Frankie Fever

It’s amazing the things we’ll do for love and friendship.

Like ditching an amazing, gorgeous guy capable of good conversation and kissing for a man-whore who treated me like filth and only saw me as a tool for turning on the girls.

I didn’t stop running until I’d reached the park. I searched high and low, calling his name. The more I searched, the worse my fears for Frank’s safety got. What could have happened?

Was he hurt?

Had someone mugged him?

Had his Dad thrown him out?

Had he been beaten up?

“FRANKIE?” I cried desperately “FRANK?!”

No reply.

“IF YOU’RE MESSING ME ABOUT, I SWEAR TO GOD-”

There he was.

“FRANK? FRANKIE?” I called, running.

He was curled up in a little ball, sobbing noisily and rocking back and forth.

I reached him and had to fight with my raw instincts not to recoil or run from him.

Blood.

A lot of it.

“W-what’s happened?” I questioned in slow horror “Frank? Frankie, what’s happened.”

He sobbed louder and fought desperately as I tried to pull him closer. He was covered. It was all over his white shirt and hands. There were flecks and finger smudges across his cheek. His nose was bloody and bruising.

“No, no, no,” He cried “Get away from me! Get away! I’m - oh god! Gerard, I-I. . . Oh god!” He howled and collapsed against me.

“Frankie?” I questioned again “W-what’s happened? Shh, shh, calm down. We’ll fix you up, okay? But I need you to tell me what happened-”

“I stabbed a guy!” He sobbed, clutching at my shirt “Help me, Gerard, please! I’ve got to leave- I’ve gotta’ go before they find me!”

I felt sick to the pit of my stomach.

Stabbed a guy.

He struggled up desperately and tried to run, but I seized his arm, begging that he at least walk to avoid suspicion. I clung to him in terror, trying to slow him down. I didn’t know what else to do apart from follow him.

No matter how many times I said it in my head, I couldn’t set it in my mind.

“I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!” “I stabbed a guy!”

Over and over.

I had ten million questions obviously.

How?

Why?

When?

Where?

But he seemed dead set on leaving and this seemed to be calming him back into himself again. Perhaps then, I’d be able to get some sense out of him.

He dragged me to a little tourist stall and had me steal clean shirt for him when the owner was serving someone else.

By the time he’d changed, cleaned up and burnt his old shirt, he was almost back to normal. He swore to himself as he held damp toilet roll to his nose to try and soothe any swelling that might happen. As he’d changed, I’d noticed some bruising was beginning to show across his stomach and his back.

I still didn’t question it. He’d tell me in his own time.

“Okay, I need money!” He said, trying to sound calm but not quite able to stop his hands shaking or his teeth chattering.

“Why?” I asked dumbly.

“I’ve got to leave,” He insisted “And I can’t do that on the fresh air in my pockets,” He snapped, turning his leather jacket pockets inside out to emphasize his point.

I sighed.

“Maybe you should just go home?”

“No!” He cried in sudden panic that scared me too “The police will go there first! They’ll be over me worse than you!”

I frowned briefly, slightly offended.

He sighed and began debating how he could get some money for himself. How had we gotten into this mess? Why couldn’t he have just argued with his dad and needed a place to stay? Just like Frank to create a drama.

First of all, I wanted to sit him down and get some food into him. Then get him into a warm bed to get some sleep. He was clearly too frightened to do either.

He was desperate. I had to help him. He needed a friend, that’s what I was. It was my duty to help him in his crisis.

“Okay, look, you don’t need to steal purses!” I insisted “I’ve got some allowance saved up. You can have that if you need it so badly.”

He looked so relieved.

“Oh, Gerard, I could kiss you!”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said coldly, having not forgotten his earlier comment.

We didn’t say much on the way to my house. He walked at a rapid pace, clearly eager to get going soon. I sighed. Where would he go? What would he do? Would I see him again? I didn’t want to lose him for good but helping him was the best I could do for him. I couldn’t make a time machine and make this go away.

Frank had stabbed someone. Why? Sure, he could be violent when he wanted but not that kind of violent. He was a punch-you-in-the-face guy. Not a -cut-you-up-like-a-piece-of-baloney guy.

“Where are you going to go?” I asked.

He thought for a moment.

“New York, probably,” He replied “Disappear until this dies down. Get a job and stuff.”

I nodded slowly. I wouldn’t be seeing him for a while then. But maybe I could still go and see him and stuff-

“Do you wanna’ come too?”

I froze at my gate. My look said it all.

I couldn’t.

“Sorry, never mind,” He apologised “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t drag you into this.”

“I just want to help you,” I insisted.

“The money would help,” He said straight “I’ll get a job and send it back to you when I can.”

I nodded. He waited in my front garden, sitting behind our wall cautiously.

Laughter was emerging from the kitchen. Mom and Dad were cooking together. What the hell?

I’d told them to communicate, not go Stepford on me. I managed a small smile as I saw Dad with his arms around Mom, helping her chop eggplant.

“Oh, son, you’re home,” Dad exclaimed happily “Great, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

I froze and looked slowly from one smiling face to another.

“Leave?”

“We’ve been talking,” Mom said “You’re right, Gerard. We needed to.”

Oh God.

I’d wanted them to get back together, not split up.

The last of my newfound happiness died inside me.

“And we’ve decided the best thing for us all is if your mother and I divorced,” Dad said “We’ll keep in touch and I’ll take you boys out every month or so.”

I looked at him coldly. Hurt was stinging me from the inside. Everything was welling up inside, creating a hard lump in my throat.

“I don’t want to. If you’re leaving, go. See if I care,” I snapped “Go on - get lost!”

I fled upstairs to retrieve the money for Frank but couldn’t help bursting into tears. I think I cried for five minutes or so. This wasn’t what I’d intended to happen. I wanted us to be like a normal family.

I got Frank’s money from my saving box and tried to count it for him but just burst back into tears all over again. What would happen now? This was worse than when Dad left the first time. Not even marriage counselling? Were they that dead set on being apart?

This was another mess of a situation. I just wanted my family back. The way things used to be when Mikey was born. When we were happy.

It felt like part of me was dying inside. My heart was falling slowly out of my chest.

Now I was losing a parent and a best friend.

But, was I?

Did I have to lose both? Or could I only lose one?

Why wait for the end of my family when I could start a whole new chapter for myself and my best friend? We could be like Butch and Sundance, minus the dying part. We’d be amazing. We could get jobs and get an apartment or something.

I snatched up a bag, mind made up, and began stuffing what I thought I’d need into it. Clothes, underwear, money, CD player, phone charger, some books and other stuff.

New York, here I came. Here we came. The dynamic duo. We’d be amazing.

I was now a runaway. Bag slung over my shoulder I was ready to go. But Mikey stood behind me. His face had fallen. Then again, he was losing a father and a brother. I thought he’d tell or try and stop me but he didn’t. He just smiled sadly.

“Look after yourself.”

I sighed and leant down to hug him tightly, whispering that I’d miss him.

Down the stairs and out the door.

“Come on,” I said to a shocked Frank “What’s taking you so long?”

“What-”

“I’m coming with you!” I declared proudly “How do you want to get there? Train?”

“No. Trains they can track.”

“Bus?”

“I don’t think there will be any at this time.”

I paused. How the hell did he think we’d get to New York then?

He looked frustrated and snipped angrily that he had more important things to worry about. He suddenly doubled over and retched. He cried briefly to himself, rhetorically asking why this had happened to him. I felt immensely guilty for getting onto him. His head must have been all over the place at that point. He’d done an amazing job of keeping together.

Finally, we reached town and I insisted on getting something to eat to try and steady his stomach. A portion of fries, a burger and two cokes. Frank stuffed them down hungrily. I pondered while he ate.

“How are we going to get there?”

“God knows,” He shrugged, stuffing in fries.

I began to ponder about how the British called fries chips to try and distract myself from my immense fear at what was happening to us. Seriously, fries are chips in the UK. Weird, huh?

Frank paused to take a sip of coke. He looked up at me slowly.

“I guess I owe you an explanation for dragging you into this,” He began.

I shrugged and assured that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t feel ready. But he adamantly began to relay the story to me.

“I was at Seventh Heaven,” He began “I was with Tom. And I met this stunner of a girl. Like, carved by angels stunning. So, we hit it off and went outside for a walk. We got on really well and started making out in this little alley. Next thing I know, her boyfriend’s all on me like ‘Oi, get off my girl, blah blah blah, you little punk, blah blah blah’ and then he’s punching me and threatening to put me in the emergency room - look.”

He lifted the front of his shirt to show the bruising on his stomach.

“I was so scared,” He continued “I-I just. . . I grabbed my bottle and it broke when he pushed me over. He was kicking me in the face and stuff. I just put my hands up to try and cover my face and maybe frighten him off. I accidentally cut his hand and he just got angrier-”

“Jesus.”

He was staring intensely at me. I could tell he wasn’t lying to me.

“I knew I had to get out of there. This girl’s trying to get him to stop and to leave me alone. I got up and he went to run at me. I just. . . the bottle. . . I just. Forgot. . . it was in my hand. I just wanted to protect myself. Suddenly, he’s on the floor bleeding and the girl’s screaming and running for help. I was so scared that I just bolted.”

“Frank. . .”

“You don’t need to say anything,” He said “You’ve already done so much tonight. Thank you, Gerard.”

We were quiet for a while, just thinking. Frank finished his food, offering me some fries, which I turned down.

“My Dad’s leaving again,” I confessed “And Mom’s just letting him. He thinks he’s better for us if he’s away and we see him once a month. So. . . if he can do that, why can’t I just up and leave too? I’d sooner be with you than my pretend family.”

“I’m sorry,” He empathised, reaching out to touch my hand “You’re sure about this?”

I nodded, wiping my eyes. I hadn’t even realised my emotions had caught up with me until a tear dripped down to the table.

This town was bad for us both. We needed to leave fast. If only we could drive. . .

Suddenly I was struck by a stroke of genius.

“Frank,” I said quietly, leaning closer “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

“Of course,” He scoffed.

Suddenly, he caught on and smiled in understanding.