“No, no.” I cut him off before he can ramble anymore, “I was just finishing up; so um… yeah. Sorry you have to see me like this, it can’t be the best sight ever.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Gerard laughs leaning against the door frame, “We were an attractive band. You’ve never been ugly Frankie.” I smile a little, but clutch the towel tighter with my under arms. I really don’t think he had a clue about what I’ve become. I’m ugly now.
“Do you wanna come in? I mean that house is weird right now because of the divorce, but there’s still coffee,” I say, watching how his eyebrows furrow and then he smiles at the mention of coffee. I walk towards the front room, knowing he’ll follow me, and I was right because I hear the door close with a loud bang and the sound of Gerard’s leather boots on the floor. I turn to watch him walk into the room, but his eyes are on the walls of my house, his face looking confused.
“Frankie, I-“
“I don’t want to talk about it Gerard.”
He moves over to the white couch, the material moving as he sits. I sit beside him, the towel leaving me feeling way more exposed than I wanted.
There’s a small smile appearing on his face as I sit a little bit closer to him than I should while wearing a towel only. I take a deep breath and consider covering my body with pillows from behind my back when I see his eyes wander to the wall where the picture frames used to hang on. You can still see the darker squares on the dusted wall. He looks down and sighs.
“You know, everything will-“ He starts speaking again. I can hear worry in his voice. I can tell he’s trying to be really careful with his words right now, but I don’t want to hear them. If he’s came to my house just to talk about things I keep trying to forget, it is not going to help. I quickly push myself up and rush to the kitchen raising my voice to stop myself from hearing his words.
“Do you want latté or black coffee?”
I turn my loud kettle on. I can hear Gerard’s loud sigh and I think he’s trying to say something more but I just start making more noise in the kitchen. I open the fridge furiously to get milk and smash its door loudly. I can feel my heart beating faster. I know that he wants to talk to me about what’s bothering me, but it won’t help. I’m trying to control my thoughts and memories but if I start talking about them everything will come back to me and the guilt won’t let me sleep for days. I look in the sink and my eyes lock on the "World's Best Daddy." mug. My kids’ faces flash before my eyes and a memory of my family in the park on a picnic comes back to me. It was a week before Jamia sent an application about the divorce to her lawyer. The picture I have of my kids, the only picture on the wall, was taken then. I grab the mug and take it out of the sink carefully. I hold the cold and heavy mug in my hands and stare at it.
“Frank? Is everything OK?” Gerard’s behind me now, standing by the fridge and looking at me concerned.
I don’t answer. Instead I tighten the grip on the mug and let out a tear in the corner of my eye. “I don’t deserve it.” I think and let the cheap piece of ceramic slip out of my hands as another tear runs down my cheek. I shut my eyes tightly but it doesn’t stop the tears from escaping. I hear the mug hit the floor. Every piece of it being destroyed. I let out a soundless angry sigh. I can feel salty warm tears on my lips.
I open my eyes but everything is blurry. I drop to my knees and whisper “Oh no…” to myself. I start picking pieces of what used to be a mug with my fingers. My hands start to bleed when Gerard stops me from putting more of the bits into my hand. He tightens his grip on my wrist and makes me drop the ceramic pieces back to the floor. I don’t take my eyes of what’s left of the mug.
Chapter 2
Start from the beginning
