'Cause the Hardest Part of This is Leaving You.

It's so clean in his kitchen it looks like something from a show home; there's not even any washing up on the draining board. It's strange how everything's the reverse of our house. Not just the mirror-image, but the tidiness ad the quiet.
Frank pulls out a chair for me at the table and I sit down.

" Is your mom in? " I ask.

" She's sleeping. "

" Isn't she well? "

" She's fine. "
He goes over to the kettle and switches it on, get's some cups from the cupboard and puts them next to the kettle.
Lindsey screws her face up at him from behind his back, then grins at me as she takes off her jacket.

" This house is just like yours. " she says. " But backwards. "

" Sit down. " I tell her.

She picks up the mushrooms from the table, opens the bag and sniffs. " Yuk! Are you sure these are alright? "

Frank takes them from her and carries them over to the teapot. He tips the whole lot in and pours boiling water over them. She follows him and stands watching behind his shoulder.
" That doesn't look like enough. Do you actually know what you're doing? "

" I'm not having any, " he tells her. " We'll go somewhere when they kick in. I'll look after you both. "

Lindsey rolls her eyes at me as if that's the most pathetic thing she's ever heard.
" I've done drugs before, " she tells him. " I'm sure we don't need a babysitter. "

I watch his back as he stirs the pot. The clink of the spoon somehow reminds me of bedtime, when Mom made me coffee; there's the same thoroughness in the string.

" You can't laugh at us if we do anything stupid. " I say.
He smiles at me over his shoulder. " You're not going to. "

" We might. " Lindsey says. " You don't know us. We might go completely crazy. Gee's capable of anything now he's got his list. "

" Is that right, Gee? "

" Shut up, Lindsay! " I tell her.

She sits back at the table. " Oops, " she says, though she doesn't look sorry at all.

Frank brings the cups and puts them in front of us. They're wreathed in steam and they smell disgusting - of cardboard and new shoes.

Lindsey sniffs at her cup. " It looks like gravy! "

He sits down beside her. " It's fine. Trust me. I put a cinnamon stick in it to sweeten it up. "
Which makes her roll her eyes at me. She takes a sensitive sip, swallows it with a grimace.

" All of it. " Frank says. " The sooner you drink it, the sooner you'll get high. "

I don't know what will happen next, but there's something calm about him, which seems contagious. His voice is one clear thing. Drink it, he says. So we sit in his kitchen and drink brown cardboard and he watches us. Lindsey holds her nose and takes great disgusted gulps. I just swig it down. It doesn't matter what I eat or drink, because nothing tastes good any more.
We sit for a bit, talking about shit. I can't really concentrate. I keep waiting for something to happen. For something to shift. Frank explains how you can tell the mushrooms are right by their pointed caps and spindly stems. He says they grow in clumps, but only in late summer and autumn. He tells us they're legal, that you can buy them dried in certain shops. Then, because nothing is happening yet, he makes us a cup of coffee. I don't really want mine, just wrap my hands around it to keep myself warm. It feels very cold in this kitchen, colder than outside. I think about asking Lindsey to go and get my jacket from next door, but when I try to speak, my throat constricts, as if little hands are strangling me from inside.

" Is it supposed to hurt your neck? "

Frank shakes his head.
" It feels as if my windpipe's shrinking. "

" It'll stop. " But a flicker of fear crosses his face.

Lindsey glares at him. " Did you give us too much? "

" No! It'll be alright - he just needs some air. "
But doubt has crept into his voice. I bet he's thinking the same as me - that I'm different, that my body reacts differently, that maybe this was a mistake.

" Come on, let's get you outside. "

I stand up and he leads me down the hallway to the front door.
" Wait on the step - I'll get you a jacket. "

The front of the house is in a shadow. I stand on the step, trying to breath deeply, trying not to panic. At the bottom of the steps is a path leading to the front of the driveway and Frank's mom's car. On either side of the path is grass. For some reason the grass seems different today. It's not just the color, but the shortness of it, stubbed like shaved heads. As I look, it becomes increasingly obvious that the path is the place to be and the grass is dangerous.
I hold onto the door to make sure I don't slip down. As I clench it, I notice the front door has a hole in it that looks like and eye. All the wood in the door leads to this hole in spirals and knots, so it seems the door is sliding into itself. I watch the hole for ages as it turns into itself. Then I put my eye to the hole, but it's cloudy in there, so I take a step back inside the hallway and slose the door, and look at it from another direction. The world is very different from in here, the driveway getting skinny.

" How's your throat? " Frank asks as he appears in the hallway and hands me a jacket.

" Have you ever looked through here? "

" Your pupils are huge! " he says. " We should get you out now. Put the coat on. "
It's actually a parka with fur around the hood. Frank does the zip up. I feel like a child.
" Where's your friend? "

For a minute I don't know who he's talking about; then I remember Lindsey and my heart floods with warmth. " Lindsey! Lindsey! " I call. " Come see this! "
She's smiling as she comes along the hallway, her eyes are deep and dark as winter.

" Your eyes! " I tell her.

She looks at me in wonder. " Yours too! "

We peer at each other until our noses touch.
" There's a carpet in the kitchen, " she whispers, " that's got a whole world in it. "

" It's the same with the door. Things change shape if you look through them. "
" Show me. "

" Excuse me, " Frank says. " I don't want to spoil the moment, but does anyone fancy a ride? "
He get's his keys from his pockets and shows them to us. They're amazing.

He brushes Lindsey from the door and we step outside. He points to the car and we all go down the stairs. I tread cautiously down the path, warn Lindsey to do the same thing, but she doesn't hear me. She dances across the grass and seems to be fine, so maybe things are different for her.

I get in the front of the car next to Frank; Lindsey sits in the back. We wait for a minute, then Frank says, " Well what do you think? "

But I'm not telling him anything.
I notice how careful he is as he reaches for the steering wheel. " I love this car. " he says.
I know what he means, being in here is like being inside a fine watch.

" It was my Dad's. My mom doesn't like me driving it. "

" Perhaps we should just stay here then! " Lindsey calls from the back. " That'll be fun! "

Frank turns around to stare at her. He speaks very slowly. " I'm taking you somewhere. I'm just saying she won't be very happy about it. "

Lindsey flings herself across the backseat.
" Be careful with your shoes! " he yells.
She sits up again very quickly and thrust a finger at him. " You should see your fucking face! "

" Shut up. " he says, and it's completely shocking to me, because I didn't know that voice was him.

Lindsey sinks back away from him. " Just drive the car, man. " she mutters.

I don't even realize he's started the engine. It's so quiet and expensive in here, you can't hear it at all. But as we glide down the driveway and out the gate, the houses and gardens in our street slide by, and I'm glad. This trip will open doors for me. My mom says musicians write all their best songs when they're high. I'm going to discover something amazing. I know I will. I'll bring it back with me too. Like the Holy Grail.

I open the window and hang out, my arms as well, the whole top half of me dangling. Lindsey does the same in the back. Air rushes at me. I feel so awake. I've seen things I've never seen before, my fingers drawing in other lives - the pretty girl gazing at her boyfriend and wanting so much from him. The man at the bus stop raking his hair. The baby crying up at him.

" Look, Lindsey, " I say.
I point to a house with it's door open, a glimpse of a hallway, a mother kissing her daughter. The girl hesitates on the steps. I know you, I think. Don't be afraid.
Lindsey has pulled herself almost out of the car by heaving on the roof. Her feet are on the back seat, her face has appeared along side my window. She looks like a mermaid on the prowl of a ship.

" Get back in the fucking car! " Frank shouts. " And get your feet off the damn seat! "
She sinks back inside, hooting with laughter.
They call this stretch of road Mugger Mile. My mom's always reading bits out of the local paper about it. It's a place of random violence, of poverty and despair. But as we pick up speed and other lives whip by, I see how beautiful people are. I will die first, I know, but they'll join me one by one.

We cut through the back streets. The plan, Frank says, is to go into the woods. Where no one will know us.

" You can go crazy there. " he says. " It's not too far either, so we'll be back before dark. "

" Are you insane? " Lindsey yells from the back. " I want to go back home when my parents are there. I want everyone to know I'm high. And I want to stay here till it's midnight. "

She heaves out of the window again, looking like Rapunzel escaping, her hair snapping in the wind. But then Frank slams on the breaks and Lindsey bangs her head against the roof.
" Jesus! " she screams. " You did that on purpose! " She slumps down in the back seat, rubbing her head and moaning softly.

" Sorry, " Frank says " We need petrol. "

" Wanker, " she says

I thought we were at our destination, but I was wrong and Frank was grinning and getting out of the car.

" You OK? " I ask

" He's after you! " she hisses. " He's trying to get rid of me so he can have you all to himself. You mustn't let him! "

" I don't think that's true. " Maybe she's got concussion.

Lindsey turns her head from me.
I leave her to her devices and walk over to speak at the man at the counter.

He leans forward over his little desk. " Number? " he asks.
" Eight. "

He looks confused. " No, not eight. "

" OK, I'll be three. "

" Where's your car? "

" Over there. "

" The Jag? "

" I don't know "
" You don't know? "

" I don't know it's name. "

" Jesus Christ! " The glass between us warps to accommodate his anger. I back away in awe and amazement.

" I think he's a magician, " I tell Frank as he approaches from behind and puts his hand on my shoulder.

" I think you're right, " he whispers. " Best get back in the car. "

~ * ~

Later I wake up in the woods. The car has stopped and Frank isn't there. Lindsey is asleep, spread out on the back seat like a child. Through the car window, the light filtering through the trees is ghostly and thin. I can't tell if it's day or night. I feel peaceful as I open the door and step outside.

There are plenty of trees, all different kind, dark and really green. It's so cold it must be Scotland.
I walk about for a bit, touching the bark, greeting the leaves. I realize that I'm hungry, really, dangerously hungry. If a bear turns up, I'll wrestle it to the ground and bit off it's head. Maybe I should build a fire. I'll lay traps and dig holes and the next animal that comes by will end up on a spit. I'll make shelter with sticks and leaves, and I'll live here for ever. There are no microwaves or electricity. There are no pyjamas or clocks that glow in the dark. No TV, nothing made of plastic. No hairspray or hair dye or cigarettes. In this woods I'm safe.
I laugh quietly to myself. I can't believe I didn't think of this before. This is the secret I came for.
Then I see Frank. He seems smaller and suddenly far away.

" I've discovered something! " I yell.

" What are you doing? " His voice is tiny and perfect.

I didn't answer because it's obvious and I don't want him to look stupid. Why else would I be here collecting twigs, leaves and so on?

" Get down! " he yells

But the tree wraps it's arms around me and begs me not to. I try and explain this to Frank, but I'm not sure he hears me. He's taking off his jacket. He starts to climb.

" You need to get down! " he shouts. He looks very religious coming up through the branches, higher and higher, like a sweet monk coming to save me. " Your mom's going to kill me if you break anything. Please, Gerard, come down now. "
He's close, his face reduced to just the light behind his eyes. I bend down to lick the coldness from him. His skin is salty.
" Please. " he says

It doesn't hurt at all. We sail down together, catching great armfuls of air. At the bottom we sit in a nest of leaves and Frank holds me like a baby.

" What were you doing? " he says. " What the hell were you doing up there? "

" Collecting materials for shelter. "

" I think your friend was right. I really wish I hadn't given you so much. "

But he hasn't given me anything. Apart from his name and the dirt under his fingernails, I barely know him at all. I wonder if I should trust him with my secret.

" I'm going to tell you something, " I say. " And you have to promise not to tell anyone. OK? "
Frank nods, but he looks uncertain. I sit up next to him and make sure he's looking at me before I begin. Colors and lights blaze across him. He's so luminous I can see his bones, and the world behind his eyes.

" I'm not sick anymore. " I'm so excited it's difficult to speak. " I need to stay here in the woods. I need to keep away from the modern world and all it's gadgets and then I won't be sick. You can stay with me if you want. We'll build things, shelters and traps. We'll grow vegetables. "
Franks eyes have a hint of water brewing in them. Looking at him crying is like being pulled from a mountain

" Gee. " he says.
Above his shoulder there's a hole in the sky, and through it, a satellite's static chatter makes my teeth tremble. The it disappears and there's only yawning emptiness.

I put a finger on his lips. " No. " I tell him. " Don't say anything. "