“So what’s wrong now?” Johnny grunted as he cut into
his sirloin steak that evening.
“Frank has AIDS.”
Johnny set his fork and knife down softly on his
plate and stared down at it for a long time. Isabel watched tearfully as he
dealt with the impact.
"When did you find out?" he asked tersely.
"This afternoon."
Johnny clenched his fists, then suddenly grabbed the
plate on both sides.
“Please. Don’t.”
He eventually released the plate and returned his fists
to either side of the plate, staring at a spot somewhere between his water
glass and infinity.
“So what happens now?” he managed.
“We have an appointment with a specialist Monday,”
Isabel managed. “There’s some different therapies they want to discuss with us.
They want us to consider our options before we decide what’s best for him.”
“What’s best?” Johnny demanded, tears welling in his
eyes. “Best for who? There’s no cure for that shit. They’re gonna take all your
money so you don’t got a dime for the funeral.”
“So what now?” she flared. “Are you going to give up
on our son? Again?”
“Don’t you try and dump that shit on me, Issy!” he
yelled as she dissolved into tears.
“Okay,” he came up behind her, wrapping his arms
gently around her waist before turning her so she could bury her face against
his chest. “Okay. We got to clear the table, put everything aside and take care
of this. I’ll tell Roth, he can mind the gym while I deal with this.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she hugged him back.
“All I want you to do is make peace with your son. Don’t end up thinking there
was something left unsaid one day.”
“What should I do? Take him on a trip? Hang out with
him? After all these years, where do I start?” Johnny gently released her and
wandered towards the window.
“Why don’t you buy him a beer?”
Johnny took the short drive down to Tampa Beach where
he met Frank at a small lounge overlooking the shore. He made sure that it was
a college hangout that would be less discerning of their clientele. He did not
want to wind up in a bar brawl and expose Frank to any more danger.
“Frank,” Johnny spotted him at the end of the bar. He
walked over to him and hugged him for a long moment. “How you feeling?”
“Okay.”
“What’re you drinking?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Johnny ordered two Crown Royals on the rocks. He felt
like Frank was testing him to see if he remembered Frank’s drink. It began to
irritate him but he checked himself. At once he began to realize how testy he
got around the kid, and it loosened him up somewhat. He liked to sit at the bar
by the jukebox but decided it would be best if they got a booth.
“Want anything to eat?”
“Nah, I’m okay.”
He searched the kid’s face as he had not for a long
time. He could see his own rugged jawline, his piercing eyes and his pouting
lips. He had more of Isabel’s smooth tawny skin and her thick mane. He also had
the slight Cabales build that precluded him from indulging in contact sports.
Not that it mattered now. Not that anything mattered now.
“So what do
you got going?”
“What, with the doctor?”
“Yeah, you know,” Johnny shrugged.
“They’re doing tests, you know how that goes. Kinda
like curing a cold. Once you got it, you got it.”
“You need anything?”
“Yeah,” Frank leaned forward slightly. “I need you to
know something.”
“What’s that, Frank?”
“Suppose like, before I was born, you went into a
fight and did the Million Dollar Baby thing,” Frank narrowed his eyes.
“Suppose you took a cheap shot and fell and bumped your head, and you wound up
in a wheelchair. Suppose you and Mom weren’t able to have kids. Do you think
she would’ve blamed you for the path you chose instead of being a rock star?”
“Rock star? Hah!” Johnny snorted, looking away
scornfully. “Rock star. David Diamond got me in the band to cover his ass.
Neither one of us could carry a tune in a bucket. I’m a fighter, kid, that’s
all I’m good for. Was good for. Did your Mom ever tell you how we ended
up in Palestine?”
“Not everything,” Frank tapped his fingers on his
glass. “She has problems talking about it, just like you.”
“Smart kid,” Johnny sniggered. “Well, then. I had
problems with the Mob. They controlled the game then, always have, always will.
I owed them money, and when James Lincoln and Stu put the project together,
they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They tied a boxing promo on my tail
and stuck a couple of wiseguys in the entourage. I got my career back together
and a good friend got killed.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I don’t know,” Johnny cleared his throat. “So,
what’s your point with the alternate ending? I crack my head, I can’t have
kids, stuff happens. It didn’t happen like that.”
“Suppose it did,” Frank probed.
“What’s your point?” Johnny snapped.
“You chose your path through life,” Frank stared at
him. “You knew there were risks, but you followed your heart. You did what you
had to do.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, then,” Frank stirred his drink, then dropped
the straw. “So did I.”
There was a deathly silence as Johnny struggled to
control his emotions.
“Okay,” he relented. “No use in crying over spilled milk.”
“Do you think you would’ve been happier? Not to have
wound up crippled, but…” his voice trailed off.
“That’s stupid,” Johnny scowled at him. “You’re my
son. I don’t care what you’ve done. It doesn’t change that.”
“It’s not what I’ve done, Dad. It’s who I am.”
“Okay,” Johnny said huskily. “Fuck that. You’re my
son. That’s all that matters.”
“I
know this has been hard for you. It wasn’t about hurting you. It was about
being who I am,” Frank said quietly. He always resented his father not being
able to accept that part of him. Yet at the same time he knew what a dagger in
the heart it was for this man.
“Yeah,
well. It is what it is. So what’s the story with this thing? How are you
feeling? What are we gonna be looking at?”
“I
think Mom’s probably got literature on it. It knocks out your immune system so
your body can’t fight infections and diseases. You end up dealing with
everything that comes your way, basically. A common cold can turn into
pneumonia.”
“But they’re working on cures, aren’t they?” Johnny
insisted. “How much does it cost?”
“Yeah, that…” Johnny began, then checked himself as his voice trailed off. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s who you are,” Frank grew bitter, his emotions surging. “You’ll never change.”
“Look, no more bullshit. No more gay, anti-gay, political, philosophy, whatever kind of bullshit,” Johnny wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s you and me and your mother. We can’t change the past but we can face this thing together, as a family. We can’t let any differences steal what time we have to change this thing, to turn this thing around.”
“I don’t believe in miracles. But I love my mother, and I love you. I agree, we’ll spend a lot more time together, we’ll share what’s left. I want you two to have a lot of happy memories.”
At once Johnny’s head dropped and his shoulders began shaking. Frank watched with a small sense of satisfaction before his heart went out to his grieving father.
He got up from his seat and slid into the booth alongside him, putting his arm around him and hugging him close. He considered the irony of being able to do what he wished his father had done for him throughout the course of his soon-to-be-shortened life.
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