Frankie Fever

There’s only so long you can escape from reality. I’d reached my limit. But still, coming out to Frankie wasn’t something that could be approached easily. He wasn’t always the most sensitive, open-minded of people - despite the slight sense of camp that surrounded him.

He was waiting for me in the square, leant casually against the wall with one foot against it, smoking calmly through a cigarette. I sighed from my spot of refuge - concealed behind the corner.

It’s not too late! You could still turn around and run!

I sighed again. I couldn’t avoid him forever. I had to do this now. It was pathetic hiding away and pretending everything would be fine.

Safety left behind, I stepped out onto the battlefield. My footsteps were slow and cautious as I approached my target. He knew I was there, he looked up and saw me. But he didn’t make any motion towards me, he just carried on smoking that damn cigarette. I paused beside him anxiously.

He didn’t move. I waited patiently. Nothing. I reached into my pocket and timidly pulled my phone out, checking it quickly.

Frank exhaled from his cigarette and glanced at my phone.

“Broken, is it?” He said coldly “That why you haven’t been calling me back?”

I didn’t speak. Here it came, the screaming and shouting. The telling me to stay away from him forever. The telling me how sick I was. The telling me how I disgusted him.

“Gee, look,” He began “I know you’re digging me at the moment but you might as well stop acting like an assbag about it, you’re still my best friend.”

And away he turned, wandering off in the direction that would lead us to Seventh Heaven.

Oh, right. Seventh Heaven was open during the day for pool. Frank loved pool. He and I would sometimes spend our afternoons after school in there, playing pool - him winning most of the time.

So, here I was. Out.

He never actually said what he thought about it. And what unnerved me even more was how normal he was acting about it all. Like nothing had ever happened.

We were playing pool and drinking our cokes like nothing had happened between us. He was going on about that Italian girl - I won’t remember her name for the life of me. Anyway, he was complaining about how she’d gone off with another guy, someone else on her language course - not like he ever had much of a claim on her to begin with, though.

I stepped up to the table to take my turn. The white was perfectly positioned for me to pocket one of my balls.

-”It’s just disgusting!”

“What is?” I questioned, leaning over the table to take my shot.

“Mandy thinking she can spurn me-”

Amandora! That’s it! Frank insisted on calling her Mandy.

“-Jeez! Just ‘cause you’re a fag, it doesn’t make you deaf as well, does it?!” He demanded.

I jumped violently at his raised voice and use of the word ‘fag’. This ended up with me chipping by mistake and potting one of Frank’s balls. He’d cheered and patted my back good-heartedly, thanking me for giving him less work.

See how much control he had over my life? I couldn’t even play a decent shot at pool any more. He was the one who played all the decent shots.

Here he was, playing one now. He was bent over in front of me, expertly handling his cue, a confident smirk on his face as he moved the cue back and forth. Ready to take his shot. . .

A perfect shot. Straight into the pocket.

I lost that pool game.

* * *

We found ourselves sitting in the park, on the grass, pulling up little clumps of grass. Frankie was trying to make some weird little braid from his clumps of grass, his tongue poking out with concentration.

“So. . .” He began awkwardly “How’s things with your Dad?”

“He’s still living with Serena,” I replied sadly “Playing happy families.”

He hung his head slightly, clearly uncertain about what to say. I sighed heavily, pulling up another clump of grass, picking at the individual strands.

“Mom still thinks he’s coming back,” I said quietly, sympathy for my mother overwhelming me.

Dad had completely destroyed her. She was lost in a black hole of hope and despair; hoping he’d come back and despairing because she knew he wouldn’t. Mikey was wallowing in his own freakish hurt and company, spending hours holed up in his room. He had this new system where he’d strip down to his underwear and try to do fifty push-ups then fifty sit-ups. If he managed this without stopping, he was allowed to go on his computer or watch TV or whatever he wanted to do. If he didn’t, he’d start again but add another fifty onto each.

Little freak.

“Well, he will!” Frankie insisted, smiling “She’ll soon get bored of him and start chasing after some younger ass!”

I sighed. Maybe he was right-

Pfft. Yeah and what was that big pink thing in front of his nose? Whoops it was a flying pig!

The chances of Dad coming back were about the same as Mikey giving up on his Star Trek obsession. Slim. Nearly abysmal.

I really appreciated Frankie’s efforts to reassure me, it’s just - they were sweet little nothings. The sort of thing people feel compelled to say to you - like how a boyfriend has to tell his girlfriend she’s gorgeous.

Frankie leant closer to me, a cheeky glint in his eye. He put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer to him.

“So,” He grinned, an excited tone in his voice “What do you do?”

I blinked at him.

“W-what? Sorry?” I stammered, thrown by his question.

He smirked, his eyes glittering with excitement as he said it. He rolled the word off of his tongue, saying it slowly. Deliberately.

“Gays,” He grinned.

I blinked again. Oh God. I’d never expected this of him. He wanted to hear all about my escapades with the gorgeous gays of Belleville. What was I supposed to tell him now? I had the basic idea, I mean, everyone does, don’t they? But apart from that. I knew nothing.

Sex was a taboo in my family. Something to be kept private. Well, by everyone except Don. Everyone else tiptoed around the subject. “The talk” from my parents was excruciating. Mom was whispering things about changes “down below” and touching girls and girls touching me. Dad? Oh God. He was even worse than Mom. “Right, son, it’s like this. You’ll get a hard-on and it’ll feel like hell unless you do something about it! You’ve got to stick-” At this point, Mom desperately cut him off by telling me not to rush into anything and not to get myself into any trouble with girls.

Is it any wonder I was a sexually frustrated and confused gay?

“Well?” Frankie grinned, leaning closer to me eagerly “C’mon! You must have a few tricks up your sleeve, how else do you make up for the distinctive lack of girl?”

“Oh. My. God,” I exclaimed in a what-the-hell-man? tone.

“Well?” Frankie demanded “Tell me everything!”

I didn’t reply. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Now what? I was stuck. I’d snookered myself by pretending to be all knowing and secretive. I gave an enigmatic shrug and lop-sided smile, hoping that would satisfy him.

It didn’t.

“You don’t know, do you?” He questioned, his smile still in place.

Again, I didn’t reply.

“You. . . Y-you. You haven’t even done it before!” He exclaimed with a small chuckle “How do you know you are gay if you’ve never even given it a go?”

His exclamation had made me look around anxiously. Someone we know could’ve been nearby. They could have heard him making his announcement about my frustrated state.

Okay, it’s not that I was ashamed of being a virgin or anything. I was proud to be so, I’ve always seen sex as something special and something that demands respect - despite how my hormones made me act at times. I believe the further you go with someone, the more respect you owe them and they you.

So, you see, I wasn’t ashamed. It’s just that it’s the sort of thing you don’t want to be made public, y’know? If someone asked me, I would’ve answered. I just didn’t want to be spoken for.

I swallowed uncomfortably. Frank was practically leering at me, looking much older and wiser than me. Like he was my more experienced older brother or something.

“Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Why?” He questioned bluntly, his non-sensitiveness showing perfectly.

“Because.”

A small smile crossed his face as I glanced over my shoulder and reluctantly back at him.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” I lied.

He smiled in an almost patronising way before nodding and murmuring a quiet ‘all right’. He then dug through his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes.

I felt more comfortable as he proffered the box to me and I took one out. He smiled and lit it for me before lighting his own and taking a quick drag.

“Ah, women, Gee,” He exclaimed, lying back on the grass.

I glanced down at him, exhaling my smoke slowly. Frankie had one arm behind his head while the other hand held his cigarette. I lay on my side, propped up on my elbow as I observed him.

“I’m through with them,” He continued, propping himself up.

He leaned closer to me, so close either one of us could’ve kissed the other. A smile was playing those pink cupid-bow lips.

“I think it’s time I found other ways to enjoy myself,” He smirked.

I smirked too, taking a slow drag on my cigarette.