Seeing Doesn't Have To Mean Believing

Frank’s Point Of View

Okay…

Claire needs to go to the hospital… and Gerard is freaking out.

I’m freaking out…

What’s going on?

I was sitting on top of a box of new shipments that I was supposed to put out tonight after we closed down the shop, but that wasn’t happening. The only thing this box would be doing is providing me a seat while I called my mother. Gerard said she would have to pick up Claire, which makes sense, she is the closest. I'd have to pick the twins off on my way home, and then we’d… exchange kids?

I don’t even know!

I dialed her number, memorized by heart, and impatiently waited for her to pick up. It was Friday, which meant that she wasn’t at Bingo and she wasn’t food shopping. If I knew my mother, which I definitely did, she was sitting on her couch with a glass of spiked iced tea and scoffing at the New Jersey Housewives’ scandalous show. After three long rings, I got a muffled ‘Hullo’ and then I heard the background sound of crazy ladies’ yelling go quiet. If I didn’t suddenly feel like shit then I'd be making fun of her guilty pleasure.

“Uhm, hey ma’,” I started, taking a deep breath before and after I spoke. I couldn’t get all worked up. I just couldn’t. If I wasn’t the strong one, then who would be?

“Frank, what’s wrong?” My mom’s concerned voice filled my ear, comforting me somewhat. She knew me, too.

Running my fingers through my greasy hair, I took another deep breath. “Well, Gerard called… and, and he seemed pretty upset…” I started, trying to keep my cool. “He said something about Claire being sick and having to be picked up and he was crying a lot, mom, and I'm really worried…” I confessed, my words coming out faster than I wanted them to. I was starting to get upset again. My mother waited for me to finish though, always being patient with me. “I… I'm c-calling because… I'm calling because C-Claire needs to be p-picked u-up from s-s-school and, and Gerard and I c-can’t…”

“Okay, Frank. You know that I have absolutely no problem picking Claire up! Now, do you know what’s wrong with her?” mom asked, still successfully remaining calm. Her tone of voice didn’t pacify me, though, because her question hit hard.

Wrong? Why, no, no I didn’t know what was wrong! I forgot to even ask why my daughter needed to be picked up from school early, or why my husband was so upset about it and how I the hell could I do something to make it better! What if she had the flu? Or what if she was in a school fight, and her nose was broken? Surely Gerard wouldn’t have been so upset over something like that, would he?

“Frank? Are you still there, sweetie?”

I shook my head and blinked. I coughed, trying to rid myself of my pathetic whimpering and pushed myself up, off of my box.

“Yeah, uhm. I don’t know what’s wrong, mom,” I winced, closing my eyes and pushing my hair out of my face again. “I… you’ll pick her up, right?” I asked, weakly.

“Of course I will, honey, you know that.” I sighed, opening my eyes. I began to walk back and forth, not getting very far in the cramped space that I was in.

“Okay, okay… Uhm I'll get the twins and then… then I told Gerard that we’d meet at the house, okay? We can… we can all me up and trade kids and...” I stopped, not knowing what to do next. I didn’t know how to go about it, because I didn’t know what was wrong!

“I'm sure everything is fine, you got that? Calm down so you don’t get in an accident, pick up the boys and I’ll get Claire, alright Frank? Do you know how Gerard is getting home? He’s probably a nervous wreck, too…”

My heart stopped. How was he getting home? Knowing my husband, I knew that he was in no way, shape, or form in a condition to drive home from New York City right now. Would he be okay? Of course not…

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! How the hell is he going to get home safely? Why the fuck didn’t I ask? What’s wrong with me?”

“Frank Anthony Iero, calm down this instant! You are a grown man, a husband, and a father. You need to be the adult here, and take the situation by the reigns. And don’t swear at your mother!” My mom finally shouted at me, breaking from her composure. My breathing hitched in my throat. Tears started to pour down my cheeks again. “I'm going to pick my granddaughter up from school now, you best be getting my grandsons, too!” She huffed, hanging up on me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the off button on my cell phone. My first order of business was to put someone in charge, someone who I knew could hold down the fort while I had to leave. With my shaky hands, I stuffed my phone in my pocket and opened my eyes again, hoping to blink away my tears. I pushed the back door open and stepped out into the store, my day job coming into view.

I got a few concerned looks from some unknown customers and a lot of stares as I walked over to the front desk where I knew Tara was assigned today. Tara’s pretty great. She’s super nice to everyone and really easy to get along with. I knew I could ask her for this favor…

“Tara, could I, uh, talk to you for a minute?” I asked, quietly. Her smile, which is usually plastered on her face, faded almost as soon as she saw my sullen expression. She nodded, waiting for me to continue. “There’s been a family emergency and I need to leave…” I told her, nervously scratching the back of my neck.

“Oh Frank, is everything all right?” She asked, almost sounding just like my mother. I shook my head and gave her a half smile.

“I'm not really sure,” I replied honestly. “Do you think you have everything under control?” I asked, hopefully. She smiled sweetly, and placed her hand on my shoulder.

“You go do what you need to do, I got this.” She reassured me. I let out a sigh of relief and nodded quickly. I broke my half smile into a real one, thanking her five times and clocked out before I made a bee-line for the exit and to my car. I thought about texting Gerard to make sure that he was okay, but decided against it. If he was in fact driving, then I knew that he didn’t need and distractions, especially by me!

I shamelessly sped on the highway, luckily steering clear of anyone else and getting caught by the police. I safely made it to the main road where my sons’ daycare was located and did a shitty parking job. I hastily unbuckled my seatbelt after turning my mini-van off and threw open my door, slamming it shut. Only when I got out did I take a second or two to calm myself down. If I came in there a nervous wreck, then they might not release the boys to me and that may scare Nathan and Zachary. Especially Nate, he was my little worrier.

I smoothed down my hair and then took a deep breath. If I hadn’t have quit smoking before Claire was born then this would have been time to do it. Without wasting any more time, though, I opened the door and heard the little ‘ding’ go off, announcing my arrival. It was about one thirty, so I wasn’t surprised that the space was practically silent. I usually thanked god for nap time, but I cringed, realizing that I had to wake my sons, which would make them both irritable and cranky.

A young girl, in her twenties I would say, poked her head up over a row of cubbies and smiled at me politely. I saw her stand up and look around the room before coming over to me. I'd never seen her before, which was odd because I dropped the boys off every morning. Maybe she had the afternoon shift, though. I rarely ever picked them up after work, leaving that to my mother so they weren’t stuck here all day.

“Hi, I'm Frank Iero-Way, I'm here to pick up Nathan and Zachary,” I told her in a hushed tone. She smiled wider and nodded her head.

“I'm just going to need to see your ID, sir,” she whispered. I didn’t question her, not really having the time to, and pulled out my wallet from my back pocket, and showed her that I am the man I said I was. “Thank you.” She said, leading me over to the sign-out sheet. She handed me a pen and the clip board, letting me do my thing. “Sorry about that, it’s standard…” she explained. I shrugged, giving her a half smile.

“Don’t worry about it.” I assured her, and looked around the room for my boys. She seemed to realize that we had stood there for a few seconds and began walking towards a dark room. I followed, knowing I'd find two peaceful twins snoozing away. We passed an older woman, who I knew to be ‘Miss’ Noreen, sitting with a magazine, watching over all of the children sleeping on uncomfortable looking cots. She smiled and waved at me, making me smile back. Finally we came across a boy with his blankie clutched in his little hand, and another with a pacifier stuck in his mouth.

My little men.

I kneeled down on the floor, next to Zach’s cot, and brushed his brown hair out of his face. I leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Zach, wake up. Dad’s here to pick you up, buddy.” His face scrunched up and he turned over to his other side, probably trying to ignore me. I was a little frustrated, pressed for time, and decided to just pick him up, ready to deal with the consequences later. I looked over at Nate next, wondering how the hell I'd get him up.

“Oh, uhm, I'll get him for you…” the girl, whose name I still didn’t know, said. I was grateful that she hadn’t left like I thought she did and she leaned over and picked up my youngest child, only by a few seconds, of course. Nate whimpered a little, but then hugged his blanket to his chest and was fine. She handed him over to me, being extra careful not to wake anyone and I balanced one in each arm. This was something I had grown accustomed to, doing it ever since the day they were born, but it was also nice to know that I had Gerard as an extra set of arms when I got tired, too.

Nathan snuggled into me, his little legs brushing up against his brother’s. I mouthed a ‘Thank You’ and left the daycare, finally. With little difficulty, I got them both into their car seats, not waking either of them. I got in the car myself, starting the car and shutting my music off and headed for home. It took me about ten minutes and when I arrived I saw my mom’s car in the drive way.

I sat there for a second, the car off. I looked at my sons in the rear view mirror and couldn’t help but smile. They looked like little angels while they were asleep, but I knew that they were truly devils. I unbuckled my safety belt yet again and looked over at the front door. A deep breath later and I was out of the driver’s seat and going into the back to get Nate and Zach.

Nate yawned as I picked him up, but didn’t wake. Zach was a little fussy, whining as I got him out. His little eyes opened and he glared at me, pissed off that I had disturbed his nap time. He looked around, seeming confused, and pouted as we went inside.

My ears were met with sniffling and ‘shh-ing’ coming from the living room. It took almost everything I had not to just walk in there and hug my little girl. I knew I had to put the boys back to bed, though, or else nothing would get done and everyone wouldn’t be happy. I went to their room and stood Zach on the floor, his binky ripped out of his mouth and his thumb defiantly put there instead, showing me he was mad. I rested his brother in his bed, kissed his forehead and then put up the safety rail so that he wouldn’t fall out. I looked over at Zachary and expected a fight.

“Okay little man, you wanna go back to bed?” I asked quietly, kneeling down in front of him so that we were practically the same height. He continued to glare at me, though, not wanting to be sweet. “Zach, I have to go take care of Claire right now, will you be a good boy and take a nap, please?” I asked, almost begging. His eyebrows furrowed, making him look like Gerard, and he pulled his thumb out of his almost swollen lips.

“Bear eye?” he asked. I didn’t know what that meant. I know he’s talking about his sister, but her eye?

“Claire’s eye? Sweetie, what?” I asked, pushing his hair out of his face again.

“Bear eye funny…” he explained and then let out a yawn. I was confused, but shook my head. I gently took his binky from his hand and put it in his mouth before swooping him up and laying him in his bed.

“I love you, buddy boy. Go to sleep, okay?” I asked. He closed his eyes, responding, and I gave him a kiss, just like I gave his brother, before putting his side rail up, too. I left their room, quietly shutting the door behind me, and braced myself for almost anything.

Almost.

I found my mother on our couch with my sixteen year old curled into her, trying to even her breathing. Mom was smoothing her long black hair down over her shoulders, trying to comfort her. Slowly, I walked over to them and sat next to the two. Mom looked over to me, not saying a word, but her eyes said it all. She had been crying, too, silently, and she looked so pained. I knew then that it was bad.

It was really bad.

My mother, one of the most easy going and almost carefree people, was never one to worry. Over the years she’s grown to loosen up, due to my erratic behavior, and things rarely seem to faze her. If this fazed her then it was extremely bad.

It meant that there had been no throwing up, no potential broken nose. Claire didn’t have the flu, nor did she have a fever. There wasn’t anything he could think of, unless…

Unless she was pregnant. She couldn’t be, I'm sure. I’d know if she had a boyfriend, which she didn’t, and I’d know if they were sexually active. She wasn’t, right? We had had that talk many times. She’d probably memorized the speech, hearing it from me, and then Gerard, and then both of us at once, even. So she wouldn’t do that, would she? She’d at least tell me, if anything…

But, what if it wasn’t a boyfriend? What if… What if my baby had been raped? She… she wasn’t. Was she?

My stomach turned and flipped and knotted itself in the worst way possible, and my heart leapt up into my throat. I gazed desperately over at my daughter and then back at my mom, my mouth falling open. Nothing came out though. Part of me wanted to burst out into tears and sob, but I didn’t want to scare her. I could very well be jumping to conclusions, after all.

Claire’s sniffling had died down, and her breathing became even after a few minutes of the almost silent house. It had been agonizing, waiting to ask my mother what truly happened to her grandchild. I whipped away my tears with the back of my tattooed hand and swallowed.

“What… what happened?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

My mom’s eyes squeezed shot and then she opened them to look down at Claire. She looked back at me, heartbroken.

There was the sound of a car door shutting and then a few seconds later the front door opened, but neither of us were paying attention enough to even realize.

“Frank, the nurse said that she thinks Claire has a tumor in her eye…” my mother said softly, trying not to start crying herself. My face dropped and my heart stopped.

“What?” a shaken voice asked from the hallway, making me look over. My husband stood there, his hand over his heart and his body shaking. I pushed myself off of my couch and practically lunged for him, gripping him in my arms.

He didn’t move, though.

He was too shocked.