Frankie Fever: The Sequel

I never considered myself a ‘queenie’ gay. Never. But my behaviour on that morning said differently. I was running through the house, wailing melodramatically. My mom looked at me in alarm from the kitchen table, where she was drinking her coffee and reading a book. Will watched me from his armchair, lowering his paper to see me. Mikey stepped out of his room and leant against the frame, snorting with laughter.

“I can’t find it,” I wailed “Mom, where is it? I have to go soon!”

“This is why you should be more organised, Gerard,” Mom smirked in her I-told-you-so way.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, stopping to observe her “But you know I’m not going to take your advice so it’s a pointless thing to point out! Now, please help me, Mommy! I can’t find it!”

“When was the last place you remember seeing it?” She questioned, sighing and marking her page.

“When I was wrapping it, in my room!”

She gave me a look of pure confusion. Her fine eyebrows furrowing as she shook her head slowly. She then began to giggle, her shoulders shaking.

“But you keep your room reasonably clean!” She pointed out “How could you have lost it in there?”

I shrugged and threw my hands up in despair. True, walking, talking hyperbole right there.

Mom made a valid point. My room was reasonably tidy; especially for a seventeen year old boy. How could I have lost Frankie’s present in there? I groaned to myself. I was going to miss my bus and the next one wasn’t for another hour. Goddamnit! Knowing Mikey, he’d probably hidden it as some kind of cruel joke.

I was hopeless. Oh, where had I put it?

“Hey, Gerard,” Will called, coming in from the living room “This what you’re looking for?” He asked, holding up my neatly wrapped gift.

Will. Mom’s new boyfriend.

Well, not really ‘new’. Her boyfriend of two years. After all the trouble I’d caused, Mom and Dad tried to stay together for the sake of me and Mikey. It didn’t work so they stuck by their previous decision to separate. Mikey and I saw Dad once a fortnight. He’d gone through a string of girlfriends. None of which Mikey or I liked. They were all really slutty and really stupid. Mikey had grown to become very sharp-tongued and quick-witted, cutting through them like a knife through warm butter.

Mikey, his fifteenth birthday had just passed. He was a great kid. We got on really well. He’d dyed his hair black, like his big brother, and started wearing contacts and eyeliner. Mom had despaired mockingly and asked why she had to get the two emos. We’d smirked that same smirk simultaneously. It always freaked Mom and Will out. Only messing of course, we loved our mommy.

Me? Well, I moped by myself for the twelve weeks I was truly alone until I started visiting Frank. About two weeks later, I got a call from Bert. He and I gave it another try. I really did try, despite my heartbroken state and everything that had happened. But the spark had gone. We didn’t see the point in flogging a dead horse and made the mutual decision to be friends.

And we stayed friends - still are now.

He’d just started a band with some friends. I often went along to watch them play and sometimes made a guest appearance and would sing with Bert. It was fun.

It’s a real shame he and I didn’t work out. We had a lot of chemistry in the beginning and we got on really well. It’s not his fault. I had a lot of trouble letting go of Frankie. I’d really, truly fallen for him. And then I’d lost him.

“Yes!” I cried in triumph “Will, I owe you eternal servitude! Where was it?”

“Under your clean laundry on the desk,” He shrugged “Try and be more organised, next time, hey kid?” He finished with a friendly smile, ruffling my hair.

I nodded with a grateful smile. The present was carefully packed into my messenger bag and I began pulling my shoes on.

“Well, loved ones,” I began “It has been fun, but now I must run!” I concluded cleverly, rushing out the door for the bus.

I visited Frank once or twice a week. I was the only person who did. He burst into tears once and thanked me for doing so. He also went on to ask why I bothered with a waste of space like him and then began begging me to leave him alone and live my life. That was during his first few months at the institute. He’d developed severe depression and became prone to emotional breakdowns. I was informed that he was beginning to become unstable and there were serious concerns about his mental state. It was hard to watch.

I did what I could but it was all down to him, really. It was up to him whether he wanted to try and pick himself up as best he could. It took him a very long time. But he began a slow recovery, turning back into the funny, confident, sharp-tongued boy I knew and loved. It felt like a huge wave of relief had washed over me the day he greeted me with ‘Hey, ass-bandit’. I didn’t even care that he’d used an offensive term. I’d sooner him call me ass-bandit every day for the rest of my life than go back to breaking down into angry tears in which he would pull his own hair out and then not remember it the next week.

It was a nice crisp autumn day. Truth be told, I enjoyed that half a mile walk I had to make to get to my destination. It was a nice walk. . . well, except for the hill I had to climb to get to the institution itself. That hill had it in for me. I often fantasised about ploughing through it with a big digger one day.

Frankie was sitting expectantly at his table, arms folded, that sour expression on his face. I gave him a small wave and a smile as I placed all metal objects into the plastic tray and prepared to step through the metal detector.

Bleep Bleep Bleep Bleep

The guard gestured for me to face him. I spread my arms out for him to begin using the wand to find what had set the detector off. I could see Frankie leaning back in his chair, eyes rolling heavily. He knew the trick.

As the wand went off when waved around my hips, I could just see Frankie’s head shaking in embarrassment. The guard began checking my pockets and then slipped his hands inside the waistband of my jeans. His expression was one of annoyance when he held the bobby pin that had been attached to the waistband of my boxers up for me to see.

“How stupid of me,” I said, trying to maintain an innocent expression “I use it to pin my bangs back sometimes.”

Frank’s eyes were practically rolling back into his skull when I sat opposite him with a smile, making a shrugging motion with my hands. He had me all figured out, of course. He was a smart one. Although he didn’t always act it.

“Dunno’ what that was all about,” I smiled conversationally.

He shook his head in disbelief.

“The only way you could’ve made that more obvious is if you’d written ‘Feel me, I don’t mind’ across your forehead!” He commented.

I tried to look innocent but he wasn’t buying it. He shook his head, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with a match, waving his hand impatiently to extinguish the flame. I wasn’t allowed to bring a lighter in here either. Matches.

He took an expert drag, exhaled slowly, tilting his head back, and surveying me with an expression of amusement. All of this gave him a look of superiority, despite the fact that he was the one in jail. He’d always been able to make me feel inferior, though. I’ll never understand how or why.

“Do the world a favour, Gerard,” He said “Get laid.”

Believe it or not, this was him in a good mood. Last time I’d caught him in a bad mood, I’d commented on having one up on him on wit and he’d declared he still had my virginity. Everyone in the room was staring and I was so embarrassed that I just upped and left. He never apologised for it.

Sitting opposite him now, trying to maintain an image of innocence proved impossible. He rested back in his chair, smoking calmly. I tried to ignore his comment and smiled brightly, reaching into my bag and pulling out his present. He looked mildly surprised as I placed it in front of him and slid it across the table.

“Happy birthday,” I wished with a smile.

“Ta,” He thanked “I’ll open it later,” He commented, looking around to see some of the other guys watching him.

I nodded. He managed a small smile and offered me a cigarette. I thanked him and took the cigarette delicately between two fingers. Then prepared to ask the difficult question.

“Heard from your dad?”

“Don’t be stupid,” He scoffed apathetically “Stupid asshole never visits. Why would today be any different?”

“His son’s eighteen.”

“So?” He shrugged “And before you ask, no my mom didn’t get in touch either. Pigs will fly the day she gets in touch. . . mind you, a lot’s gonna’ happen when those fatties manage to get their asses off the ground!”

I pondered. He was right. A hell of a lot of weird stuff would happen when they learned to fly. For a start, my Dad would actually learn what his sons liked instead of deciding for them. Me and football are not good bedfellows. And Mikey hates wrestling with a passion. . . engaging in it anyway and the kid didn‘t need to learn to fight - he already did a good job of that.

Dad didn’t know anything about either of us. There was a reason I joined the drama club instead of trying out for the soccer team. And Mikey decided to learn bass because he liked doing that, if he wanted to play for the local junior bowling team he would’ve tried for that. Yes, Dad had a lot to learn about his sons. He knew very little.

I looked up and watched a blonde-haired guy with an eyebrow piercing walk past. He was pretty nice looking.

“Out of curiosity, when was the last time you got laid?” Frankie questioned.

I didn’t answer.

“Oi, pillow-biter!” Frank snipped, slapping my arm.

“Sorry?” I questioned blearily.

“I said when was the last time you got laid?” He repeated “But judging from the way you’re ogling every piece of ass in the room, I’d say it’s been pretty long!”

“No!” I protested.

“Right,” He nodded patronisingly “So who was the last person you jumped in the sack with?”

I scowled as he crossed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. He could hardly talk. When was the last time he got any action of any kind? Oh yeah, I remember. With me. And if I recalled correctly, that was a long time ago - say nearly two and a half years. In short, he wasn’t in any position to be making fun of me. I ran a hand through my hair with a stressed sigh.

I kinda’ liked my hair this way. I’d cut it off not long after Frankie went away. Now it was growing back and reached the base of my neck at the back and progressively got shorter as it went around. I cut my hair to spite myself. I felt like I didn’t deserve to like the way I looked after reaching the messed up conclusion that it was my fault Frankie was in this place. It took me a long time to get out of that mentality and for my confidence to grow back.

“You’d better not be saving yourself for me,” Frankie smirked with a wink.

“Get real,” I scoffed.

“So what’s the problem?” He demanded “Christ, Gerard, you’ve got it! Use it.”

I shrugged non-commitedly. Sex wasn’t really a priority on my list. Schoolwork and drama club was all I had nowadays. And my Wednesday night games of pool with Sarah.

“I just haven’t met anyone I like,” I shrugged.

“Who said anything about liking anyone?” He questioned, looking genuinely confused “We’re talking about getting laid! There’s a huge difference.”

Again, I shrugged. Frankie’s view on the world was completely different to mine and sometimes just a little twisted. But that was something I found interesting about him. It was part of what made him so original.

While I thought sex was something that came with a great relationship, Frankie thought a relationship was something that sometimes came with great sex.

“Just do it, Gerard,” He said “Do the world a favour and get that frustrated libido out of you!” He finished, taking a drag of his cigarette.