Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know)

by Martel, Mahima

  How could it be a crime to love someone so true

  With heavy convictions if they ever knew.

  “Listen honey, they’re playing your song,” said Sarah proudly.

  Alex turned off the radio. “It’s not my song; it’s Robbie’s”

  Sarah studied him carefully and then retrieved a fashion magazine from her beach bag and started to mindless flip through the pages. Occasionally she would glance over at him. His sunglasses covered most of his expression and it was hard for her to tell if he was having a good time or not. Finally she asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked dryly.

  Sarah shrugged. “I’m just checking. Sometimes you’re just so quiet I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  Alex turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his arms. “When you need to know what I’m thinking, I’ll tell you,” he said.

  “Okay,” Sarah said sweetly as she turned the page of her book. And then a dead silence swept over the shore. She looked out to sea as if searching for an answer as to how to reach Alex. He was always so far away mentally, especially when he was so close physically. But she never wanted to push him too hard, fearing that if she did she’d push him away.

  Upon returning to England, Alex hoped to have heard from Frankie, whether from a letter or in a message through Darren; but there was nothing. His heart was aching and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t somehow find out how she was doing. Attempts were made to call Frankie, but he hung up every time Marcus or Geraldine answered. He was never lucky enough to get Frankie on the phone.

  While the Dark Knights were preparing for a radio show, Alex decided to pursue a different angle. Seated with the band, he asked Nick and Peter, “Have you guys heard from Cassie or Gillian lately?”

  “No,” said Nick. His affair only lasted while he was in the States. He made sure not to bring it back to England.

  “Why do you care?” Peter questioned curiously. “Did you hear from Frankie?”

  “Almost every day, I’ll bet,” joked Nick.

  “This is news to me,” said Peter. He looked around at the other guys. “So what’s going on? I don’t understand. You just got back from vacation with Sarah.”

  “Never mind,” grunted Alex with a kick of his feet.

  “I don’t understand. Are you two still seeing each other?” pried Peter.

  “I said never mind,” Alex repeated strongly.

  “Frankie dump you?” guessed Nick. “Stopped calling? Faded you out?” He looked at Peter and Josh. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, guys?”

  “Sounds like a taste of your own medicine,” replied Robbie.

  “Fuck you all!” yelled Alex.

  “And a Merry Christmas to you, mate,” said Nick with a grin.

  Alex walked outside for a moment and lit a cigarette. He puffed hard. When he walked back inside he saw the phone at the receptionist’s desk. “Do you mind if I make a call?” he said sweetly to the young girl.

  The girl smiled warmly at Alex and pushed the phone to him. “Not at all,” she said.

  Alex dialed Frankie’s number. By now, he knew it by heart. And by some stroke of luck Frankie answered. But something in her voice sounded so different.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, excited to finally to talk to her. “What’s going on?”

  Frankie looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was in the room. “Why are you calling me?” she asked in an angry, bitter tone.

  “Because I miss you,” he said.

  “Apparently not enough to take Sarah on our vacation.”

  “You broke up with me,” Alex replied.

  “Yet you’re still calling me,” argued Frankie. “You can’t have it both ways, Alex. You can’t continue to call me and have Sarah!”

  “You called it off with me, remember? What the hell do you expect me to do?”

  “Don’t call me anymore.”

  “Why?” he asked strongly. “Frankie, what happened? I have to know.”

  Frankie cradled the phone in her hand as a few tears escaped from her eyes. She then hung up the phone.

  Alex stayed on the phone, hearing nothing but dial tone. With his cigarette between his lips he ran his fingers through his hair. At that point he knew for sure it had to have been her father. It was the only explanation.

  Through the days that followed, Alex couldn’t seem to pull himself out of his slump. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. All he wanted to do was lay around and smoke dope. The higher he got, the less pain he felt; it was the only way for him to get by.

  Despite Frankie’s instruction never to call her again, he attempted to call Frankie several times; but every time he started dialing her number, he hung up. What could he say to her? What kind of man begs for a woman to take him back? He couldn’t believe how much he needed her, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. Conversations with her stabilized him, made him feel sane in a very crazy world. It was the one thing that Sarah couldn’t offer.

  Alex tolerated his family as much as he could during the Christmas holiday. Everyone was full of joy and high spirits—especially Sarah, who was very happy to spend the holidays with Alex and his family in Manchester. She did everything expected from a good girlfriend—which grew to be irritating at times—helping Alex’s mother with the cooking and cleaning, while Alex sat slumped on the couch, drinking lager after lager with Leon and his brothers.

  He lit a cigarette, sipped his beer, and thought of what Christmas Day would have been like if he had spent it with Frankie. And then he wondered how Frankie was celebrating the holidays with her family. He envisioned the Robinsons sitting around a roaring fire while singing carols and sipping eggnog—Norman Rockwell’s paintings from the Saturday evening post. And here he was, with his dad and brothers, crashed out in front of a television with pants unbuttoned from eating too much food. Occasionally there was a belch.

  “Oh, another angel got its wings,” joked Leon.

  “It’s a fucking wonderful life,” Alex said, setting down his glass and heading to the kitchen. He lifted the phone receiver and dialed. While he waited for an answer, Alex stepped outside, carrying the phone cradle with him. Big wet flurries fell from the sky as he sat on the cold cement porch and lit a cigarette. He didn’t care for his health; he felt numb inside.

  Thankfully it was Frankie who answered the phone and her mood sounded as sober as his. “Merry Christmas,” he said with an exhale of smoke.

  “What’s merry about it?” asked Frankie.

  “Well, how about Misery Christmas?” said Alex with chuckle, trying to lighten the conversation.

  Tears started to well in Frankie’s eyes. “Alex, you shouldn’t have called me,” she said.

  “I can’t help it,” he said. “I need you. I love you.”

  Frankie wiped her eyes and looked around the corner. She saw her father entertaining her cousin’s children. “I can’t talk right now,” she said. “I have to go.”

  “Frankie, what’s going on?” he asked. “Why are you acting like this?”

  “I gotta go,” she whispered. “Bye.”

  Alex heard the familiar sound of a dial tone and then rested against the front door with the phone in his lap. He couldn’t understand why Frankie would turn on him so dramatically. She said she loved him; why would she do this?

  The door opened and Sarah appeared. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” she asked. She stepped outside and took a seat alongside him on the porch.

  “I had to make a call,” he said.

  “I can see that,” she said. “Everything okay? Anything you need to
talk about?”

  Alex looked at Sarah’s sweet face. He wished he could love her the way he loved Frankie. Sarah was so pretty, so sweet; why couldn’t he love her? He forced a smile and then kissed her on the cheek. “Everything is fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked, rubbing his arm.

  “For being here,” he said. “For putting up with me.”

  “Put up with you?” she said, “It’s a pleasure to be with you.”

  Alex nodded and then tossed his cigarette butt on the cement and grinded out the ashes with his heel. “Right,” he said, unsure.

  New Year’s Eve arrived in London and a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne began in Darren’s house where the band, their wives and girlfriends, and many others celebrated in the new year.

  Alex slurred the lines: “Should auld acquaintance be forgot.” He immediately thought of Frankie and could not finish the song. He didn’t want to forget old acquaintances; he didn’t want to forget Frankie.

  The song ended with cheers and the sound of paper horns blowing. Sarah jumped into Alex’s arms, nearly spilling his beer as she kissed him. “Happy New Year!” she said excitedly.

  “Happy New Year,” Alex muttered, gently pushing Sarah away.

  Needing a quick escape from the celebration, he moved away from her through the crowd, through the kitchen and outside to the backyard. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he lit a cigarette and puffed incessantly on the cigarette and then quickly lit another one when the first burnt out.

  Why did it hurt so much? He’d broken up with girls before; he’d had his heart broken. He looked up at the overcast dark sky. Why was this so hard? He had only known Frankie for a few months. Why the fuck was he reacting this way?

  Within a few hours, the party settled down and many of the guests were invited to crash at Darren’s if they were too drunk to drive home—especially Josh, who was still going at it, trying to rouse anyone who was still conscious. Peter retired early with his girlfriend, Julia, and Nick and left even before the clock had struck midnight. Sarah passed out around two o’clock and settled into a bed in one of the guest rooms.

  Alex sat in the kitchen watching the clock move. He drank some more, smoked another carton of cigarettes, and snacked on any food that was left over in Darren’s refrigerator—mainly fancy foods like foie gras and caviar. But even the combined flavors of whiskey, cigarettes, and pâté had no taste to Alex.

  Darren entered the kitchen wearing a fancy, silk robe. He opened the cupboard and handed Alex a plate, a fork, and a box of crackers. “Pâté and caviar are not meant to be eaten with your fingers,” he said. “Are you a barbarian?”

  Alex pushed the food away. “Well,” he said with a puff of his cigarette. “I’m certainly no gentleman.”

  “What’s eating you?” asked Darren as he took a seat at the table.

  “Nothing,” said Alex. “Everything is just peachy.”

  “A couple months ago, you were asking to get out of your contract,” said Darren. “Since then you seem to be just going through the motions in your work.”

  “What else is there other than motions?” questioned Alex as he lit another cigarette.

  “Effort—you could apply more of yourself,” said Darren.

  “You sound like one of my full-of-shit school teachers,” replied Alex.

  “Well, Alex, I’m not the one full of shit,” Darren said. “Things don’t go your way, you run away. Sometime Alex, you’re going to have to stop running.” He stood up and patted Alex on the back and walked out of the kitchen.

  “Where the fuck am I to run to when there are walls all around me?!” Alex yelled.

  Looking at the clock, he saw it was finally a few minutes to five o’clock in the morning. He rose from his chair and walked over to the phone. He waited until the clock had struck five and then dialed.

  Music and song rang through the Robinson home. No one heard the phone except for Frankie, who had forsaken the New Year’s celebration and gone to bed at nine o’clock. “Hello,” she answered, disturbed.

  “Happy New Year,” Alex said with a slight slur.

  “Are you drunk?” she asked.

  “I’m exhausted,” Alex said. “I waited all night to call you.”

  Frankie leaned against the wall. She was silent and then asked, “How was your New Year’s celebration?”

  “Long,” he said, glancing out the window. “I can see ‘1965’ lighting up the sky.”

  “What does it look like?” Frankie asked.

  Alex looked out the window and then said soberly, “Dim.”

  “Here it is black,” said Frankie.

  “Frankie,” Alex said with a sigh. “What happened? What changed? Is it another guy? Is it Sam Esposito?”

  “Is it Sarah?” Frankie questioned strongly.

  “What about her?” asked Alex.

  Frankie grunted. “You don’t get it, do you?” she asked. “You’re completely clueless.”

  “I guess so,” he said. “So why don’t you clue me in?”

  “It’s not worth it if I have to spell it out for you,” Frankie said.

  “Christ. It’s late and I’m not in the mood for head games,” said Alex. “All I wanted to do is wish you a Happy New Year, and you’re giving me the third degree.”

  Frankie started to cry. Talking to him was just so painful. She wanted to hate him for taking Sarah on her vacation, but she did break up with him. She did tell him not to call her. And she had no right to judge when she had had an abortion. The whole thing was so messed up.

  Hearing her soft sobs on the line, Alex pressed the receiver closer to his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t understand what is happening here, and I’m trying to. Help me understand, Frankie.”

  Geraldine rounded the corner and found Frankie leaning against the wall crying. “Is that him?” she asked. Frankie shook her head no, but Geraldine didn’t believe her. She grabbed the phone from Frankie and said to Alex, “Why don’t you just leave her alone?” And then she slammed the phone down.

  Once again it was the dial tone for Alex—this time from her mother.

  “Bitch!” he yelled as he hung up the phone. “Goddamned bitch!”

  He lit another cigarette and smoked nervously. He then realized it wasn’t Frankie, but her parents were causing the rift.

  A few days later, Alex met with the band at Darren’s house to review their upcoming recording and tour schedule. Robbie and Peter were chatting about a song they were writing, Nick was doodling on a napkin, and Josh sat, resting his head on the table with a throbbing headache due to excessive drinking the night before. Alex dragged on a cigarette while fidgeting with napkin. Chase was busy organizing files.

  Darren casually strode in and patted Alex on the shoulder. “Alex, can you come into my office, please?” he asked. Alex nodded and headed toward the office with Darren following behind. As they passed Chase, Darren leaned over and whispered the words “stand by” in Chase’s ear.

  Chase put down the files on a shelf. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Darren said nothing as he and Alex walked through the doorway. Darren turned around and gave Chase a rather serious look before closing the door between them. Darren took a seat at his desk and began meticulously arranging papers on his desk, his pencil holder, and stapler—anything to delay the conversation.

  “What’s up?” Alex asked looming above Darren.

  “Have a seat,” Darren said.

  Noting the seriousness in Darren’s tone, Alex said, “Thanks, I’ll stand.”

  Darren said nothing as he reached in his coat
pocket and handed Alex a folded piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” Alex asked as he unfolded what appeared to be an official legal document.

  “Restraining order,” said Darren with a sigh.

  “From who?” asked Alex, his voice growing louder.

  “The Robinsons,” said Darren, sitting forward in his seat. “They want you to leave their daughter alone.”

  Alex laughed. “She’s twenty years old; she’s a grown woman. She has a mind of her own, you know.”

  Darren shrugged and said, “She’s still their daughter and they feel you are causing her distress.”

  “This is bullshit, Darren,” Alex said and then ripped the restraining order to shreds. “If Frankie wants me to stop calling her, then she can tell me herself.”

  Darren gave Alex a look. “I think that’s the point; she did.”

  “Bullshit!” Alex yelled. “It’s just fucking bullshit. They’re filling her mind with lies because they think I’m not good enough for their daughter.”

  “Alex,” Darren said with a gasp of breath. “Do you not understand the consequences of Frankie Robinson and you having a child together? She’s the hottest thing in the America right now, and the world just can’t get enough of you and the boys. It’s bad—very bad. Julia, Marie, and Sarah can’t walk down the street here in London without being harassed. Do you know what it would be like for Frankie, who is a Hollywood starlet? Do you want to put Frankie in danger?”

  “No,” grunted Alex. “I had it taken care of; I was going to marry her!”

  “Besides, the press would have a field day,” Darren said. “Can you imagine the tabloid journals?”

  “I’m already in every tabloid journal and it’s all lies anyway,” argued Alex. “The press makes shit up all the time.”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to hide the fact that Frankie Robinson was pregnant and you were the father,” Darren said.

  “Who the fuck cares, Darren? It’s nobody’s business but mine and Frankie’s. If the world can’t handle it and it’s a big fucking scandal, so be it. People will get over it when the next big scandal hits and they’ll forget all about Frankie and me.”