Smiles Echo In My Memory

There were heart-rate monitors, beeping in a slow, steady rate. The room was smallish, only big enough for about four people to squeeze in. In the middle of the room, the white, crisp bed sheets covered a frail looking man, who had tubes running up his nose, an IV stuck in the middle of his left hand. Various other tubes were covering parts of his body, showing us the vulnerability of his current health. We could hear his ragged breathing, an oxygen mask helping him.
Frank walked over to him, wary and visibly upset. He sat down at a chair, and I followed suit, sitting in the white plastic chair next to him. He seemed to be sleeping, but Frank took hold of his fathers’ hand anyway. He held onto him cautiously, making sure not to hurt him because of the IV sticking out of the middle of his hand.
“…Dad?” Frank mumbled, looking up to his face, brushing away some of the brown hair from his father’s forehead. He stirred slightly at his son’s touch, his eyes moving around under his eyelids.
“Dad?” Frank called again, but slightly clearer. You could hear his voice cracking, his tone similar to the one I loathed. The one he used the first day we met – it was a tone I would never forget.
This time, Frank Sr.’s eyes flickered open, and he groaned slightly, shifting.
“…Fr-Frank-Frankie…?” he whispered, his voice dry and weak.
“Yeah, Dad... It’s me,” Frank replied, and I gripped onto his free hand on hearing his tense voice. I felt him squeeze on my hand, and I rubbed circles into his palm.
“Frankie… How are you?” his Dad groaned, sitting up properly and rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
“I’m fine, Dad. What about you, what happened?” he asked, his eyebrows creased with worry.
“Don’t worry yourself. I’m fine, son.”
“You’re obviously not.”
“I just had a minor stroke.”
“Doesn’t seem minor,” Frank grumbled.
“And it’s not just a stroke! What the hell happened?!”
“Too many cigarettes and too much alcohol… and apparently, stress.”
“Stress…? Over what?”
“I don’t bloody know, Frankie,” Frank’s Dad groaned, rolling his eyes.
“Your acting like my mother,”
Frank shook his head, a small smile appearing on his lips. Frank Sr. chuckled, his eyes crinkling. He looked just like Frank. In fact, apart from the obvious age differences like slight wrinkles and the wiser look in Frank Sr.’s eyes, the resemblance was uncanny.
I felt Frank squeeze on my hand again, glancing over at me, smiling slightly.
“Dad, this is Sazzy. My girlfriend,” Frank said, his eyes locked on mine. It felt so right when he called me his girlfriend. I broke away from Frank’s gaze, looking over to his father, smiling. His eyes were wide, a sparkle in them.
“Hello, Sazzy. It’s lovely to meet you,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it, and he brought my hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on my knuckles. I was quite surprised, actually.
“And you too, Mr. Iero,” I replied, my hand dropping back to my lap.
“Please, call me Cheech,” he said, smiling at me pleasantly.
“I’m very sorry we couldn’t meet in better circumstances, but my health hasn’t really been up to scratch, apparently,” he said, grinning slightly.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’m just glad you seem okay,”
“I am, Sazzy, love. I just wish your boyfriend here would believe me,”
Frank scowled jokingly, a smile on his face.
“Son… How long are you in Jersey for?” Cheech asked, his tone turning serious.
“Two weeks, Dad…” Frank mumbled, almost ashamed.
“That’s great… plenty of time. I better get out of this shit-hole fast, then,” Cheech muttered the last part, almost to himself.
“Anyways… We better go, Dad,” Frank said, letting go of his fathers’ hand and standing up. I stood up next to him, letting go of his hand. Frank went over to Cheech on the bed, hugging him.
“I’ll come back soon. Get better fast, Dad,” Frank mumbled, pulling away from the small embrace.
“You stink, Frank Anthony. Have you been smoking?”
“Yeah, before we came in.”
“You should start quitting soon, son.”
“I’ll try, Dad.”
“It’s that fucking asshole’s fault, Kevin. Fucker,” Cheech muttered the resentment plain and sheer in his tone. Frank rolled his eyes.
“Bye, Pa,” he said, grabbing my hand again and walking towards the door.
“Bye, Sazzy, love,”
“Bye, Cheech! Get well soon,” I replied, smiling and waving at him. He waved back delicately, smiling back at me.

In the car, Frank lit up another cigarette, putting the engine to life.
“You know, you’re Dad was right. Maybe you should cut down on them a little,” I said, pulling on my seatbelt.
“Mmm. I mean, I’ve tried, but it always comes and bites you back in the ass, doesn’t it?” he mumbled, clipping in his belt.
“Yeah I suppose, but you could try…”
“I will, babe, don’t worry,” he said, rolling down his window and reversing out of the parking space. I smiled, linking my fingers with his that were resting on the gear stick.
“So what do you think of my Dad?”
“He’s pretty damn cool,” I admitted, rolling down my window after I realized how hot it was. Frank grinned, stopping at a set of traffic lights.
“I think so too.”