Play The Field.

It was nearly midnight by the time we got home from the hospital and Frank and I were both exhausted. Frank was still wearing his blood covered pajamas and Mom helped him get into a pair of mine before tossing them into the garbage; the blood had already set and wouldn't wash out. After that, we should have easily fallen asleep but my mind was racing far too fast and refused to slow down even though my eyes drooped. Beside me, I could tell that Frank was still awake as well; he was sniffling and when he shifted slightly, a quiet yelp came from his mouth.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, it just... hurts." He continued to sniffle and I continued to think, remembering how Frank had looked when I'd opened up the door to see him. If he'd fallen down the stairs, wouldn't he just tell his mom? Why would he bother crawling across the street to get our help? What really bothered me, however, was how scared he looked. I knew falling down a flight of stairs would definitely hurt but why would Frank be so scared? In my young mind, something wasn't clicking together and I had to ask.

"Frankie?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really fall down the-"

"Yes!" His response was so sharp that I literally jolted away from him, leaning against the wall. I had never heard Frank so angry and I almost immediately started to cry, shoving my face into my pillow. I had no idea what I had done that made him so mad but it did comfort me to know that, when I listened, I could hear him crying as well.

"I'm sorry Mikey," he eventually said and I could feel him scoot towards my back. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I didn't mean to make you mad." My tears slowly dried up and my eyes began to droop again. I was actually almost asleep when Frank spoke again, whispering so quietly I could barely hear it.

"You're my best friend."

***

The next morning when I woke up, I left Frank asleep and went to find Mom. Even though Frank had denied it again, I still wasn't convinced that he had fallen down the stairs and I wanted to ask my mom what she thought before Frank woke up.

The only problem with this plan was that Mom wasn't home. When I asked Gerard, who was sitting at the table with Joey, both of them shoveling cereal into their mouths, he shrugged before continuing with his eating. Dad had already gone to work so I settled in front of the television, watching cartoons and waiting for Frank to wake up or Mom to come back, whatever happened first.

It was the latter. After about ten minutes, Mom came stomping in the front door, snow flying from her boots. She was holding a tote bag in her hand that was bulging at the sides. I could see an action figure sticking out of the top and it looked like one I had seen on the floor of Frank's bedroom the one and only time I'd gone over.

"What's that?" I asked, craning my neck to see if I recognized any of the other contents. Mom merely smiled at me and shook her head, sighing quietly.

"Frank's going to be here for a few days, until his dad can come pick him up. Is that okay?"

"Of course that's okay!" I squealed, reaching out and taking the heavy bag from her arms. I thought it was silly that she'd even asked; if I had it my way, Frank would live with us, period. I'd never have to worry about him getting hurt again or being upset because I'd be there and that's how it should have been.

Frank woke up about half an hour later and hobbled out to the kitchen, dragging his foot behind him. When my mom told him the plan, I thought his face was going to split in half from his grin. Abruptly, he wrapped both his arms around her legs and hugged her, still smiling. My mom looked slightly taken aback but she patted his head, slowly smiling as well.

"Thank you Mrs. Way," he said, letting her go finally. "Thank you so much." As soon as he was done talking, he came into the living room and sat beside me on the floor. His eyes still had sleep gathered in the corners and his hair stuck up in every direction but that smile stayed on his face as he took his toys out of the bag.

I've always loved Frank's smile. It was like a lightbulb, shining on my life. Whenever he smiled, I knew everything was going to be okay.

As we played, I made the connection in my mind that Mom had to have gotten all of Frank's things from his house. If Frank's mom was there, why wasn't he over there?

"Frank, isn't your mom home?" I asked him, fiddling with a Transformers figure. Frank shrugged, attacking my Optimus Prime with his Megatron.

"I don't know. She left the other night, before I fell and I guess she hasn't come back yet." Something was very, very off to me but I ignored it. All that mattered was that I had Frank and we had Transformers and I had to prove that Optimus Prime was better. I didn't worry about Linda Iero or Frank being upset or the hospital. I didn't have to listen to tears or screaming; all I had to listen to was the cartoons blaring from the television and Frank's giggles when I smashed Megatron to the ground.

In other words, for a few precious days, I was able to be what I was: a goddamn kid. And that was all I needed.