Frankie Fever

I spent about a week holed up in my room, buried under my covers. For the first day, I cried solidly; using up all the tissues in the house. The second and third days saw me crying on and off. Poor Mom had her hands full dealing with a big baby of an eldest son on top of Mikey’s disconnected behaviour.

She tried so hard though. I wouldn’t leave my room for anything except the bathroom or a shower. So she’d bring me food, drinks and tissues. She’d bring me anything she thought I might need. I ate virtually nothing though. Maybe a quartered apple once or twice a day and a nibble of her specially made ham sandwiches. It must have seemed that I was rejecting any care that she offered me. I could see it upset her every time she sighed and left the room with her head hanging. I’d never felt so crappy in my fifteen years of living.

I bit my lip and wiped the tear from my cheek. What was I supposed to do now? I’d just watched my life collapse in front of me at the revelation of one piece of information. One little piece of info had destroyed my life in a matter of days. I’d been reduced to a quivering wreck, curled up under my covers, crying continuously on and off.

Knock, knock.

I ignored it.

“Oh, Gerard, honey,” Mom’s voice said gently.

The bed shifted as she sat on the end of it. I ignored her, barely acknowledging her presence.

“I know you don’t feel well, sweetie, but this isn’t going to help!” She continued “It’d be nice if you could come downstairs for a bit. Perhaps we could all watch a movie on the sofa and I could make us all some cocoa?”

I didn’t say anything. My phone in my hand began to vibrate.

Frankie calling. . .

I pressed the ignore button, placing my phone on the bedside cabinet. Mom reached out and stroked at my greasy hair; I hadn’t washed my hair properly for a week so it was pretty filthy. Her touching me had no effect. I just ignored her still, trying my hardest not to cry.

Frank text me about an hour after I’d left. A text I didn’t reply to. A text that portrayed his shock perfectly. It broke my heart over again.

How long?

How could I reply to that? I could hardly say From the moment I met you , could I? What would he think of me then? It’d only make my situation worse. I didn’t want to do that, God no. I just needed to cut myself off from the world, that was the best thing for me.

Frankie calling. . .

Ignore.

“Please, sweetheart,” Mom begged “It’d be nice to see you around the house! Even if it’s only for an hour or two!”

I didn’t say anything.

Frankie calling. . .

Ignore.

“Have you and Frank had a fall out?” Mom questioned “I’m sure I can help if you’d like!” She offered.

I shook my head slowly. It’s always bad when your parents offer to help fix your problems for you. I was fifteen; I needed to sort things out myself.

So why wasn’t I?

Why was I lying around like an idiot, feeling sorry for myself? I couldn’t let Frank rule my life, could I? There had to be a little bit of Gee left somewhere in me - did I even need Gee anymore? I could be Gerard, surely? It never hurts to be yourself.

Mom smiled as I sat up and stretched.

“I’m going for a shower,” I said “I must look a complete mess!”

“Not a complete mess,” Mom said with a grin, leaning close and kissing my forehead “It’s nice to see you smiling again!” She commented as I managed a small smile at her ‘joke’.

Off I went for a shower and thorough hair-wash and off Mom went to make the promised cocoa. It felt so good to clean myself off properly and get myself nicely dressed with a quick coat of my eyeliner.

I looked and felt refreshed. I didn’t need to look super-dressed up or anything; I just needed to feel good. And I did feel good.

Mom smiled as I wandered down into the kitchen, picking up an apple and taking one of the promised cups of cocoa. Mikey looked up at me from the living room and managed a nod in my direction, the corners of his mouth twitching. He virtually never smiled anymore. He’d morphed into the most miserable child in the world.

I seated myself down beside him, curling up my feet and sipping my cocoa. Mikey had a cocoa of his own, sitting on the coffee table. It looked untouched.

Mom had been getting worried about him recently. He’d been retreating back into his own world while preferring his own company, he ate like a bird and would often burst into tears at random moments for no apparent reason. He’d also been sleepwalking.

I know that for a fact because he scared me half to death when I woke up one night to get a glass of water and found him lurking in a corner in the kitchen.

The fact that Dad never came to see Mikey didn’t help. It was clearly upsetting him; he’d even stolen a knife from the kitchen and used it to scrawl the word ‘Daddy’ into his wall. Dad wasn’t even here and he was destroying our lives.

Frankie calling. . .

“Hello?”