"Here." I left him on his knees in front of the toilet and collected his hair back. He just sat on his heels and leaned on my legs.
"Frankie, are you okay?"
"N-no puke, w-want to sleep." he changed his mind.
"Oh, my love..." I smiled. Taking some toilet paper, I got it wet and cleaned our body fluids off our legs and stomachs. Finally, I breathed deeply and lifted Frankie, who fell asleep before I made it to the bed. After finding clean boxers for me and him I lied down, covering us with the bedclothes.
Ice-cream had been our dinner that day, so I guessed that what came after was dessert. We skipped any real meal and slept until the next late morning.
******
The first thing I saw when I entered the kitchen -my shoulder sore from all the effort- brought me back to one specific moment from the night before. Right in front of the counter was a chair with a big, thick book on its seat. That's how Frankie had reached the pills.
I couldn't help blaming myself for what could have happened, even if nothing had. It wasn't only about the peril of him falling down, but also because he shouldn't be allowed to dispose of the medication. You couldn't always trust him to know what he was doing. There was the possibility that he might overdose, take pills out of the schedule, or even throw them all down the drain. It was true that he acted pretty lucid sometimes, but the psychiatrist had been clear: Frankie would never be cured. There was no cure for schizophrenia and no guarantee that he would act the same way for two days in a row, or even hours.
Nonetheless and leaving the risks aside, I was amazed at his behavior. He had reacted as any moody teenager would if their boyfriend interrupted an intimate moment to bring up such a turning-off subject as medication, and he had consequently done what any grown up would.
I was still going over that same thing -plus our incredibly wonderful love session- while setting all for breakfast, when Frankie appeared. He was only wearing sweatpants and embracing himself.
"G-good morning." he said sweetly, hugging me. I kissed him and noticed that he was shivering.
"Good morning, baby...why are you shirtless and barefoot? It's cold..."
"D-dunno. I c-couldn't find?" he yawned.
"I think you're not completely awake yet, wait here." I chuckled, heading for the bedroom. I came back with a hoodie, socks and his sneakers; and let him take care of that while I finished making toasts.
"Frankie?"
"Y-yeah?"
"I'm not mad at all, but please don't ever try to reach the pills by yourself again, ok? I give them to you. I don't want you climbing chairs, and even less chairs and books." I told him. Whether Frank was able to incorporate all the rules or not, I had always thought that I'd be insulting his intelligence if I didn't even try to settle some.
"B-but I didn't f-fall." he looked at the floor. I got closer and took his very shaky hands in mine.
"I know love...but you could have. Your equilibrium isn't usually good and you sometimes get dizzy. I don't want you to get hurt, do you understand?"
"Y-yeah. I...I w-won't do it again, p-promise." he looked me in the eye.
"Ok. Now...will you have your pills with just juice like last night?" I tested him.
"N-NO!"
"But you did well!"
"Y-yes but 'c-cause...'cause I w-wanted to make it f-fast so you'd let me k-kiss you more." he grinned. "D-don't like it th-that way. Th-they're raspy."
"Let me get you your special candies then." I pecked his lips. "Or you prefer them on a toast?"
"T-toast!"
"Okay."
"W-with strawberry m-marmalade." he added, as if it was necessary.
"Right away!" I made a reverence and his giggles sent my thoughts back to the previous night.
It was hard to believe that this boy with the childish look and voice was the same one that had enjoyed that as much as I. Although not that hard if I thought of how what we did had kept a playful feeling, some sprinkles of innocence along with the emotional and sexual fulfillment. Yes. Rethinking it, it was the same Frankie. It wasn't like he had multiple personalities. They were only different facets of the same one, always guarding his essence.
"Do you need help with your cereal?" I offered, seeing him stare alternately at the bowl and the restless spoon.
"Y-yes, please? M-milk spills too e-easy. An-and I'm so v-very hungry."
"Then come and get aboard the Geeseat, also known as...my lap." I sillily joked, but he actually found it funny. Laughing, he sat on my legs and avidly ingested the spoonfuls of cereal and milk I took to his mouth.
"G-gee?" he asked when he was almost done. "Wh-what we did l-last night...was it...uh...m-making love?"
"Well," I rested my chin on his shoulder, thinking of a simple answer. I didn't consider 'making love' a synonym of 'having sex'. It had more to do with the connection, the feelings, with sharing and making the person you loved feel good. And there wasn't only one way to achieve that, but many. "what we did...was to give each other love, wasn't it?"
"Y-yes!"
"We demonstrated our love physically...with our bodies, and we enjoyed..."
"Y-yeah...a lot!"
"Then I say that we made love. Of course, there are other...things that could be done, what people call 'having sex', but it's not really necessary." I explained, hoping I wasn't confusing Frankie. He was silent for some seconds.
"L-like what John d-did to me?" he inquired, voice cracking.
"Yes but...uh...as we've told you, the way he did it was wrong. When done in the right way, with both people wanting to do, it shouldn't be that painful. You're supposed to feel good. It could hurt a little, it's normal, but the nice sensations should be a lot stronger than the possible pain and help you forget about it. Mostly...and I'll repeat this because it's important, you should be prepared for it and really want to do it. Otherwise the other person would be forcing you and that's plain wrong."
"K-kay." was his apathetic answer.
"Are you sure you understood everything I said? You can ask me if you have doubts. It's important that you have all this clear." I insisted.
"I un-understood. Th-there's still cereal th-there." he pointed into the bowl, having lost interest in the other subject. I decided to drop it.
"I know, I know! You won't even leave something at the bottom for Puppy to lick, uh?"
"P-puppy has his own f-food. G-gimme."
"Yes, sir!"
Frankie would never have much patience or a long enough attention span for difficult explanations, which worried me when thinking of the conversation I would have to endure soon to tell him about his father. We luckily had Goldberg; he was the expert and would know how to proceed. Of course, my problems wouldn't end there. There would be dozens of things to take care of, like telling my family and Ray.
One thing I could be sure of: my life since I met Frankie had been anything but boring.
CHAPTER 50
So take the photographs and still frames in your mind,
hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial,
for what it's worth it was worth all the while.
On Wednesday, I drove Frankie to his weekly session with Goldberg. I had called the psychiatrist that same morning while at the store to let him know the news in advance. Even he reprimanded me for taking a new risk after what had happened weeks ago. I had to beg him not to tell my mother, promising I'd do it myself in time.
After the hour alone with Frankie, Goldberg opened the door and called his secretary. "Alright Frankie, now you'll go with Melissa while I talk to Gerard, ok?"
"N-no, wanna s-stay." Frank replied clinging to me.
"Not even if she lets you use the computer?" the doctor added. Frank glanced at the girl enthusiastically.
"R-really?"
"Yep, come with me." she smiled, offering her hand.
"K-kay." he took it and sped towards the reception, the secretary trying to keep the pace in her high heels. Goldberg and I walked into his office laughing.
"I noticed him much better this week." he started. "Still more distant than usual, but definitely progressing. Or well, to be more exact, going back to how he was before having the relapse which, at this point, we can say it's the best he can be."
"I think it's enough." I nodded. Compared to how Frankie was when I found him, his current state was more than perfect.
"Coincidentally, Frank's own words were 'my head's good enough'. Nonetheless, we'll have to keep on working on the insecurities the attack left on him. He's slowly getting over it, but I don't want to disregard it."
"I agree, he's still a little scared when going out." I bit my lip before continuing. "Now...about Frank's father..."
"First of all, are you one hundred percent sure that man's Frankie's father?"
"Well, I guess we'd need a DNA test to be that certain; but after talking to him I'm pretty sure he is. Names, dates, facts, all coincide. What's more, he looks a lot like Frankie. I know he's Frank's dad." I answered convincingly.
"Ok. You're aware this is a delicate situation, aren't you?" he warned, eyes piercing to make a point.
"Yes, and that's why I told you about it, I want to do things right. But I think they have the right to meet, Anthony loves Frankie and he thought him dead all these years!"
"I know, and this could be also good for Frankie if everything went well. Sadly, even being careful, we have no way of knowing how he'll react, what effect this will have on him. Are you decided to try anyway?"
"Yes." I accented. I had already told Tony about his son, it was too late to take it back; and I had a good feeling.
"Then to start with, we need to know Frank's idea of a father, how he thinks fathers are or should be. He's never had a paternal figure, only maternal ones. So any concept he might have created, is surely not based on personal experience." he explained. Now that I thought about it, Frankie had never talked about dads. I couldn't even remember if he'd ever mentioned the word.
"And how do I do that?" I questioned. "Do I just ask him?"
"No, that'd be too abrupt and would only confuse him. You have to prepare the environment, bring on the subject in an indirect way. For example: Frankie doesn't know your father, right Gerard?"
"No, he lives across the country."
"Do you have a good relationship with him? Sorry if I sound indiscreet..."
"Oh no, it's fine. Yes, both Mikey and I have always gotten along with him. It's just that since he found that job and left it's been hard for us to get to see him. We're lucky if that happens twice a year." I saddened; not because of the doctor's question but the fact that I missed my dad. Sometimes I wouldn't realise how much until I was reminded of him.
"You could show Frank some family photographs. Make sure your father's the only person unknown to him among them, including more could disperse his interest. Tell him who is who and I'm positive he'll ask you about him. Let him know why he doesn't live with you or the rest of your family, and answer any question he might ask. Remark that your father loves you and your brother, and if he's not with you is only because he can't. That will help Frank understand that there are different kinds of fathers, and that doesn't mean they love their kids any less."
"Sounds good, I can manage that. Frank's really curious so he'll make lots of questions for sure." I told Goldberg. "And what then?"
"It'd be better if the boy could first meet Anthony without knowing he's his father. It'll be hard for that man, but you have to explain to him this is all for Frank's well being. Arrange a meeting at a public place and let them talk, but stay with them. See how much they have in common, pay attention to Frank's attitude; if he seems nervous, afraid or just comfortable. Depending on that we'll talk again and decide on the next steps." he proceeded.
"Ok! Thank you very much."
"You're welcome, and good luck!" he shook my hand and accompanied me to the front desk.
Frankie was sitting on Melissa's chair in front of the computer. She was leaning above him from behind, guiding his hand on the mouse.
"What are you playing, Frankie?"
"I...I'm k-killing planets." he said, his eyes very close to the screen.
"Oh, seems you've 'killed' a lot already, uh?" I looked at the points he had gathered.
"Uh-oh. C-crashed me."
"But you lasted long, you're good!" the girl congratulated him.
"'C-cause you helped m-me."
"Only a little, you were the one firing."
"Well, you finished your game so let's go." I indicated Frank to get up.
"N-no, wanna p-play again!"
"We gotta go, Frankie."
"N-no pleeeease. Y-you don't h-have a computer."
"I don't have the money to buy one..." I grew sombre. I was conscious of the many things boys his age loved and I couldn't give him because of putting his health first. He noticed that and released the mouse, getting off the chair to hug me.
"Oh...I kn-know. D-don't be s-sad? W-wanna go home and p-play something? M-maybe puzzles." he kissed my cheek. "Y-yeah that can b-be fun."
"I'd love to."
It was very touching to see Frankie so worried thinking that he had upset me with his comment. He hadn't meant it, that was clear. He was just too spontaneous.
As soon as we got home he told me to sit in front of the coffee table, filled me with kisses and went for the puzzles. We spent a couple of hours working on them while listening to The Cure. Frankie got the smaller ones assembled and then sat on my lap to watch me put a big landscape together. He didn't have the patience to even try those and would get frustrated just by seeing how many pieces of similar colors they had.
"Kn-know, Gee? I d-don't care that we d-don't have a c-computer. R-really! W-we have lots of g-games and toys and that's f-fun too! And..." he whispered in my ear, giggling. "...m-making love is f-fun, too."
"You're incredible, you know?" I laughed.
"N-nope, just s-special."
******
We had finished dinner and surprisingly, Frankie didn't seem as sleepy as usual.
"Bored?"
"Y-yeah, very m-much bored."
"Wanna see some old photos of me and my family?" I suggested, thinking it was a good opportunity. I had selected the pictures earlier while Frankie was watching TV.
"Y-yes!"
"I'll go get them. I don't have many here, we can see more next time we go visit my mom."
"Oh, k-kay, but w-wanna see what you h-have now." he averred.
I came back from the bedroom with a small pile of old photographs. Sitting next to Frankie I passed him the first one, where you could see little me on a blue couch with Mikey on my lap. We were both smiling widely, showing our tiny white teeth. My teeth had stayed tiny, even after I lost my baby ones.
"This is me and Mikey. I was 8 and he was 4." I informed.
"Awwww!" Frank chuckled. "Th-the two of you w-were kinda fatty but so c-cute! And...and y-you were p-prettier than him."
"You think?"
"Y-yes I do."
"This is Mikey at 12, in his school uniform." I gave him the second pic. My brother had the sourest face ever in it. His big glasses were propped on the tip of his nose and his sandy hair was pasted back with gel. He was the very image of misery, and yet my mom had insisted on taking a pic as she'd do every year on the first day of school. Frankie stared at it and covered his mouth.
"You can laugh..." I snickered myself.
"OH M-MY GOD!" he screamed and fell to the floor, laughing loudly. It was always hard for him to stop once he'd start laughing like that.
"I know, that pic's terrible!"
"Ahhh...m-more?" he asked, finally recovered after five minutes.
"Uh...me at 14. See? You say you're fat? This is fat!" I pointed at the chubby me with an almost bowl haircut.
"N-no it's not. S-still say you w-were pretty. D-don't like the h-hair, though. Ew"
"I agree with that!"
"Wh-who's with you?" he placed his finger on the taller boy beside me.
"I was waiting to see if you'd know...that's Ray!"
"Y-you're a l-liar!" he accused me.
"Haha I'm not lying! It's Ray Toro!"
"N-no it's not...wh-where's the 'f-fro?" he pointed out.
"He used to hate his hair when we were kids, so he'd keep it very very short."
"B-but his 'fro's awe-some!" Frankie said frowning.
"I know! But he didn't accept it until he was a lot older. Silly, right?"
"Y-yes!"
"Here you have my mom, I think this was before Mikey was born." I showed him a black and white photograph of her wearing a mini skirt and a blouse with huge sleeves. Her hair was darker and straightened, so she looked completely different.
"D-donna? D-doesn't look l-like her. N-no. D-don't tell her but...b-but she looked p-prettier here." he commented honestly. "B-but I like her n-now too the s-same! An-and she's very n-nice and l-love her as if she w-was my mom."
"She loves you as if you were her son, too." I kissed him, seeing his eyes watering a little.
I contemplated the next pic in my hands indecisively. It was of my father about ten years ago; with his always short and boring black hair, a halfway smile and that hard look that made him seem severe when he really wasn't that much.
"This is...Donald." I left the pic on Frank's lap, not even completing the information. I was afraid of screwing up.
"L-like the d-duck?" he grinned amused.
"Yep, like the duck."
"And...and who's h-he?"
"My dad. And Mikey's, of course." I responded. A surprised expression appeared on Frank's face.
"Y-you have a d-dad?" his question's tone denoted the same astonishment. I could feel that it wasn't just because I had never talked about my father before. He asked it like it was a big thing, something out of the ordinary, a privilege of a few. And I was, after all, privileged. I'd always had a whole family who loved me.
"Yes..."
"B-but...but wh-where's he? H-he doesn't live with y-your mom or...or anywhere 'c-cause I n-never saw him! N-no...never." he rubbed his temples, confusion and curiosity obstructing his thinking process. I abandoned the photographs over the table and moved Frankie to my lap, holding him.
"No, you never saw my dad because he lives far away. Remember when I found you, how far it was from here?"
"Y-yes. Th-the car r-ride was fun. S-sometimes. S-sometimes boring, y-yeah."
"Well, my dad lives near that place. I had been visiting him that day before finding you." I told him. He looked up, blinked several times and shook his head.
"N-no no that's w-wrong. D-dads have to l-live near their k-kids! He...he d-doesn't love you and M-Mikey? He n-never comes s-see you. L-like my mom, she n-never came see me wh-where I l-lived. Th-then she came and...and t-took me with her b-but she d-doesn't love me, r-right? Sh-she forgot me th-there in the s-street. M-moms don't f-forget their kids, and...and she d-didn't even k-kissed me. She d-doesn't love me 'cause I'm s-special. D-doesn't love me, does she G-gerard?" he sniffed, not exactly changing the subject, just linking it.
Answering with the truth was cruel, yet lying was pointless. "No, babe. I don't think she loves you, I'm sorry." I chose the truth, my fingers running through long locks of hair and my other arm tightly around Frankie; a vain attempt to protect him against the cruelty of the affirmation. "But you don't have to be sad, a lot of people love you now. And she's just an idiot who lost the opportunity of taking care of a great kid like you."
And for the first time Frankie cried for his mother; twisting my shirt in his fists and leaving tears and snot on my shoulder like a lost little child. I did nothing more than be there for him, it seemed like it was all he needed.
"S-stupid bad m-mom." he mumbled, drying his eyes with my sleeve.
"Asshole." I contributed, knowing it was his favorite insult. His smile was hardly perceptible.
"G-gee, your d-dad doesn't love M-mikey and you e-either?" he repeated the question, the one that had been forgotten after his own pain surfaced.
"He loves us very much. He doesn't live with my mother because they divorced."
"Wh-what's that?"
"It means...they decided that they didn't want to be a couple anymore, it happens sometimes. But my father loves us all the same."
"N-no but...why he n-never comes or you d-don't go see him m-more?"
"Because...he found a job that was a lot better than the one he had here, but he needed to move to a different city. It's too far away and he works a lot; and I work too and Mikey goes to college, so we can't visit as often as we'd like. He does call us, and sometimes he comes for Christmas, or for our birthdays." I explicated.
"B-but..."
"Baby...there are many reasons why parents sometimes don't live with their children or see them much. That doesn't always mean that they don't love them. Of course, there are some assholes who just don't want their kids, but others just can't be with them and they suffer a lot for it."
"Ahh...th-that sucks. I...I d-don't have any d-dad." he shook his head. I waited, for I didn't want to ask any direct question about it. I continued to stroke his hair, giving him time to put his thoughts in order. "I h-had a friend that sh-shared his dad with m-me. H-his brain was b-broken too. L-like mine."
"The dad's?" I said just to participate and make it easier for him.
"N-no, silly! The...the k-kid's brain. He s-speaked okay..."
" Spoke. "
"H-he spoke okay b-but walked weird and 'c-could not grab th-things well, d-dropped them. O-other kids said he was r-retarded, too. N-not true!" he gesticulated lividly.
"And he shared his dad with you?" I tried to bring him back to the main subject. He had started to yawn and I wanted to finish the talk before he fell asleep.
"Y-yes- His m-mom was sick at a h-hospital and his d-dad had to work m-more, dunno why. S-so they left T-tommy there 'till his m-mom was fine. And...and the d-dad's job let him c-come visit him ev-every day for a little wh-while. And T-tommy told him I w-was his friend and had no d-dad and mom, and h-his dad invited me to p-play with them. B-but then Tommy l-left." Frankie remembered.
"How old were you back then?"
"Uh...th-thirteen or...or m-maybe fourteen. Y-yeah. T-tommy was el-eleven. H-his daddy was c-cool! I...I like th-those dads, d-dads must be n-nice and play and s-say funny things and m-make you laugh. On...on TV I s-saw bad dads, t-too. S-some scream at th-their kids or...or hit th-them!" he said. I thought of Tony and how he would have loved to see his son grow up. Frankie wouldn't have had to wait until he was thirteen to know how having a father could feel. He wouldn't have needed to borrow one.
"Anyone can be good or bad, Frankie. Even dads and moms. Luckily, many of those kids with bad parents are able to find other people to love them."
"L-like I have y-you and Donna and ev-everybody now?" He smiled wider.
"Yes, and since you're such a good boy you might find even more people, who knows?" I threw in inconspicuously. Somehow I could imagine Anthony as the father Frankie would have loved to have. The one he could still have.
CHAPTER 50, part 2
Anthony had called to say he'd be free on Saturday, and we were going to meet at the same bar. The problem, once again, was what to do with Frankie while I was out talking to his father. No way I could tell Ray the truth yet, neither did I want to lie to him anymore. So I decided to leave him out of it this time and recur to my other friend, the one who already knew: Bob. He wasn't the best, most responsible choice as a 'babysitter', which was the reason why I had never left Frank with him so far. But he was a nice guy; and seeing him decline alcohol for me a week before had proved what a great friend he could be. He was sometimes immature, but I was sure that he'd take good care of Frankie.
I could hear the happiness in Bob's voice when I asked him to stay with the boy for some hours that evening. He didn't have anything to do, and said that even if he had, he'd choose spending time with Frank over most other activities. They always had a lot of fun together, just like any two friends would. I loved that, loved that Bob was becoming Frank's friend as much as he was mine; or even more.
I was prepared to leave when Bob arrived. He was shaved -like Frankie had randomly shouted at him to do through the phone- and carried a big bag. He got the bag off his shoulder and left it on the table with ease, which told me that it either contained something very light or Bob was stronger than I thought.
"What do you have there, Bob?" I interrogated him nearing the suspicious object. He instinctively grabbed it back and held it against his chest.
"Just...some boardgames, a pack of cookies and...oh! My jacket because I didn't feel like wearing it now."
" Only that?"
"Yeah, I know the bag's too big, but I couldn't find the smaller one." he argued. "Where's Frankie?"
"Right there!"
"B-bob, you sh-shaved!" Frank jump-hugged him, almost knocking him down.
"Of course, I don't want you saying that I look old. By the way, I have a doubt: don't you shave?"
"N-nope, those th-things are sharp s-so I can't t-touch them. N-no never, Grace s-said and G-gerard said. G-gee shaves me s-sometimes. B-but almost doesn't g-grow." he touched his chin.
"He only grows soft light hair, it takes long to show."
"Oh, more or less like Gerard! " Bob laughed. "Well...better for you, Frankie boy, facial hair would not suit you!"
"Ewww, n-not at all."
"Boys...I'm leaving. Behave, ok? Bob please, be an adult." I said, giving Frankie a good-bye kiss.
"Will do!" Bob promised.
******
Anthony and Greg smiled when they saw me enter the bar and instantly got up to hug me. I tried to return the smile, but deep inside I was worried and feeling bad for all the terrible things I had to tell them.
"I'm glad you didn't come alone, most of what I need you to know won't be easy to take in." I disclosed to Tony.
"I imagined when you said it'd be better to continue the talk some other day. However...as hard as it might be, I want you to tell me all you know."
"I will."
My recount began with the phone calls that had led me to Tony's mother and all I had gotten from her.
" My mother. She never liked Linda, from the beginning. She kept telling me she was bad news
and I guess she was right. But she also despised my baby, never accepted him as her grandson and that's the reason why I distanced myself from her. I couldn't have lived with her saying over and over again that Frank was better dead and I should stop crying over it. I'm not surprised that she gave you all that information, she'd do anything to help get Linda in trouble." he seemed embarrassed and he clearly resented his mother. "And you went to Linda's old house?"
"Yeah, I did, and talked to some neighbors."
I told him about the first neighbor's fear and how the second one had acceded to talk only because she was going to move soon. With unsure voice and renewed pain I related the episode that had been the cause of Frank's brain damage. Greg anticipated Tony's reaction and gave the man's hands a squeeze over the table, keeping them in his.
"WHAT? How could she...? But then...when she didn't let me see Frankie for weeks it was because he was hurt and she didn't want me to find out?" he apprehended.
"From what you've told me...yes." I answered.
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Why didn't I insist? Why did I swallow whatever excuse she told me, uh? I guess...I guess I was usually too high to think straight. DAMN ME! And she...I have no words for her anymore. I can't understand, I just can't. If she didn't want the kid why didn't she let the neighbor help, anyway? Why didn't she ask me to do something? Why?"
"She was permanently drunk or high too, don't forget that." Greg made him see.
"Maybe she did want the kid back then, and was afraid of him being taken away from her? Or she just didn't want to end up in rehab or a reformatory herself, I'm not sure." I exposed my theories.
"I can imagine why no one told me about it. In Linda's neighbors' eyes I was just as bad...I guess I was, in a way. But...how come no one denounced her?" Tony went on.
"For the same reason why no one told you that Frankie was alive later when she said he was dead, which has nothing to do with you being as bad as Linda."
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