So Long, Not Goodnight

Chapter Nineteen

"So," Frank stared up at the sun and back at the asphalt, watching their synchronized steps. "Where do we go from here?"

"My parents' house isn't far from here," Gerard led them up the alley and onto the sidewalk. "They've gone on vacation for the month so it would just be us."

Frank nodded and watched a slowed car pass them, an elderly couple sitting up front squinted at them in disgust with droopy, sagging expressions. Frank made eye contact with one and kept it as he brought up Gerard's hand interlocked with his up to his mouth where he kissed it and then dragged his tongue up his skin to the knuckle of Gerard's middle finger as he lifted his up. The one pulled their head back and opened their mouth before looking away, silent syllables formed and the car pulled past them. "What the fuck was that?" Gerard turned to see the car receding and bringing his queried gaze back to Frank.

"Just a couple of homophobic assholes," Frank grinned showing all of his teeth. "I gave them something to look at."

"Oh, Frankie," Gerard squeezed his hand and tried to suppress a grin of his own.

"I know!" Frank rolled his eyes and softly shook his head. "Homophobia is so gay."

They both laughed as their hands swung a pendulum of strength between them as they walked the streets together. 

It was only a five or six minute walk to Gerard's family home. Frank stared at the wholesomeness of the trimmed lawn, flower beds, and the brown Welcome matt at the front step on the small concrete stoop. Gerard pulled out his keyring from his breast pocket and fitted a key into the deadbolt. The door swung open and Gerard gestured for Frank to enter first. The foyer was small and cozy; a vase of fake flowers on top of a lacy table runner greeted them amidst pink and red pillar candles that had never been lit but smelled of potpourri. The walls were filled with family portraits: a bride and a groom posed hand in hand for the camera, a vintage black and white woman's smooth and airbrushed face with an old Hollywood feel, two small boys smiling wide bearing tiny chicklets of teeth and plumping their baby fat cheeks. "Holy shit!" Frank rushed over to the two kids hanging on the wall and pointed at the boy sitting upright with dark hair. "Is that you?!"

"Yeah..." Gerard's face turned pinkish. "It is. With my brother, Mikey."

"Aww, that's sweet!" Frank compared the two children. "You both look so similar, except his hair looks a little lighter than yours."

"I guess," Gerard made his way over to the kitchen. "Do you want some water? I feel like it's been a century since I've had something to drink... Or eat."

"Sure," Frank called back, still taking in his surroundings. 

Amid all the photographs were religious art: the last supper hung above a tchotchke in the hallway leading towards a staircase, Jesus hanging from the cross hung over the threshold of the archway leading into the room, Mary crying and holding her stabbed heart next to the bay window looking out over their front lawn of the neighborhood. There was also an unhung frame on the edge of the table with a diploma scroll with dark green font and gold embellishments with Gerard's name sketched in calligraphy at it's center. Gerard reappeared holding two red plastic cups and noticed Frank reading over the framed document. "Fuck, I didn't think my parents were going to actually hang that thing, ugh," Gerard set down the cups and exhaled dramatically. "What is this a fucking doctor's office or something?"

"Look at you! College graduate!" Frank patted Gerard on the back and took a cup, raising it in a toast.

"Art school graduate," Gerard picked up his cup and clicked it's lip against Frank's and then took a gulp.

"So you're an artist," Frank took a drink, staring at Gerard. "That's so fucking cool!"

Gerard was obviously anxious with the attention, his right hand wringing the skin of his left inner arm. "Thanks, Frankie," he stared down at his shoes.