Battling the Loss You Live For.

Today, Sazzy is seven months pregnant. That means twenty seven weeks. And that also means that in two months, or eight weeks, the babies will be here.
Today was the first of January.
Today was the day he got out.
Mom found out for herself that she couldn’t do anything. All we could do was keep 911 on speed dial. What was that gonna do? Save us from pushing an extra two buttons?

I’d gotten a few more tattoos over the last couple of months. I’d got an arm band that said ‘Loyalty, Respect, Honesty’ around my left bicep, with a star in between the words. I got it because that’s the only kind of people that I really want involved in my life, and the kind of person I wanted to be.
I’d also got a big ‘X’ with the letters N on top, J underneath and two P’s, one on the right and one on the left side. It stood for New Jersey Pop Punk – it was the scene that I was associated within. It was on my right ankle.
I’d got a tattoo that consisted of the word ‘HOPE’ and flames over my heart, and I got a nautical star on my left forearm, too, near the crease in my elbow, symbolising that I would find my way home. It was a traditional tattoo, and I got it to remind me of the time me and Sazzy were apart. It was red and black.
I had a Pencey Prep broken heart logo on my inner right wrist, too, and a phrase written in red ink around my right wrist, just under the heart: ‘I wish I were a ghost’. It was from a song we’d written, called Death of the Lionheart.
So, I’ve got seven tattoos now.

Sazzy was pretty much unable to do a lot of stuff now. She found it hard going up a set of stairs, standing for more than fifteen minutes and had to go to the bathroom almost every half an hour.
That meant she couldn’t cook, which made everyone pretty much starving until someone had the ingenious idea of ordering pizza or Chinese or something.
I couldn’t cook worth for shit, I just burnt everything. Nyona would always blow something up, Sophii would always just stand there looking gormless, Matt refused to go near a cooker, Mikey shoves forks in toasters, and Gee could only ever cook pasta, but that got boring after a while. Ray could sort of cook, but most of the time it didn’t really turn out right and ended up either sloppy or dry.

“Frankie?” Sazzy called, in a slightly annoyed and frustrated tone. I was sitting in the nursery.
I was checking it over now that we only had two months to go. Both cribs were opposite each other, one black and white, one grey and white. When they get about a year or so old, we’ll switch one of them into the spare room. For now, it’s kind of being used as a study/junk room.
Now that I was in here, I realised even more that I was going to be a father.
Me. The guy with some tattoos and a few piercings, who in a punk band, the same guy that was into the music scene and went to Rutgers.
“Frank!”
The guy that got bullied in high school and shoved into lockers, and who got abused when he was young by his Mom’s boyfriend. Who got depressed and smoked weed, but got over it and just smoked cigarettes now. That guy who moved to England because of it.
“Frank Anthony Iero!”
I stood up off the floor, taking one last look at the room. The next time I’ll be in here, I’ll be a Dad.

“What were you doing in there?”
I slumped on the sofa next to her, lying down with my head in her lap.
“Frankie?” she whispered, starting to stroke my hair.
“I’m gonna be a Dad,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. She was still for a moment, but then continued stroking my hair again.
“Afraid?”
“More scared,” I replied, moving my head to the side slightly so I could feel her baby bump. You could hear them moving sometimes.
“Why are you scared?” she asked, taking hold of my hand in her free one.
“What if I screw it all up? I… don’t want to be a terrible father. I want them to grow up safe, and not in a shitty way. I want them to have a life that’s opposite to what mine was.”
“Frankie, you’ll be a great father,” Sazzy said softly, poking my nose, “trust me.”
I opened my eyes, to see her looking down at me, a small smile on her face.
“Why do you think so?” I asked, squeezing her hand.
“Because you look after me, and you’re an amazing person. You’re the most caring, kind, sweet and funniest guy I know, and you’ll be great. I know you will,” she explained, her smile growing wider.
“I love you,” I said, a grin stretching over my lips.
“I love you, too. But stop stressing about this, okay? You will be fine,” she said, squeezing my hand. I smiled.
She was amazing.

“Frankie, Sazzy!” Gerard called, as he slammed the front door closed, “we’re jamming at mine tonight!”
“Do I have to bring my guitar?” I asked, as he followed my voice into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’ve only got a shitty acoustic. Where’s Sazzy?” he asked, noting that she wasn’t in here.
“Bathroom… Who’s coming?”
“Everyone, pretty much, Matt’s gonna drum and Ray wanted to play bass, but I got him on guitar so Mikey can practise his shitty bass skills. He wants to get better because he’s sucking a little bit at it,” he said, grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and pouring some into a glass. He lifted it up, offering me some, and I shook my head.
“What time?” I asked, picking at the rip in my jeans. I was sitting on the counter.
“You guys can just come with me, or whatever. I think everyone’s coming over there instead of here,” he said, shrugging. I nodded. Sazzy walked out of the bathroom, as we heard the lock click open. She walked over with great difficulty, sitting on one of the chairs.
“I am so fucking uncomfortable. I feel like a fucking whale,” she grumbled, resting her chin in her hand.
“Babe, you’re pregnant,” I stated, trying to calm her a little. She was having major mood swings now, it was unreal. She’d be crying one minute, and laughing the next. It kind of gave you a headache trying to keep up.
“I know, you arsehole,” she retaliated, as Gee sat in the seat next to her, unable to hide his smile.
“Coming over to mine, Sazzy?” he asked, trying to diffuse her emotions.
“What’s going down?” she asked, sipping his orange juice, “ugh, what the fuck! Heartburn!” she cried, sliding it back over to him quickly as I poured her water from the tap I was sat next to. Gee took it off me, handing it to her since she couldn’t get up.
“Just to chill… Gonna play some music, watch horror movies and eat my Mom’s food.”
“I’m coming… if your Mom cooks that thing with the potatoes,” she said, a grin spreading.
“You got it.”