******
"Oh God, this is too damn hard." Anthony breathed out at the door before leaving. "Frankie's so sweet...and for moments I feel like he knows who I am."
"I thought the same. And believe me, I want to tell him as much as you do..."
"I know Gerard, I understand. I told you I was gonna do things right no matter what. It's just that I can't help crying when I watch him, when I hear him talk. Two weeks ago he was just a sad memory...and ashes in a box. It's like a dream, I'm still terrified that I'll wake up all of a sudden. And when he k-kissed my cheek...I thought I'd explode with happiness. Words are really not enough to th-thank you, Gerard. I'll find another way, I promise." he wept.
"You don't have to do anything. Knowing that you care, that you love Frankie, seeing you so happy...is enough. And principally, meeting Frankie was the most important thing that's happened to me. We've helped each other, we've saved each other."
"I know." he gave me one of his warm embraces. "Take care of him, and call me when it's time."
I went back inside, finding Frankie sound asleep. There were drops of sweat on his forehead, yet he was curled up below the blanket trembling. I added an extra blanket and resolved to take a fast shower.
A couple of hours later Frank's fever had receded, thought he was still fretful and looking miserable. I was expecting to see the remote control being launched at any moment, he didn't seem to like anything that was on TV. Usually, when that happened, he would just entertain himself wondering through all the channels. Now he was also bitching, kicking the coffee table and changing his position every ten seconds.
"Frankie? You should have taken your pills earlier, but I didn't want to wake you up. Guess you can do it during dinner. What do you wanna eat?" I joined him on the couch only to have him move to the opposite side of it.
"N-nothing, not h-hungry." he worded what I hadn't heard in weeks.
"You can't take your pills without eating."
"Th-then I won't take m-my pills, I..." he got into a fit of cough. "M-make it s-stop..."
"Shh, come here." I gathered him in my arms and massaged his back. "Tony bought you something for the cough too, but you'll have to be a good boy and take all the meds."
"L-later."
"Ok, but now you need to have dinner. Want me to make some fries?"
"K-kay. F-fries are g-good. Th-they like them t-too."
"Who?"
"Th-the little p-people."
"I'll go make fries for all, then." I fixed a cushion under his head and went to the kitchen. It wasn't the best day to debate about his hallucinations.
I had only sliced the potatoes when I heard Frankie coughing more than ever. As I was running back to the living room there was an unpleasant, well known sound. Frankie was laying on his stomach, his head poking out of the couch and his hands griping the edge desperately. He had vomited all over the floor and was now crying.
I climbed beside him, trying not to breathe. I could clean pee with no problem and wouldn't wince much when Puppy shitted inside the house, but I couldn't stand vomit. It revolted me to a large extent.
"Come on Gerard, you can do this for Frankie." I encouraged myself. I lifted him and held him close. I could smell it, it was in his hair because he hadn't had time to get it off his face.
"D-don't like it, G-gee, please do s-something, p-please I f-feel so like c-crap." he hiccuped.
"Calm down, baby. Let's go to the bathroom, we'll get you clean and I'll take you to bed." I helped him up fighting the nausea. I wanted to escape that stench, but Frankie was sick and scared; I couldn't fail him. I knew it was a natural downside to taking care of someone, and I had to be thankful that it was the first time this had happened. It wouldn't be the last one, so I would have to get used to it.
"W-wait!" Frank cried out and fell on his knees, throwing up again. When it seemed that he didn't have more to get out, he stayed there heaving and sobbing. I brought him to his feet once again and felt bile rise up my throat as he wiped his chin with his sleeve.
In the bathroom I washed his face, hands and some locks of hair, and made him rinse his mouth. Then I assisted him to change into his pajamas, tied his hair and got him into bed.
"I'll leave this bucket here so you can easily reach it if you need to throw up again, ok?"
"K-kay, but d-don't leave." he begged.
"I'll be back, I need to clean up." I replied kissing his lips. "I love you."
Covering my nose and mouth, I circumvented the puddle of puke and cowered in the kitchen with my cellphone.
"Gerard...what's up, son? You know I'm working now. Is there any problem?"
"Yes, mom, there is! Frank is sick."
"I know sweetheart, you told me yesterday that he had a cold. He won't die." she chuckled. She fucking laughed at my concern.
"But mom! Today we went out for some hours and then he got a fever...and now he's been vomiting. Maybe something's worse than I thought?"
"Did you give him something for the fever?"
"Yes, and it passed."
"Then he's fine, sometimes colds come with fever. " she said calmly.
"But he threw up like... a lot!" I told her, disgusted by just the thought of it.
"It's freezing outside, the change of temperature could have messed up his stomach. Give him some antivomitive when possible and it'll most probably stop."
"What if it doesn't?"
"Gerard...it'll stop. And you stop panicking, it's not deadly!" she raised her voice. "I gotta go back to work, son. Really, don't worry that much."
"No, uh...mom? I think I need help."
"You can do this, it's no big deal."
"No I can't, I hate puke and it's like...everywhere waiting to be cleaned and..."
"Gerard...shut up and clean it. No one likes puke, it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. If we mothers can, why wouldn't you? Bye, sonny!"
"Mom...mom? And she fucking hung up on me! Fuck, fuck fuck..." I cursed, grudgingly going for some cleaning supplies.
As careful as I was, my fingers touched the vomit several times. Even when they wouldn't, I had enough with having to pick up the cloth drenched in it. It was one of the most loathsome experiences ever and it ended with me racing to the bathroom. I managed to avoid puking by doing some improvised breathing exercises and keeping my mind blank, but I was glad I had finished my task.
My other preoccupation was that I wouldn't be able to give Frankie his pills. One intake less might not make a big difference, specially because he was pretty tired anyway. If he didn't get better by the morning, though, then I'd have to call Goldberg and ask him what to do.
My hopes of not having to see and smell any more vomit were crushed when I entered the room. Frank was at it again, although in the bucket this time. When he was done I threw the contents in the toilet, brought the bucket back and collapsed on the bed. No way I would have dinner, my stomach was revolted.
"I...I'm c-cold and c-can't breathe through m-my nose and...and my t-tummy hurts. D-don't let me d-die." Frankie cried, cuddling with me. I could smell his breath, but endured it.
"You won't die, you'll be better tomorrow. Try to sleep, I'll be here with you."
"K-kay but I d-don't think I'll be b-better. F-feel too b-bad."
"D-don't speak, close your eyes and relax."
"K-kiss me?" he asked. And I didn't falter, even if he smelt like puke I didn't. I loved the boy, indeed.
Two more times he threw up, followed by crying and shaking. After the last one, I waited a prudential time and made him drink a small glass of juice that I had mixed with antivomitive. It worked at last, and he slept the rest of the night. A disquiet sleep, but with no more smelly interruptions.
In the morning I left Frankie sleeping and went to fetch myself a tea. It was all I could have and retain after the previous night. I was sitting there, surrounding the cup with my hands to warm them, when Frankie entered wrapped in the quilt. He was white as snow except for the dark marks under his swollen eyes, and his hair resembled a bird nest. Still, he looked beautiful.
"G-gee..." he grumbled and coughed.
"Oh please, not again." I thought before answering. "Morning, pretty. What's wrong?"
"Y-you meanie didn't m-make me b-breakfast and...and I'm h-hungry!"
CHAPTER 53
Every rose has its thorn,
just like every night has its dawn.
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song.
Every rose has its thorn.
Frank stood there pouting and I couldn't believe what I had heard. My own stomach was still scrambled from the night before!
"Frankie, you've spent the night throwing up." I tried to kiss him but he pushed me away.
"Y-yes but now my t-tummy's okay and I'm h-hungry." he scratched his head, tangling his hair even more.
"Are you sure?"
"Y-yes I'm t-telling you!"
"Ok, ok! Sit down and I'll make you a tea." I guided him to the kitchen table and touched his face. He plumped into the chair and glared up at me."You're kinda warm again, you'll have to take that syrup after breakfast."
"N-NO, I WON'T T-TAKE ANYTHING!" he smacked my hand. "AND...AND I D-DON'T WANT A F-FUCKING TEA, G-GIMME MY C-CEREAL!
"Baby, please...calm down. You've been sick, I think a tea would be better at least for today." I told him, upset with his state. Having been twenty four hours without his meds had only added to Frankie's cold-caused bad mood
"I D-DON'T WANT T-TEA, I T-TOLD YOU! F-FUCK! Y-YOU DON'T UN-UNDERSTAND ME! I...I'M H-HUNGRY AND YOU'RE M-MEAN!" he got up, grabbed the chair and cast it against the cupboard's door. I saw a leg make a dent on the wood before the seat landed mere inches away from me. "F-FUCK YOU!"
"FRANKIE!"
"F-FUCK YOU!" he ran out of the room coughing, tripped over the blanket and fell. He didn't look in pain, only enraged and indignant.
"Babe, are you ok?" I asked, attempting to pick him up.
"D-DON'T TOUCH M-ME! D-DON'T!" he shouted almost losing his voice, then hit the floor with his fists and yelled at it. He wasn't pale anymore but ruddy. "I...I'M N-NOT PLAYING, ID-IDIOTS! Y-YOU MADE ME F-FALL! EV-EVERYBODY'S MEAN! I H-HATE YOU ALL!"
"Frankie please, don't say that. You know I love you. Don't get mad at me, I can't stand it..." I leaned on the corridor's wall and slid to the floor, crying. I wished to reach out for Frankie, but he scared me when he'd act that way, I knew he could be dangerous. I understood that he didn't mean to treat me like that, and I would never love him any less even if he hurt me badly. However, I didn't want him to have more to regret once he came down from this episode.
"I W-WANT CEREALS! N-NOT TEA, H-HATE TEA! SH-SHUT UP. EV-EVERYBODY SHUT UP 'C-CAUSE MY HEAD H-HURTS!" he lied down completely and disappeared under the blanket. I realised that he was also crying because of the way his back rose and fell. After some seconds his sobs were audible and he got into a serious coughing fit. I crawled and touched him through the fabric. He sat up startled, his face twisted and stained.
"N-no...no. Y-YOU'RE MEAN!"
"I l-love you." I whispered. He cried, coughed, hiccuped and cried even more because he was choking.
"H-hungry...hungry and y-you don't w-wanna gimme f-food. M-mean...m-mean..." he mumbled angrily, unable to scream anymore. Again I tried to touch him, and he kicked and scratched my wrists.
"I love you, Frankie. Very, very much. Stop, baby, you're hurting me." I pleaded, weeping. As soon as I had a chance I trapped him in my arms, employing all my strength.
"L-lemme go! N-now...n-no!" he wiggled violently and we rolled on the floor, but I didn't let him go. He thrust his nails into any part of me he could reach and bit my arm, yet I held on to him. His heart was beating madly and it terrified me.
He gradually stopped combating me, more out of exhaustion than anything else; he seemed to be about to spit out his lungs. I kissed his head and spoke into his ear. "I love you, I want the best for you. You know that, right? Please tell me that you know, Frankie baby."
He stayed still, coughing, whimpering and panting. "I kn-know. I...I l-love you t-too. L-lot." his voice was extremely faint.
"Sit down and wait here." I left him well wrapped up in the blanket and went back to the kitchen. I returned with a tissue and a glass of water.
"Blow as much as you can." I held the napkin to his nose. "That's it. Now drink slowly, I'll hold the glass for you."
"F-fuck..." he stopped to cough. "...b-back hurts."
"I know, I'll give you something for the cough later." I removed the sweaty hair off his face. Frank squinted, trying to focus his eyes since he didn't have his glasses on. He touched my face, worried. Only then I felt the sting and assumed he had scraped me with his nails.
"I...I d-did this, r-right? I h-hurt you. B-bad Frankie. I...I'm a v-very bad b-boy. F-fucked up. W-wrong." he sniffed. "I d-didn't want to. I l-love you, G-gee. D-don't be m-mad I...w-won't do it ag-again..."
"Yes, you did, but I'm not mad. I know you didn't mean it, I know, don't worry. It's ok now, you're fine." I put my hand on his, which was still tracing the wound. "And this, is nothing."
"B-but...no..." he faltered. Suddenly, Puppy came skipping and jumped on Frank's lap, licking his face.
"See? Puppy loves you, too." I caressed the small dog.
"An-and I love P-puppy." a stream of tears ran down his face. "G-gerard?
"Yes, babe?"
"Y-you'll still be my b-boyfriend?"
"Of course, I'll always want to be your boyfriend. Now let's go for your cereal." I carried him back to the chair.
"C-can I?" he rubbed his nose and looked more like a puppy than his pet.
"What?"
"H-have cereal? Y-you said..."
"Yes, but only if you take your pills and then all the other meds." I settled the terms.
"K-kay. I w-was bad so now w-wanna be good. P-promise."
"Stop saying that, you're weren't bad, you're never bad. It's not your fault. Toasts?"
"Y-yes. N-not for the l-little assholes. Th-they made me f-fall. Y-yes."
"None for them, understood!"
Frankie ate the toast with the pills first, smiling at me timidly. He felt guilty, and he probably knew deep inside that as much as he had promised not to do it again, he could not help it.
He then began to spoon up his cereal messily. I couldn't tell if it was his normal shaking or it was because of the fever, but I considered it prudent to not offer assistance save he asked for it.
"Wh-where are my g-glasses, Gee?" he asked softly.
"I'll go for them." I pecked his cheek and it was burning, though he didn't appear to feel as shitty as the day before. The fighting and screaming had surely contributed in raising his body temperature besides the fever.
"F-found them? Th-they weren't in the r-room."
"Here, they were in the living room."
"Ahh." he put them on and went silent. I had the need to break that silence and change the subject at the same time.
"Frankie, what did you think of my friend Tony?" I hadn't had a chance to question him about it yet.
"I l-like him, he's v-very cool and n-nice. G-greg is n-nice, too. B-but Tony speaks m-more so it's b-better, and h-he likes ch-chocolate like me and has th-the same name as me and...and his l-little son's called F-frankie!" he seemed eager to talk about it and it'd help him forget the guilt.
"Yes, you have many things in common, he also loves music."
"Y-yes he does! On-only...he likes it l-loud. I d-don't, n-no loud noise. And....he d-defended me when th-those kids were l-laughing! S-saw that? H-he said the s-same thing you s-say. Th-that it's good to be s-special. H-he likes me the s-same." he grinned.
"Why wouldn't he? You're awesome, he also said that!"
"And h-he likes m-my hair and w-wants to have l-long hair t-too!"
"Do you think it'd look good on him?" I asked a random question just to maintain the dialog.
"Uh...y-you know? H-his hair looks like m-mine when it was sh-shorter! S-so maybe yes 'cause...'c-cause mine looks g-good. I l-like it like th-this, yes."
"Well, I like it too." I laughed looking at the disaster it was at the moment. "Only...I little more...brushed."
"L-later." he stated. Everything was 'later' for him.
"You can keep it like that for today, but tomorrow you won't escape the brush."
"K-kay..." he left the spoon and was pensive. "I th-thought I knew T-tony."
"Do you?" I sat closer to Frankie, showing my interest. I'd been waiting for him to say something like that. The way he looked at Anthony the whole time had been really intriguing to me.
"I d-don't think I d-do. D-dunno...no. D-didn't know h-him, guess. B-but...felt l-like I did. W-weird." he doubted. "An-and when he t-touched me was w-weirder...it like...t-tickled. Y-yes."
"Tickled? And did you like that feeling?" I tried to hide my emotions after hearing him say that.
"Y-yes...it was f-funny...felt g-good here." he touched his chest. "S-so weird...you th-think he felt th-the same?"
"Not sure, maybe he did. You could ask him next time, would you like to see him again?"
"Yes! H-his little F-frankie's so l-lucky." he chewed on his thumb while talking. It was fitting that he had such an infantile gesture.
"Why do you say that?"
"'C-cause...he h-has a dad, a n-nice dad. I h-had Grace that was l-like a mom, and now h-have Donna. S-so Mikey's like a b-brother, g-grumpy one! Y-you're not like a b-brother 'cause...you're my b-boyfriend. And I have un-uncle Ray, and B-bob's my f-friend. B-but...no dad." his face saddened with his last words. "Y-your dad never c-comes so he c-can't meet me and b-be my dad."
"You're so sweet, baby." I abandoned my chair to hug and kiss him. I didn't know what I could tell him without confessing the truth. I wanted Frankie to know that he did have a dad, but I needed to wait until he felt better and do it correctly.
"I...I'd l-like to be like l-little Frankie." he said, and I had to bite my tongue.
During the rest of the day Frank was extremely quiet and took all the medicines without any quarrel. I noticed he avoided looking at my face much; and whenever he did he'd lower his eyes when seeing the mark left by his nails. He had also scratched my legs and back and adorned my forearm with a nice mold of his teeth, but I didn't let him know.
He refused to go back to bed as I had suggested, but complied to stay in his pajamas and lie down on the couch. I resolved to join him and spend some hours there watching movies. Even though he didn't last much awake, I still didn't leave. I wanted Frank to be certain that nothing had changed between us. I had the urge to let him see that I wasn't angry because of what he'd done. We were going to be through similar circumstances dozens of times in our life together, and he needed to understand that I would never blame him. I'd be with him through thick and thin.
When he woke up later and I asked him if he wanted to have lunch, he said that I owed him the fries. I could only pray this wouldn't end up bad again.
"Frankie, you can't eat fries. Choose another meal?"
"N-no! I w-want fries, wh-why so mean?" he labeled me for the second time that day. I sighed and thought of a way to persuade him without causing another conflict.
"I'm not refusing to make you fries just because I'm mean, baby."
"Th-then why?"
"Tell me something, do you like throwing up?" I tried him. He eyeballed me shocked.
"Of c-course not, d-duh!" he spat. "It...it's h-horrible!"
"Well, if you eat fries now, you're probably gonna be throwing up again in a couple of hours. Your stomach needs time to get better, and some kinds of food don't help."
"B-but I like th-them!"
"I know, and I promise to make you a mountain of fries once you're okay." I gave him the idea of size with my hands. "But for now...would you have mashed potatoes?"
"O-okay, but a m-mountain of mashed p-potatoes." he gestured exaggeratedly.
"You're that hungry?"
"Y-yes, very h-hungry." he smiled, rubbing his belly. I had never known anyone with such a good appetite while being sick.
******
By late afternoon, I had to be honest to Frank and tell him that he stank; he had sweat a lot because of the fever and his nervous attack earlier. Taking into consideration that he was a little dizzy and felt rather lazy and groggy, I proposed to share a hot bath instead of the usual shower. What's more, I thought that the steam would help ease Frank's cold, which it did. Apart from the fact that he loved the bath and even played with a rubber duck, he was also breathing much better afterwards and it alleviated his catarrh.
That night was considerably more relaxed. So was the following day, which I took off work and consisted of us lazing around, kissing, touching; close to what any other couple in love would do on a boring rainy day at home. Only close, since we were still not even thinking about taking the next last steps into our relationship.
Once and again I'd imagine all the possible reactions Anthony could have when getting to know what there was between Frankie and me. I was hoping for him to have guessed it, so I wouldn't have to actually say it. If he had, indeed, presumed it, he didn't seem to mind. It was too good to be true.
Ray's POV
I was pleased to hear that Frankie was feeling a lot better that day. From what Gerard told me, half of the weekend had been hell. He seemed evasive and hadn't given me any details, though. His answers were brief and constrained, like when I asked him what had happened to his face. He had a scratch on his right cheek and hurried to say that Puppy had done that to him while playing. I didn't insist, but I knew he was lying; I knew how Gerard looked when he'd hide something that Frank had done.
My friend wouldn't understand that he didn't need to hide anything from me. I admitted that, in the beginning, I had my reservations about him 'keeping' Frankie. Since that night when the boy became so aggressive, I had been afraid that Gerard wouldn't be able to cope with him. But months later and after everything they had gone through, after all the danger Gerard had gotten himself into for Frank, I had no more doubts. Gerard could handle the situation, and even more important he wanted to.
Moreover, I had come to know Frankie very well. He was incredible, a kid who made you wish to spend time with him. Even if he had some difficult days once in a while and could take you to the limit when he was stubborn, his bright side was so endearing that it gave you the strength to put up with his downside. Frankie was worth all of our patience.
Rewarding. It was a word I had heard a lot coming from people who worked with or took care of 'special' kids. Now I truly knew what it meant. When Frankie would call me 'uncle', when he'd give me drawings to take home, when we'd listen to music and play air-guitar together. When we'd run around the house as horse and horseman or just let the day go by watching silly movies or reading. When we'd play Mario, try to imitate hand crafts saw on TV or clean the house. When we'd have our junk-food days, stealing fries from each other. When he'd allow me to play the teacher, making me realise that helping someone learn was maybe the most important thing I had done in my life. All that was rewarding.
Sure, not every day was as good. Some days Frankie would barely pay attention to me, or he'd even insult me and tell me to leave him alone. But I knew that wasn't him, I knew he didn't mean it.
That's why I understood Gerard. I knew that no matter how far Frank went, he would never give up on him. He loved him, they were boyfriends; and as much as that still scared me I would not question it anymore. It had worked so far, they had made it.
I had told my friend that he could be sincere, but there were things he still kept from me. I could read him like a book, yet most of times I'd wait for him to come to me when he was ready. Why hadn't he told me that it was Frank who hurt him? Was he afraid that I would advise him to give him away, hospitalize him? I'd never do that, not after months, not when Frankie was such a huge part of my life too.
******
It was one of the good days. Calm and idle, propitious for Frankie to practice some reading or for us to just talk about random stuff. I loved to hear him relate his weekend, because he could turn any tiny detail -unimportant to anyone else- into a great event.
"W-we didn't do much on S-sunday 'cause...'cause I was s-sick. I thro-wed up a lot the n-night before. Y-yeah. On...on the floor t-two times! S-smelled eww. Th-then in a b-bucket, m-many more t-times. S-so bad, f-felt shitty. B-but then G-gee gave me m-meds and it s-stopped."
"Oh...good that it passed." I commented, vomit not being my favorite subject. I didn't think it was anyone's, really. "So this weekend wasn't great, uh? Was Monday any better?"
"Y-yes!" he nearly cheered and his eyes shined. I knew what was coming. "G-gee stayed and we c-cuddled a lot, and k-kissed and p-played something and th-then kissed again and t-touched and..."
"Enough, boy! I imagine...spare me the rest." I stopped him. He'd often try to tell me everything he did with Gerard. In his mind, if something was good there was no reason to not talk about it. He was right somehow, but I didn't feel comfortable finding out about my best friend and my heart-nephew's love life. On the other hand, even if I always cut him off, seeing Frank's face let me know things were alright.
Frankie giggled, amused by my flushed cheeks. "Oh, b-but on F-friday, before the p-puking we w-went out!" he recalled. "Th-that was great. G-gee took me to m-meet his f-friend and he's like s-super nice!"
"Which friend?" I asked. As far as I was aware of, he knew all of Gerard's friends. At least the closest ones that he trusted enough to introduce Frankie to.
"T-tony. W-well, he's n-named Anthony but ev-everybody calls him T-tony." he said. I'd never ever heard Gerard mention a friend called that, never. However, it kinda rang a bell. Anthony was Frank's middle name, but that wasn't why, it was the nickname what sounded familiar.
"Oh...I don't know that friend of Gee, weird!"
"Y-you don't? I th-thought I knew him f-first, but I d-didn't, nope. H-he's awesome, th-though he's a lot m-more older than G-gee and me. Y-yes, he's 36. An-and he has a b-band. T-tony plays gu-guitar and his b-boyfriend Greg plays d-drums and he's g-gonna teach me!"
"How come he never told me about this friend?" I thought aloud, gathering the information Frank had given me to try and figure out who that Anthony could be. A 36-year old Tony who plays in a band?
Then an idea hit me. I remembered where I had heard that nickname related to Gerard, or better said to Frankie. That was how Linda's ex neighbor had referred to Frankie's supposed father. Anthony, yes, who according to his mother played in a band. But it couldn't be the same person. Gerard wouldn't get in touch with a drug dealer who had been in jail, would he? He would even less allow Frankie to meet him. No, no way. Besides, this Tony that Frank had met was gay, he had a boyfriend. It was probably just a big, creepy coincidence.
"D-dunno. M-maybe he didn't w-want you to be j-jealous? B-but don't w-worry, Ray, y-you're Gee's best-est friend." he hugged me sweetly and coughed, surely spreading his viruses.
"I'm not jealous, just curious!!" I laughed and dug deeper. "What else did that man tell you about himself?"
"Uh...th-that he has a s-son called F-frank! B-but he's a little F-frankie. T-two years old, y-yes. H-he said he m-missed him, d-dunno why. H-he didn't s-say." Frank got slightly distracted as he petted his dog that had climbed onto the couch with us. He acted so carefree while my head was working at full speed. That was too much for a coincidence. Tony missed his son Frank? Frankie had said that the kid was 2 years old, but what if...? No. Once again, Gerard would not risk Frankie like that.
Дата добавления: 2015-11-04; просмотров: 24 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |