FicWad

“Step this way” Frank said, gesturing toward where I saw the smoke rise “How long have you been here Frank?” I asked. “For ‘a long time” he replied, turned to sit on the floor where a small camp fire was blazing gently, the gray clouds rising to meet the ceiling “ You wanna know why I’m in ‘ere?” he asked. A little worried but also curious about what he would say, I shrugged my shoulders “If you wish to tell it” I replied. He pulled his hat down, the brim covering his eyes. He picked up a stick that was lying in a pile of kindle. “Well, if ya wanna listen” I nodded. He leaned against the soft hay and began.

“I lived not far from ‘ere, Jus’ a little stretch down the lane. I lived with my ma and pa; I ain’t got no siblin’s. My old man was a jerkline skinner, amazin’ at his job but he hadda move a lot an’ travel ‘round. My ma stayed at our place, tendin’ the animals we kept. Then, my pa got framed by some son-of-a-bitch for ‘a murderin’ some floozy an’ he got chucked in San Quentin. My ma an’ me were awful sad, after poundin’ our tails an’ all. My pa had gotten a little stake together but it weren’t enough. Ya see, my ma didn’t earn any jack so the stake weren’t enough for both a’ us. Then, my ma came ill, ‘orrible time it was lemmie tell ya. So, to help my ma, I went ‘round, lookin’ for a place where I could get some jack. Then, I found ‘ere. Some old guy lived ‘ere and he says to me “If you can buck barely and use a Jackson fork well, I’ll give ya fifty an’ found”. So, I pounded my tail and got my fifty bucks after about ‘a month. My ma died after’ a few days and I ‘ad nowhere to go. So, I stayed with the old guy, George ‘is name was, an’ I lived ‘ere with him till he popped ‘is clogs. Now, I got this place all to m’self. The burlap tickin’ ain’t great, the yella-jackets get annoyin’ in the summer and I already mentioned the grey-backs. But, I can’t get the can or get hurt. Jesus Christ” He said, throwing a stick on the fire “Could talk a hind leg of a mule I could. Anyways Gerard” he turned to me “How’s life on your little patch ‘a heaven?”

I now understood where Frank got the accent from living with the old guy for such a time. And this sprang another question, how old was Frank? 16? Maybe, even 17? But, to answer his question, I gave him yet another shrug and copied his movements, laying against the yellow pillows and clasping my hands together. “It’s not anything impressive. I live with my mum and brother Mikey, I’m 16, go to Belleville High School, get quite good grades, sing, draw and play a little guitar. That’s about it” Frank’s eyes widened a little “You play the guitar?” he asked, almost surprised. I nodded “Yeah, but not a lot” He jumped up, looking excited, the grin returning to his face “Hang on a sec” He went out of my field of vision for a few moments but I could still hear him muttering loudly to himself.

“Come on, ya gotta be ‘round ‘ere somewhere” a pause then “Gottcha!” and he returned carrying a beautiful looking acoustic guitar; he was almost cradling it, his hand holding its neck. He came round and sat next to me, so close to me. I so wanted to kiss him right then and there. GOD, BRAIN! HOLD YOUR SILENCE! “Man’s gotta have somethin’ to do ‘round ‘ere without dyin’ of boredom” he stated, plucking the strings and tuning them with precision. “What do ya wanna hear?” I cast my mind around for a while, and then said “Do you like The Scorpions?” He nodded vigorously, strummed once and began to play. I recognised it instantly, even though it was on an acoustic, and I found myself singing to the chorus as Frank ploughed into it with his guitar.

“In the game of life
The strong survive
We're on a one-way street
We gotta make it out alive
And never let 'em drag us down
In the game of life
We live and die
Another breath begins
Another chance to win the fight
From the moment that you hit the ground
In the game of life.”

Frank looked up, grinning at me as he heard my voice sing the lyrics. I returned the grin, allowing myself to get lost in the beautiful music, almost wanting to drown in the sound, let my body float on it like a cloud and be with this amazing boy. I continued to sing to The Game of Life, letting myself loose, almost shouting the words and making the words echo around the barn, everything else in my mind gone.

“In the game of life
The strong survive
We're on a one-way street
We gotta make it out alive
And never let 'em drag us down
In the game of life
We live and die
Another breath begins
Another chance to win the fight
From the moment that you hit the ground
It's the game of life
The game of life”

The boy rounded up the song with a perfectly performed guitar ending. As the last note left the instrument, he let it continue, the long note the only noise for miles around. Then, he spoke “Jesus Christ Gerard, Never ‘ave I ‘eard such a voice! Tha’ was amazin’!” I blushed and hid myself in my blazer “Well, I guess I’m okay” He looked at me startled “Okay? Okay?! Gerard ya really do belong in a bobby hatch! How many shot’s ‘ave you ‘ad!? Two shots of corn!? If ya ‘aven’t, what the hell are ya sayin’? “He cried, throwing his arms in the air and standing up, pacing in front of the fire. “I mean, not ev’rybody in the whole damn world can sing like that! Don’t cha put yourself down Gerard an’ I’m bein’ serious.” I blushed even more, shrinking under that same glare he had given me when I walked in the barn. Even though Frank was being nice, I couldn’t help but feel, afraid.

Frank saw the fear and sighed. He sat back next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. It was such a warm touch and I didn’t want the sensation to leave “Look I’m sorry G” he said apologetically, calling me a name only a handful of people said to me “I’m not trying to be a goo-goo or anythin’ but ya gotta have some self-pride right? Do ya ‘ave some self-confidence?” I across at him, nodding my head but he could see in my eyes I was lying. “G, listen. I ain’t that much of a confidence booster or anythin’ but, tellin’ ya the truth, ya are purty”