"I'm going to romance you."
Those are the words that began Gerard and Frank's official relationship. After the guys got back into the city, Gerard confronted Frank with a well-planned speech expressing how they should do things 'the right way'.
"Uh, I think we sort of jumped passed that," Frank replied.
"No, that's because everything was confusing then and, um, urgent." Gerard swallowed. "You deserve better. We are doing this properly, and, as of now, we have a date."
"When? I work most days, and you work at the club. That's nights gone too."
"Come by the club tomorrow night. I'll be there. We can have drinks, talk. Normal dating stuff."
"I'm not sure the bartender is supposed to serve himself drinks," noted Frank.
"I'm not supposed to do a lot of things," Gerard retorted, grinning broadly.
Frank followed Gerard's directions and showed up at the-club-with-no-name not just on Saturday but for the following five nights. Never before had a guy paid Frank the kind of flirtatious attention he met there. Gerard pulled out a barrage of conversation skills and charm. Whether he and Frank were asking questions like they were strangers or speaking like old friends, Gerard kept eye contact with an intensity that both enraptured and occasionally flustered Frank. It went on like that until Wednesday night.
"Now," said Gerard, barely looking away from Frank even to prepare the next customer's order, "if you were stranded on a deserted island, what would you want to have with you?"
Frank pursed his lips and thought for a moment before saying, "Books. I'm such a sissy."
"Books are a perfectly valid choice. I'd definitely bring something like that. Something that would help me pass the time in peace, let my mind be somewhere else."
Looking to the shining silver hands of the clock behind the bar, Frank huffed. "My parents are probably at my uncle's by now," he said. "I'm supposed to stop by tonight before they go back to their hotel. How much were my drinks?"
"You know I'm never going to let you pay for them. I'll cover the bill."
"You win this time, but only because I don't have time to fight with you." Frank stood to leave. He gave Gerard a quick kiss, and, seeing him pout shamelessly, spared a last question before he walked away. "What would you want on the deserted island?"
"I'd want you," answered Gerard. Frank laughed. That was by far the corniest thing Gerard had said all night.
Saying hi to his parents was at least a bearable trip for Frank. They were tolerable people most of the time, and they were all pleasant greetings when Frank entered the room. However, they gave no clues as to why they were really visiting.
The cousin Frank worked with, Mary, was there, so after basic conversations with his parents, he tried to spend the time he was obliged to stay at his uncle's house talking to her. He was fairly unsuccessful. She barely made eye contact with him.
The reason for Mary's behavior was completely beyond Frank, and he was soon distracted by his parents once again. Everything was acceptable until the visit's last few minutes which left Frank cursing himself for even showing up. In that time, his parents invited themselves over to Frank's apartment for dinner the next night.
The next day Frank, Mikey, and Gerard busied themselves cleaning the tiny apartment in their free time. Frank bought some pre-cooked dinners that he thought would look acceptable on the few plates he and Mikey owned, and Gerard brought over a small table and some folding chairs that just fit with the couch pushed against the wall. In exchange for his help, Gerard became the third person to invite himself to dinner. Even after being warned that he couldn't tell Frank's parents anything about a relationship with their son, he was insistent on meeting them.
The three boys were tense and silent as the clock struck seven. Then there was a knock. Frank pulled back the door to reveal two people. On the right was his mother, a lean woman who was smiling with a sickening, unsettling sweetness; on the left, his father, a robust man, looked Frank and his companions up and down as if he were evaluating them on the spot.
"Hi, Frank," his mother cooed. "It's a real trip getting up the stairs. I would never be able to live in an apartment like this."
"Well, it works for me," Frank replied with a dire lack of emotion. His father matched his disinterest in small-talk and simply nodded in greeting as he strolled inside.
"Hi, I'm Mikey. I'm the other person who has to live here," the scrawny roommate explained. Then, after a beat, he gestured toward the person beside him and added, "This is my brother Gerard." Mikey was pretty good at handling the formalities of introductions, and he managed to get the first words out of Frank's father.
"I've been very interested in meeting you," responded the stern-looking man. He accepted handshakes from both of the brothers, all the while narrowing his probing eyes on Mikey.
"It was nice of your uncle to give you the night off," Mrs. Iero commented. Uncle Henry had let Frank skip work to eat with his parents, but not without warning him 'not to make a habit out of it.'
"Uh, if you want to sit, I have some dinner ready," Frank offered.
Small talk was revived as Frank served dinner, and it persevered well into the meal. Was Frank liking New York? When would he be going back to college? Had Mikey or Gerard gone to college? How was the band? You know, it's not a stable income, but were they enjoying it? Frank couldn't place much weight on these questions. He was just waiting for the bomb to drop. As cynical as it sounded, his parents wouldn't be eating dinner in his apartment for no reason.
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Iero?" Mikey asked.
"I'm a therapist," he replied. Even in all his present politeness, Mikey couldn't help but look surprised. The man didn't exactly look like a shoulder to cry on.
"You can tell he's so full of warmth and understanding," Frank remarked sarcastically.
"Warmth isn't my job. I help people work through their problems, however I find I should do it. It's a professional risk for me to get attached." Frank smirked. "Your cousin Mary has been talking to us. She comes back to New Jersey frequently. Apparently things have been changing for you, but you never call us, so if it weren't for her we wouldn't even know."
"Sorry," Frank grumbled. His mother became intensely focused on her plate as her husband continued to speak. It was a good move on her part because the direction his speech took alarmed the whole table.
"Apparently you've been talking about one person a lot. He keeps showing up in conversations at work, and from what Mary said, it doesn't seem like you and this man are merely friends." Frank, Mikey, and Gerard's stomachs all dropped.
"What are you getting at?"
"Your mother and I both know, Frank. You can't expect to just keep us in the dark. It isn't difficult to figure out that you're in a," he coughed," romantic relationship with your roommate. Erm, Mikey."
Mikey nearly choked on his food.
"Yeah, okay, Dad, you caught me," Frank sighed. Mikey nearly choked again, and Gerard stared in disbelief. "Why was Mary even telling you this?"
"She was worried about you – understandably."
"So what now?"
"Sessions. I would like to see you and Mikey several times while your mother and I are here. Then maybe you two can talk through this and find yourselves in a healthier place." Frank glared at his parents.
"… Deal. But until the first session, you should probably get out of our apartment."
That was it. Frank watched his parents walk out the door. He knew now why they were in New York. All that remained after their unpleasant departure was the sound of their son aggressively scrubbing the dirty dishes.
Frank exclaimed, "Shit!" as the fork he was assaulting with dish soap slipped out of his hands. Before he could grab it himself, Gerard picked it off the floor.
"I realize that was stressful and that you're in the middle of some very passive-aggressive dishwashing, but you should probably explain what just happened," said Gerard.
"My parents are the reason I haven't seen you in seven years. I don't exactly want to put you in their line of fire again."
"Ah... " Gerard replied, trying to put the pieces together accurately. "So if they try to make you stop 'seeing' Mikey, it's no big problem because they're looking the wrong way?"
"Exactly. If they want to believe Mikey is their problem, let them. No need to tell them anything that can be used against us. It's Fifth Amendment rights."
Gerard laughed. "I can just picture the forefathers putting that in place so that people for years to come could hide their secret boyfriends."
Boyfriend. Frank couldn't help but like hearing that.
Mikey, quiet up to that point, finally voiced his consent. "I'm in," he said. "I mean, if it will make things easier for you guys, I may as well." Frank smiled in thanks. "Now, if you would like to be on your way, Gerard, my boyfriend and I have some cleaning up to do," Mikey teased.