Nobodies

When I go to school that Monday, I pray that Frank will drive by in his big pickup. Unfortunately, even though I search the entire sophomore parking lot, I can’t find his truck anywhere. I make the connection that it’s obviously no coincidence that Frank just so happens to miss school the first day he’d see me after our big fight.
I plan on omitting the information from Jamia, mainly because it just happened how recently and I’m too upset to talk through it. But at lunch, she can tell something’s bothering me, and I end up spilling my guts.
Jamia frowns and shakes her head, her brown eyes full of sympathy and her voice tender. “Gosh, Gee, I wish there was something I could do to help you.”
“He didn’t even come to school today cause he’s probably still too angry to face me,” I tell, tears welling in my eyes.
Jamia rubs my forearm, and comforts, “Look, I’ll talk to Frank, okay? You have no memory of sleeping with this guy, so it’s likely it didn’t happen. I’ll try to get him to cool it, alright?”
“Thanks, Jamia,” I sniffle.
“No problem,” Jamia replies. She hesitates, and then asks, “This all happened at Christian’s party, right?”
“Yeah, why?” I question.
“No reason,” Jamia answers, eyes on her phone.
Frank finally shows up at school the day after. However, I can tell he’s trying to avoid me, because I don’t see him until lunch when he’s sitting with Jamia. I approach, setting my tray down loudly.
Frank is so startled that he jumps at the noise. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, they look so sweet inside, so I offer a smile. And what does Frank do? He holds his face in a tight pout and orders,
“Gerard, I’d like for you to leave.”
“I don’t want to,” I retort, sitting down. At that second, Frank springs up and leaves.
I follow him, grabbing his wrist and spinning him to face me. I tell, “Frank, I don’t know what happened. I blacked out. But I have no memory of sleeping with that guy.”
“But there’s still a chance it hppened?” Frank growls.
I bow my head, and look through tangles of my raven hear with tear slicked eyes, hoping Frank will take some sort of pity on me. “I’m really sorry, Frankie. You know I’d never want to hurt you.” I shuffle uncomfortably, adding, “I don’t really know what you want me to tell you.”
“You want to know?” Frank demands, tears falling in a heavy river. “I want you to say, ‘Frank, I take full responsibility for my actions. I’m sorry I hurt you. In light of recent events, I have decided to finally leave you alone. Have a happy life.’”
“You… you want me to go?” I whisper.
“Yes,” Frank answers coldly. He turns, and before he walks away, he adds over his shoulder, “Stay away, Gerard.”
So, for about two weeks, I do exactly that. I sit with the hoodrats at lunch while Frank and Jamia sit just a few tables away. It hurts like Hell; because not only do I not see Frank, but I don’t see Jamia.
I’m on my way home from school one Thursday when Jamia grabs me, panting. “Gerard! I yelled at you to stop walking!”
I pull out my earbuds pointedly.
Jamia blushes, her flushed face becoming even redder. “Listen! There’s something really important I have to tell you!”
“I’m not in the mood,” I growl.
“Why not?” Jamia questions.
My jaw drops in shock at how oblivious Jamia is to everything that’s been happening between Frank and I. “Maybe because my fucking soul mate never wants to see me again?”
“Wait! I can fix that!” Jamia assures.
I continue to walk, and Jamia skips to keep up with my strides. “Look, Jamia, I appreciate the effort, but there’s nothing you can do to fix this. I fucked up too badly. I don’t know how, but I did.”
“No, you don’t understand!” Jamia shouts, touching my shoulder. I stop to listen, and she adds, “Christian did it. I know.”
I turn on a dime, demanding, “Christian did what?!”
“He drugged you, Gerard. Put Clonidine in your orange juice,” Jamia replies.
Christian? No way, he’s treated me like a brother ever since Frank left me. I’ve been going to his house almost every day after school. “How can you know?”
“Uh, because he told me. Don’t treat me like an idiot, Gerard,” Jamia sighs. She whips out her phone, sliding it open and handing it to me. “He texted me, so I have it saved.”
Jamia: hey gee said something about blacking out?? Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this
Christian: I didn’t
Jamia: don’t fucking lie to me
Christian: well, I did
Jamia: he didn’t evens sleep with that guy, did he
Christian: no he didn’t. I did this for a good reason, I swear
Jamia: whats the reason you prick. Gee is my best friend and you hurt him
Jamia takes her phone back, stuffing it into her purse. “He hasn’t answered that last part. So there’s your proof.”
“Still, it’s too late,” I murmur.
Jamia tsks, muttering, “I can’t believe I have to do this shit again.” She grabs the front of my shirt, lifting my heels off the ground. “YOU LOVE FRANK, RIGHT!?”
“R-right!” I stammer, surprised by her assertiveness.
“You got him back before, you can get him back now!” Jamia yells.
“Where’s Frank staying?” I question.
“At my house, so let’s haul ass,” Jamia answers.
We book it to Jamia’s, actually running most of the way. When we arrive, we stay outside for a moment, Jamia taking the time to straighten my shirt and fix my hair. She kisses me on the cheek, pats my shoulder and encourages, “Knock him dead, tiger.” She hands me her phone and pushes me towards the door.
I walk in tentatively, calling out, “Frank?”
No answer.
I start up the steps, repeating, “Frank? I know you’re here.”
I sit down at the top of the stairs, beginning, “Well, you obviously never want to see me again, but I’m sure hearing from me wouldn’t be too bad. You didn’t tell me to go away, so you’re at least a little interested in what I have to say.” I take a deep breath, and share, “Christian drugged me. He confessed this to Jamia. That’s why I blacked out.”
I wait for a reaction before proceeding, “And I know that doesn’t excuse what happened. But the thing is, Christian confirmed this as well, I did not sleep with that guy. I… I don’t know why Christian did this, why he has this eternal vendetta against our relationship but, he did.”
I stare into the palms of my hands, waiting for Frank to say something. “Maybe you used this as a reason to break up with me when you’ve wanted to for a while.” I start to cry, and tell, “I can’t blame you. I wish I could give you what you deserve.”
I hear the shifting of weight on a wooden floor, followed by arms being wrapped around me. Frank kisses the top of my head, rubbing my sides and arms. “You give me plenty.”
I cry even harder because for once, I actually believe him.

Notes

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