******
"Let's go, sweety. I'll help you." I made Frank get off the floor and assisted him to the couch. Any other time I would have carried him, but I was drained out of energy. I noticed he was limping a little and thought it was just tiredness, but as I sat him I spotted blood soaking through the denim on one of his legs. I hadn't seen it until then.
"Frankie, what happened to your leg?"
"Uh...d-dunno. A...a c-car maybe? Y-yes, a c-car. N-NO YOU DIDN'T T-TELL ME! S-STOP! S-stop please I'm...I'm t-tired." he raved.
"It's ok, let me see." I lifted the fabric to inspect the wound, trying not to think back to how he could have gotten himself killed in the street.
"N-no..."
"It's not deep, see? Just a scratch, I'll go for the peroxide." I left a quick kiss on his lips.
When I had the injury cleaned and was cautiously sliding the clothing back down, Frank began to cry again. Together with the crying he was swaying his body back and forth, making his head collide with the backrest. I surrounded him tightly with my arms.
"What's wrong, Frankie? Does your leg hurt?"
"N-no, not m-much." he wailed.
"Then why are you crying? Please, tell me so I can help you." I put my chin on top of his head and rubbed his back in circles, trying to soothe him.
"D-dunno...I...I c-can't stop. T-tired, I'm s-so tired, Gee. And h-he won't sh-shut up. H-he's murmuring and l-laughing and N-NO!"
"Frankie there's no one in your head, just close your eyes and try to sleep." I moved his face up and kissed him. His arms hung from my neck as he kissed back, and I could taste his distress and confusion. He wanted to keep up, but the sobs emerging from the back of his throat wouldn't allow him.
I lied down with him; all our limbs interlaced, foreheads and noses touching. Minutes went by and he wouldn't stop crying. We left another hour behind and no caress or kiss had been enough. Frankie was still trembling, his breathing was still erratic, his heartbeats too rushed and his mind restless. I didn't know what to do anymore and I was afraid his state had become dangerous for his health. Goldberg had told me several times that I could call his cellphone in case of an emergency, so that's what I decided to do.
"D-don't...don't..." Frank pleaded.
"I'm here Frankie, I'm just gonna make a call." I ran my hand through his hair as he bit his knuckles and whimpered.
"Hi, doctor Goldberg, it's Gerard Way."
"Gerard, what's wrong? You sound worried..." I was comforted when I heard him answer right away.
"I am, honestly. We told Frank everything today and it didn't go very well..."
"He rejected Anthony?"
"Not exactly, it's long to explain. Later at home we managed to fix things up a little, but he went through too many emotions." I got up telling Frank not to move and went to the kitchen so he wouldn't hear me. "He's screamed and cried a lot, now it's been about two hours since Anthony left and I can't calm him down."
"How serious is it?" he inquired.
"He's not doing well at all. I'm really afraid he might have a nervous fit or worse, a heart attack!" I strained to be strong and not panic.
"Let me think...yes, I still have an hour. I'll go there now and bring something to help him relax and sleep. He'll be fine, stay calm yourself or it'll be worse." Goldberg said.
"O-okay, thanks!"
Frankie had tried to come after me, and was now curled up and sobbing on the floor by the living room's door. I ignored my own fatigue and brought him back to the couch.
"P-please Gee, make it s-stop...make it s-stop. F-feel no good, no g-good." he whined.
"I know, love. Your doctor will come now and give you something to sleep."
"Y-yes...sleep."
I waited for the psychiatrist holding Frank in my lap like a baby. The few words he'd say in between sobs and hiccups made no sense, and I had to keep his hands in mine so he wouldn't hurt himself.
"It's open!" I let Mark Goldberg know when he knocked on the door. He stepped in and knelt in front of us, watching Frankie with a worried expression.
"We better start by giving our little friend something to help him sleep, the poor thing's exhausted." he said. "Where's the kitchen? I wanna try making him drink the sedative, so I won't stress him more."
"The corridor to the left. There's a clean glass over the counter and a jar of juice in the fridge." I indicated him.
The doctor returned stirring the orange liquid with a spoon which he left on the coffee table.
"Frankie?" he called, making him turn around.
"W-wanna sleep...want h-him to sh-shut up. P-please..."
"You'll feel better soon, but you have to collaborate with us and drink this." I grabbed the plastic glass from Goldberg's hand and drew it near Frank's lips. The man caught Frank's free hand before he could lift it to hit the cup.
"N-no...don't w-wanna drink n-now..."
"I know, but it's not much. You won't even notice anything weird in it, just orange juice." Mark encouraged my messed up boyfriend.
"Th-this will h-help?" Frank had a lucid moment and stared at us hopeful.
"Yes, it will." I promised him. Without any more words he started to drink the juice, though it was a hard task since he'd choke with every sip.
"It'll kick in pretty fast." Goldberg told me once Frank finished, coughing and gasping.
Some incredibly grueling fifteen or twenty minutes later, Frank was finally relaxed and sleeping. Goldberg took the chance and gave him an injected dose of his medication too, since he wouldn't be waking up any time soon.
Now it was my turn to cry, letting out all the despair I had been bottling up. Mark was talking to me but I couldn't listen; I didn't until I was done mourning that day's stressful, heartbreaking events. Only then I was able to tell the doctor about it all.
"Do you think Frank we'll be fine once he wakes up? What if he gets like this again and..."
"He won't," he cut me off. "he got into this state because it was all too much for him. As you said, this involved too many emotions at the same time. He couldn't process anything anymore, his brain was flooded; so it needed to be completely shut off. He'll be fine in the morning, just don't press the subject, go by Frank's own times. He'll talk about it when he's ready and I'm sure he'll want to see his father again. From what you've told me they got along very well and Frank likes him. What happened today wasn't Anthony's fault, nor yours. You did things right, only that Frankie had never mentioned that detail about the last time he saw his mother. You couldn't know. It's a trauma he'll have to overcome, he'll learn to trust his father."
"I hope so, for both of them." I uttered.
"We'll help them." Mark patted my back. "Now I gotta go, but don't hesitate to call if needed."
"Thanks. How much...?" I asked while I escorted him to the door, rummaging through my nearly empty wallet. He just shook his head and smiled before trotting to his car.
******
Frankie remained deep in sleep for the rest of that day and night, he barely switched positions. When I was going to take him to the bed, I saw he had peed his pants. Nothing weird having in mind that he hadn't gone to the bathroom since we left the house that afternoon. Of course, after all the tension, the sedative and the medication had helped his body loosen. Luckily he'd never know this happened, since my moving him to get rid of the wet clothes and change him into his pajamas went unnoticed.
******
It was around 12 pm the next day when I woke Frankie up. "Good day, baby!" I planted a kiss on his dry lips.
"H-hi..." he sat up confused, yawning and rubbing his swollen eyes. His knuckles were marked where he'd bitten them, and the skin of his face irritated from having been bathed in tears for hours. He scanned the room and then reached over the chair for his glasses. "G-gee...why I'm h-here?" he rasped.
"I brought you, you had fallen asleep on the couch, remember?"
"Y-yeah..." he meditated. "M-mark was th-here, too."
"Yes, you weren't feeling well, so he gave you something to sleep. You never woke up until now." I informed him. He didn't reply right away, and I assumed he'd just recalled the whole day.
"O-oh...b-but then...I d-didn't have d-dinner! Th-that's why my b-belly's growling. Y-yeah. I'm h-hungry, Gee." he surprised me once again. Anyway, it was maybe better not to talk about delicate subjects so soon.
"I imagined you'd be, that's why I brought this with me." I produced the bedtray I had been hiding. "A good breakfast for the best and prettiest boyfriend of them all."
"Wow, th-thanks! L-like in m-movies! B-boyfriends do this in m-movies." he grinned, then something made him doubt. "B-but...I c-can have all these t-toasts?"
"Well...I guess you'll leave some for me! But yes, since you haven't eaten since yesterday's afternoon you can have more now." I laughed.
"Yay! Th-this toast has th-the pills?" he pointed at the one on top. I nodded and he took it shakily, making it disappear in only two bites. Suddenly, he fell back on the pillow. "S-so hungry but s-so tired. And...and little d-dizzy."
"Let's see. Sit up again, just for some seconds." I sat behind Frankie, opening my legs to give him access and resting my back against the headboard. He leaned his on my chest and sighed. "Better now?"
"Y-yes, you're c-comfy and w-warm."
"You make me sound like a sofa." I tickled his neck with my nose, causing him to giggle. I was needing to hear that beautiful sound to counteract so much crying.
"S-sofaman!" he looked up with a pouty mouth, waiting for a kiss that he got with no delay.
"And you're my pillowboy, you're squeezy. But we better have breakfast, 'cause it's rather lunch time already."
I managed to quickly drink my coffee while Frank ate several toasts one after another. Then I helped him with the cereal or it'd end up all over the quilt. Not once did he mention anything about his father. Though smiling, he was still kind of drained and reserved; so I did as Goldberg had said and didn't touch the matter. I knew he would be thinking about Anthony even if he didn't name him and would eventually make a decision. In spite of all, I was feeling optimistic again.
After a bath and a very late lunch -during which Frank still acted like he was starving- we opted for listening to music and singing quietly. He wasn't in the mood for any more energy-demanding activity.
The bell rang and Frankie grunted when I removed his head from my thigh to get up.
"You won't complain anymore when you see who it is!" I forewarned after opening the door to a grinning Bob. I'd called him earlier to fill him in as he had requested, but I didn't know he would be coming. "Uh, I don't think he'll move a finger to greet you today, Bob"
"No problem, the kid must feel really weary." he conjectured. "Did you call Ray? Say you did, 'cause the hairyman is gonna kill you, I tell you."
"Yeah, yeah I did. I gave him a prompt resume of everything, because his dad was hurrying him. That's the only reason why I've not heard his 'I told you so' yet."
"What happened wasn't your fault, Gerard." Bob rolled his eyes.
"The psychiatrist told me the same, but I can't help thinking that I was the one who got Frankie into this."
"Shut up, you wanted the best for him and it'll be good. He just needs time. Now stop talking, I wanna see my friend." he pushed past me and got in. Frank was exactly as I had left him, but he straightened up on the backrest and beamed when he saw Bob.
"H-hi, Superbob!"
"Hello there, punk dwarf!" they high-fived. When Bob took a seat next to him, Frank threw himself into the blond's strong arms making the embrace last.
"What's wrong, Frankie?" Even through the glasses, Bob perceived the teary shine in Frank's eyes, who was perhaps thinking about how Bob was another important person in his life that he'd never want to lose. The youngest shook his head.
"N-nothing. I...I'm f-fine, promise." he smiled. "B-brought me s-something?"
"What's Bob supposed to bring you, baby?"
"D-dunno...some-thing?" he shrugged.
"Well I do have something...not sure if your boyfriend will approve."
"Bob..."
"What! You don't know what it is yet, Gee-man!"
"I know you. It's food, right?" I hit, and noticed Bob trying to contain the laughter.
"It...it is! Sh-show me!" Frank snatched Bob's pack and scouted it in search of goodies. "D-donuts, love th-them!"
"Oh great, very...'dietetic'! Uh, Bob?" I twitted.
"I think he needs some sugar today." Bob nonchalantly said, looking at the box instead of me. Frank, on the other hand, was doing the best impersonation of Shrek's Puss in Boots.
"Ok, ok, but then sweets are cut short for the whole week." I stated mom-like.
"K-kay...you're no f-fun, G-gerard."
"Frankie...we talked about that, you know I just care about you."
"I kn-know, but...b-but still n-no fun."
We were devouring the donuts when the phone went off. "Yes?"
"Your beloved brother here. Guess you're coming this Wednesday, right?" he threw. I had to wring my brain to understand what he was talking about: his birthday. "That silence...you had forgotten, like always!"
"Mikey, you know I have lots of things in mind; don't take it personally, drama queen. And you could have said 'hello' first."
" Hello. Happy? "
"Let's say yes."
"So, you're coming? 6 PM. And if you can dope up your boyfriend before, even better." he just had to include one of his sarcastic remarks.
"Mikey I won't..."
"It was a joke, Gerard. For fuck's sake, relax!"
"We'll be there, don't worry." I told him, feeling tempted to blurt out why I wasn't in the mood for jokes.
"Is it your brother?" Bob screamed on the speaker. "Hey, Mikeyway! You could come visit me at the comic shop some day, you've never dropped by since Gerard was kicked out!"
"Maybe because it embarrasses me to be there bearing the same last name?" Mikey shot back.
"Fuck you." I cursed him.
"Eww Gerard, no thanks. Tell Bob he's invited too, bye!" he hung up.
"What did he say?" Bob questioned.
"The three of us are invited to his little birthday party this Wednesday."
"Y-yay! L-love birth-day parties!" Frank cheered.
CHAPTER 56
If there's a tear on my face
it makes me shiver to the bone.
It shakes me, babe.
It's just a heartache that got caught in my eye,
and you know I never cry, I never cry.
The days that followed were quiet but somewhat tense. I would have expected Frankie to be nervous, edgy, even angry. Of course, it's not that I wanted him to be, but I'd have found it normal after the last happenings. Instead he was rather calm, contemplative; for moments distant. He played with his childish toys and drew a lot. Sometimes I would find him sitting still, whispering to himself with eyes full of tears that he'd wipe away as soon as he saw me. When asked about what was wrong, he always said nothing was; only the voice in his head speaking things he didn't like. He never told me what 'he' said. He'd smile widely and declare he was fine now that I was there. We would kiss and caress for a while and he'd be back to his good mood.
Anyway I couldn't believe him; I knew that even if he managed to push the thoughts aside momentarily, Frank's brain was working full time. He was trying to decide what he should think, feel, do. Not once had he mentioned his father or anything about that day, and the calmness scared me. I was afraid that he would suddenly explode.
Ray was very worried about Frankie, too. However, he had luckily been understanding this time and hadn't bitched at me. He agreed that Tony and I had proceeded well, and we couldn't have anticipated Frank's reaction. His mother was the only one to blame, not us.
******
Frank's quiescence disappeared that Wednesday, when I came back early from work and reminded him that we'd be going to my mom's for Mikey's birthday. At first he was a little bummed out, because Ray had to work and therefore couldn't go with us; but then his excitement returned. He ran to the bedroom and began to search the closet for clothes to wear. The jeans weren't a problem, since he only had two good pairs that fit him. He chose the tightest one and added a studded belt Bob had bought him.
The top wasn't such and easy decision. I was ready to go and Frankie was still staring at the multiple hoodies displayed on the bed, wearing only a plain white t-shirt. It was cold, so he certainly needed something more.
"Still undecided, love?" my arms snaked around his waist and he leaned back.
"Y-yeah, dunno. I...I l-like many. B-but dunno wh-which one l-looks better on m-me. T-tell me?" he turned around to kiss my cheek. Not something I could easily answer.
"I don't know Frankie, I truly think all of them look good on you." I honestly said.
"N-no but...but t-tell me!"
"Oh, see who's here. He'll tell us!" I picked up Puppy -who seemed amused looking at two people deciding on clothes.
"H-how he'll t-tell me?" Frankie questioned.
"Doesn't he talk to you?"
"Y-yes, sometimes. B-but he's not t-talking now. N-nope." he assured.
"Let's do something, then." I placed the dog on the bed. "Puppy, tell Frankie which hoodie he should wear for Mikey's birthday. Step on the one you like the most."
"G-gerard...he d-doesn't like c-clothes, that's wh-why he's always n-naked." Frank pointed out rolling his eyes.
"What's the problem? They're not for him! What looks better on Frankie, Puppy? Come on, your little owner's acting like a girl and it's late."
"Sh-shut up, meanie. I...I'm not ac-acting like a g-girl!" he punched my arm.
"Shh, let Puppy decide." I chuckled.
The small black dog walked along the line of clothes without touching them, as if he was really pondering. Finally, he jumped on to a red hoodie and lied down on it.
"There you are, now put that on or we'll arrive when half of the food's been eaten..." I teased him. Frank froze, eyes big at the realization.
"N-no!" He quickly deposited Puppy on the pillow and finished getting dressed with the red garment. I couldn't help grinning while I watched him emerge from it; the hood falling on his head, messy hair framing his face.
"Let's go, Red Riding Hood, we still have to go for Bob." I grabbed his hand.
"No, wait!" he stopped dead.
"What now, baby?"
"Y-you have to b-brush my hair!" he requested. "It...it's all...uh...w-wavy and...and eww."
"Frankie...your hair is wavy, and you never want to brush it, that's why I didn't offer. You'll be among known people so it won't scare them."
"D-don't care, want it b-brushed. W-wanna look g-good 'cause...'cause it's a b-birth-day and you h-have to look good on b-birthdays. Y-yes. An-and you m-make my hair l-less wavy." he spoke stubbornly, hands on his hips.
"Ok..." I gave in and went for the brush, grooming Frank's hair vigorously and combing it nicely to one side. He looked in the mirror and smiled approvingly.
"Can we go now?" I asked, fearing that he'd come up with another last moment requirement.
"Y-yes, I'll g-go for the p-presents!" he clapped joyfully. It was good to see him so thrilled about something. "Y-you think M-mikey will like th-them?"
"He'll like yours for sure, you'll see." I helped him zip his jacket. Then I addressed Puppy before leaving. "You be a good boy...and also a good guard dog!"
"H-he's just a b-baby, Gee!" Frankie giggled as we walked to the car.
******
As, usual, Alicia attacked first. Always the same caged-up fangirl that would jump on Frankie as soon as the door was opened.
"Awwww! He's a little Eskimo!" she squealed really loud. I drew my attention to Bob -who was behind me- and his face was priceless.
"Maybe you wanna try convincing my girlfriend that Frankie's not a doggie or a plushie? We've all failed so far." Mikey appeared and gave the blond one a hug.
"Shut up, Mikey. Frankie's the cutest thing ever, I can't help it." Alicia scolded him.
"Happy birthday to you, disappeared one!" Bob greeted my brother.
"I know, I know. I've been missing in action, but I wasn't joking when I said I'm ashamed of showing my face there."
"Mikey...won't you ever let that go? You don't work there, no one will mind whose brother you are." I huffed. "And happy birthday!"
"Thanks, bro."
"Awww look at you! You just get more and more adorable and pinchable!" the three of us looked at Alicia's direction. Frankie had taken off his jacket, and she was making him turn around to show her what he was wearing. "You look great in red, and your hair's all soft and shiny! And those are new pants, aren't they?"
"Y-yep! G-gee bought me two 'c-cause...'cause I'm f-fat and none f-fitted anymore." Frank laughed.
"You're not fat, you just have more to hug. I'm sure Gerard doesn't complain." she winked at me.
"I...I'm t-trying to eat l-less. Y-yeah, 'cause the d-doctor said. B-but I'm h-hungry, always! R-really!"
"Is my mean son not feeding you well?" my mother entered the room and was ran into by Frankie.
"S-sometimes." he affirmed, attached to her. He'd always get very clingy with my mother and she obviously enjoyed it, knowing how much the boy needed some motherly love.
"Mom, don't support his cause, you know..."
"I was joking Gerard, I know you're taking care of him. Come here, I want a triple hug." she invited me. "How are you, honey?"
"Fine, but I've missed you."
"M-me too!" Frankie said.
"Aww, my two children! And you too, Mikey! Come over here and stop pouting, birthday boy!"
"I'm not pouting!" he asserted.
"Yes you are, you're oh so jealous!" Alicia pushed him towards us and he reluctantly joined the collective embrace.
"That's better." mom cooed. It felt as if we were baby chicks under their mother's wing, and it was a great, warm feeling.
"Isn't the family image lovely, Bob?" I could imagine Alicia's dreamy eyes without seeing her.
"Totally, I think I'll join you with the aww-ing."
"Oh...th-the presents!" Frankie screamed all of a sudden. "G-gotta give M-mikey the p-presents, Gee!"
"Go ahead, the bag's on that chair." I pointed.
"C-can I give him m-mine first?"
"Of course, it's more important than mine." I nodded, Frank's face lighting up even more.
He took a rectangular, thin package out of the bag. It was wrapped in a shiny purple envelope with multicolored stars that he had chosen from the store I worked at. On one of the edges, there was an orange bow with a little note reading 'Mikey' in golden ink.
"H-happy birthday, M-mikey." Frank smiled sweetly at my brother and urged him to lower his face so he could kiss his cheek. There was something different in Mikey's semblance as he observed the sloppy handwriting and complied to Frank's wish. "O-open it!"
"Let see..." Mikey placed the present on the table and unwrapped it carefully. He retrieved a cardboard and lifted it in an angle that only allowed him to see it. His eyes moved through it rapidly and he gasped, one hand covering his mouth. "Oh...God..."
Everybody in the room got closer to behold Frank's creation, which I had witnessed the making of. He had gotten started on the idea the moment he knew of Mikey's birthday, once again refusing to buy something. He told me they'd always make their own presents at the institution, since none of them had money or the possibility to go out whenever they wanted.
For hours he had practiced until he managed to upgrade his stick figures to something that he could add more details to. Only then he began the drawing. He'd stop every time the shaking of his hands would menace to interfere with his work, because he wanted the traces to be as clean as possible. He had chosen the colors meticulously, often asking for my opinion. He had colored it all neatly, getting off the lines only a couple of times in which cases he would tell me to erase it with a rubber.
It had taken him more than three days to finish, and he always employed the same dedication on it; even when I knew his head had been busy with thoughts of his father. The result was amazing, the best I had seen him draw. Childish, but incredibly colorful and detailed.
It mainly showed Mikey and Alicia hand in hand with a heart in between them. Their hair color was very accurate and Frankie had put special attention to clothes and accessories. He had drawn the studs on their jeans with a silver pencil, mixed colors to make the fabrics more similar to the real things, and included buttons, zippers, and seams. When in doubt, he'd look at his own clothes to copy from. He hadn't forgotten shoe laces, watches, Alicia's bracelets and Mikey's glasses. Both of them were smiling, and Frankie had consulted me about their eyes -which were big and surrounded by large eyelashes- to be sure he'd use the right tones.
Those penciled Alicia and Mikey dolls actually looked a lot like them. Behind the couple, Frank had drawn the house and the garden full of flowers like it had been the first time he saw it. Cotton looking clouds and a huge smiling sun in a clear blue sky -as it was his trademark- completed the piece of art.
Not a single spot on the paper had been left free, except for a thin line at the base of it. There, Frankie had written his dedicatory in small and unsure block letters -he didn't know how to write in cursive- with the same golden ink from the note.
'The best of birthdays to my grumpy brother of the heart Mikey. With lots of love, Frankie.'
The drawing was glued to a cardboard and on the back, together with a little hook, it read something more: 'I promise to be good and stay quiet so I won't get you mad on your birthday.'
"Awww it's so beautiful!" was Alicia's felt comment.
"You're so talented, Frankie!" my mom congratulated him.
"Wow, kid! This is great! And it's obvious what's your boyfriend's job, uh? You've got tons of materials for sure!" Bob ruffled Frank's hair.
"Frankie worked a lot on it, he wanted it to be perfect." I informed them. My brother, though, wasn't saying anything.
"I...I t-told Gee all I w-wanted to write and...and he w-wrote it for me in an-another paper and I c-copied it. I d-dunno the right letters s-sometimes, and I d-didn't want it to h-have mistakes like wh-when I wrote Al's n-name wrong." Frank pointed at the drawing. Mikey was still holding it, his eyes fixed on it. He sniffed slightly and scratched his head nervously, handing the gift to his girlfriend.
"I...I'll be right back. I gotta..." he ran out of the room.
"Come back here, Michael! I know what's up with you!" my mother called and went after him.
"H-he...he d-didn't like my p-present?" Frank eyed me sadly, on the verge of tears.
"Yes he did, Frankie. I think he just needed to pee badly." I lied. I knew something else was happening to my brother, and I had an idea of what it could be.
"Mikey's dumb like that, sweety." Alicia calmed him. "He's not good at telling what he feels, but I'm sure he loved it."
"D-dunno...I th-think he h-hated it..."
"Not at all! Look what I have here!" my mother announced. She was pushing an embarrassed Mikey back into the dining room. He had his glasses in a hand and his face was stained with the tears that were still falling from his eyes much to his dismay. My brother hated to show his emotions in front of others. I didn't understand why. I had always been one for crying when I'd feel like, and so was my mother. My father, on the other hand, was more like Mikey; so maybe it was something genetic. We, their family, knew that deep inside they were sensitive; but they tried not to make it public. Frankie had evidently destroyed Mikey's strong defense.
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