Butterfly Kisses

Frank slid a key out from under a potted plant outside the house to unlock the front door. Gerard noticed a car in the driveway, and it looked like it had moved within the last decade, so he wasn’t sure why the door had to be locked. Frank opened it and stepped inside, closing and locking it behind Gerard once he followed.

“Hi,” he called, walking past the kitchen. A middle-aged woman stepped out of it, holding a dish in one hand and a soapy sponge in the other.

“Frank, you’re home,” she said happily, looking extremely relieved. “And you must be Gerard.”

“Nice to meet you,” he responded with a smile. She smiled and retreated back into the kitchen, where Gerard could hear water running and smelled something cooking on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes or so; you’re welcome to join us, Gerard.”

“Thanks.”

Frank was walking down the hallway already, so Gerard followed him, not wanting to wander off too much. He heard quiet music echoing from Frank’s room, and though he didn’t recognize the song itself, he already knew the band fairly well.

“Floyd fan?” he asked with a smile. Frank turned back, smiling and giving a single nod before he stepped into his room and placed the cages in a stack of similar objects.

Gerard had to stop and stare a little when he looked inside the room itself. More of the mesh cages lined every available flat surface, with stacks of plastic cups placed in the small amount of free space left. Each one had a green-brown mold on the bottom, and when he saw a few others standing in a row with worm-like creatures inside and lids on top, he guessed the mold was some kind of food.

The sounds of clutter colliding against more clutter stumbled out of the closet, where Frank carefully stepped away from everything, smiling sheepishly as he juggled an armful of cotton balls with several paper trays of water that shook with every step.

“F-f-food,” he said as he carefully laid everything out on the bed taking up a quiet corner of the room, next to the speaker system playing the mellow music. He opened up the top of one cage, placing a cotton ball in the tray before putting it on the bottom of the small box. Gerard walked over to look at it after Frank had moved on to another few cages.

A picture cut out of something – a book or a magazine, he guessed – sat propped up in front of the cage. Even with his limited knowledge of animals, Gerard knew it was a photograph of a Monarch butterfly, recognizing the black and orange pattern spread across its wings. A similar picture sat in front of each of the other cages.

“S-sugar wat-t-ter,” Frank told him, lifting up one tray like a toast as he placed it in the cage before him. “L-like…flowers.”

“Oh, okay,” Gerard answered absentmindedly. He found himself fascinated by how many different butterflies Frank was…raising? Caring for? He wasn’t sure.

Frank sighed and lay down on the bed, covering his eyes with his hands. “N-no…”

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, a tiny flicker of worry in his eyes. Frank took one hand away from his face and started waving it around in a random pattern in the air.

“C-c-colors.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Are you on acid or something?”

Frank shook his head, looking extremely frustrated. “No. M-music. Col-l-ors.”

“Oh…when you hear music, you see colors?” Gerard hoped he was right this time, and was relieved when Frank gave a slight nod, then covered his eyes again. “Maybe you could just turn the music off, then.”

He shook his head. “I…l-like it.”

Gerard gave a small laugh. Pretty much everyone liked Pink Floyd. He focused his attention on the music for a moment. He hadn’t had a chance to buy this album yet, but he had heard a few songs from it and liked it already. “What’s this album called? I can’t remember.”

“D-d-dark S-side.”

“Lunch is ready!” Frank’s mom called from the other side of the house. Frank jumped to his feet and walked back down the hallway as Gerard followed, taking one last glance at the room behind him as the music faded into silence.
-
“Hey, mom, can I run to the music store?” Gerard called.

“Dinner’s going to be ready in half an hour. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“But they’re closed on Sunday!” he complained. Bob rolled his eyes.

“You know she’s not gonna let you go; why are you even asking?”

“Then wait until Monday. I don’t want you going out after dark, Gerard. It’s not safe.”

Gerard finally gave up and went to searching through the CDs scattered on the floor of his room.

“I can’t believe I never bought it,” he said. Bob just laughed.

“I don’t see why it matters so much.”

“Well, Frank said whenever he listens to that album, he sees weird colors and stuff like that. I wonder if it’s just him or if that could happen to anyone.”

“That doesn’t really make any sense,” Bob said with a frown. Gerard stopped searching for a moment.

“I was talking to his mom a little bit,” he said thoughtfully. “She said a few weeks after he was born, she accidentally dropped him…”

“He could’ve hit his head,” Bob finished for him. Gerard nodded.

“Apparently when he was old enough to start speaking, he kept stuttering and stuff, so they took him to the doctor and they found out he’s…well, retarded. But I don’t think he is.”

“Why not?” Bob sounded intrigued. Gerard knew he wanted to be a doctor one day, and he sincerely hoped Bob would be better than whoever had diagnosed Frank.

“He’s really good at math and science stuff. It’s just words that are difficult for him.”

“Hmm…I’ll have to look into that,” said Bob. Gerard smiled before going back to his homework, frowning immediately when he looked at the page.

“Why do we have to do homework on a Saturday?”

“Because you’ll never do it otherwise, genius,” he answered. Gerard would’ve responded with some sort of smart comment, but he noticed the drumsticks in Bob’s backpack and decided to redirect the topic instead.

“I feel really bad for him, actually,” he said quietly. “Apparently after they found out what was wrong with him, his dad left and never came back.”

“That’s rough,” Bob said in agreement. “Maybe things will get better for him now, though.”

“I hope so,” Gerard muttered. He didn’t even want to think of what else could happen to make Frank’s life worse. “Matt and friends tried to pick on him earlier.”

“That crazy British kid who used to be Mikey’s friend?”

“Yeah.” Gerard suddenly cracked a smile. “Why don’t you get some of your drumline friends to go kick the crap out of him one day? I’m sure he deserves it.”

“You’d be better off asking the band people. Or Ray.”

“Hasn’t Ray beat up enough people in his lifetime?” Gerard asked. Bob shrugged, writing another few words before closing his book.

“I’m sure three more couldn’t hurt.”