row. It didn't work. The encounter had raked up too many memories; some good and some painful. I had my feelings clear, I didn't love Gabriel and seeing him again had only served as reassurance. Yet that didn't mean it hadn't hurt. Of course it hurt to see the person who I once loved so much in such a pathetic state; begging and crying but still refusing to change that same behavior that had ended it all.
Smoking wasn't enough, and I knew what could ease my nerves. I remembered well what had made me feel better back then when my love for Gabriel died, when my heart was broken, when I felt so lost. The situation was different now. I had a beautiful, sweet boyfriend waiting for me at home. But if getting completely drunk had helped me in the past, even when everything seemed so fucked up, just a little alcohol would suffice now to stabilize me. I didn't want Frankie to see me nervous, I didn't want to harm him any more.
I called Ray, telling him that I needed to buy some things and that's why I was delayed. He didn't have to work until later, so he said it was no problem to stay with Frankie a little longer. However, my friend perceived it in my voice that something was wrong. He asked and I denied, adducing that I was just tired and still not used to the routine after two weeks off work. I hung up before finding out whether he believed it.
I walked into the main area of town, shivering at the descending temperature. There were several bars to choose from, and in my depressive period I had visited them all. I'd tell Bob that it bored me to always drink at the same place, and I didn't like the regular customers to point at me and say 'here comes the drunken idiot'. I didn't want to become the town's famous fuck up. Even in my lowest times I still had some dignity.
I sauntered along the streets, eying each well known bar, unable to decide where to get my beer. I'd only get beer, just a glass. Something weird was occurring to me, though: I needed a drink and at the same time couldn't gather the courage to cross any bar's door.
At that moment I saw a sign I hadn't seen before. One with fancy neon letters -though still not lighted up- that none of the other bars had. This place was bigger; and looking through the windows I could see that it was also cleaner and more modern, with even a small stage at the back. It had to be new, also obvious by the numerous people sitting at the tables at only 5 in the afternoon.
"Let's see how good the beer's here." I thought. I was about to open the door when the shocking-red font of an announcement displayed on it urged me stop and read it.
A band would be playing there on Friday at 11 pm. A traveling band called 'The Homeless Souls'.
CHAPTER 47
Nineteen years full of regrets,
your excuses bore me,
it's not my fault I have my father's eyes.
The cradle rocks,
the ground breaks beneath me as I fall.
My feet were stuck to the ground and my eyes to that piece of paper.
"The Homeless Souls." I read again. I remembered that name very well; and since that day when I first knew of them I had feared as much as I wished to catch them playing near our town. Wished, because Frank's father deserved to know that his son was alive and I was hoping he would be different than the boy's other relatives. Feared, because that could end up badly. Now it was suddenly happening and the fear was stronger.
Would contacting that man get me into more trouble? Maybe not necessarily, as long as I was cautious and talked to him in person. But what if I was being followed? The possibility existed, even though I hadn't noticed any other suspicious movement.
I thought and thought and concluded that giving Frank the chance to reunite with someone from his family who cared about him was worth taking the risk. That is if this Anthony did care, of course.
I didn't bother writing down the date and time of the show. It was impossible for me to forget, I knew this would occupy my thoughts for the rest of the week. My sad encounter with Gabriel had been shoved to the bottom of my mind and my first idea of buying a beer had been discarded; it didn't matter anymore. I just went back on my tracks and walked home, pondering what to do.
I had to go to that place on Friday, I wanted to give it a try but I knew that no one else would agree. If my family or Ray found out about my plans they'd do their best to stop me. I needed an excuse, an alibis. Would Bob help me? I considered him my only hope, since he wasn't one to think things much. He'd understand my reasons and even offer to go with me, I was sure that he would. Or almost.
******
"Where the fuck were you?" Ray questioned when I finally arrived home. "You got me really worried, you know?"
"Oh, Ray...you sound like my mother! I told you I had to buy some things."
"I don't see any bags..." he threw me a skeptical look.
"I didn't find what I wanted, gosh!"
"Have you been drinking?" he whispered, not letting me walk any further into the living room. I was standing on my tiptoes, trying to see Frank from over my friend's shoulder. How come Ray always knew what I did and even what I'd intended to do? He could be creepy sometimes.
"No I haven't." I said. He got closer and smelled me. He fucking smelled me.
"Look at me." he commanded. I did so without hesitating. I was telling the truth after all, he didn't need to know that I'd changed my mind at the last second. He kept my stare for some seconds and then smiled. "Sorry, I had to be sure. You sounded weird over the phone, like...guilty. But I guess it was just me."
"I think now you're the paranoid one, Ray." I pushed past him. "Where's Frankie?"
"Right there, seems that he's so entertained that he didn't hear you." he pointed to the coffee table. Frank was sitting in front of it surrounded by a complete mess of what appeared to be paper, magazines and glue.
"Hey, Frankie! No welcome for your boyfriend today?" I announced myself loud enough. He interrupted his task which now I saw consisted in cutting something out of a magazine. Cutting. He was using scissors. I watched horrified, not understanding how Ray had given him that. "What the f..."
"G-gee! Y-you're late!" Frank got up and was instantly kissing me, his sticky hands on my face. I turned my eyes towards the supposedly evil object that he was still holding: harmless, round-pointed, plastic scissors; those that are for little kids and have no real sharp edge.
"Oh..."
"R-ray buy-ed...uh...b-bought them for m-me." he showed me happily.
"You thought me so careless?" Ray chuckled at my relieved sigh. "He was bored and asked me what he could do. I saw those old magazines under the table and it reminded me that I used to make collages with random pics when I was younger. He liked the idea but wanted to cut the photos himself 'cause well, that's where the main fun is! So we went to buy scissors that were safe for him."
"He accepted to walk for more than a block?" I asked, finding that detail more important.
"Yes, he was a little scared and clung to my arm like a tick all the time, but he did it to three blocks."
"L-like a wh-what?" Frank frowned.
"A tick." Ray repeated. "They're bugs that live on animals. A lot uglier than fleas."
"P-puppy doesn't have an-any ugly b-bugs! And...and I'm n-not an ugly b-bug!"
"No, you're a pretty little bug." I held him from behind and kissed his cheek. "Ray was just saying that you clung to his arm like ticks cling to animals."
"W-was scared." he said softly.
"I know, but you kept walking the same and I'm very proud of you. Now let's see what you've been doing." I guided him to the table, my arm still around his waist.
There was glue everywhere, I could feel it under my shoes. We sat on the floor together -though I wasn't sure if I'd be able to unglue myself off it later- and he showed me a large sheet of paper, also heavy with and dripping glue. I studied the different, irregularly cut pictures he'd put together. Landscapes with mountains, lakes, beaches and woods. Dogs, lions, tigers, cats and polar bears. Butterflies, lady bugs and even ants. Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom and other several actors and singers?
"Why these guys?" I inquired. He giggled and blushed.
"Th-they're handsome." he whispered. "B-but you're more! Y-you're not j-jealous?"
"Nah, you have a good taste for men I must say!"
"Oh please, no!" Ray faked disgust. "I better go home before the chick-talk begins!"
"Come on, Ray! Even the straightest of guys can't deny Johnny's appeal!"
"Uh...I'm late! Bye, guys!" he dodged the question and escaped laughing.
"Well Frankie, you finish your collage and I'll go get some things prepared for dinner. Then we'll clean this mess, ok?"
"K-kay." he nodded, concentrated on organizing some photos.
"Oh...and once you're done don't put it on the wall right away; leave it over the table to dry 'cause it'll take some time with all the glue you used."
"W-was neces-sary. Y-yes."
"On the paper maybe, but it shouldn't be on the floor!" I tickled his neck and he contorted his body, making funny noises.
"It f-fell on the floor, n-not my f-fault."
"It still needs to be cleaned soon or it'll stay there forever. And you also need a bath, sticky boy."
"And...and y-you need a b-bath too cause you s-smell." he accused.
"Oh yeah?"
"Y-yeah."
"You say that because you wanna see my sculptural body under the shower!" I joked.
"Wh-what's sculp-tular?"
"Sculptural. A body that's like....all full of muscles, strong and perfect." I explained. Frankie looked at me with big eyes and then burst into a fit of laughter.
"Hey, that's not very nice of you!" I poked his stomach, making him laugh even more.
"Ahhhhh, Y-you're so funny, G-gee! And y-you're not sc...well, th-that word you s-said. N-nope. B-but I like to w-watch you the s-same." he grinned.
It made me so happy to see him cheerful again that I didn't feel like giving him the pills. I'd enjoy those moments just before he took them, when he was the most active he could get. Anyhow, I knew that without the medication he'd go from cheerful to out of control and that wasn't good for anyone.
"Oh, you naughty boy!" I messed up his hair. It looked like a lion's mane and was needing some trimming, but he hated the idea. "I better go do what I said I would before I got distracted by a certain dwarf."
"D-dwarf? Y-you mean the g-gnomes? H-haven't seen them, n-no. Th-they must think I'm b-boring now."
"Frankie, you know they were not real." I reminded him.
"F-for you. " he replied stubbornly. That subject never seemed to be completely clear to him.
"Anyway...when I said dwarf, I meant you. " I clarified as I left the room.
"N-not a dwarf! I...I'm just s-small and...AND Y-YOU'RE NOT MUCH T-TALLER!" I heard him scream.
Once everything -including ourselves- was clean and while our meal was in the oven, I left Frank snoozing on the couch to go call Bob. It was Wednesday night, so I needed to talk to him before he made any plans for Friday; that is if he hadn't already. I'd decided to openly ask him to come with me. That way I could count on friend support and I tell Ray that I was just going out with Bob. It wouldn't be exactly lying but hiding part of the truth. The only problem was that Toro knew what Bob and I used to do during our nights out. It'd be hard to convince him that this one wouldn't include getting drunk.
Thanks to a co-worker who got me a cheap one, I had been able to change my cell phone. I felt secure using it since I'd only given a few selected people my new number.
"Hi, Gerard! What's up?" Bob's lazy voice greeted me. "How's your shoulder doing?"
"Hi, Bob! It's a lot better, thanks. I called because...uh...ok, I'll go right to the point 'cause our meal's in the oven and I don't have much time before it gets burnt. Do you have something to do Friday night?"
"Well, I had thought of going out for some drinks, but nothing specific. Why? Is Gerard Way inviting me on a date?" he asked in a feminine voice. I even pictured him wiggling his eyebrows.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm already taken."
"Oh, what a shame, 'cause you're just my type." Bob tried a heartbroken tone now.
"Do you like blues music?" I inquired.
"Eh? Not exactly my cup of tea..."
"Well, you'll have to put up with it, I guess. We're going to see a blues band play. Friday 11 p.m. at the new big bar on the main street. I'm sure you already know it." I hurried to give him all the information.
"Ok? And yes, I know that bar but...why are we going to see a blues band if I may ask? I never knew you were into that either."
"Because Frank's father plays in it. Don't ask, long story. I'll tell you all about that Friday, I don't wanna eat carbonized meat."
"What the...? Gerard, you just got shot two weeks ago, are you sure you wanna fuck with Frank's family again?" Bob doubted.
"Yes I'm sure, this is different. And if you don't wanna go with me I'll go alone, but please don't tell Ray or Mikey or anyone else!" I got carried away, though Bob hadn't refused yet. I had made a decision and wasn't going to change my mind. It was worth the risk.
"You'll do anything for that kid, won't you?" he said not waiting for an answer. He knew it. "I can't blame you, really. Are you back to driving already?"
"Yep."
"Ok, then pick me up at 10." he sighed.
"Alright, thanks Bob! See you!"
"Bye, Gerard!"
Grinning like a kid, yet scared for what was to come, I ran to the kitchen to check on our dinner. There was some smoke coming from the oven, but upon opening it I was comforted to see that the meat looked just gratin.
"Oh well, my planning hasn't had any bad consequences so far. Maybe it's a good sign?" I spoke to Puppy who was dancing around me. "Mmm, I guess you don't care about my plans, do you? You only want what's on the platter! Yes? Then go call Frankie and we'll eat."
The dog stared at me with his tongue out and sprang out of there with determination. I was getting the dishes and cutlery on the table when I heard Frank mumble.
"P-puppy what you w-want? S-sleeping!"
Had the animal really understood my command? Then Puppy barked.
"Oh, d-dinner's ready? G-good! L-let's go, th-then." Frank said a little more clear. I was greatly surprised. Five seconds later, Puppy came back into the kitchen followed by his young owner and groggy boyfriend of mine.
"Frankie, how did you know Puppy was telling you that dinner was ready?"
"H-he said s-so." he answered as he sat like a zombie.
"Oh, come on. You smelled the meat, right?"
"N-no, was s-sleeping. P-puppy said." he insisted. So, the dog did comprehend my orders and Frankie understood canine language. Interesting, to say the least. That night we shared our dinner with our very intelligent dog, he deserved it.
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