Somebody To Love
Soup And Some Romance
Eddie, with the long end of the cordless phone, prodded me awake early the next morning.
“Mikey, stop,” I mumbled in my sleep, turning to get away from him. “No, get that fork away from the toaster. Gerard, make him stop.”
He hit me. “Would you wake up, asshole?”
I stirred awake with a start.
“Someone is on the phone for you,” He handed me the cordless and left to give me some privacy.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, taking the phone to my ear, “Hello?”
“Ray,” A scratchy, nasally voice came from the receiver. “It’s Frank.”
I got concerned. “Frank? Are you okay?”
“I’m sick,” He said with a sniffle, “I can’t make it today. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “you get some rest. Stay off your feet. Where are you now?”
“On the couch watching Dawn Of The Dead,” he answered.
I could not help it; I turned into a nerd. “The first one or the second?”
“Oh my god the first,” Frank said with his voice cracking. “I would not be caught dead watching the second. Can’t deny a classic.”
“Well I am going to let you go,” I said. “Sounds like you need to rest your voice also. Eat some soup.”
“Were all out,” he said.
“I’ll bring you some,” I said, getting out of bed. “My mom always has some handy, and it is homemade too.”
“I don’t want you getting sick,” He said in protest.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, hoping into a pair of jeans. “I’ll be over in a little bit.”
Before he could tell me no, I hung up, going through my dresser for a shirt. Once properly dressed, I headed for the basement freezer to grab a container of my mothers prized tomato basil soup. I swiftly grabbed the car keys off the rack and was out before anyone could see me and question my motives.
I rung the doorbell to Frank’s house and waited for him to answer. He did, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe that opened to expose a pair of black Calvin’s. Instantly my cheeks flushed and I wished I had worn looser pants.
He invited me inside and headed for the couch after giving me permission to use whatever in the kitchen. After heating the container up in the microwave, I grabbed a bowl and dished out some soup, heading into the living room to serve to Frank.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” He said, accepting the soup, and patting a place next to him for me. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” I answered, sitting next to him.
“It’s just a sinus infection,” He said between slurps. “I get them all the time. Nothing to worry about, but thank you anyway.”
I smiled, noticing his guitar lying next to him, “Practicing?”
“Trying to, at least,” He said, finishing off the last of his soup, and then putting the bowl aside. “You said you play.”
I flushed, “A little bit, but I am no good.”
He handed me the guitar, “I’ll be the judge of that. With those hands, I doubt it.”
I tried to stall, “What do you want me to play?”
“Anything,” He answered. “Just go for it.”
I nodded. Just go for it.
Eddie had taught me this simple unknown piece called ‘Romance’ that sounded like something out of a mobster movie not to long ago, before I knew it, my hands where flowing over the strings with ease, playing the song. I added my own little twists here and there, but mostly stuck to the original composition. When I was done, I looked up to see Frank, looking at me in almost a whole new light.
“Holy shit,” He said, looking like he was trying to catch his breath. “No good my ass. Ray, you’re amazing. You never told me you could play like that.”
I looked away, “I’m not that great. I am just starting really. My brother Eddie is teaching me.”
Frank took the guitar away and straddled my lap, forcing me to look at him, “You are going to be something one day, Ray Toro.”
I laughed insecurely, “No… I…”
He cut me off, putting his hand over my mouth, “You’re going to be something.”
And even though I didn’t want to believe him, something deep down inside of me told me he was right.
“Mikey, stop,” I mumbled in my sleep, turning to get away from him. “No, get that fork away from the toaster. Gerard, make him stop.”
He hit me. “Would you wake up, asshole?”
I stirred awake with a start.
“Someone is on the phone for you,” He handed me the cordless and left to give me some privacy.
I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, taking the phone to my ear, “Hello?”
“Ray,” A scratchy, nasally voice came from the receiver. “It’s Frank.”
I got concerned. “Frank? Are you okay?”
“I’m sick,” He said with a sniffle, “I can’t make it today. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “you get some rest. Stay off your feet. Where are you now?”
“On the couch watching Dawn Of The Dead,” he answered.
I could not help it; I turned into a nerd. “The first one or the second?”
“Oh my god the first,” Frank said with his voice cracking. “I would not be caught dead watching the second. Can’t deny a classic.”
“Well I am going to let you go,” I said. “Sounds like you need to rest your voice also. Eat some soup.”
“Were all out,” he said.
“I’ll bring you some,” I said, getting out of bed. “My mom always has some handy, and it is homemade too.”
“I don’t want you getting sick,” He said in protest.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, hoping into a pair of jeans. “I’ll be over in a little bit.”
Before he could tell me no, I hung up, going through my dresser for a shirt. Once properly dressed, I headed for the basement freezer to grab a container of my mothers prized tomato basil soup. I swiftly grabbed the car keys off the rack and was out before anyone could see me and question my motives.
I rung the doorbell to Frank’s house and waited for him to answer. He did, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe that opened to expose a pair of black Calvin’s. Instantly my cheeks flushed and I wished I had worn looser pants.
He invited me inside and headed for the couch after giving me permission to use whatever in the kitchen. After heating the container up in the microwave, I grabbed a bowl and dished out some soup, heading into the living room to serve to Frank.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” He said, accepting the soup, and patting a place next to him for me. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” I answered, sitting next to him.
“It’s just a sinus infection,” He said between slurps. “I get them all the time. Nothing to worry about, but thank you anyway.”
I smiled, noticing his guitar lying next to him, “Practicing?”
“Trying to, at least,” He said, finishing off the last of his soup, and then putting the bowl aside. “You said you play.”
I flushed, “A little bit, but I am no good.”
He handed me the guitar, “I’ll be the judge of that. With those hands, I doubt it.”
I tried to stall, “What do you want me to play?”
“Anything,” He answered. “Just go for it.”
I nodded. Just go for it.
Eddie had taught me this simple unknown piece called ‘Romance’ that sounded like something out of a mobster movie not to long ago, before I knew it, my hands where flowing over the strings with ease, playing the song. I added my own little twists here and there, but mostly stuck to the original composition. When I was done, I looked up to see Frank, looking at me in almost a whole new light.
“Holy shit,” He said, looking like he was trying to catch his breath. “No good my ass. Ray, you’re amazing. You never told me you could play like that.”
I looked away, “I’m not that great. I am just starting really. My brother Eddie is teaching me.”
Frank took the guitar away and straddled my lap, forcing me to look at him, “You are going to be something one day, Ray Toro.”
I laughed insecurely, “No… I…”
He cut me off, putting his hand over my mouth, “You’re going to be something.”
And even though I didn’t want to believe him, something deep down inside of me told me he was right.