Your Just A Kid

I watch as you sit on the trampled dark blue carpet, your fingers picking at the stray strands poking out of the threadbare material, your head is tipped forwards slightly, your eyes locked on mine as you attempt to look like your interested. I know you’re not though. I pick up one of the many photographs of us together and sigh; it all seems like such a distant memory now. You stare back at me from the Polaroid snapshot which captures the image of us laying in bed cuddling, dopey smiles on our faces, your head resting in the crook of my neck. I look up and see you pick up one of the photographs and stare at it for a moment, as though trying to remember something, your brow creases slightly and for a second the childish glint in your eyes dims.
“Frankie?” I ask tentatively, my hand reaching out. You only answer to Frankie now, not Frank, just Frankie…just like when you were a kid.

Your eyes shoot up to meet my own; you lay the photograph down in front of me, and smooth out the dog eared corners, running your fingers over our figures. For a minute I can almost kid myself that it’s you again. Almost.
“What is it?” I speak gently, just like I have been told to. You look up at me, then back down at the Polaroid and place your finger over the pink flower in my suit button hole.
“Pretty flower.” You whisper, and then look up at me. “Can I have a pretty flower Gee-Gee?” I felt the spark of hope in my chest extinguish and smoulder out so not even an ember is burning, but I don’t let it show. I simply place a smile on my face, push a stray strand of hair behind my ear and rest my hand over yours.
“Of course you can. How about tomorrow when I come home from work I bring you a whole bunch of pretty flowers. Would you like that?” My voice cracks on the last sentence and I feel the burning start at the corners of my eyes, but blink rapidly to try to dispel it.

You grin widely, so wide all your perfect teeth show, and nod your head enthusiastically while bouncing slightly on the spot. A forced laugh escapes my lips as you chant ‘Gee-Gee gonna buy me flowers, Gee-Gee gonna buy me flowers’ over and over, until the chuckle gets caught in my throat and the corners of my eyes burn more as the memory of when I first brought you flowers hits me straight on.

I had brought you a bunch of pansies, you’re favourite. I remember when I gave them to you, you squealed and threw your arms around me, peppering me in kisses and promising to repay me. This ended up being better than any bunch of flowers, in my opinion.

I am jogged back by your panic cry of my name, I look up alarmed, afraid that you’ve hurt yourself, but am surprised to find you looking at me worry and fear in your eyes, your hands on my own.
“Gee-Gee! Your eyes are broken!” I frown and cock my head to one side; you gently reach a hand up and wipe at something wet which I hadn’t noticed rolling down my face, and present your finger to me which has a tiny tear drop balanced on the calloused tip. “Their leaking.” You whisper. I wipe at my eyes fiercely with the heel of my hand.
“No, their fine Frankie. See?” I move my hands away to show you my now clear eyes. The worried look doesn’t leave.
“But their all red and puffy…” I smile softly before whispering;
“That’s because I just rubbed them with my hands sweetheart.”

This isn’t unusual for us, everything has to be explained to you since your accident, and you can’t even remember how to spell your own surname half the time. When you first came home you used to get so frustrated that there was all this evidence of a life around you, yet you had no recollection of it, for a while you couldn’t even remember me… (I think the pain that I felt in my heart then was nothing compared to seeing you just stare blankly at our wedding rings and ask me what they were) it ended up I took down all the photographs of us we had up, and anything else that seemed to distress you because when it came down to it, it just wasn’t fair. Some of them still come out, on days like today we look through some photo’s go to places we used to visit, or I tell you stories from our past; like when we first met, our disaster of a first date when the restaurant I had us booked into kicked us out, or when you proposed to me. All in the hopes that maybe something might jog your memory someday. The tree we shared our first kiss under on that rainy day is still your favourite place to go and sit under, guaranteed. Whenever you run away I and the guys always find you sat underneath it, staring at the crudely carved; G+F In the knotted bark.

I watch you sift through the photographs, flicking through our memories, our relationship with the curios eyes of a child, but not really taking any of it in, not knowing when or why the photograph was taken. Not understanding why my lips are pressed against your cheek or why everyone looks so happy stood around us dressed in suits and grasping our hands together, brand new gold rings gleaming on our fingers in the afternoon sun. You smile as you come to one photograph of us when we were on holiday, were both scuba diving, the photo was taken under the water. You hold it up to me and giggle as you tell me my hair looks funny, I force a laugh and retaliate that yours isn’t much better which make you pout and fold your arms as you turn your back away from me and I know I’ve upset you.

I sigh and shuffle closer, wrapping my arms around you, whispering in your ear that I’m sorry and was only kidding. You turn around and playfully scrutinize me through narrowed eyes as you purse your lips, I smile and tug your nose gently making you yelp and giggle.
“I’m sorry Frankie.” I whisper as you hug me, you yawn as you attempt to answer. I look at the clock and realise just how late it is, about 8:30. Bedtime. I stand and feel another pang of sadness as you reach your arms up to be lifted up, I raise an eyebrow and you pout.
“’M tired Gee-Gee.” Your eyes are slipping shut, so I reach down and place my hands on your waist, as your arms wrap around my neck and I lift you up, you wrap your legs around me and nuzzle my neck. Not like you used to, how I long you to once more, more like a child would his father. I fight back tears as I carry your sleepy form through to your room. Ever since your accident you’ve had the spare room next door to our room, it just didn’t feel right for us to share the same bed, not while your like this. I push open the door now covered in Batman and Superman stickers (you refused to put up any of Spiderman because you think he’s lame.) and step into the room, at first glance you would think it was a kids room, what with all the action figures and comics scattered everywhere (I had gotten them from your Mom, lucky she kept them really) and that’s exactly what it is in essence. The bedroom of a child...a 25 year old child.

I lay you down in your unmade bed and pull the Batman bedclothes up to midway up your chest, so only the top of the Superman emblem on your pyjama’s shows. You look up at me expectantly once you’re settled, and even though I know what you’re going to ask for I ask anyway.
“What is it Frankie?”
“Tell me a story?” You ask quietly as you nestle into the covers, rubbing at your eyes sleepily.
“What story?” I sit down on the edge of the bed and watch as you debate, your cute little nose screwing up as you try to decide which story you want me to tell you.
“Peter Pan!” I try to show a smile at the enthusiasm on your face, but can’t help the painful tug at my heart for the irony. Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up.

I begin the story, and as usual you’re asleep with minutes. I lean down and gently press my lips to your forehead, fighting back the urge to start crying, despite the growing burning feeling in my heart.
“Goodnight Frankie.” I leave your room, leaving the door pulled to so that I can hear if you wake up in the night, and walk into the living room. I settle on the couch, staring mindlessly at the TV, the flat always becomes quite whenever you go to bed. It’s like a reflection of how I feel on the inside now that you’re gone, empty, and less alive than before.

I don’t stay up for long, not seeing any point in staying awake and being bored out of my skull, and go to our room. As I get dressed for bed I see our wedding photograph hung up above the bed, you’re in the forefront, a grin stretching from one side of your face to other while my arms are wrapped securely around your torso, fingers threaded over your heart and my head rested on your shoulder, a sly smile tugging at my own lips.

The feeling of warm tears running down my cheeks still doesn’t make me tear my eyes away from the photograph, I just want you back, is that so much to ask? What did we ever do to deserve this? Is it some kind of punishment from above because we’re in love?!

I wipe at my eyes as the hysterical thoughts continue to circulate, I sniff and finish getting changed before slipping in between the bed sheets and laying in the dark, staring at the ceiling. I claw at the bed sheets as the thought that maybe you won’t ever get better enters my head and I feel the tears begin once more as silent sobs shake my body in its place. I roll over and cling to your pillow, sobbing into it, trying to imagine that it’s you (Even though the more I hug it the less it smells like you), and that all of this is just a bad dream, but I know it’s not. I snuggle into the pillow as the sobs get more and more violent, while I try not to wake you and just wait for sleep to come already.

***

When I wake up I realise I have somebody laying across me and groggily lift my head to investigate as well I can in my pinned position, your laying across me, a sheepish smile on your face as a blush tints your cheeks. You scramble up so you’re no longer lying across me, and even though I know its wrong I can’t help but miss your body heat. You sit up on the bed beside me, your legs crossed and your hands in your lap.
“Morning Gee-Gee!” You chirp happily, I attempt a smile but fail miserably.
“Morning Frankie.” You giggle and wave, a genuine smile flutters across my face as I sit up. A strange look suddenly flashes across your face, but disappears as soon as it appears. I run a hand through my hair, your eyes are locked on mine, and you’re chewing your lip, like you always do when you’re nervous about something. I rest one of my hands over both of yours, concern in my eyes. “Are you ok?” You nod quickly, I smile and go to get up, but am stopped by your hand on my shoulder.
“Gee-Gee! Wait!” I turn around and am greeted by a pair of soft lips brushing against my own, my eyes widen and I quickly pull away before I lose myself.
“Frankie!? No!” You look up at me, your eyes wide with confusion and fear that you’ve made me angry, you haven’t though. I sigh shift round in my seat, you just don’t understand what you put me through when you do something like that. “You can’t kiss me like that.” You pout, sticking your bottom lip out and fold your arms across your chest.
“Why not?” You demand.
“Because it’s not right…”
“But we used to kiss…” You mumble, your head tipped forwards so that you’re talking to your chest. “I saw pictures of us.” I shift round so that my legs are dangling off the bed, and lean back slightly on my hands.
“Maybe we used to, but we can’t at the minute, ok?” You look up, and upset light blazing in your eyes and I can see tears shining behind them.
“I thought you wanted things how they used to be? Do you not love me?” My heart breaks at the expression on your face, but I have to remind myself that you don’t understand, your just a child mentally and can’t understand.
“Of course I do Frankie, but we can’t do that until you get better…” you blink, confused.
“Am I ill?” Your voice is hesitant, and I see you start to tug at the sleeves of your Superman Pyjama’s, another nervous habit of yours.
“In a way.” I answer, hesitancy evident in my voice, but you don’t pick up on it.
“So when I’m better I can kiss you?” I nod. “Then…when will I be better?”
“I don’t know sweetheart.” To avoid further questions I stand and tell you I’m going to make breakfast, you nod but don’t move. I walk out of the room, along the corridor towards the kitchen, running the last few minutes over in my head. The feel of your lips once more against mine, then the devastating conversation afterwards.

Before I know it I’m pouring myself a cup of coffee from the machine and getting you some orange juice, I put it down on the kitchen table and turn back the machine now bleeping to tell me my coffee is ready. As I pick up the cup, the warmness seeping out from the porcelain and onto my skin, I hear you let out a shrill cry of pain. The cup in my hand drops and crashes to the floor spilling the coffee across the newly cleaned tiling, but I don’t care, all I keep thinking in my head is ‘what now?’.

As I enter the living room I see you lying on the floor, one of your arms being held tightly to your chest, the other cradling it, protecting it from further harm. Tears are running down your face as sniffling sobs escape your lips, I kneel beside you and wipe gently at your tears with the pad of my thumb, and place butterfly kisses on your forehead.
“Hush now, come on sweetheart, and let me see.” You shake your head stubbornly, making your dark brown locks fly around your face. “Please?” You just shake your head and hold your arm tighter, letting out a slight whimper as another pang of pain as you grip it a little too tightly. “C’mon sweetheart, I need to see what’s wrong.” Reluctantly you let go of your arm and hold it out to me, I gently move it around, until I see what the problem is, an angry red area spreading across your elbow.
“I-it hurts.” You sniffle as wipe at your eyes and nose with your other hand, and watch as I bend down a place a gentle kiss on the bruised skin.
“Hush now sweetheart, there see. Gee-Gee kissed it all better. Hush.” I whisper as I stroke your hair. You nod and continue to wipe fiercely at your eyes.

I lean around you ever so slightly and see one of your colouring books that’s been let out with the pens that had been carefully bundled up to one side now sprawled across the floor. I sigh and move around so that I’m face to face with you.
“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times…” You look down, shamed slightly before murmuring the reply.
“Put my toy’s away when I’m done, or somebody will be get hurties.” I nod, you start to pick at your nails, shifting slightly in your seat. “’M sorry Gee-Gee.”
“I know” I sigh and stand up, helping you up as well when you raise your arms to be lifted. It’s times like these when I’m thankful for you being so small and light.

After you drink your orange juice and eat your cereals it’s time for you to get dressed, I can’t help but feel embarrassed for you as I help you pull up your boxers, I know it isn’t your fault and that you can’t help it, but since your accident you have become dependent on me. Just like a child. I help you put your hands through the arm holes in your ‘Muppets’ T-shirt, then do up your jeans and quickly do up the buckle. By the time we’re done I have to rush to be ready in time for work, even though it’s just a small diner down town it’s the only income we have since your accident. You were always the one who was more business minded, you owned your own tattoo shop, Bob’s running it at the minute but if I can’t finish paying off this month’s bill it’ll have to be shut down. I already know it will be, I can’t afford to keep the shop running and keep you fed and get your medication on the salary that I’m earning, and I can’t take on any more hours because my body physically can’t take any more, plus it isn’t fair to always have Mikey over watching you when he has his own life to be worrying about, not just his fuck up brothers. I know he says he doesn’t mind, and they all offer to help in any way they can…but I can’t keep taking advantage of them like that.

I hear a light knocking at the door just as I straightening out my shirt, I rush through to the door before you get there and try to open it, because I already know how it’ll end, and tug it open. Mikey smiles as he see’s me and pulls me into a hug, he holds me out at an arms length and I can’t help but shift uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. I know I don’t look well, but when you’re working the hours I’m working, and (Essentially) looking after a child you don’t get a lot of time to yourself, it’s a miracle I even have time to shove any food down my throat. Since all this began my respect for single mothers has grown an amazing amount, I mean I already held a great respect for them, but now…well.
“How are you?” Mikey asks as his arms drop from my shoulders and his hands slip into his pockets in a casual gesture. I shrug simply, I don’t know how I am any more. “How is he today?” I run a hand through my hair.
“He’s tripped over once today and hurt his elbow, so if he complains about any pains there, please check it over, you’ll know better than me whither or not he’s really hurt himself but I think it’s just a bruise. I think today’s a calm day though so he shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Mikey simply nods before stepping into the flat, you poke your head around the door frame, a childish light dancing in your hazel lights. A grin spreads across your face as you barrel towards us, a giggle jumbled in with Mikey’s name spilling from your lips. You leap up into his open arms, causing an ‘oof’ to slip past his lips as your weight hit him, my skinny younger brother obviously not used to carrying you to and from bed or lifting you in and out of the bath.
“MIKEY! Mikey here, Mikey here!” You cling onto his neck, a gleeful giggle escaping your lips.
“Hello Frankie.” Mikey hugs you back, a sad smile on his face. I clear my throat as I pull on my coat, your head snaps up as your eyes meet mine.
“Gee-Gee going out again?” You bottom lip sticks out slightly as I nod.
“Don’t worry kiddo.” Mikey set’s you down, you look up at him with the wonder of a child. “I’m going to be here to look after you.” You smile, but as I go to leave your hand reaches out and grips my trouser leg, I look down ,your eyes brimming with tears.
“Don’t want Gee-Gee to go.” I lean down and kiss your cheek softly.
“I have to sweetheart. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” I stand ad quickly leave, knowing that if I stay any longer there’s a good chance I may cave to your requests. It doesn’t matter whither you realise it or not but you still have full control of me and my heart.

***

I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful for my lunch break to come around, the Diner seems to have been busier than ever, customer after customer streaming in through that door demanding my attention. I sigh and flop down in one of the four plain wooden chairs pulled up around the metal table out back of the diner, specifically supplied for employee’s breaks. Not that I have many of those.

As I stretch out in my seat, relishing the feeling of being off my feet for the next half hour, I hear the chair next to mine scratch along the floor as Mable sits down. She smiles towards me, she leans forwards ad rests her head on her arms facing away from me so only her greying hair, seemingly permanently styled into a tight perm, is visible to me. Mable is probably the only one of my co-workers I can stand, she’s quite elderly, probably in her mid fifties. Her husband used to own and run the diner until he had his stroke and now he can’t work anymore, she knows all about my situation with you and understands completely. She faces a similar situation with her husband, having to look after him as though he was a child, but his mind is still intact. He knows he isn’t a child. I can never quite decide which one of us has the worst situation, when I first started I was convinced it was myself, but over time…I’m not so sure.

But anyway, as a result she understands how desperately I need this job, how desperately I need the money from it, so she’s quite lax on me, especially if I’m late. I think that might be one of the reasons that my other co-workers don’t like me, they don’t know anything about you, they just think that because I’m Mable’s ‘favourite’ that’s the reason she’s so light on me, that it’s the reason she gives me the first opportunity to cover any-one for some extra cash. But it’s not. It’s because she knows, and she understands.

She lifts her head from the table and reaches into the rucksack beside the chair and pulls out a plastic box with her lunch in. Damn! I knew I forgot something.
“Shit.” I mutter and smack my head on the table.
“Forget your lunch again sweetie?” I nod weakly, keeping my head down. “What happed this morning?” I sit up and run a hand through my hair.
“He tripped over some stuff he left out and whacked his elbow, then I had to get him to eat his breakfast, then dress him…by the time I was dressed Mikey was showing up.” She sighs and hands me half of her sandwich. I shake my head and politely decline her offer, handing it back to her.
“Are you sure? You’re going to be here a long time with no food in your stomach…” I smile and shrug.
“I’ll be fine.” She opens her mouth to object but is cut out by the sound of something vibrating against the notepad in my apron pocket. I smile sheepishly, apologising quietly before pulling the phone out of its hiding place.

As I flip open the mobile I notice its Mikey calling, frowning, wondering what’s wrong I answer.
“Mikey? What is it?” I know my voice sounds tired, but I can’t help it.
“Oh my God! Gee I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! He just-“ I cut over him, his hysteria simply running a ring of confusion around my brain.
“Mikey, what the fucks happened?” I realise suddenly my voice is beginning to sound a lot like his, as numerous possibilities and scenarios run through my mind.
“It’s Frank, I can’t find him!” My silence must have encouraged him to carry on. “I swear I only nodded off for five minutes, but when I woke up the door was wide open and he’s not in the flat.” I feel my throat close up with fear, if Frank’s out in the city anything could be happening, what if he got run over!? Oh God, what if some-one mugs him?! “I’m so sorry Gee…” I can hear his voice is thick with tears.
“I-I….I’ll be right there.” I hang up and turn to Mable, what I hope is an apologetic look on my face, however mixed in with the panic it probably isn’t. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” I rip off my apron as I stand. “I’ve got to get home, Frank’s gotten out and Mikey can’t find him…Oh, god, anything could be happening to him…” My voice breaks on the last sentence and I realise warm tears and running down my cheeks thick and fast. Mable nods.
“Go on, I’ll get Rachel to cover you.” I hug her thank you, she hugs back than pats me on the back an urgent light in her eyes. “Go!” I run out, speeding through the kitchen and out through the diner, nearly pulling the door off it’s hinges and earning some very strange looks from customers and co-workers alike.

I race down the streets, my sneakers pounding against the concrete, splashing in the puddles still remaining from the rain the night before. My eyes scanning the bustling lunchtime streets for any sign of long chocolate frown waves, checking amongst the crowd, peering down any side alleys I pass, hoping to catch a glimpse of purple T-shirt, or blue denim, but no such luck. When I reach our apartment complex it hit’s me where you are, I can’t believe I didn’t realise before! I spin on my heel and start to run in the opposite direction, my hand fumbles in my jeans pocket for my phone as I run back through the busy streets, bumping into people and making them curse at me as I send their briefcases flying, scattering whatever had been inside them, but I don’t care.

When I finally pull my mobile out of my pocket I hurriedly dial Mikey’s number, with each beep of the dial tone becoming more and more impatient for him to pick up, until he finally does, just as I bump into a group of tourists and get sworn at in (I’m sure) seven different languages. Mikey must have overheard some of the commotion as the first words out of his mouth are:
“Where the fuck are you?” I try to reply, all the while gasping for breath and still racing towards my destination.
“Heading…towards…the park….I think…”
“What the fuck are you going there for!?”
“Frank. Get…your-“ I’m cut out by a business man as I run headfirst into him.
“Watch where your fucking going, you stupid bastard!” I ignore him and keep running, picking back up my sentence where I left it.
“Arse…down to…park…now!” I hang up, breathless with relief as I see the park entrance coming into view.

I enter the park, heading straight for the far end, where a large oak sits, overlooking the entire park, its large branches spreading out like a shield over the ground surrounding it. As I draw closer I see a small figure kneeling in front of it in a bright purple T-shirt and blue jeans, slowly running his hands over a part of the trunk over and over. Soon I’m within touching distance, but I don’t reach out, I’m just so glad to have found you, to know that you’re safe, that nothings happened to you. I sit beside you and hesitantly reach out a hand to stroke your hair back behind your ear, your mouth is pressed into a thin firm line, a slight crease running across your forehead and your eyes are shut as your hands continue to gently run over the area of bark. I glance up and see your fingertip’s tracing over a crudely carved G, below it lay a +, then an F. I look back to your face, a look of such concentration on it that it almost breaks my heart because I know you’re trying, trying to remember…but you never do.

I sigh and stroke your hair one last time before I lean forwards and press my lips to your temple, and whisper quietly so that no-one else can hear, just you, us.
“Why? Why do you always have to run away when Mikey look’s after you? Your going to make him go grey before his time, you know that?” You don’t respond, just open your eyes, even though the look of concentration does not fade, you carry on running your fingers over the carving. I run my fingers through your hair. “Frankie? Sweetheart?” Your hand slips from the carving, down the trunk to rest in your lap. Your eyes fall to the floor, then look around a bit, almost as if looking at the place in a new light. You turn around to face me, and gently raise a hand to touch the side of my face.
“This is where we had our fist kiss.” You voice has lost that slight tone of childish whimsy, I raise my hand and cover yours, my mouth hanging open slightly as I nod encouragingly. You frown a minute, your eyes slipping shut then re-opening. “I…I was so nervous, I remember first time I leant in…I missed and kissed your nose.” I nod as I feel tears beginning to burn at the corners of my eyes. A small smile tugs at corners of your lips while I have a huge grin across my face.

You turn back and stroke the wood once more, you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, almost as though you’re not sure.
“Its okay, come on.” I whisper, even though my voice is cracking with tears of joy, this is the most you’ve remembered in nearly a year.
“I carved this a week later, after you agreed to be my boyfriend…I’d never done anything like it before.” You trail off, a small smile slipping onto your face. “I nicked my dad’s pocket knife and nearly sliced my hand open.”
“Y-es.” You look towards me, tears shining in your own eyes. “Oh, god…Frankie..” My voice is chocked by tears as I continue stroking your hair.
“Why am I surprised to know this? Gee, I know this? Why…W-why am I-I…”
“Hush honey, hush.” I wipe at the tears that begin to run down your cheeks, I can’t help but smile as I notice you call me Gee, instead of Gee-Gee. I wrap my arms around you and pull you close into me, rocking us to and fro as tears escape both our eyes. “Hush, hush….” I smile and kiss the top of your head, the smile on my face never faltering.