Chapter Thirty-Seven
FRANK - PELHAM, NY
Frank hummed along to Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma,” one of his favorite opera arias, feeling like a kid who got out of school early.
He’d worked a lot of overtime lately to make extra money, so his boss had given him the afternoon off.
It was Wednesday and Ricky’s day off at the bakery.
Frank planned to head home, change his clothes, grab Ricky, and take the boat out for a spin with him, something they never got to do on a weekday.
He pulled into the driveway and saw a station wagon parked nearby in one of the visitor spots for their apartment complex. Frank didn’t know who it belonged to. He entered the apartment and called out for Ricky. No answer.
“Ricky?”
Still no answer. He heard music coming from the bedroom. Frank opened the bedroom door, and there was Ricky, in bed with a man.
Frank stood in the doorway, his mind racing. No, no, no. Not Ricky. What in the world? Why? Who?
He grabbed the guy and lifted him out of the bed, disgusted to see his naked body, knowing it had just been touching Ricky.
The guy tried to pull himself away. Frank punched with all his strength, landing his fist somewhere on the guy’s face.
The guy stumbled back, losing his balance, then righted himself.
He grabbed his clothes and ran out the door.
Frank tracked him with his eyes, feeling like a madman.
If he’d had a gun, he definitely would have pulled the trigger.
He turned around and saw Ricky, still in the bed, the covers now pulled up to his neck, shielding his body from view. How many times had Frank seen him naked? That was his body to touch, to make love to, not some stranger’s.
“Get up!” Frank yelled.
Ricky cowered under the covers, as if the comforter would bring him some protection. “No, Frank, you’re crazy right now. I’m not getting out of this bed until you leave the room.”
“Who is he?” Frank yelled. “I want to know who he is. I will kill that motherfucker, you hear me?” His chest burned. “How long, Ricky?”
“How long what?”
“Don’t fuck with me! How long has this been going on?” Frank moved closer to the bed, and Ricky shifted farther under the covers. Goddamn coward.
“A few months,” Ricky whimpered. “He’s a pharmacist. That’s how I met him. At the drugstore. His wife and kids don’t know he’s gay. I’m sorry, Frank. I’m—”
“Shut up.” Frank put his fist up and moved toward Ricky. Then he stopped. He wouldn’t hit him. Couldn’t. He was furious, but he was also heartbroken.
“His wife and kids don’t know he’s gay,” Frank repeated.
And then he laughed. It sounded maniacal.
“Well, isn’t that familiar. Is that your thing, Ricky—you get them while they’re still married and show them what it’s like on the other side?
Does that make you feel useful—to fuck the guys who haven’t had the guts to come out yet? ”
His voice dripped with sarcasm and exhaustion. And suddenly, that was what Frank felt. Utter exhaustion.
“I lost my wife and kids. My family. For this.” He gestured at the room, the bed, at Ricky.
“For you. For us. I loved you.” His face contorted, but he wouldn’t let the tears come out.
“I did this to Teresa. Oh my God, so many times. I did this.” He shook his head.
“Maybe this is my punishment. I don’t know.
Because now I know how she felt. And it’s. ..”
He stopped. He couldn’t put into words the disappointment, the pain, the betrayal. The way it had wiped out all his hopes for their future together in the single moment when he saw Ricky with that man.
“Get out. Now. I mean it. I’m going out on the back patio for ten minutes, and when I come back in, I expect you and all your things to be gone. Do you understand?”
Ricky nodded solemnly.
“And never come back. Ever.”
When Frank came back into the apartment, Ricky wasn’t there. Frank broke down and cried, the force of the wails threatening to overtake him. So many losses. If this was cosmic payback for the way he’d betrayed Teresa, he deserved it.
Frank picked up the phone and dialed Teresa’s number. He couldn’t believe he was calling her, of all people. The betrayer reaching out to the betrayed. Yet somehow, he knew she wouldn’t turn her back on him.
He heard her voice on the other end of the phone say hello, and it sounded like home.
“Teresa, it’s me. I... I...” Frank whispered.
He couldn’t continue. What can I say? “My boyfriend cheated on me, and my world feels like it’s falling apart, and now I know what you must have felt every time I betrayed you”?
Frank felt foolish. He had no right to call her and expect her to console him. That wasn’t her role anymore.
“Frank? What’s wrong?” Teresa asked.
Frank sighed and slumped to the floor, cradling the phone in the crook of his neck. “I’m a mess, Teresa.” He shook his head. “I’m the one who caused all this. I set all this in motion.” He gasped. “I’m so sorry.” The tears flowed, and he couldn’t keep his voice steady.
“Frank, what happened? Talk to me.” Her voice was soft.
So he told her. He droned on and on, sitting on the floor of his apartment—the one that he’d just kicked his boyfriend out of—telling his ex-wife, whom he’d betrayed repeatedly, about how he was just betrayed and that he now knew what that had felt like for her.
He went further, admitting he was jealous of her new relationship with Larry even though he knew he didn’t have a right to be.
He told her all the thoughts and fears swirling around in his mind.
And she listened. Teresa remained calm, offering words of support.
But when he told her he missed his kids and feared they would turn their backs on him the way Henry’s kids had, he heard her voice change and felt a shift in her demeanor.
“Frank, if you don’t want to lose your kids forever, you’ve got to change.
I told you that years ago when you asked for my advice.
Especially with Lena. Anthony’s already coming around.
He’s making his way back to you. And I’m sure that’s partly because you make more of an effort with him.
I know it’s easier with him being out of the police academy and Lena being busy at college.
But that’s really just an excuse. This has been going on a while, Frank, between you and Lena.
You’ve always spent more time with Anthony.
And Lena strayed even further from you during her teenage years.
I watched it happen and tried to step in when I could, but now it’s really up to you.
You need to show up for both your kids, Frank.
Make it a point to spend as much time with Lena as you do with Anthony.
Try to let her really know you. Let her in.
If you don’t want to lose her, give her your presence, which, honestly, was sorely lacking when she was a kid. ”
Frank understood that Teresa was handing him a gift—the gift of truth, something he hadn’t given her for many, many years. He felt unworthy of it but grateful.
“Thank you. I will. I promise,” he said and meant it. He was ready to be the father he needed to be, at all costs. It was time to put his kids first.
“Okay,” she said with a note of finality. “I’ll let you go for now.” She hesitated. “Frank, I’m sorry about... you know. But I’m glad we talked.”
“Me too,” he said. “Thank you for being there.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Bye, Frank.”
He heard the phone click and placed it back on the receiver.
Frank was heartbroken over what had happened with Ricky but also felt a renewed sense of hope.
He had needed to talk to Teresa in order to move forward.
He still needed her in his life. It was so much better with her in it.
She was his anchor, and he felt afloat without her.