Being Frank by Nigey Lennon

Author:Nigey Lennon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SCB Distributors

“Look, I know you’re upset,” he said, softening a little when he saw my pathetic attempt at coolness. Then he explained that one of the guys in the band had called Mrs. Zappa and told all sorts of lurid tales about our little ‘road romance’. Frank knew it was a bald attempt to get me kicked off the tour, but under the circumstances he had no choice. Clearing his throat, he said, “In the morning we’re going on to Toronto. I think you should go back to L.A. But” -- he cleared his throat (stalling for time, I thought) -- “I’ve been watching you go through changes over some of this stuff, and I don’t want to keep putting you through that. Do you understand?”

"Sure, I understand. You’re tired of me and want to get rid of me. You’ve gotten whatever you wanted, and now it’s time for you to move on. Don’t sweat it, I’ll go. There’s no point my having any feelings on the subject.”

Frank took an inadvertent step backward and almost stumbled. From the look on his face it seemed as if I’d suddenly breached the place where he kept his unbearable memories at bay behind rusted iron doors. Then with an effort he recovered, reached down, and tugged me to my feet, pulling me close to him and holding me there.

“You don’t understand. I care about you, but with you here all the time, there’s just too much going on. It gets in the way of the things I have to do if I have to be thinking about you and worrying about you all the time.”

Jeez, that sounded almost flattering. Was I that much of a distraction?

I should have been angry, but I only felt sadness — sadness unto death. If I could have managed to blurt out the truth, that I loved him and wanted him to treat me like a human being, with dignity and respect — I have no doubt that he would have understood. He’d always wanted to hear that from me. But it was probably too late. Miss Moviola wasn’t even part of the problem; the real problem was that I had no place in Frank’s life, and I never would have. I hadn’t wanted to think about this moment, although it had been inevitable from the beginning. Now it was here, and there was nothing I could say to forestall it. I just pressed my face against Frank’s shirt and stood there in dumb agony, too hurt and too proud to speak.

Frank held me close to him, his silence eloquent. There was nothing he could say, either. Whatever the situation, it wasn’t in his character to lie about it or even to soft-pedal it. My thoughts raced painfully — if he wasn’t going to say something, maybe I had better. But what? Something? Anything? He’d blasted away my reserve, but the abyss remained, an unbridgable chasm...

I was inundated with scenes from the previous two months: airports, coffee shops, cars, buses.

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