Eat My Heart Out

I’ve got the volume on the TV on 2. I can barely hear what that bitch on the news is saying, but if I turn it up, I’d risk waking up Frankie.

I glance down at his serene face in my lap and smile, then flip to the next channel to find something better to watch.

I glance down again. He’s better to watch. I run a hand through his hair, before I look up at the TV to find something that’ll keep me from getting that heavy feeling in my gut.

The doorbell suddenly rings. I’m not sure if it’s me or Frank who flinches, or the both of us, but while I can hear my mom walk the short distance from the living room to the front door, we both shift around a bit.

“Hi,” Frank whispers and when I look down he’s got his eyes open. I smile down at him. The corner of his mouth twitches, as if he tries to smile and doesn’t succeed. I pout down at him, then run my hand through his hair to calm him down.

He does. He closes his eyes again.

“Frank?” mom yells from the top of the stairs.

“Is he down here?” a male voice asks, muffled by the distance and my door but distinct enough to recognize.

Frank opens his eyes and looks at my door.

“Yes. But he’s a little sick, so be careful with him.” As mom says those words, heavy footsteps starts trudging down the steps.

Carefully, I help Frank get out of my lap and over to the one side of the bed, before I scoot over the other side and stare tiredly at the TV, as if I’ve been doing that for hours.

The door opens.

“Frank,” Mr. Iero says enthusiastically. He’s being too loud. He’s disturbing Frank’s rest.
“How’re you doing, son?” he asks and steps into my room. I inwardly snarl at him for calling Frank his son.

“Alright,” Frank croaks out. I look back at the TV to kill the twist my stomach makes.
Mr. Iero is suddenly by Frank’s side, feeling his forehead.

“You don’t look alright. What’s wrong?” He takes his hand off of Frank, and I once again look at the TV.

“Just ate too much candy yesterday,” Frank says weakly, but less croaky and shaky.

“What, they’re not feeding you right in this house?”
My head snaps to the right.

“Of course we are!” I yell at him. I can’t control the loudness of my voice, but I force myself to when Frank flinches.
“We went to the movies,” I snarl at Mr. Iero. How dare he say that we don’t feed him? How dare he even come to our house and pretend to be a good father and ‘take care’ of his ‘son’? That fuck should never have gotten any custody over Frank!

He snarls back at me, before he turns around and walks out my door. He doesn’t even say goodbye to Frank. He doesn’t even close the goddamn fucking door!

I get out of bed.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumble to Frank. I give him a quick peck on his forehead before I run up the stairs to follow Mr. Iero. I catch up with him just as he enters the living room.

“I think we should take Frank to the doctor,” he announces.

“What?” I yell. Mr. Iero suddenly turns around, looking at me surprised as if he didn’t hear me run after him. Cocky fucker.
“He ate too much candy! He doesn’t have a fucking brain tumor!”

“Gerard,” dad says warningly. I know I shouldn’t yell at guests. I’ve always been told to treat guests with respect, but this guy is not a guest; he’s a fucking intruder!
“Listen, Iero. Frank has a stomach ache. It’s hardly anything to get worked up over,” dad says calmly. Right now, he fucking amazes me. I can’t believe he can be so calm and collected towards a guy who should just get the fuck out of our house and never return.

“I have legal custody over Frank! I get to decide whether or not he goes to the doctor, and he’s damn-well going!” Mr. Iero yells.

I wanna punch him. I wanna punch him so bad. Just connect my fucking fist with his face and hope to fuck that I break something.

I’m fucking furious with him.

“Calm down, Iero,” dad says warningly. I keep staring daggers at the fucker.
“Frank is just fine. The boys went to the movies, accidentally ate too much candy because that’s what you do at the movies, and then Frank’s stomach just couldn’t handle it. It’s just some bad digestion,” dad explains calmly, a bit of humor to detect in his low voice. I’m not amused, but I get why he is.

“Well, I had a friend who thought he just had a bad digestion, and it turned out to be a chronic heartfail-“

“The boy is 17!” dad suddenly yells, smiling like a goof and rolling his eyes like a teenager.
“Once he’s taken a fucking dump, he’ll be just fine. Now drop it!” Dad is laughing.

Suddenly I see someone move in the corner of my eye, and when I turn my head I see Frank leaning against the doorframe to the living room. I smile at him, half of my fury suddenly drained from my body.

“Do we have anymore Pepto?” he asks, his voice a bit weak but at no time breaking or anything near it. I’m proud of him.

He smiles at me.

He said ‘we’.

“Of course, Frankie,” mom says and I hear her walk into the kitchen.

“If he’s not going to the doctor’s, then I at least want him out of that basement. It can’t be healthy down there.” With that, my fury is right back. Not at the same level as before, but enough to stab him with my glare. He doesn’t react to it. He doesn’t touch his temple to see if he’s actually bleeding.

“Here, honey,” mom says from behind me, and I look to see her hand Frank a pink bottle. He smiles his thanks.

Half of my fury vaporizes again.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” mom says sweetly as she strokes a strand of hair out of Frank’s gorgeous, pale face. He nods, still smiling, before he turns around and wobbles towards the hall.

“Your own room,” Iero calls after him, and I have to use all my willpower not to punch him and then go carry my weakened Frank to his room.