The after party was more like what I had been expecting from the winter dance. The music was pumping out loudly, the bass visibly vibrating the speakers, and the music was up to date and dance-worthy. So dance-worthy, in fact that several people had already taken to dancing raucously on the extremities of the room.
“Come, Commie,” said Dan, and I completely disregarded that he was pronouncing my name wrong, “let’s go and get a big old drink,”
Mikey, apparently, had been tailing us on our drive over to Meredith’s, because he caught up with Dan and I.
“Dan, are you driving Connie home?” Mikey asked; still sober and so concerned,
I knew that it was bad; he only ever didn’t call me Conifer in bad situations.
“Sure,” said Dan carelessly, “It’ll be fine, you worry too much,”
Mikey looked furious,
“Yeah,” I agreed with Dan, who seemed so much more fun and right in comparison to Mikey’s staunchness, “you worry too much,” I slurred,
“Go and enjoy the party man,” Dan slapped him on the back, “I think Al’s looking for you,”
Alicia was indeed, prancing the room apparently looking for someone, and that someone was most likely to be Mikey.
“Go get laid,” Dan added, “I know I’m going to try,”
I giggled, wondering what Dan meant, and why Mikey suddenly looked even more angry, but in under a minute I was being dragged off to the kitchen, were it seemed the drinks were being stored.
“What are you having?” Dan asked, and I realised that I could hardly read the words on the bottles because of my blurry eyes.
“Anything,” I sighed, “just nothing too strong,”
In the distance, I saw Mikey walking outside, clutching his cell phone to his ear. I peered at him, trying to work out what direction he was headed in, when Dan tapped my arm and handed me a glass with some clear liquid in it.
“Trust me,” he said, “just drink it,”
I shrugged and knocked back the bitter liquid, choking a little after I felt the taste of it on my tongue. The taste of alcohol as never something I could abide.
“Do you want to go and dance?” asked Dan, and his arms crept around my waist like a snake,
“Not really,” I was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable with the situation, and whatever direction I looked in, I couldn’t see any of my friends on call to rescue me if I needed it.
“Ok, that’s cool,” said Dan, sounding slightly more wasted now. He still hadn’t moved his arm from my waist. Someone knocked into me, forcing me to trip into Dan’s body.
“You smell nice,” he told me, once I quickly snapped back to my original position, having successfully loosened his grip on my waist,
“Um, thanks,” I answered lamely,
“So, if you don’t want to dance, do you want to get a room or something?”
“Get a room?” I repeated confusedly,
“You know,” Dan giggled (yes, giggled...) get a room...” he lent in closer to me, and I as I saw his lips and jawline looming towards me I knew what he was about to do.
Normally, I would have just let him do it. Why not? But something, possibly the same thing that made me uninterested in most men, rendered me more than totally uninterested in kissing Dan; I actively did not want to.
“Um, Dan...” I lent backwards so vehemently that I overbalanced, and he had to catch me.
“Whoops,” he smiled, and then he tried to lean in towards me again, “about that room...” he breathed on my lips.
“You’re not getting any tonight Asshole,” said a belligerent low pitched voice that sounded heart-thumpingly familiar.
I glanced to my side to see Frank standing there, looking more angry and fierce than I had ever seen him look, focusing the evil intensity of his gaze at Dan. Despite having a good half a foot over him, Dan seemed genuinely scared and began to back away.
“Sorry, dude,” he said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to...I’ll just...”
“Yeah, GET LOST!” yelled Frank, “AND DON’T COME NEAR HER AGAIN YOU-“
I was acutely aware that I didn’t like the shouting, so I started to shy away and walk off, but Frank quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with him, looking back to survey me with a look I couldn’t quite understand in his eyes.
“Come on you,” he muttered.
Once we were out in the street, I started to skip along, overtaking Frank with my long, graceful strides. He jogged to catch up with me and linked my arm with his.
“Jesus, didn’t you bring a coat?”
I hadn’t; I didn’t think that I’d need one, and mum had been doing some overtime at work when we left, so she hadn’t been there to bug me about bringing one.
“No,” I giggled stupidly,
“You’re going to freeze,” he sighed, looking at my bare shoulders and arms with the same strange emotion as before, the one that wasn’t hate or disgust but that I couldn’t quite recognise,
“No, I won’t,” I sang, pausing to swing around a lamppost. In dim, alcohol-tinged mind, I waited for Frank to make a joke about me making a career of dancing around a pole, but he kept silent and waited for me to join him again. It was at this point that he reluctantly took off his thick black jacket and put it on me.
“Oh wow! Thanks Frankie!” I chirped, a spring perking into my step again,
“Frankie?” he asked with a curious smile on his face,
“Yes,” I said solemnly, “That is your new name, Frankie, do you like it?”
“I guess I kind of do,” he said in a surprised tone.
“Why aren’t we driving?” I asked, after a few more minutes,
“Because I had two beers,” said Frank in irritation, “so technically I’m over the limit, and when Mikey called he said it was an emergency, so...”
“You got here fast,” I commented,
“I can walk fast when I need to,” muttered Frank darkly. I looked up at the sky and had an epiphany at how beautiful and dark and velvety it was.
“The sky!” I called out randomly, gazing up at it.
“C, if we’re ever going to get back to yours, then I suggest we hurry up a bit,”
He was shivering, and I felt guilty that on a December night I was wearing his jacket.
“Ok,” I said simply, and we carried on a bit more.
The nearer we got to home, the more my feet started to pound in pain. They had felt little more than numb for the whole evening, but the walk after all of the dancing and running around that had gone on certainly took its toll, “My feet hurt,” I announced, when we were a few streets away.
“Not long now,” sighed Frank, towing me on a little faster.
I nodded bravely, but started to limp from the pain, and in my drunken state, tears started to well up in my eyes.
“Oh, don’t,” Frank started to say, but then he sighed heavily, “Take them off,” he said, holding out his hands for me to give him my platform sandals.
“I’m going to go barefoot?” I asked, genuinely confused. We may have only been a few streets away from home, but who knows what I might accidentally step in.
“No,” sighed Frank, “here you go,” he handed me some battered Converse, and I realised that I had a similar pair of my own, except that mine were pink.
“Where did you get these from?” I asked delightedly,
“Nevermind,” he muttered, making it all one word, “Let’s walk FAST now, ok? Can you do that for me?”
“Anything for you, Frankie,” I said dreamily, and he froze.
“What?”
“I thought you wanted to get home quickly?” I challenged, trying to raise just one of my eyebrows. Gerard could do it, but I couldn’t. “I can’t raise just one eyebrow. Can you? Gerard can. I don’t know if Mikey can, maybe I’ll ask. Frankie, do you want to ask him with me?” I rambled, allowing Frank to propel me forwards more quickly. Before I knew it we were outside of my own darkened house, and I was surprisingly unperturbed by the fact that there were no cars in the drive way. Frank dug his hand into the pot plant by our door and withdrew the muddy spare key, sticking it into the doorway.
“Now, let’s just get you to bed,” he said, and he began to lead me upstairs,
“Frankie?” I asked as he led me up the stairs. There were several moments when I nearly overbalanced again,
“Yes?” he asked, sounding strangely eager,
“Why did you shout at Dan so much?”
Frank gently opened the door to mine and Mikey’s bedroom, which was empty, and led me over to my bed.
“Because he was trying to take advantage of you, and that isn’t right,” said Frank slowly, pulling my legs up onto his lap so that he could take of the converse.
“Oh,” I said softly, “why?”
Frank chuckled softly, “I think it is the dress, it’s too...nice. You looked...really...um..beau...nice tonight, Connie,” he said with difficulty.
I threw my arms around his shoulders, a strange compulsion no doubt brought on by the alcohol I had ingested, “Thanks Frankie!” I squealed.
“Um, right,” he said with difficulty,
“It’s too nice to sleep in, though,” I told him stubbornly, “Oh...” he said awkwardly, “well...”
“Can you help me?” I was straining to get my fingers around to the very back to unzip it, but fumbling and not quite reaching my goal.
“Uh-uh- ok,” he spluttered, “I’ll just unzip it for you, and then turn the other way, I won’t watch, I promise.”
“That’s nice of you,” I commented thoughtfully, turning my back to him so he had full access to my zip.
His hand seemed like it was trembling, and he had a little bit of difficulty at first as he tried to undo it. Then, as the zip glided downwards easily under his guidance, one of his fingers grazed the bare skin of my back, causing me to shudder involuntarily.
“Um...done,” he said quickly, and I heard the sound of this clothes as he turned around.
I wriggled out of my dress with difficulty, casting it onto the floor and quickly pulled on a Joy Division t shirt and some shorts.
“I’m changed!” I called, much more loudly than I needed to.
“Good,” said Frank, “now get some sleep,”
“Sleep?”
“Sleep,”
Ok, I yawned anyway and slid under my covers.
“Goodnight,” said Frank, picking something up off of the floor.
“Goodnight...” I murmured, already starting to drift off, “Thanks Frankie...”
