Devil's Work

The phone calls continue. They come when Frank feeds me breakfast, right before I have a nap, and right when Gerard walks in the door, home from work. Frank is so nervous that he stops answering the phone. Gerard stops too. There is ringing in my dreams.

I don’t want to play anymore, because I am scared for them both. Frank takes me into the Play Room but it’s no use because I just sit and stare at him while he rummages through boxes of toys, new and old, to try to get me to do something. Laugh, I think. When was the last time I laughed in here?

“Come on, Kaitlynn,” Frank groans. “What’s wrong, sweetie pie?” There is real worry in his eyes because I haven’t been happy a lot lately. He disregards a stuffed pink tiger and places his palms on either side of my face, and then my forehead.

“You’re not sick,” he concludes, “Oh baby, what’s wrong?”

I want to tell him everything that I am worried about. If only I could! But I am afraid that it’ll be too much for him, because they want me, right? I’m causing all sorts of problems, and I love Frank and Gerard so much. I don’t want to do that to them.

The phone starts to ring. Frank’s eyes close as he tries to ignore it. After a while, the machine goes off.

“You’ve reached Frank and Gerard – and Kaitlynn! We’re not able to answer the phone right now so please leave a message!”

The message consists of that one lady’s monotone voice warning us again. Frank shuts his eyes. I try to play with his eyelashes, to make him feel better. But he only sighs and picks me up to try to put me down for a nap early.

* * *

Gerard wakes me up an hour later. He tells me that Frank needed to go away for a little bit, but I don’t understand, because Frank will come back. Frank has just gone away like Gerard goes to work and he’ll be back for suppertime.

Suppertime comes and Frank is not at the table beside me, feeding me my vegetable mush. Gerard feeds me instead, sometimes forgetting my presence, while he hums and looks at the clock. I have to whine and pound my high chair to get his attention.

“Frank thinks he’s being a bad father,” Gerard sighs to me at last when he feeds me my dessert. My mouth slides open, half ready to eat and half shocked. “It’s nothing you’re doing, baby. Don’t you even worry your little head.”

Does he know that I’ve been worrying?”

And then, “Gosh, your eyes,” he gushes, “So big. You cutie, you. How did we ever even deserve you?”

Later Gerard gives me a bath and Frank is not back yet. Gerard buttons up my pajamas but Frank isn’t back yet. I’m put in my crib, I have a lullaby hummed to me, but Frank isn’t back yet.

Gerard gets into bed and turns out the light, and Frank isn’t back yet.

I cry.

The light goes back on. I hear rushed steps, and then Gerard leans over the crib to see what’s wrong. I reach out my arms to him, and he picks me up, trying to get me to stop crying.

“Baby, baby, I know. Kaity, don’t worry. Don’t cry, please. Please go back to bed, please,” he says, and it sounds more like a chant. “Kaity, Kaity, Kaity. Don’t cry.”

He holds me against his chest and rubs my back, walking around the room humming and telling me not to cry. Then he holds me in his arms and rocks me back and forth, desperately searching my eyes for the reason I am crying.

“No, no, honey, please, stop. Kaity, don’t cry.” His features are strained. “Oh, what’s wrong? What’s wrong, baby?”

I pound my fists into his chest. My throat feels raw now. I forget why I’m crying.

Gerard, who’s given up on trying to make me stop, only strokes my hair out of my face. He looks helpless.

“Frank will come back, he’ll be back tomorrow, is that why you’re crying, baby?” he asks. “Don’t cry, don’t worry, he’ll be back. He will.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, too.

But Frank will be back, I think I know it. Frank is always here. Frank is never not here. Tomorrow, I will be woken up by Frank and he will feed me breakfast and kiss Gerard to distract him while he steals his coffee, and he will be there to turn the radio up when his favourite radio station plays his favourite song.

Soon I stop crying and Gerard places me so I’m lying on Frank’s side of the bed. He curls up around me, almost like he’s protecting me, or maybe because he has no one else to curl up to. And we fall asleep like that.