Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know)

by Martel, Mahima

  Alex slid down the wall and sat on the kitchen floor with the phone in his hand, listening to the busy signal. It was the most devastating phone call he had ever received. And afterward, he didn’t have the strength to stand up. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Alex stood and staggered back into his bedroom.

  “Was that her?” asked Sarah.

  “Nick,” he lied.

  “Why’s Nick calling you in the middle of the night?” she asked.

  “You know Nick—he’s always got some drama.”

  “Well, Nick needs to learn to wait; you’re mine tonight,” she said, nestling close to him and fell back asleep. Alex couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. He was far too confused and his mind was traveling in a thousand different directions.

  The next day, after a Dark Knights recording session, Alex followed Darren outside into the cold drizzle to an awaiting car. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

  Darren turned to his driver. “Mel, drive us around the block a few times.” Mel opened the back door for Darren and Alex to climb in.

  Mel pulled onto Suffolk Place and then onto Haymarket toward Trafalgar Square. No one spoke inside the car until Darren finally broke the silence. “Does this have something to do with your contract?”

  Alex looked away and fidgeted. The rain started to pour and it was hard for him to see anything outside the window. “Not quite.”

  Darren breathed heavily. “I don’t have all day, Alex. Believe it or not, I have other clients to tend to you besides you. What is it?”

  “Frankie Robinson.”

  “What about her?” Darren asked as he brushed a piece of lint from his wool slacks.

  “She’s pregnant,” Alex muttered and then faced Darren and noticed his stunned expression. “You gotta help me. She won’t talk to me.”

  “Are you sure it’s yours?” asked Darren.

  “YES!”

  “Does Sarah know?”

  “Yes, and she won’t leave. Frankie won’t talk to me. I’m in a real bind.”

  “I’d say so,” Darren grunted.

  “I need your help.”

  “What do you expect me to do? What do you want?”

  “Frankie can’t ignore me. I am the father of her child. Get in touch with her agent. I have to have rights as the father.”

  Alex, this is a mess—a big mess.” Darren sighed. “Are you sure Frankie wants you involved?”

  “I don’t care what she wants! She’s pregnant; she emotional and not thinking straight.” Alex poked at Darren’s chest. “Get on the phone with her agent and get this worked out!”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, don’t say a word to anyone, you hear me? Don’t mention it to the other guys; and don’t bring it up to Sarah again. Just go on as if everything’s normal.” Darren looked harshly at Alex. “Is there anything else I should know? If I’m going to help, I’m going to need to know everything.”

  “We were going to be married in a few days. We were going to elope to Bermuda,” replied Alex.

  “Oh no, no, no,” replied Darren.

  “Why?!”

  “Frankie Robinson—America’s sweetheart—are you kidding me? You’d be killed the next time you set foot in the States.”

  “I don’t care; besides, she’s going to move to England.”

  Darren tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Take us back.” He turned to Alex. “You’re going to go on as normal; you’re going to take Sarah to Bermuda and there is not to be a peep out of you until I get this figured out. You hear me?”

  “But . . .” Alex protested.

  The driver parked alongside Alex’s 1963 dark green Triumph sports car. Alex climbed out of the back seat.

  “Not a word!” ordered Darren. “I’m going to get this resolved. Until that time, we cannot risk this going public.”

  Alex slammed Darren’s car door shut and waved goodbye. Despite the drizzle, Alex leaned against his Triumph and lit a cigarette. He could not believe how fucked up his life was, having to take a woman whom he didn’t love over his proposed elopement with another. If Frankie finds out, he thought, it will be the end of me for sure.

  He took a final puff of his cigarette, tossed the butt into a puddle, and watched it fizzle out. He took a quick glance around the rain-soaked streets of London, climbed into his car and drove away.

  Committed

  Geraldine Robinson wasted no time in telling Frankie the latest gossip of her boyfriend Alex. She hated to do it, but it was something Frankie needed to hear. Heartbreak was the first point in healing and in order for Frankie to move forward, she needed to know the truth.

  Opening Frankie’s bedroom door, Geraldine found Frankie lying under the covers, hugging a teddy bear and staring at picture of Alex. She looked so pathetic.

  “Francesca,” Geraldine said as she sat on the corner of Frankie’s bed.

  “It’s over,” Frankie said. “I broke up with him.”

  Massaging Frankie’s foot, Geraldine replied, “Well, if it makes you feel better, you did the right thing.”

  “How do you know?” asked Frankie. “You don’t know him.”

  “Honey,” Geraldine said carefully, “Alex took his girlfriend on vacation to Bermuda.”

  Frankie sat upright in bed and glared at her mother. “Where did you hear that?” she asked.

  “It’s all over the tabloids,” replied Geraldine.

  “Tabloids lie!” Frankie yelled. “You know that, Mom. You know it’s just gossip.”

  “Sweetheart, he’s moved on,” said Geraldine. “That’s what boys do. Now it’s time for you to move on, too.” Geraldine stood over Frankie and kissed her on the forehead. “You know now that it would have been a big mistake to marry Alex.”

  Frankie waited until her mother left and then she looked at the wall covered with Alex’s pictures. “Motherfucker!” she yelled as she tore down her favorite picture of him and then proceeded to rip down the rest. “Asshole! Son of a bitch!”

  After shredding all the pictures, she shoved them into the trash can and then fell back onto her bed, crying from exhaustion.

  The decision to proceed as planned became that much more obvious.

  The next morning Frankie woke to see snowflakes fluttering outside her window. Normally the sight of snow would bring joy to her heart, but not today. Waking today was dreadful; and it would prove to be the worst day of her young life.

  Slowly, she crawled out of bed and walked to the window. Outside she saw her father defrosting the Impala and removing the melted snow from the windshield with a brush. She didn’t want to go. Why I am caving in? she thought. Why aren’t I standing up? But she weakened under the pressure. Her parents’ reason made sense, but then what truly made sense when it came to love?

  She wasn’t in the mood to dress, so she just put on the nearest clothes she could find—a pair of jeans and a pink sweater. As Frankie pulled on her socks, she looked up at her wall where the pictures of Alex had been before she ripped them all down. She missed him terribly.

  Reaching between her mattresses she pulled out a photograph of him. It was a picture he had sent in one of his “fan” letters. He looked like a normal guy, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, proudly leaning against his new car. Frankie turned the card around to read his inscription: “Someday, I’d like to take you for a ride.” Beneath it he had drawn a goofy smiley face. What a nerd, she thought.

  Her mother knocked on the door and then entered. “Are you ready?” Geraldine asked.

  Frankie slipped Alex’s picture in her purse and sighed gruffly. “How can I possibly ever be ready?” she mut
tered.

  “Honey, we talked about this,” replied Geraldine. “It is for the best.”

  “But not what’s best for the baby,” said Frankie spitefully as she grasped her circle suitcase.

  Outside, Marcus opened the back door for Frankie, but could not make eye contact with her. He didn’t want her to see the tears in his eyes. It was the worst possible day he could imagine. Ever since Frankie had been born, he had looked forward to being a grandfather to her beautiful children. He could hardly believe that he, along with Geraldine, had come to this decision for Frankie.

  Frankie climbed inside and sat alone in the back seat, while Geraldine took a seat alongside Marcus in the front. As Marcus drove along the well-to-do suburban streets, Frankie looked out the window to see children happily building a snowman. Tears flooded her eyes when she realized there would be no snowmen for her unborn child.

  The ride to the hospital was hell for all. Everywhere Frankie looked there were mothers with their children. She was being denied the ability to become one of them. How unfair and cruel the world is, she thought. Her mind wandered back to that day in the doctor’s office when she had seen that beautiful little boy who reminded her so much of Alex. She suddenly felt the urge to cry and had to stifle her gasp with her hand to keep from sobbing.

  When they arrived at the doctor’s office Marcus opened the door for Frankie to enter. She moved slowly into the lobby where Dr. Joe was waiting. He looked as grim as the entire Robinson family. No one was happy about what was to happen within the hour.

  “Come with me, Frankie,” Dr. Joe said gently.

  Suddenly Frankie turned to her parents. “Please!” she begged with tears cascading from her eyes. “Please don’t make me do this! Please, I want to keep my baby!”

  Marcus turned away and started to cry as he walked to the waiting room, while Geraldine put her arms on Frankie’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, we talked about this in great detail. The two of you are too young and too immature to be parents. You must consider your career, your reputation, not to mention the potential dangers involved. Trust us, honey, it’s for the best...”

  “Mom, please,” Frankie sobbed, barely able to talk. “I love him; I don’t want to kill his baby.”

  “Frankie, stop being so dramatic,” she said, trying to calm her daughter down. “If he really cared, he’d be here. He wouldn’t give up on you so easily.”

  “But he didn’t, Mom. Please give him chance, give him a chance,” said Frankie pleading.

  A nurse and Dr. Joe pulled Frankie gently into a room where the procedure was to be performed. Frankie resisted, pulling away from everyone who was touching her. “No! No! Please no!”

  The nurse finally injected Frankie with a tranquilizer. Frankie fell limp and helpless on the floor. All three—Geraldine, Dr. Joe, and the nurse—hoisted Frankie onto the table. Dr. Joe lifted the stirrups and strapped in Frankie’s ankles. He turned to Geraldine and said, “We can take it from here.”

  “Be careful with her,” she said as a few tears began to stream down her face.

  “Of course,” said Dr. Joe.

  Geraldine exited the examination room and watched the door close behind her. For a second she wondered if she was doing the right thing for her daughter. But then she remembered she had to remain steadfast. Frankie was so gifted and had so much potential. Geraldine was not going to let Frankie throw it all away. She wanted Frankie to have the career that her mother never had.

  Upon entering the waiting room, Geraldine found Marcus slumped over, sobbing. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Now I know where Frankie gets her drama from,” she said lightly.

  “It’s my baby girl . . . my baby girl’s baby,” he choked. “We are killing our grandchild.”

  “Marcus, we talked about this,” said Geraldine. “Sometimes parents need to make hard decisions for their children—decisions that children are not capable of making for themselves.”

  Marcus grabbed Geraldine’s hand. “I hope you’re right,” he said.

  Frankie woke up in her own bed a few hours later. Despite being awake, she felt like she had died. Her life was never going to be the same again. She rubbed her abdomen and cried. “I tried to save you. I really did.” she murmured to her the baby that was once in her body. “Please forgive me.”

  Marcus entered with a bouquet of flowers and set them next to her bed.

  “What are those for?” Frankie asked in a spiteful tone.

  “Get well soon,” he said, still having hard time looking at her.

  “Ha!” Frankie grunted and looked away from him. “I will never be well again.”

  “Sweetheart . . .” Marcus began.

  “Dad, can you please leave me alone?” asked Frankie. Marcus stood up and was a few steps from the door when Frankie spoke again. “You know, you and Mom have absolutely no clue what you have done. You don’t know anything. You don’t know Alex; you don’t know me. You forced me into this because this was what was best for the both of you. You didn’t want to tell the world you had a slut for daughter.”

  Marcus turned around to face Frankie. “That is not true.”

  “It is true. You think I’m a whore!” said Frankie. “And Alex? God knows what you think of him. But you’re wrong,”

  Marcus sat at her bedside and said, “Well then, explain it to me.”

  Frankie sat up in bed despite the pain in her lower body. “My entire life I felt different from everyone else. While my school friends were having sleepovers and pizza parties, I was taking ballet and singing lessons. While my friends were hanging out after school listening to records, I was working on the show. There was never anyone for me to relate to. I always felt so alone.”

  “You had friends,” replied Marcus. “What about Tim? He’s a great friend.”

  “He is a good friend and a fun guy to hang out with, but he really didn’t know me. The only person who really knew me, who understood me, was Alex. When I met Alex, I wasn’t alone anymore.” Frankie started to cry. “And now he’s not going to want to have anything to do with me. He was the best friend I ever had and now you and Mom ruined it.”

  Marcus laid his hand on Frankie’s thigh for comfort. “There are many men out there who will be better friends to you than Alex. You are a lovely, loving girl for whom many men fall at their feet to be with.”

  Frankie turned away and shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not about men wanting to be with me; it’s about who I chose to be with. Who I love, not who loves me. I love Alex. He loves me and you killed everything between us.”

  Marcus held Frankie’s hand... “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me,” he said. “But know this: I will love you forever. You are my little girl and you always will be.” As Frankie burst into tears, Marcus couldn’t help but put his arms around her. “I promise you, it will be okay. Everything will be okay.”

  Nothing was okay. Despite the good news—her film contact has been extended and she was signed for a modeling deal—Frankie found it all to be trivial. The only option that appealed to her at all was spending a couple weeks with the USO in Santo Domingo. Four weeks in the sunshine far from home sounded like the type of escape she needed. If she survived Christmas, of course.

  Christmastime at the Robinson house was usually full of merriment. Marcus always dressed as Santa Claus for all the neighborhood kids and cousins. There were skits and songs and everyone had a grand old time, especially Frankie. She loved helping her father—playing his elf, giving sweets to the children, and caroling all the favorite tunes.

  This holiday season, Frankie wanted nothing to do with Christmas or her father. That was fine with Marcus, since his heart was still aching. Even though Frankie was at home, she spent Christmas a
part from her family. The sweet smell of gingerbread sickened her and the children’s laughter became annoying. Frankie spent most of the Christmas holiday alone in her room watching the snow fall and staring at a picture of Alex.

  Alex, meanwhile, was having the worst vacation of his life. It wasn’t that Sarah’s company was so bad—she provided enough of a distraction for him from the breakup with Frankie—but it simply wasn’t the vacation he had planned to share with the girl he desired most in the world.

  He had planned to be married and become a father soon thereafter when the rug was suddenly and inexplicably pulled out from under him. Before he knew it, none of his former plans remained. Reclining on the beach, he wondered where it had gone all wrong and (correctly) assumed that someone (Frankie’s father) had found out about the pregnancy and indeed caused their separation.

  Alex’s mood swung from complete dejection to anger. He was hurt that Frankie would betray him and angry that she would choose her father’s will over his in this matter. But sadly no one knew the truth: he had been looking forward to being a dad. He felt so ready to paint a nursery and teach a little one how to walk and talk. As crazy as his life was, the simple act of being a father was what had attracted him to fatherhood the most. And now he was left with absolutely nothing—completely cut off from the woman he loved and with no knowledge of her whereabouts or her condition.

  Sarah knew even less than Alex; she was just happy to have him to herself for a while—no band mates to deflect his attention, no screaming fans. For one week Alex was completely hers. And she honestly cared little if he seemed a little moody; that was normal for Alex.

  She sat alongside him on the beach chair and listening to the transistor radio she had positioned in the sand above their heads. A Dark Knights song, “Committed,” played:

  Committed I am to you like no other

  Committed they’d sentence me if they were to bother