Part 3. Mention of self harm and swearing.
Here's Part 3 but i have also edited Part 1. There was a HUGE chunk missing off the end. It would probably serve you well to go back and read it if you have the time.
Bob’s POV- ‘You know that I’ll always be there for you, I’ve known you so long. I love you like a brother.’
After Frank stormed out things were a bit subdued. We were all worrying about him and couldn’t quite bring ourselves to forget him and enjoy ourselves. As a result the guys leave early, around the same time as Tom, and I make me and Amy some tea. She doesn’t eat much which doesn’t surprise me but still worries me, and then she retreats to her room for revision to leave me staring blankly at my own revision guide, just waiting for a text or a drunken phone call or anything off of Frank just so I know he’s alright. The boys sometimes refer to me as the Mother of the group… I prefer to think that I’m just the best at listening and giving advice. Still, after being a parent to Amy so long it would be little surprise if that leaked into my social life too.
At 9:10 I hear Amy’s music turn off but she’s still pacing around up there and when I stretch my ears out for sound I hear the distant mumbles of her reciting something. I’m still on the 5th page of my revision booklet.
At 9:30 my phone rings in my hand and I answer it immediately when the caller ID shows me who it is.
“Hey Frank you Ok?”
“No. Not really.” He answers, he sounds upset and I hesitate to let him talk more if he wants. When nothing but uneasy silence follows I take the initiative.
“I just...” he sighs deeply. “I need a ride.” I’d only gotten my car two weeks ago I and as we are all examed up I haven’t done much ferrying yet.
“Yeah sure. How come you didn’t…”
“-Don’t ask about Gerard.” He interrupts me with a break in his voice, “Do you know where Willis Road is? It’s number 23”
“I’ll meet you outside.” I answer. He hangs up with out saying good bye as I grab my keys and pull on my shoes. “I’ll be back in a minute Amy!” I call upstairs and head out without waiting for a reply.
When I pull up I see him straight away. He’s sat doubled up on a garden wall and as I get closer he looks up. I unlock the doors and he climbs in. He reeks of alcohol and pot. “I can’t take you home like this.” I say looking at him.
“Well why come then?” He mutters, making moves to get back out of the car. I have the feeling he would have shouted if he hadn’t just started crying.
“I meant I’ll take you to mine. Amy’s revising in her room.” I add. Aware that if this is all become of her the chances are he won’t want to be near her right now.
“Fine.” He agrees reluctantly. The rest of the drive is taken in silence.
We get to mine and head for the living room. He takes a seat in a chair and I sit opposite him on the sofa. I realise that in my haste to get to his aide I’d left the TV on. I switch it off and he looks at me resignedly.
“Talk.” I say. I need to know why he got himself into this state about some girl, my sister .
“Well… I heard a good joke earlier…” He says with a smirk but runs out of steam and stops mid-flow.
“You know what I mean Frank.” I say softly.
“She just… that ‘You say sorry too much’ thing. We did that. We said that. It was when I’d been beaten up by him ,” He spits ‘him’ as though even addressing him like that made him feel sick, “and she kept apologising and I said the exact same thing to her and she replied exactly the same and she knows, she f*cking knows.” Sobs rack his body and I wonder if he really is this depressed or if it’s a side effect of the obvious intoxication.
“I f*cking love her.” He shouts and all thoughts of doubt are blown momentarily from my mind.
I’d always been slightly wary of Frank. I mean we get along great but he’d got himself caught up in a bad crowd before he knew us and he’d obviously been known to treat girls a bit cr*p. Since Amy though, I mean everyone could see what was happening between them and he’d changed for the better with every passing second. Now that she ‘hates’ him he’s worse than he used to be. If you asked everyone in his year to get together and then said “Stand up if you’ve ever screwed Frank Iero.” I reckon over half the girls would stand up. If you asked then to “Stand up if you’ve drunkenly made out with Frank Iero” a lot of guys would too.
Now I look at him and realise that he’s just someone trying to find a moment of warmth and security in a life he’d already screwed up in his eyes.
“She loves him… and he loves her… and that’s good it just doesn’t make me feel very good.”
“It’s bound to hurt.”
“I mean she doesn’t have to hate me!” He continues, oblivious to my input, “Fair enough she doesn’t want to be too close but hate… That’s what she said the other day, that she hates me. And I love her. I do. I really do… I’m so sorry.” I know he’s not apologising to me so I don’t answer. It’s odd being so connected to my sister’s love life. I’m not sure I like it much.
“I only did that stupid bet because I knew I’d never get the courage to make a move otherwise. It was like motivation. Plus this way if she just laughed in my face then hey it didn’t matter because after all it was just a bet.” He looks at me hard and I begin to get uncomfortable. He looks extremely strung out and I wonder for the 10th time what cocktail of drugs and alcohol he’d taken tonight.
“Frank are you alright?”
“No.” He scoffs.
“I mean all the drugs. Are you tripping?”
“I… no. I just think I overdid it on the vodka.”
“What else did you take?”
“Just a few joints… oh and some beer before I…” He shakes his head as if to erase the memory of another pointless shag, “and I did some pills just before you came.”
“Well… I was even worse before you picked me up… so I took some stuff to pick me up a bit.”
“You’re going to get hooked.”
“No I won’t. It’s just…”
“-Fun?” I interrupt him. I can’t help it. I’m cool with some drugs here and there to keep the party going but this wasn’t fun. What Frank was doing wasn’t fun. It was self-destructive and reckless and it scared me.
“Oh God I’m going to be sick.” Frank says before dashing to the downstairs loo. I give him a few minutes then when I hear the retching stop I follow him.
He’s bent over the toilet and he’s shaking hard. “Frank?” He looks up with bleary eyes and I walk over and flush the loo. “Stand up.” I say. He stumbles to his feet to reveal a large stain on his t-shirt. “Come on let’s get that off.”
“What-“He looks down at the top, vaguely recognising the patch of vomit. “No, no I’m fine.”
“Frank.” I say firmly then move closer to him to take it off for him. Mother Bob that I am.
“No. No Bob!”
“Frank just let me take it off! What are you hiding?” He closes his eyes and holds his arms up to let me remove the shirt. The mess underneath makes me sick. There are burns are cuts scattered across the skin. Some healing, some fresh, all obviously self inflicted.
“Frank…” I say for what must be the millionth time.
“I love her.” He repeats and I finally believe him.
“I know you do, shhh… It’ll be ok. We’ll fix it.” I murmur and cradle him in my arms as he sobs into my chest.