Frankie Fever

Things began to look up in the next few weeks. With Frank gone and Dad home. I quit the Christian meetings - though I kept the gay thing to myself. Mikey perked up considerably and was almost back to his old self. Mom and Dad were almost like they’d just been married. Time had soothed all of our wounds it seemed.

I began to do better in school again. I kept in touch with Stephie and J.L. and occasionally saw them for a coffee together. And Mikey and I were getting on better than we had been in years.

I was a fifteen year old without an extra calorie on his body, no spots and good grades at school. Plus I’d just added a Batman #14 to my comic collection so I was doing pretty well at life.

At least, that’s what I thought. Until the arguments began again.

Mom had asked Dad why he’d come back. And then he began this ridiculous list of accusations against her. Then began questioning me and Mikey brutally to try and make us agree to his accusations. I think I’d have known if she was seeing another man. No she hadn’t been leaving me to look after Mikey while she went clubbing every night - Jesus, I was the one who went clubbing every night. And my Mother was most definitely not a call girl.

Who the hell was he to think he could just imagine up this whole new truth to try and counteract the fact that he’d run off with this little hussy half his age and couldn’t keep up with her so came crawling back to us?

“Now, son, you won’t get into trouble for telling me the truth-”

He was gripping my shoulders so hard it hurt. Over his shoulder I could see Mom looking exasperated and telling him to let me go for the hundredth time. And Mikey looked white and terrified after his own interrogation for the third time that day.

“I am telling the truth, Dad!” I cried in frustration “I’m not adhering to your fantasy truth just to shut you up! Mom never did any of that stuff! She doesn’t even like clubbing! And she couldn’t keep seeing different guys every night, she’d feel guilty! Even though she shouldn’t after what you did to her!”

Next thing I knew, my face was stinging.

And Mom had flown at Dad and was screaming blue murder. Mikey sat on the sofa with his hands over his ears, muttering ‘Daddy hit him. Daddy hit him.’ over and over.

I rushed to him, put an arm round him and we departed to Mikey’s room. Mikey had tears falling silently down his face. He was terrified. I put an arm around him and hugged him closer. He may have been a little freak but he was my brother and I had a duty to look after him. I didn’t want him to be hurt. I had to take care of him now, seeing as neither parents seemed interested in us.

“It’s okay, Mikey,” I hushed “He won’t hit you.”

“But he hit you!” He said “He hit you! He’s never hit us before!”

“I won’t let him hit you, Mikey! If he even tries it!”

The silence was filled with the sound of our parents screeching at each other from downstairs. Apparently Mom wasn’t too bothered about the neighbours, like she usually was. I sighed and hugged Mikey tighter. He didn’t need this, not after everything that had just happened.

“What did he do to Mom?” Mikey questioned quietly.

“Something bad,” I replied calmly “With another woman.”

He nodded slowly and sadly. My brother was at the age of understanding what was going on. I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He covered his ears determinedly as the screeching ensued.

Since the adults were too busy acting like children, I decided I’d have to be the adult and made a quick phone call - arranging for Mikey to go to a friend’s house. I’d have a wander off into town for a coffee or something - anything as long as I could try and clear my head.

As Mikey got his shoes and jacket, I crept through the battlefield to the kitchen and left a hastily scribbled note.

A brisk and silent walk through the cold, Mikey clasping my hand while I glanced awkwardly at his hand in mine, led us to Mikey’s friend’s. I plastered a fake smile on when the door was answered by a smiling mother. She smiled back just a brightly, welcoming Mikey in and asking if he would mind taking his shoes off. My sugary voice was as real as Katie Price’s boobs; have fun, Mikey, be good and I’ll see you later!

No one suspected a thing.

I smiled politely as Mikey’s friend’s Mom and thanked her for having him over on such short notice. She pooh-poohed and insisted he was no trouble at all and he was always welcome. I smiled and bade her goodbye. The moment that door was shut, I turned off happy-family-mode.

Dad was being so unfair. Mom had taken him back in when he really didn’t deserve it. How did he thank her? By accusing her of being a prostitute and hitting me. I didn’t really care that Dad had hit me but what on Earth made him think he had the right to march back into our home and treat Mom like that? We hadn’t kept his armchair/throne warm for him while he’d been gone. Christ, we’d been trying to re-build our life without him. No, we weren’t any good at it but that’s not the point.

I’m not sure how but I’d made my way to a little coffee house and was sat in the corner with a simple cup of filter coffee. I was deep in thought. Dad was tearing our family apart once more. After he’d left, we’d gradually grown to be quite tight-knit. Then Dad had returned and brought a pair of scissors with him. Now things were worse than before. Ever the big baby, I started to cry. . .

And then I heard the voice that would be my emotional salvation.

“Hey, are you alright?”

I looked up to see him. I mean, Him. Long dark hair, blue eyed him. He wore this look of concern on his face as he studied me carefully. I wiped at my eyes hastily. He didn’t want to see me bawling my eyes out like a baby.

I was starting to like him. I needed to look my best. But I most definitely didn’t look my best that day. I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards; messed up hair, red eyes. . . you get the picture.

“Yeah, y-yeah, sure!” I insisted quickly “Why d-don’t you sit down?” I offered, gesturing to the empty seat in front of me.

He smiled and unzipped his leather jacket, slinging it across the back of the chair. In a swift, refined movement, he was sitting opposite me.

I sighed to myself and wiped my eyes again, apologising hurriedly. He shook his head and insisted it was fine.

“It’s Gerard, right?” He questioned “Remember me? I’m Bert. We met a little while ago.”

“The Christian thing,” I nodded smiling.

“Yeah, that’s right,” He said gently “I saw you come in here. You looked. . . pretty upset, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

I didn’t say anything. I was ashamed of being caught crying and afraid of doing it again. I didn’t want to burst into tears like a big baby.

“I’m a good listener and I’m quite happy to lend you my shoulder if you need it,” He offered.

“Don’s screwing life up at the moment,” I sighed.

“Don?” He questioned innocently “Is that your ex-boyfriend or something?”

“God no,” I insisted “It’s my Dad. He asked me and my brother to call him Don because it makes him feel younger and less like a parent. I got out of the habit for a while but now I don’t want to associate with him anymore so he can be Don again.”

“I see,” He began “So why is he screwing life up?”

Keep up, if you can.

“He’s always been a flirt,” I explained “Mom always told me not to pay any attention and it was just harmless fun, even though it obviously bothered her. And then a few months ago, I found him at it in our kitchen with my Mom’s hairdressing apprentice-”

“That’s cold,” He said gently.

I nodded. I couldn’t stop though. My mouth just kept running. I was blurting everything out to a guy I barely knew. But you know the best part? He didn’t seem to mind!

“I tried to keep it a secret because I was afraid of my parents divorcing, that was awful! He was so afraid I’d tell Mom that he was trying to be my best buddy. And Mom found out anyway. Dad - I mean, Don -left to play happy families with his little slut but she proved to be too much and he came crawling back. Then things were okay until he started trying to find a reason to make this all Mom’s fault.”

He nodded, his eyes slightly furrowed. . . almost as if he were, dare I say it, concentrating. Someone was actually listening to me for once. This was incredible. And it spurred my new motor-mouth on even more.

“So, my Dad’s the male equivalent of a whore,” I began “My brother’s a freak and my Mom’s neurotic about appearances and cleanliness.” I finished, counting them off on my fingers as I went along.

“Oh God,” He half-smiled, half-sympathised.

I thought for a second.

“Not that I can say much though,” I admitted “I’m a homophobic, queer, virgin desperate for a guy who’ll never have me.”

“What’s his name?” He smiled sympathetically.

He really seemed genuinely interested and sympathetic towards everything I’d said. It’s good to talk. And I had a good listener in front of me. It was a rare opportunity so I was making the most of it.

“Frankie,” I said almost dreamily “He’s totally gorgeous. . . and a total ass.”

“That’s always the way,” He grinned, shaking his head.

I smiled back, glad to have found someone who seemed to understand. As well as understanding, he wanted to hear what I had to say. I felt appreciated. Talking to him was so easy.

“Have you ever spent intimate time with someone?” I questioned “Without them ever really knowing who you are or what you want?”

He sat back comfortably in his seat, his eyes -wise beyond their years- twinkling and a sympathetic smile touching the corners of his mouth. He understood once more.

“Torture, isn’t it?” He commented.

“I tried everything,” I confessed “I tried to sleep with a girl, I tried to stay away from him, I tried to date rape-”

“What?” He questioned, looking alarmed “You didn’t actually. . .”

“No, no, I failed,” I insisted “I changed my mind when I realised it wasn’t exactly the most romantic form of seduction!”

He mock wiped his brow, giving a little ‘phew’. I managed a small giggle.

“I realised nothing was working so I tried to cure myself.”

“The bible classes,” He beamed, catching on.

I smiled and nodded. He grinned and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Politely, he offered me the box. I smiled and took one from the box, holding it delicately between two fingers. He sparked up a lighter and leant closer, lighting my cigarette for me.

“Personally,” He began after lighting his cigarette “I’m not that big on the whole Christian thing. I don’t really know why I went to that group. . . probably to see who I could talk out of their newfound hetero-ness. You know that Chris guy?”

I nodded.

“He’s not as hetero as everyone would like to think,” He said with a wink “It was just a little teasing,” He added, seeing my widened eyes.

I leant on the table, grinning like an idiot.

“Do tell.”

He smirked.

“Well, I asked if he’d like to discuss Leviticus with me and - being the good little Christian that he is - he agreed. Next thing he knows, poor old Bert’s having to change his shirt and dropping his pen. And then Bert wants a scotch with a little ice. He had to leave early,” He grinned proudly.

I couldn’t help but giggle. It was a bad thing to do really but I couldn’t pass judgment. Not with some of the things I’d done. We were just as bad as each other. I grinned as this new friend - if I could call him that.

He glanced quickly over the drinks menu on the table, taking a drag on his cigarette. Then he handed the menu to me.

“Coffee?” He offered.

Coffee? Like, in the friendly manner? Or in the sense of, this is now a date? Oh, shut up, Gerard! No way is this a date, you freak! He simply saw you were upset, came to talk to you to try and make you feel better. Now he’s thirsty and he doesn’t want to be rude so he’s offering you a drink too.

“Yes, please,” I smiled gratefully.

I watched him catch the eye of a passing waitress. She was walking right towards us.

“Excuse me,” Bert said politely.

She looked at him. . . and wandered right on past. Bert watched her go and turned back with a slightly confused look.

“Jesus.”

“We could always go somewhere else,” I suggested with a shy smile.

“Why not?”

He shoots. . . he scores!