They were walking towards a group of trees when Bob descried them. He kept on driving until we passed them by, then he turned left and came to a halt. We left the car and cautiously trotted through the park, moving along a line of huge trees to conceal our steps. Suddenly, my chest collided with Greg's back when he in turn walked into Bob after our blond guide detained his march.
"Found them," he whispered. "I think it's safe to hide behind those bushes. We'll be able to hear and peep through the leaves but they won't see us from where they are."
"Ok, hurry up." Greg placed a hand on Bob's shoulder.
The first thing I thought of doing when we reached our hideout was to take in Linda's appearance, and I noticed Greg had the same intentions. Bob only gave them a quick glance before swifting his position. Someone had to watch our backs.
I crawled on the grass until I got a better view of the woman who had given birth to my boyfriend -the word 'mother' didn't fit her. The only similarities with Frank that I could find were her height and jaw line, maybe also her lips; though they were contracted with scorn and painted a fake red, which made it hard to tell. Her eyes seemed blue or green, meticulously retouched with black and browns but still sunken and lifeless. She was a beautiful woman and yet her face evidenced the years of self-abuse. She had lived too fast and gone after the wrong goals. No just-out-of-the-stylist, shiny, white-blond hair could fix that. Neither could her silicone breasts or manicured, bright pink nails. Not when you'd peer into her eyes and see a 50 year-old woman instead of one who was only 36. Not when she looked more consumed than thin. Ironically, she dressed like a teenager. Denim mini skirt over black stockings and high boots. A low-cut, blue lycra shirt and a jean jacket with furry interior.
I turned my attention to the conversation. I hadn't heard what she said, but Anthony didn't seem to like it. He shook his head and raised his open hands to stop her.
"Listen, Linda. I don't give a fuck about your situation!" he spat. "You had it coming so I don't care if you're in a rush or if you're afraid of being caught. If I accepted your invitation it was only for my own reasons and now you're going to hear me. Or better said I'm gonna hear you, 'cause I came for answers."
"What do you wanna know?" her haughty tone made me want to go and punch her.
"What do I wanna know? What do I wanna know, you ask? FUCK YOU, LINDA!" Tony shouted. She brought the cigarette she was holding to her lips, unperturbed.
"I can't read your thoughts, Tony, speak up."
"It's Anthony to you, whore. I realised that I never really knew that girl who used to call me Tony."
"Speak, Iero. Told you I don't have time for this, I came for business."
"My son and business are never going to be part of a same conversation for me." Anthony retorted. Linda only sighed impatiently. "Ok, since you seem to have amnesia I'll word the questions. Why did you do it? Why the fuck did you tell me Frank was dead when you knew how much I loved him? I...I could have understood if you didn't want to raise him, but why abandon him when he had a father? Why lie to me like that? Why didn't you leave him with me from the beginning, bitch?"
"Like you were any better than me...oh, please!" she interrupted him.
"Yes I was, I was better than you. I was an addict, I was a damn dealer but I at least loved my son, I wanted to change for him! You never gave a fuck. You're to blame for most of his problems, you neglected him. You refused to take him to a hospital when needed, then abandoned him because you couldn't cope with him. Not satisfied with that, years later you left him to die in the street so you could finally steal his money! What the fuck is wrong with you, Linda? ANSWER ME, FOR FUCK'S SAKE! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME HAVE MY SON?" Anthony's face was red and he was crying, his hands closed tight in a fist, suppressing the temptation to beat her. Linda appeared annoyed by her ex's anger.
"I wanted him to fucking disappear, that's why!" she answered through clenched teeth. "You knew my mother had money. How could I be sure that you wouldn't come back to claim the kid's part later? I did want Frank at the beginning, that's why I wouldn't let you see him often. I was afraid that you'd take him away. Then things changed, I got fed up with him and it was just about money. You were a piece of shit just like me, why trust you? The same answer applies to the second time I abandoned him: money. Too bad that I had to wait so long because of that ex-friend who told my mother about the kid, she'd have never known about him otherwise..."
"You're a monster, Linda. Do...do you realise it's your son you're talking about?" Anthony walked in circles, a caged wild animal with contained fury.
"A monster? Fuck, I did my good deed! Do you know what it's like to take care of a baby for four years? Four fucking years and he was still like a baby! Crawling, drooling, pissing his pants and doing nothing else than screaming and crying! Putting up with that for 18 years is unthinkable! You should just be thankful that I was patient for that long and I didn't kill the thing!" she paused and seemed pensive, smirking.
I forgot about everything and attempted to get up, but Greg grabbed my arm and sent me back to the ground. "Stay put!" he hissed. It was easier said than done. I wanted to kill Linda, I wanted her to suffer while I screamed at her for all the pain she had caused Frankie. Nonetheless I conformed and kept quiet, listening to Linda spill out her venom.
"I considered doing it, but it was too risky, so I just dumped him. And you should definitely thank me for lying to you, I spared you a lot of time and money. Imagine having been stuck with a retarded kid all this time!"
"DON'T YOU EVER DARE CALLING FRANKIE THAT AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME? NEVER!" Anthony shouted. "I would have lived for him, I would have done everything to make him happy and I'd have proudly told everybody that he was my son!"
"Oh, how sweet! And you'd have raised him with your boyfriend, right? When did you become a fag, Iero? You were so good in bed that I'd have nev..."
"That...is the only thing I have to thank you for. After you destroyed me, I found my real self." Iero uttered in her face with a cooing voice. He casually looked at his clock and I copied him. The police would be there at any moment. They should have been already there. "Now...I had enough of your shit, you make me sick, you're the worst scum I've ever met. Tell me what you want, I wanna see how much more I can hate you."
"I want to negotiate." she kept glancing around and it gave me an uneasy feeling. I didn't know whether she was just worried about being seen or if she was waiting for someone.
"Negotiate what? I told you I won't negotiate my son." Anthony stated.
"Who cares about your son? I only care about my freedom. You free me and my husband of charges..." so they were married. "...and we'll deposit a generous amount of money in the bank for your big toddler. Enough for you and that other faggot who lives with him to enjoy, too."
Anthony rubbed his face with both hands, then running them through his growing, dark brown hair with a sonorous air intake. He exhaled and bit his thumb just like Frankie did when concentrating. Why wasn't he answering? Was he doubting? Was he considering the offer? Where the fuck were the police?
I was on edge and ready to jump to the scene when he began to laugh. At first it was just a chocked sound at the back of his throat, but it gradually metamorphosed into a clear snicker and finished with a burst of laughter. Linda observed him confused, smiling with shame at the people that gave them odd looks. Only after a while he sobered up, walked to her and grabbed her chin.
"It's a NO."
"What? Are you crazy like your son or what?"
"Maybe," he grinned. "but I don't want any dirty money, I had enough of that in my past. It'll be dirty as long as you and the fucking mafioso you call your husband are walking the streets. No, thanks."
"Oh, come on! Tell me what you want, everybody has a price...you couldn't have changed that much..." she persisted, getting dangerously closer and caressing his chest. He slapped her hand off. I was focused on them, it was all I could see and hear.
Greg nudged my arm and nodded towards the right, behind Anthony. A man dressed in gray jeans and a black sweatshirt with the hood on was slowly approaching him. I felt my chest tighten. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing would come out. It was when I got a glimpse of metal shining under the last rays of sun that I stood up like ejected, only to be knocked down by someone tugging violently at my blazer. While I perceived every millisecond of my fall, I heard the desperate voices around me.
"TONY, WATCH OUT BEHIND YOU!"
"DAMON, NO!"
"Fuck!" I flapped my arms around and somehow seized some branches, not reaching the floor. With my face against the bush and ignoring the sting from the scratches I'd gotten, I looked back just in time to see Anthony turn at an amazing speed and get a hold of the man's hand that was wielding the knife. Without releasing it and as they struggled, Iero discharged his knee hard on the other's crotch, sending him to the ground. They continued to fight for the weapon, grunting and cursing; but it didn't last long. Anthony had the guy pinned down, sitting on his stomach. With a precise twist applied to the attacker's wrist the knife veered direction. We all screamed, but Tony didn't seem to hear us. He rested his weight on the handle and pushed down. Everything went silent. I closed my eyes and could hear the blade cutting through flesh.
"Gerard..." Bob was talking to me. I couldn't respond, my ears had become aware of a more important sound: sirens.
Linda was sitting on the floor, holding her man. Blood gushed through the open wound on his shoulder, creating a puddle that got quickly absorbed on the pebbled path. He would survive, it was close to his arm. Anthony was on his feet, knife in hand and staring at them. He was trembling, sobbing, doubting.
"Fuck off, Iero." Linda glared at him.
"Wh-why did you have to b-be so stupid, woman? I told you to stop any contact with them!" who Linda had called Damon reproached her. She had evidently done this by herself and he followed her.
"I know, but we had the cops on our heels anyway!"
"That...is y-your fault, too. So fucking stupid. And I s-still can't believe you...had a kid with this. " the man pointed at Tony and sneered. The named one tensed.
"We have to intervene, I'm afraid of what Anthony might do..." I told Greg. He assented and we both got up.
"Bad idea." Bob stopped us. "The police know you both, if they see you here they'll ask many questions. Let me take care of this."
"Ok..." I agreed. Bob left our hiding place and decidedly neared Anthony.
"Bob? What are you..."
"Shh..." he made him drop the knife and guided him away from the couple, to where we could hear them better. I distantly saw three policeman and so did Tony, who gasped fearfully.
"Tony...Gerard and Greg are here too, though I don't think the cops should see them. You and Greg alerted them about this beforehand, so I'm sure there won't be any problem. Anyway I'll stay and tell them that I witnessed it all if necessary, we can say I'm a friend who was casually passing by or something like that." Bob calmed him down.
"O-okay....thanks..."
"Tell me, how did you do to react so quickly? It was...wow!" Bob asked him, always trying to lighten the mood. The men in uniform were just stepping -late- into the action.
"I learned more than one lesson during those two years in jail." Tony smiled. Frankie's smile. Before facing the police, Anthony crouched and pretended to be tying his sneakers, looking at me through the bush.
"Go home to Frankie and leave this in my hands, it'll be over soon."
******
I was shaking from head to toe when Greg and I went back to the van. Bob would stay with Anthony in case he needed some support to deal with the police, then he'd drive him home.
I checked my phone and there was a message from Ray: 'Dad just called. Leaving Frankie with neighbor, please let me know you're ok.' I tried to relax, taking several deep breaths until my pulse stabilized and I was able to type.
"We're all fine and the police got them." I wrote.
"Oh, fuck...well, I think I can drive now." Greg sighed, also calmer. I knew he was dying to be with Anthony.
"It's about to be over." my voice was barely audible. We didn't talk for what the ride lasted, still too shocked. I looked for the first aid kit in the back of the vehicle and used that time to clean the small cuts on my face. I let my hair loose, got rid of the blazer and glasses and put my hoodie back on. I needed to be presentable and feel like myself again.
Greg dropped me home and took off to go wait for Tony, telling me that they would probably pay us a visit later. I didn't bother entering our house first, I went straight to my neighbor's.
"Hi, Gerard!" the tall, young woman opened the door with a wide smile. It was a simple, yet significant gesture that, after the tense moments I had lived, brought some warmth to my heart and chased the angst away.
"Hi, Jennifer! Thank you so much for taking care of Frankie. Did he behave?" I asked, making a mental note to not be too affectionate with my boyfriend in front of her.
"Your brother's too sweet for words. A few minutes after your friend brought him, he started looking around for Kevin. When I told him that my son was sleeping he quickly turned the TV off. Kevin can't hear it from his room, but Frankie insisted that he didn't want to make any noise. He asked me for some pencils and paper and has been drawing quietly since then. He even whispered all the time!" she commented. All I could do was smile. I imagined where that attitude came from. Kevin reminded him of the first years of his own life and therefore he would never do anything that could scare or bother the little kid. "I'm gonna go get him, he's in the kitchen with my husband."
"Okay!" I replied.
Jennifer had left the door open, so I could see her reappear in the corridor with Frankie, who was kissing the giant Saint Bernard dog goodbye. As soon as he saw me he ran, covering the remaining distance in seconds.
"G-gee, you're b-back!" he screamed and fell in my arms. He looked up and his eyes told me everything I had been needing to hear and he couldn't say in front of Jennifer. "Wh-what happened to your f-face?"
"Oh, nothing. I ran into a tree, but I'm home now and everything's fine." I grinned and kissed Frankie's head.
I held him tight, not minding that we couldn't do more at the moment. All I wanted, all I needed was a hug. To feel him close to me and take conscience that we were alive and safe. We were together, we loved each other. What needed a change had changed, and things would be easier from now on.
FINAL CHAPTER
Something changed in this heart of mine
and I'm so glad that you showed me.
Funny how I never felt so high,
it's a feelin' that I know,
I know I'll never forget.
We were right to suppose that Anthony would have no major trouble dealing with the police. For starters, the fact that they were late was in his favor. The incident with Linda's husband could have been prevented if the cops had been there in twenty minutes like it was first arranged. However, if they'd been punctual, the guy might have escaped; so maybe the delay served for something.
Bob played his part anyway, going to the police station with Tony and telling them that he only knew him and his son through mutual friends. He alleged that he had casually been strolling through the park at the time of Tony's argument with Linda. Perceiving that something was wrong he'd preventively stayed near, getting a front-row view of the attack.
From what we heard, there also was a real casual witness who testified. This, together with Damon's injury not being too serious, had left Anthony completely free of charges. Linda and Damon didn't have the same luck.
The following weeks were plagued with lawyer meetings, citations, declarations, countless phone calls and tons of stress. We managed to keep Frankie aside of the procedure long enough with the help of his psychiatrist. Goldberg presented a document to the judge establishing that such level of pressure was contraindicated for Frank's mental condition and that the boy should never be confronted with his mother. His presence was only required once to retell what had happened after Linda picked him up at the institution.
The rest of the time we did our best to keep him entertained; playing with him, taking him to the park and generally spoiling him. Frankie wasn't stupid, though. He knew something was going on. There had to be a reason for him having to stay with Ray, Bob, or my mother so often. And he asked, he insisted. I couldn't tell him the truth, not in the middle of that legal mess; but I assured him that it was all for good, that it'd be over soon and then things would be normal again. Even better.
In spite of our fear, justice was relatively fast to arrive. We were immensely happy to know that we'd be able to avoid what we had been dreading the most. That morning, when Anthony called and practically screamed on the phone that a trial would not be needed, I jumped on the couch like a little kid. Frankie had no idea what all the joy was about, yet he didn't questioned me. He hopped on with me and we jumped together, embraced. Several minutes later I remembered that Tony was still hanging on the line and I asked for the details. It turned out that the police had gotten the ultimate proof to incriminate the couple. Sure, all the fake documentation and the amount of money to their name had augured no bright future for them since the beginning. Then the testimonies of the procurator, the director of the institution, and Grace -who had traveled for it before being asked to- had buried them even deeper. But it was Linda herself who completely condemned them. Terrified, seeing no way out and probably advised by her lawyer, she ended up confessing, desperate to have her punishment reduced. She detailed all of their plans to get their hands on Frank's money and inclusively displayed a poorly convincing act of repentance, claiming that money had blinded her.
The two were sentenced with many charges: fraud, alteration and falsification of documents, extortion, death threats, assault and misappropriation of assets. Linda was also accused of abandonment of a person -aggravated by the bond and Frank's condition- and for depriving Anthony of his son. After some pushing, they accepted Goldberg's declaration as valid and added neglect and maltreatment of a minor to the list. The doctor had been treating that subject with Frank, discussing his dreams and memories to help him get over his psychological trauma; so he was informed.
To resume, Linda and Damon would be locked up for many, many years with no possibility of buying their way out. They had no family or friends who could -or wanted- to help them and they were officially broke. All of the money had been returned to Frankie's bank account to be administered by Anthony -or by me as second alternative. Linda's mother's house -the only possession she'd truly left to her daughter- was sold to reimburse the money that had been already spent.
******^******
The first thing that came to our minds when we thought about the money was Frank's meds. Before the last events, trying to get them for free had seemed like a good idea. We had refrain from doing it only because we couldn't trust anything coming from the government as long as Damon was free. Even with him out of the way, the truth was that now we could actually pay for the medication; that money had been, for the most part, intended for that. Getting them for free would make us feel like we were stealing that privilege from people who couldn't obtain them any other way, so we decided to keep on buying them.
Something was different, though: having more money meant we could afford better medication. Anthony and I discussed the issue and considered that Frank had the right to opine about his health. We left most decisions in his hands.
The three of us visited Goldberg's office to carefully listen to all the options we had. Frankie asked a lot of questions - demanding that Mark answered with the truth- and took a long time to meditate, proud of the adult responsibility we'd laid on him. He agreed to having something to counteract the shaking which, as much as he put up with it, he hated. It was highly irksome for someone who loved all artistic and recreative activities that required the use of his hands. He refused, however, to add anxiolytics to his daily medical menu. He didn't appear to understand their function, neither was he interested in doing it; he simply stated that he had enough meds to take and was okay like that. His father and I couldn't be happier with his choice.
Lastly, we talked about the pros and cons of the antipsychotics Frankie was currently on versus the similar, although more expensive ones they gave him at the institution. The conclusion was that they were basically the same, and we knew from Grace that both worked fine for him. Frankie hurried to say that he would still take the same amount of pills and didn't mind about the hallucinations, but he opted for going back to his old meds. His only reason to do so was coquetry; those weren't particularly known to alter weight or make people hungrier.
Even if I liked him the way he was and I'd told him that millions of times, it was his body after all. He was the one who had to feel comfortable in it.
Notwithstanding the switch of medication, his eating habits didn't change much at all. He was still hungry most of the time and would blush whenever I reminded him that he didn't have an excuse anymore. He maintained that the doctor had lied. We continued to control his meals as much as possible without being too exigent. It had never been about him being thin, but healthy.
Frank didn't stop seeing his imaginary friends, he just learned to ignore them when necessary. It was funny to observe him make twice the effort to concentrate on whatever he was doing, once in a while glancing sideways and giggling. He enjoyed their company and we wouldn't take that from him.
The second topic we took into consideration was Grace. We would have wanted the nurse to move somewhere closer to us, we even offered to help her; but she wasn't ready to leave the kids that were under her care. Many were still too young, she was attached to them and knew that they needed her. Frankie understood, he'd been in their place. He told Grace to stay there and give them love, only asking her to visit more often. We resolved to paying for Grace's plane tickets when she wasn't able to, so she could travel every one or two months at least.
******^******
A week before Christmas, we told Frankie part of the truth; that his grandma -the one who used to visit him at the institution- had left him a lot of money. He scarcely remembered the woman, yet he was very sad to know she'd died years ago. He ignored the mention of money and just cried for her, hugging the teddy bear she had given him when he was a child.
To lighten the mood, we asked him what it was that he'd like to buy the most. It only took him ten seconds to respond and what he said brought me, Greg and Anthony to tears: a bigger house so we could all live together.
Maybe it was the mind-blowing emotion and happiness racing through our brains, hearts, veins. Maybe we were simply crazy. But ten minutes later we were out looking for our next house, walking around the neighborhood in search of 'for sale' signs. We wanted something close to my work.
After spending two days exploring, consulting, taking pictures and notes, phoning people and deliberating, we decided on a pretty white chalet with red roof tiles ten blocks from our current address. It wasn't luxurious or too big, but the kitchen and the dinning room were spacious and it had two identical bedrooms and a large backyard where I pictured Frankie running around with Puppy. The building didn't need any crucial reparation or painting, it was ready and waiting to be inhabited.
Again we acted by impulse, our excitement guiding us. In only one day and with the help of Ray, Bob, my mother, Alicia and Tony's band mates, we moved all our stuff to the new domicile. Even Mikey appeared, willing to cooperate though complaining about me being completely nuts. The house looked kind of empty, but our Christmas decoration -including the huge tree we'd bought- made up for it. Those holidays would be Frankie's first ones with us, and we wanted it to be special.
We made Christmas also the day of the official inauguration, and our friends and family celebrated it with us. None of us could take our eyes off Frank. The muscles of his face must have been sore the following day after so much smiling, sharing the festivity with a big family of his own.
Santa was particularly generous with him, too. I don't think any other boy -or kid- received as many presents as he did. Toys, plushies, boardgames, videogames, markers, pencils, clothes and even a purple vest and a name tag for Puppy. And yes, Frankie actually believed in Santa Claus; I knew it when he said he'd been a good boy and questioned with a serious face whether he would get him more presents from now on. He explained that since there were many kids at the institution, Santa had to bring them small things so there would be enough for everybody. The old, white-bearded man himself had told them that when they saw him one night.
He was lucky, I always wished no one had ever told me Santa didn't exist. Grace had somehow kept the magic alive for Frank, or perhaps he had just refused to believe any other version. Either way we wouldn't be the ones to destroy that fantasy, no matter how old he was. Besides, it was fun to pretend it was all real again.
That night when we raised our cups for a toast, my other arm around Frank's waist, I silently thanked God. I'd never been religious, but after that year I couldn't deny that there had to be someone or something pulling at the strings. Call it God or just a higher power, someone had wanted Frankie and I to meet, fall in love, save each other. Something had made things work through thick and thin, brought Anthony and his son together, replaced pain and sadness with smiles and affection.
We were suddenly dragged away from the table as Ray screamed 'cheesy time!'. We found ourselves under the open front door, my mother pointing at the lush mistletoe that hung over it. I had forgotten about it until then and Frankie was rather confused, but everybody was chanting for a kiss so we complied. We kissed long and peaceably while the old clock my mother had lent me gave the last 12 a.m. ding-dongs. I could hear Frankie's thoughts, or they might as well have been my own: 'Are we in a movie?'
******^******
The holidays went by and it was time for Frankie to go to school. We'd enrolled him in a private one that accepted him even if it was the middle of the school year. They would put him in the second level for what was left of the term, so he'd get used to the routine and the environment and they could evaluate him. Then the following year they would decide whether it was better for him to stay in that level or move to the next one.
The weekend prior to his first day, we visited my mother. Upon surveying Frank's appearance, she had the very bad idea of suggesting to have his hair cut for school. Frankie had never wanted anything done to it since I met him, so it had grown well past his shoulders. I loved it, but the tips had started to open and it didn't look that healthy anymore. It could use some trimming. He didn't agree, and all hell broke loose. He screamed at my mom and every one of us who tried to calm him down, threw things, pushed me away and ran to hide under Mikey's bed.
"Well, I guess that taking him to a hairdresser is out of the question..." my mother chuckled.
"Definitely." I assented. That could end up with the place upside down and several people's asses kicked; not to mention the series of insults Frank would have prepared for them.
"What to do then?"
"How about... getting him the fuck out from under my bed?" Mikey protested. "I have to study."
"W-WON'T COME OUT, L-LEAVE ME AL-ALONE!" came Frank's scream from his hiding place.
"Baby, come on! Mom didn't mean cutting your hair short, we'd never do that to you!" I tried.
"SH-SHUT UP, N-NO ONE WILL C-CUT MY HAIR! AS-ASSHOLES! M-MEAN ASSHOLES ALL OF Y-YOU!"
"Frankie..." Alicia got on the floor and lifted the bed's cover. Frank had the hood of his shirt over his head, protecting his most valued treasure. "...see, I always cut my friends' hair. I love to do it and no one has ever complained so far..."
"I did!" Mikey chimed in, grinning.
"Oh...please, Mikey. You have a nest over there so you can't talk about hair. " she retorted. "As I was telling you, Frankie...if you trusted me, I could cut your hair..."
"N-NO, I LIKE IT L-LONG!"
"I know, I know. I like it too, I love your hair. Don't I always say it?"
"Y-yes..."
"I'd only cut it a little bit, a few inches so it'd feel softer and look prettier. I'd give it a better shape in the front, too." she explained playing with a lock that slid out from boy's hood.
"D-dunno..." Frankie doubted.
"Please? I promise it'll be still long and you -and Gerard- will love it." Alicia offered her hand and Frankie took it, allowing her to drag him out.
Дата добавления: 2015-11-04; просмотров: 24 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |