Chapter Thirty-One
FRANK - PELHAM, NY
Frank looked out the window again to see if Teresa had pulled up with the kids.
Anthony and Lena were visiting him and Ricky in their new apartment this weekend for the first time.
Teresa had offered to drop them off, which surprised Frank, but he didn’t question it.
Maybe she wanted to see where he lived to make sure it was a safe neighborhood.
Or maybe she was genuinely worried about this next step for the kids and thought her driving them would make them less anxious.
Frank had agreed to drive them home on Sunday.
He checked his watch. They’d arrive any minute.
He turned to look at Ricky in the kitchen, dressed to the nines in all black, fussing over everything.
Frank wasn’t the only one who was a bundle of nerves.
Ricky had cooked up a storm and baked a delicious dessert called tembleque, a Puerto Rican pudding with coconut milk he hoped the kids would love.
He put fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room for Lena and laid out ones next to the couch for Anthony.
Frank watched Ricky primp and prep and knew he would continue doing so until the kids walked through the door.
“Relax. Everything will be fine,” he said, unsure whether he was trying to convince Ricky or himself.
“I know, I know. I just want it to be perfect,” Ricky said, flashing a megawatt smile.
Frank and Ricky kept a low profile, going to places where no one would be likely to recognize them and only hanging out with gay friends in private or at gay clubs.
This was the first time Frank was intentionally permitting his two worlds to collide.
When Frank and Teresa first separated, he’d moved into a tiny basement apartment in the Bronx—alone.
It wasn’t his first-choice location, but it was affordable.
Plus, the landlord didn’t live on the premises, which meant fewer questions about Frank’s most frequent visitor, Ricky.
Frank didn’t want to live with Ricky initially, but as time passed, he decided it was time for him and Ricky to move in together, so they searched for a place less cramped and depressing.
They found a garden apartment in the town of Pelham, with its own private entrance in the back, and Frank was relieved that it didn’t come with nosy neighbors.
Eventually, he’d gotten up the nerve to ask Teresa if the kids could come visit him and Ricky for the weekend, and she’d consented.
“Hey, remember, this isn’t my coming-out party. We still need to stay below the radar. I promised Teresa I wouldn’t make the kids feel uncomfortable. I’ll be introducing you as my friend, and there’ll be no public displays of affection.”
Ricky nodded, agreeing to adhere to this list of rules that forced them to live double lives. Frank might have come out when he left home, but it was only a soft outing.
Frank saw Teresa’s car pull up and opened the front door. The kids jumped out and grabbed their bags.
Teresa lowered her window and called, “Have a good time, you guys.”
He waved to her, feeling awkward, like he’d never waved at someone before. His hands were sweaty and felt heavy. She waved back and pulled away from the curb. He watched her go and felt a moment of melancholy, as if he’d forgotten the words to a favorite song.
“Come in, come in,” Frank said, welcoming the kids and gesturing them inside.
They walked into the apartment, and Ricky looked at them sheepishly. He was leaning against the couch. Frank couldn’t help thinking it looked like the couch was holding him up.
“Hi, Anthony. Hi, Lena,” Ricky said, and it came out too eager—loud and forced.
“Hey,” Anthony said.
Lena pursed her lips and grumbled, “Hi,” sounding like she wished she were somewhere else.
Ricky took their backpacks, told them to make themselves comfortable at the kitchen table, and asked what they wanted to drink.
He went to the fridge to get them sodas.
Lena grimaced as she sat down at the table and looked around.
She wore a nice sweater with a skirt, tights, and boots.
Her hair was long and feathered back like the Charlie’s Angels actresses all the kids adored.
She had her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap.
She looked like a stranger in some ways. His little girl had grown up.
His mind wandered back to the time he’d taught her how to dance the Latin hustle.
At eight years old, she already had rhythm, moving her slender hips to the beat.
He remembered how her long dark hair had whipped around her diminutive frame as he drew her close and spun her away, and she’d broken into giggles every time she looked over at Teresa or Anthony, the makeshift audience, who were snapping their fingers to the music.
He peered into Lena’s dark-blue eyes now, trying to find her there.
But he’d looked away too long, and his Cricket had vanished.
In her place stood a teenager who wanted to be left alone.
Frank could already feel her fighting to break away, like a puppy wriggling to get out of the too-tight grasp of an overeager child.
Ricky came over with the kids’ sodas and handed one to Lena. “Here you go,” he said, and Lena grabbed it, not saying thank you.
She wasn’t being friendly to Ricky, as if she wanted to either make him feel uncomfortable or start a fight. Her aloof—borderline rude—behavior continued throughout dinner and dessert. Frank didn’t like this at all. She had an outright attitude.
He decided to confront her. “Lena, hey, cut it out.”
“What?” she asked, looking at him defiantly. “Cut what out?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like your behavior. The way you’re treating Ricky.”
Ricky patted his hand, clearly embarrassed. “Frank, it’s fine. She’s fine. Don’t.” He looked at Frank pleadingly.
“It’s not fine. She knows what I’m talking about, and I want it to stop.” He looked at Lena. “When you’re here, I want you to treat Ricky with respect. You hear me? This is bullshit, Lena.” Frank was getting upset.
“Oh yeah?” Lena said, like it was a challenge. She stood up and backed away from the table. “Well, then, maybe I just won’t come here. How’s that?”
Frank didn’t know what to say. There were so many responses coming to his brain, but he couldn’t form the words.
Ricky was oozing discomfort. Anthony was squirming in his seat, trying not to make eye contact.
Frank wondered if he would side with his sister and turn his back on Frank.
No—he knew Anthony wouldn’t do that. The boy wanted to be here—with Frank.
Frank turned back to Lena, afraid he’d say something he’d regret. So he said nothing. Instead, he slammed his hand down on the table. Anthony and Ricky jumped, startled. Not Lena. She was already sashaying down the hall toward the guest room.
Frank got up, but Ricky grabbed his arm. “No, Frank. Let her go. Give her some space, some time. Please.”
Frank sat back down. He heard the guest room door slam. “God dammit!” he screamed.
He wanted to run after her, fling open the door, and have it out with her.
But he didn’t. He sat at the table, trying to calm down.
Maybe Ricky was right. Lena needed space and time.
He hoped he could give her that. He’d caused this mess, and she was angry and hurt.
But he didn’t want to allow her to misbehave.
Where do I draw the line? There was no rule book for this.
Later that night, Frank was in their bedroom, pacing at the foot of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair. “Man, I can’t believe this. That didn’t go at all how I wanted it to. I lost my cool.”
Ricky came over and put his arm around Frank’s shoulder. “Hey, querido,” he cooed, “it’s okay. She’ll come around. Talk to her in the morning.”
Frank sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to do. I really don’t.” He shook his head. “Teresa always knew how to act in these situations. She’d say the right thing.”
Ricky sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at him. “Oh my God. You miss Teresa. I’m so sorry, honey, but I'm never going to be her.”
Frank grabbed Ricky by the shoulders and pulled him toward him until their foreheads touched. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you—I do. But yes, I miss her.”
The next morning, he called Teresa. “Lena doesn’t want to be here.”
“She said that?” Teresa asked.
“No, but she was acting like it. She was being... she wasn’t very nice to Ricky. She left the table and slammed the door to the guest bedroom and didn’t come out for the rest of the night.”
“Aha...” Teresa said. “You’re surprised?”
Frank sighed. “Not really. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Honestly, Frank? You caused all of this. What did you expect? For God’s sake, you amaze me. You want everything to go your way. You change the kids’ entire lives, and you expect them to just jump on board with no issues?”
“I know, I know,” he said, burying his head in his hands as he cradled the phone against his neck.
“Give her time. She needs you to be there for her and to step up. Get involved in her hobbies. She spent her entire childhood watching you go to the boat with your friends or with Anthony. Now you have this apartment and new boyfriend and life, and you again expect her to fit into it, to accept it. It’s always about you.
Try to meet her on her terms and in her places. For once.”
Frank was quiet. She was right.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I appreciate your help. I really do. And I hear you.”
“I hope so, Frank. Otherwise, you may lose her.”
Frank vowed not to let that happen.