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“What’s happened, Marco?” she asks quietly, knowing that something is up.
“I’ve met someone,” I say quickly and look at her. She smiles gently.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Frankie and she is amazing. I met her out walking Prince, then ran into her a few days later at a bar and then again later at a coffee shop,” I explain smiling, because I picture Frankie in those locations and she just makes me happy.
“Sounds like the universe is bringing you two together. So what is the problem?”
“There are photos of us kissing on the internet today, and she freaked out. She walked out of my place this afternoon and is not answering my calls. I don’t know what to do. I mean I really like her, I am really falling for her, she is the one, Mom. I know she is, but…”
“But nothing, Marco. You know, when your father and I first met, we had a disagreement about something, I can’t remember what, but I walked out on him and didn’t take his calls or see him for weeks!”
“And what happened?”
“He didn’t give up. He called every day, sometimes multiple times a day and he waited. He waited until I was ready to talk, and eventually, when I was ready, I answered his call. Within weeks, we were married and didn’t spend a night apart from each other until the day he passed away. So, Marco, if she is it for you, if you think Frankie is the one, don’t give up, son, fight for her.”
I have no words, but I grab my mom's hand and squeeze, her words resonating with me deeply, and now I know what I need to do.
13
Frankie
It is not surprising that I am now on lockdown for another week. After I left Marco’s apartment the other night, I have been ignoring his calls because I just don’t know what to do or say.
Alf was at my apartment when I arrived home and yelled at me some more. Clearly, he didn’t get it all out when he called me when I was at Marco’s and needed to get more off his chest.
He was so angry at the photos, and he stayed at my place for most of the night as we dissected every image we could find of me on social media, the gossip websites, and even news channels here in Boston. It appears that Marco kissing a girl in public is big news. We discussed whether I should move to another location, but given the photos don’t show my face, we feel it would be more dangerous to move because I could be seen, so I will stay home, locked inside my apartment.
I knew Marco was well-known and popular, but apparently, he hasn’t been seen being intimate with a woman in a long time. Sure, he has had dates, but there have been no sightings of him kissing a woman in years and the press and social media channels are having a field day.
We tried to see if any of the photos of me were identifiable. After looking over them for hours, we realized that none of them were, and we both were relieved, but it was a close call and one we don’t want to have again. Alf mentioned the lockdown, and for once, I agreed it was a good idea. I know that he will tell Sebastian, and I am not looking forward to that. He still hasn’t arrived, but I know now that when he does, it isn’t going to be good.
I have stayed home all week, quietly assessing every move I have made with Marco since we first met, to see if there is a chance of any other paparazzi photos surfacing. Marco calls me nearly every day; he leaves voice messages, sends me text messages trying to get a hold of me. It has been days since we saw each other, and he has still not given up.
I know the cameras are following him closely, waiting for another opportunity to capture me and him together again, but they have been disappointed. Each day there are new photos of him online, arriving at work and leaving, both outside his apartment and outside his office. He looks tired and angry. He has dark circles under his eyes, and he no longer looks like the happy-go-lucky person he was. I am to blame for that.
I feel bad for not taking his calls, but I just can’t. I am breaking on the inside because I want to be with him, but I don’t know how to make that happen. Every time he calls, I go to pick up but I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know how I can tell him that I have feelings for him but that we can never be together.
I also haven’t slept. I pace my apartment all day and toss and turn all night. All I can think of is him. All I want is him.
As I continue to toss and turn in my bed, I look at the time, it is just after one in the morning. Sighing, I pull back the covers and go to get a glass of water. I am tired, but sleep just isn’t coming. I lie there at night thinking over everything. Trying to formulate a plan in my head where I can be with Marco, be happy and together without any danger coming to either of us. But it is all fantasy; it can never happen.
As I walk along my sitting room to make my way back to my bedroom, the front door buzzer screeches through the silence and scares me, making me jump in fright.
Clutching my hand to my chest, I look at the security screens. A feeling of Deja vu passes through me as I see Marco on the screen, wearing the same clothes he wore here on Saturday night after the mugging, looking at the camera with pleading eyes.
I sit staring at him for a moment, and he must know because he remains there, looking at the camera, staring right back at me. Slowly, I move my hand and buzz him in because I can’t fight it anymore, and I pray that he wasn’t followed at this hour of the night.
I see him run in as soon as the door opens and watch until I see and hear the door lock behind him before I run to the front door of my apartment. I fling it open and see him standing there and I don’t hesitate, I jump into his arms and he catches me. My arms hang tight around his shoulders and my legs are wrapped around his waist as he walks inside and kicks the door closed, locking it behind us.
I am hanging on for dear life, gripping my arms and legs so tight because I never want to let go. His arms wrap tightly around me, and I feel him take deep breaths, his nose rubbing my neck. He is peppering me with tiny kisses on my neck and shoulder and his arms are not letting me go either.
“Jesus, Frankie,” he breathes out. “Fuck, baby. I don’t want to let you go.”
I let out a half laugh, half cry because I am crying. I have never felt so connected to another human being in such a way. I felt like I was without a limb for the past few days without him. He sits down on the sofa, keeping me in his arms so I am straddling him and he leans back and looks at me. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, he takes my hands, leaving kisses on each finger.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you are not ready to, but please don’t run from me, baby, because the last three days without you, without even talking to you, have been like a slow, painful torture.”
