Cry Baby (Frerard)

Frank sat out on the balcony as he smoked the last of his cigarettes. He knew that the headaches from not having that dose of nicotine would sooner or later kick in, and he had to get some more cancer sticks at the local gas station down the road. There was one problem, though--Frank was broke. He spent the remnants of his birthday money to get himself his fix of tobacco sticks in a box, and now, his last one is being smoked away. He cursed under his breath, just realizing that he not only can’t afford to feed his addiction, but he also now doesn't have a dime to spend on his girlfriend, Jamia. They have been planning to go out to dinner, and being the gentleman Frank is, he agreed to cough up the money for it. He knew Jamia wouldn’t settle for something cheap like McDonald’s; she wanted to go somewhere nice, a place that had money written all over it’s menu and the place itself. That wasn’t her problem, though. He knew Jamia came from a wealthy family, so of course she would expect nothing but the best, even though Frank’s family doesn’t even come close to having such a privilege of having so much money. They weren’t poor, by any means...but definitely not swimming in cash. Frank had to come up with a reasonable amount of money somehow, and fast...or else…
“Fuck, now what am I gonna do?” Frank asked himself, finishing off the last of his cigarette, putting it out and throwing the butt in a bucket beside him. He thought that he could maybe sell something on Craigslist, something valuable. He didn’t really have much of anything worthy enough. His old bike had collected rust over the years and is now deemed nearly useless. The only two things that could come to mind was his Xbox and his Fender guitar, but he knew he couldn’t give up such a prized possessions. He saved up and bought those things for himself when his parents couldn’t afford to get him them for Christmas last year, and he didn’t wanna sacrifice his nights playing Halo with his pals Ray and Bob, or a part of his dream to become a famous guitarist. He’s really screwed, he thought to himself. Just how the hell is he gonna come up with some pay…?
“Hey, Frank,” a female voice greeted her son, stepping out on the balcony with him. Frank turned around to find his mother Linda, who apparently decided to take a quick break from preparing dinner. Pot roast does take awhile to cook in the crock pot, after all.
“Hi, mom,” Frank waved. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got some good news for you...there might just be some work for you,” Linda smiled.
“Oh, really?” Frank asked, immediately interested. He just remembered that he had filled out some job applications at various places earlier this month. He tried grocery stores, hotels, fast food joints, and plenty of others, but not one place called him back. Right now, Frank is just about desperate for almost anything, just as long as he’s guaranteed a decent amount of money, and he needed some fast. “What is it?”
“You know my friend Donna Way down the block?” Linda asked, taking a seat on the chair beside Frank’s.
“Oh...the one we invited to the cookout we had this past summer?” Frank replied, remembering the blonde-haired woman that Linda had been friends with for a while. He remembered she was pretty quiet though, unlike many of her other “gal-friends”, as Linda calls them. He also realized that she didn’t stay for very long at the party either, for some reason; she stuck around for maybe a couple hours, at most. Linda said it was because something came up, something having to do with her family. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t give it much thought. “Yeah, I know her. Why?”
“Well, she needs some help...badly. She needs someone to watch after her son. She’s almost desperate,” Linda said worriedly, as if expecting her son to immediately say yes, which Frank knew he wouldn’t do. He shook his head.
“No, mom. Tell her to look elsewhere. I’m not babysitting some lady’s kid. Anything but babysitting,” Frank snapped. He cringed at the thought of having to watch after another snot-nosed brat. His distaste for kids all started when he used to babysit Mrs. Drew’s two sons before they moved to Vermont a few years back. Sure, he got paid for it, but he hated every second of having to put up with the two spoiled and bratty kids. From refusing to eat dinner to screaming like banshees and running around the house nonstop, Frank couldn’t handle the boys for the life of him. He’s just glad they’re gone, and on the day they moved away to live with their father, he swore to never take up babysitting again.
“Please, Frank? You’ll be perfect for the job!” Linda begged. “You have experience babysitting, too!”
“What did I tell you about that, mom? I’m not gonna babysit anymore, not after having to deal with Mrs. Drew’s two little hellspawns!”
“Frank...please, at least consider it. Donna really needs someone, and she can’t afford anyone else. She’s gone through so much, and...I feel like we should help her and--”
“Oh, don’t give me that guilt-tripping shit, mom. You can’t help everyone in the world! I’m not doing it!” Frank huffed, already annoyed with his pushy mom. “If she can’t find a babysitter, then though for her. She’ll have to watch her kid herself,”
“Frank, stop being such a jerk! She can’t always watch after her son! She works two jobs! Just please, listen to me and let me explain,” Linda raised her voice, going into feisty Italian mother mode. Frank rolled his eyes, feeling half-tempted to just get up and leave. He didn’t wanna deal with this. Maybe he could go over to Ray’s house to get away from his nagging mom. But he can’t, not when his mom’s like this. He knew he’d soon feel her wrath when he returns home.
“Okay, then explain,” Frank sighed, just wanting to leave already. This better be quick. Whatever it was she was gonna say, Frank wasn’t gonna buy it. It’s not gonna change his mind.
“Donna’s son isn’t some little kid. He’s seventeen, but he has the mindset of a toddler. He got into a car accident, and it caused really bad damage to his brain,” Linda began, looking somber explaining Donna and her son’s dilemma. “Donna’s been trying to get him to learn how to walk and talk again, as well as read and write and a bunch of other things, but...it’s been hard for her. She can barely financially support herself and her son, and has to work two jobs because of it. Every babysitter and caregiver she’s turned to expect too much money out of her because of Gerard’s condition, and she can’t afford to put him in a school for...you know, kids like him. Please, Frank. She needs help,”
Frank looked at his mother, seeing the forlorn look on her face, her eyes begging him to reconsider his choice after telling him Donna’s sob story about her financial struggles and mentally handicapped son. His mind has not changed, though. If anything, it’s made him wanna say no to the offer even more.
“Are you serious, mom? I can’t watch after some woman’s special needs kid! I have no experience working with retards!”
“Frank Anthony Iero!” Linda yelled, her loud Italian voice probably being heard by the whole neighborhood, making Frank wince a bit. “Don’t you dare call him that! You know better!”
“Well, that’s what he is! Sorry, mom. It’s just not happening! I’m not gonna do it!”
“Well, what are you gonna do, Frank? You said you want a job, right? Where are you gonna work if no one’s gonna hire you?” Linda asked, making Frank stop and think. Where is he gonna work? How is he gonna be able to get money to take Jamia out on their date this weekend? Maybe he doesn’t have a choice now. He has only a few days before the date, and Frank doesn’t have a penny on him. Maybe the only way he can get some fast money is to watch after this lady’s son. He can watch him for a few days, get the money, then quit and find a better job. It is gonna suck having to deal with a kid that probably has the I.Q of a potato, but what else can he do right now? That’s it. He’ll do it, he thought to himself...but only for a few days, just as long as he gets paid by this weekend. Anything to get the money for his and Jamia’s date...as well as a pack of Marlboro menthols.
“Alright, fine. I’ll do it,” Frank sighed, giving in.
“That’s my boy,” Linda smiled, patting her son on the back. “Trust me, you’ll do just fine. I’ve met Gerard, and he’s a sweetheart,”
“Yeah, sure, but...what’s he like exactly? How bad is he? I don’t gotta do too much for him...if you know what I mean?” Frank asked, keeping his fingers crossed that this guy isn’t too much on the severe scale.
“I honestly don’t know too much. He can walk and talk, though. I know that. Maybe you should head over there and see for yourself, talk to Donna, get to know them, you know? That’ll be a good start,”
“I guess so,” Frank shrugged. Now he was really screwed. What if this Gerard guy is too much for him to handle? What if he tries to take care of him, but learns that it’s just too much for him, and doesn’t get paid? The only way he can find out is if he goes over to Donna’s house and see what kind of workload he’ll be dealing with. “Alright, mom. I’ll head over there. What’s her address?”
“She’s a few blocks from here. She lives at the brick house on the corner of 15th St. You know where that is?”
“Oh, yeah I do. I always pass it on my way to Ray’s house,” Frank said, picturing the small brick house that’s seen better days. It’s not that it was a complete wreck of a house, but compared to the appearance of some of the other houses surrounding it, this particular home didn’t have that same outer appeal.
“Call me and tell me how it goes, okay? Dinner should be ready for you by the time you get home,” Linda stood up with Frank, who gave her a quick hug and a kiss before he went to his room to gather his things and walk to his car. He got in his banged-up 1998 silver Ford Focus, revved up the engine, and made his way to the household of Donna and Gerard Way, blasting Black Flag from his radio, and hoping in the back of his mind that he won’t end up regretting saying yes to the offer he’s been given.

_ _ _
“Come on, Gerard! You have to take a bath!” an exhausted Donna sighed, losing her patience with her son Gerard, who wouldn’t budge from the yellow chair he sat at as he focused on a drawing of stick figures, scribbling wildly as he held a pink marker tight in his hand.
“N-no! No b-bath!” Gerard yelled in a slurred and stuttering voice, a string of spittle falling from his lips and onto his saliva and food-stained Batman shirt. “Me wanna d-draw!”
“You can draw after your bath, okay? I promise--”
“No!” Gerard yelled again, louder this time. He chucked the pink marker in his mother, which barely missed her eye, and began to slam his hands down repeatedly on the table he sat at. “No b-bath! N-no bath! N-no b-bath!”
“No, Gerard! That’s bad! You do not throw things at your mother!” Donna scolded, walking over to her son to try to contain him from his distressed state. She knelt down to him and grabbed his wrists to stop him from slamming the desk, just to have him resist. She knew what was happening. Gerard is starting to get agitated, and she had to stop him before he becomes violent. “Gerard, honey, look at me!”
“N-no! Let m-me g-go!” Gerard screamed, squirming in his seat as he hit and kicked Donna, despite his hands being held down by her. Donna wrestled with Gerard as she held him up from his chair and crossed his arms over his torso into a restraining hold. She always did this whenever Gerard became combative. Those self-defense classes really came in handy for her.
“It’s okay, Ger-bear,” Donna said soothingly, struggling with Gerard in her grip. “No need to get upset. Just calm down--”
“L-let me g-go, b-bitch!” Gerard spat, continuing to squirm and kick in Donna’s hold. He collapsed to the floor, landing on his bottom and taking Donna with him, still held down. “L-let go of m-me, y-you wh-whore!”
“Gerard, no! No potty mouth!” Donna scolded again, cursing to herself for not being more careful of what her son watches on t.v. “Just calm down, Ger-bear! Breathe!”
“N-no! L-let go of m-me! P-please, m-mommy!” Gerard cried, tears running from his eyes as he continued to fight, screaming and thrashing under Donna’s arms. As Donna struggled to hold down her eldest agitated son, she glanced up at the wall, eyeing the framed photos of the Gerard she knew and loved, before he was snatched away that horrid day he was hit by an unsuspecting driver. He’s smiling in all the photos taken of him on the wall. One of them displayed him with his younger brother Mikey, another one in a school photo from freshman year, amongst other memories. She couldn’t help but let the tears welling up in her eyes escape, knowing that the Gerard in the pictures is gone, and was replaced with something else.
“Please, God…,” she uttered under her breath as Gerard continued to scream and cry and fight under her firm but loving embrace. “God, if you are above...please send a miracle for me...and my son…,”

Notes

WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS MATERIAL SOME READERS MAY FIND UPSETTING. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.