“Alex,” Darren said calmly. “It’s over. The Robinsons terminated the pregnancy.”
The news knocked all the wind from his body. He had a hard time choking out his response. “No,” he said. “It’s untrue.”
“Yes,” replied Darren. “At the hand of the family doctor.”
“Are you saying Frankie had an abortion?” asked Alex.
“Yes,” said Darren.
“You said you would help me!” Alex screamed. “You told me not to worry! You told me to take Sarah to Bermuda! I did everything you told me to do and now you’re telling me Frankie had an abortion?!” “Goddamn it, Darren! No wonder she’s not talking to me!”
“I didn’t know they were going to terminate the pregnancy. I didn’t think they would do that to her,” Darren said in an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry, I just was taking precautions.”
Alex gasped as he ran his hands through his hair. His mind went blank and then he darted out of Darren’s office, slamming the door behind him. He rushed past Chase, who grabbed him by the arm. Alex stopped and turned to Chase. “Let me go,” he said sternly.
“I can’t,” said Chase.
“What, are you all afraid I’m going to do something destructive?” he asked, turning in circles, laying his eyes on a vase. He picked it up and threw it onto the floor where it crashed and exploded into many pieces. Robbie, Nick, Peter, and Josh all looked up from their conversations. “Was that what you were afraid I was going to do?” asked Alex. He picked up another statue and slammed it against the floor.
“Something like that,” said Chase, holding onto Alex’s arms.
Alex roughly removed himself from Chase’s grasp and stormed out of Darren’s house. A light but bitter cold rain fell, but Alex felt nothing. He tramped through the mud to his car. Just as he was about to get inside, Chase suddenly appeared and grabbed Alex’s keys.
“Stop, you’re in no condition to drive,” said Chase.
“Fuck off!” yelled Alex. “Leave me alone!”
“No fucking way I’m leaving you alone,” said Chase. “What’s going on?”
Alex looked away and said nothing at first. Then he turned and looked at Chase. “It’s nobody’s business,” he said. “Besides, no one can help anyway.”
“Look,” Chase said. “When you start heading in a self-destructive tailspin it is all our business.”
“Alex reached in side his shirt pocket for a carton of cigarettes. Pulling one out, he lit it and laughed ironically. “Funny how everything I do or don’t do is everyone’s fucking business. Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone?! I am so tired of living under a microscope! I’m so fucking tired of people telling me what to do, what to say, who to be with, and who not to be with. There’s no reason for me to be alive—just kill me! Shove a stick up my ass and prop me around like a puppet!”
Chase paused, taking in Alex’s outburst. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about? I mean, come on, man; you and I go back to when we were kids. If you can’t trust me, you are truly in sorry shape.”
“Fine!” Alex exclaimed angrily. “Frankie had an abortion.”
Chase’s mouth gaped open. It was certainly not the news he was expecting to hear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“She was,” Alex said with a puff of his cigarette. “Apparently, Ma and Pa Robinson disapprove of me as the father of their daughter’s baby, so they killed it.” He looked at Chase harshly. “They murdered my unborn child because they didn’t like me—because I was not good enough!” And finally Alex was beginning to break, choking back a few tears as the reality was setting in.
“Geez,” Chase said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry.”
“You know what the worst part is?” Alex continued. “I had it all planned. I was going to marry her. I wanted to marry her. I told her not to tell anyone, to keep it a secret; because I knew if people found out, they’d try to stop us, keep us apart, and I was right! It’s not fair, Chase! It’s fucking not fair! It was my baby! I should have had a say! I was going to marry her! I wanted to marry her! Everyone else can have babies and get married—Nick and Josh. I get a girl pregnant, and they kill the baby.”
Chase wrapped his arms around Alex to calm him down. “They didn’t knock up Frankie Robinson. Julia and Maria are hometown girlfriends from before you guys hit it big. It’s a completely different scenario.”
Resting his chin on Chase’s shoulder, Alex said, “I love her. I can’t stop thinking about her, but now they have this fucking restraining order. I can’t go near her or talk to her. Am I that bad? Am I that terrible?”
“Not at all,” said Chase. “This this has nothing to do with you or Frankie.”
“How can it not be about me and Frankie?” asked Alex. “It is our baby they killed.”
“Because in this fucked-up world, you and Frankie are not people; you are a commodity, a product. Do you really think anyone cares about you, or Frankie, or your relationship? They don’t care about love; they care about money. That is what this is about, maintaining Frankie’s reputation and career. They could care less about you, or Frankie for that matter,” said Chase. “If Frankie Robinson gives up her career to have a family, some rich and powerful men are going to lose a lot of money.”
Alex stepped back from Chase and kicked at the mud. “Well that’s just fucking awesome! That makes me feel so much better! So no one thinks of me as a person, just as some fucking product. Frankie and I have no chance at a life together because some rich bastard will lose money on the deal. Why does this happen to me? How can Josh or Nick find a nice woman to fall in love with and start a family, but I get treated like a fucking piece of shit?!”
“Like I said,” said Chase, “because you, my friend, fell in love not with a girl, but with America’s top property.” He then patted Alex on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get out of here. We’ll go to my place to settle down for a bit.”
Alex sat in Chase’s kitchen with his forehead resting on the edge of the table as he stared at the floor. No words were spoken. Alex felt dead inside and there was nothing—no drink, no cigarette, no drug, or anything anyone could say—that could revive him.
Soon Robbie, Nick, Peter, and Josh arrived at Chase’s. Upon first sight of Alex, Robbie said, “Good Lord, he looks like a bird that crashed into a plate glass window and now has two broken wings.”
Chase looked at Robbie and shook his head, indicating that this was absolutely no time for funny business.
Peter rested his hands on the back of Alex’s chair. “Is anyone going to tell us what is going on?”
“No,” muttered Alex.
Nick sat alongside Alex and stared at him intently. “Stop being such a proud fuck and tell us what is going on,” he said. “You go down, we all go down—you realize that? All five of us are one.”
Alex nodded his head and said with a sigh, “You can always find another guitar player.”
“We don’t want another guitar player,” said Peter, patting him on the back. “We want you.”
Josh leaned on the table. “’Cause you are the light that keeps us all going,” he said with a lighthearted chuckle.
Alex lifted his head and stared at Josh with look of heavy sarcasm.
“It is true, you know,” said Nick. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Ah, come on,” said Peter. “You’re like my little brother, and you can never give up on family.”
Grunting heavily, Alex reached for a carton of cigarettes. With the light of a match, he lit his cigarette and puffed. “Frankie had an abortion,” he said finally.
Everyone was silent until Josh finally said: “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Alex said, trying to remain casual in the conversation, but his eyes started to well as he told the story. “Her parents don’t like me. So they turned her against me and terminated the pregnancy.”
“They murdered your baby?!” exclaimed Nick.
Alex nodded, unable to speak, again trying to hold back tears. His hands trembled as he held his cigarette and rapidly puffed. “It’s partially my fault,” he said.
“How the hell is it your fault?” asked Peter.
“Sarah,” he said. “Frankie found out I was still living with her,” He then laughed at his own misfortune. “I brought this on myself. I don’t have the balls to break up with a girl I don’t love and I’m too afraid to commit to the one I do.” He rose from the table. “Had I been a better man, this probably would not have happened.”
As Alex walked out of the kitchen, Chase called to him. “Where are you going?”
“Living room,” Alex said from out of view. “I can’t have the six of you staring at me. You’re all looking at me as if I’m on my death bed.”
Robbie, Nick, Peter, Chase, and Josh stared at one another helplessly.
“How long do you think it will take him to get over this?” asked Josh innocently.
Nick poured himself a glass of whiskey. “This is not something you get over,” he replied. “This is something you have to live with.”
Voo Doo Doobie Do
After the holidays Frankie was more than happy to get away from home and the cold, dark winter of New York City. Despite having to perform for the soldiers stationed in the Dominican Republic, the bright sunshine, warm air, and slight breeze were therapeutic. They cleansed a bit of the negativity, pain, and grief she had experienced over the past several months. She was able to see past the overcast skies that for so long had clouded her vision.
Here in Santo Domingo, behind the sturdy walls of the US Army base, she sat at the water’s edge, looking across the teal blue Caribbean toward England. It definitely wasn’t the vacation she had hoped to share with Alex. She realized that it was the civil unrest within her own family that had bought her to the Dominican Republic, a country already filled with its own civil unrest. She chuckled at her own irony. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought.
It did give her perspective, though. Her recent personal tragedy and the strained relationship she was currently experiencing with her parents were nothing compared to the hunger and growing violence in the streets of Santo Domingo. It made her feel like a spoiled brat for even crying. There is a larger world outside of me and my own, she thought, and she was glad to have found it.
Frankie was never a girl who relished in politics; she could care less for the posturing of the powerful. She did, however, have a personal tie to the politicians’ agendas when her father had been targeted as a communist during the red scare of the 1950’s. Marcus had always been such a sweet and gentle man. It had infuriated Frankie to witness others nearly bring his career to ruin through condemning innuendos and lies.
It was then that Frankie decided to separate herself from the images the public knew her for. Fans everywhere didn’t realize they were being given a false reality created by managers, agents, the press, and politicians. Some people wanted to paint her father red when he truly wasn’t, while others wanted to portray her as a dimwitted pin-up girl, which she definitely wasn’t. And then she had met Alex, who was suffering through the same image problem she was. Everyone either saw him as the sweet “boy next door” that his manager wanted to promote, or the “bad boy” that the press constantly portrayed.
Frankie quickly saw through all the scams and publically created images. Alex was much deeper, darker, and introspective than anyone would have imagined. Everyone had an image of someone else, and many had images they tried to project of themselves. Frankie strived to find truth in people, rather than settle for an image.
But it wasn’t just the image of the individual, so many had judgments and prejudices of race, social class, and nationality. Her own family and circle of friends had let her down when she recognized their own elitism and prejudice. Alex came from an English working-class family. Alex simply was not raised with prestige and that was frowned upon by her family and professional circle.
And unfortunately the image portrayed of Dominicans did not suit the American palate, but merely encouraged the fear that Dominicans would spread the disease of communism to the American shores like the plague. The inhumanity of the false image, Frankie thought. How it destroys so much. It seemed only appropriate that she would end up here.
The offer for Frankie to perform in Santo Domingo was negotiated by her parents and her agent Stanley. Much like her abortion, she had very little say. Her mother thought it would be a good lesson for Frankie—a wake-up call to the real world. That’s just what slutty girls need, thought Frankie as if she were her mother. Mom could stand to be a little more of a slut. Maybe then she wouldn’t be such a bitch.
It continued to be difficult for Marcus to look Frankie in the eye; his heart still ached. He wasn’t too keen on sending Frankie to the Dominican Republic; but after realizing she would be working under the protection of the US Army, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Frankie rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind from overthinking; it always hurt and never did any good. Sitting on the shoreline and gazing toward the horizon, she still missed Alex terribly and wanted so much to see him. It was strange being surrounded by so many young men and yet her heart only beat for the one who wasn’t there. Everyone here was sacrificing their love and livelihood for a bigger cause. And, like a good soldier, Frankie powered on past her own personal pain, struggles, and devotion for a greater unselfish love. The idea made the twenty-year-old weep as she sat alone on the tropical shore.
The best part of the tour was being in the presence of other girls her own age. Frankie loved having discussions with them about boys, dating, kissing, and sex. She made sure never to bring up her experience with Alex specifically. She spoke of their past dates in the same fashion she brought up any time spent with a man—only as a vague reference and never by name. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she was extremely protective of him and their relationship. Perhaps she didn’t wish to become one of the people who exploited him with boasts and bravados. These talks did, however, bring up fond memories of the good times with Alex.
It rained for several days and Alex grew hungry for the sunshine. The sun had become a drug for Alex; he was addicted and would often go through horrible temperamental withdrawals. The winter weather in London was miserable, to say the least, and it was dampening his already dreary mood.
One of life’s oddities is that when people are denied something they want it even more. In Alex’s case, his longing for Frankie had become intense to the point of brooding. He was obsessive in his thoughts toward her. Sometimes he hated her for the abortion and choosing her father over him; other times he loved her to the point of experiencing a dull, aching pain in his chest. There were moments when his body craved Frankie, and having sex with Sarah was the only thing he could do to suppress his feelings. Anxiety and jealousy swelled within him whenever he imagined Frankie being around other men.
No one could put a smile on his face, nor make him laugh. In fact, it was a challenge just to get him to talk at all. Sarah struggled the most with Alex’s moods. Physically she had Alex, but sometimes she just didn’t know where he was mentally or emotionally.
They had had such a good time vacationing together in Bermuda the previous month—at least Sarah thought so. Alex’s moods baffled her. She suspected it all had to do with that girl he had knocked up—a subject she had no intention of ever bringing up again. No matter what occurred, she had Alex and everything would work itself out. Sarah told herself that she would have the old Ale
x back once enough time had passed.
Frankie wasn’t the only thing on Alex’s mind; he also had his songwriting to contend with. It wasn’t that he had writer’s block—quite the opposite. Tunes played over and over in his head like voices in the mind of a mental patient. He constantly felt that he was about to explode but, without any formal training in composing, he couldn’t get anything down on paper. That was where the weed helped to silence the cacophony in his mind if only for a few hours.
Occasionally he played them on the guitar a few times for Sarah and she of course thought they were lovely. She loved when he would play songs for her; it made her feel so special and loved. It became a matter of pride for Sarah; no girl in the world had Alex Rowley serenading her with song.
Lyrics gave Alex the most trouble; he simply wasn’t the poet or lyricist that Robbie and Peter were. Words flowed from them effortlessly. When Alex read back his own words, they sounded like the musings of a prehistoric caveman. He would then crumple up the paper and toss it into the wastebasket, oftentimes missing. On one occasion Sarah retrieved and read what Alex had thrown away.
“These songs are so sweet,” said Sarah. “Why don’t you record them?”
“Because they are not ready to be heard,” Alex said. He stood abruptly from his chair and roughly grabbed the papers from her hands and threw them on the floor. “I can’t do this with you hovering over me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just thought you could use some encouragement.”
“Encouragement?!” he said with an ironic laugh. “Robbie and Peter don’t need encouragement. What are you going to do, check my spelling and grammar and then pat me on the head if I get it right? I know I’m not as educated or smart as some people, but I could do this if people would just give me the space.”
Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) Page 26