Frankie
Alex Rettie
Frankie
San Francisco, 1967
My mother wore a snake around her wrist —
Open mouth with fangs, great big shiny eyes.
I gave it her. Don’t roll your eyes at me!
Get me a drink – soda and Campari –
I’ll tell you all about it. Kids back then
Worked. That’s just the way it was. Aw, thank you!
This is perfect – just the right amount of
Ice. You’re a fuckin’ gem – I ever tell
You that? You are! But anyways, I was
Saying … What? Yeah, yeah, we all had jobs or
Like went around with carts of fruit or shit –
Grapefruit from Florida, oranges – you
Had to turn them so the bruises didn’t
Show. What’s that? Why from Florida? Now that
Right there’s the question, Sugartits. Who knows?
And there were lemons too, some days, little
Sons of bitches from Eureka, pretty much
All peel. The dough was pretty good for those
Days, and my ma, she liked the flashy stuff,
So one day, ‘stead of coming home, I thought –
And I was maybe ten, no more than twelve
For sure, I thought – “Jesus! It’s her birthday
Coming up, and I don’t give her nothing
And she’ll cry for sure.” Big, big, big, BIG tears
Like she used to do. She’d be locked in her
Bedroom fucking days, you know? Just crying.
So yeah. I thought a bit and “Frankie,”
I said to myself – just me and Ma could
Call me that – it’s Francis X to you, kid –
“Frankie, you gotta get her something swell.”
You know I got an eye, right? Yeah, goddamn
Right you do! Look at them cufflinks I got
You that time. From fucking Florence! Christ! You
Couldn’t put them in right, you remember?
I had to help you, and I kinda reached
Around, and I was right against you, and
My hand touching yours. You were so handsome!
But anyways ... Yeah, yeah, another drink –
So anyways there’s this store around the
Corner from our building, and they had lots
Of different stuff, ya know? Real silk scarves that
You’d hold against your cheek, and pretend that
Ma was touching it, all soft and smelling nice
Like when she got dressed up for going out
To Mass. Or dancing, maybe. Jesus! She’d
Be gone for hours and hours sometimes. I thought
That she was dead, honey. I’d count and count
And when it got too high to count no more
I’d say the Rosary, ya know? “Pray for
My mother, now and at the hour of her
Death.” So down at Halliday’s they had these
Boxes. What? That’s right. That’s what it was called.
Halliday’s. They had these boxes with like
Necklaces and bracelets, and every box
The stuff inside was just one price. A buck,
Two bucks, two fifty or whatever, right?
So I had maybe two bucks and some change,
But that snake – I’d seen it lots of times – I’d
Go to Halliday’s and look at stuff and dream
I was a movie star and shit. Clara
Bow. Don’t fuckin’ laugh at me! Ma would do
That all the time, like “Frankie, that’s not how
You cross your legs if you’re a boy!” And laugh.
It was better than her getting sore, though.
She could make you feel so small … Yeah, the snake –
That snake was in the three buck box. Three bucks!
I’m looking and I’m looking at it, and
Margie Halliday, the owner’s girl, she’s
Looking at me looking at it, and then
She looks at me and kinda winks, and says
“Ya wanna kiss me, Frank? I’ll let you have
The snake half-price.” So I give her a buck
And fifty cents, and she gives me the snake,
And bends down – she was pretty big, ya know?
Like fourteen, maybe fifteen. Anyway,
I pucker up to kiss, but ‘stead of her
Kissing me, she jams her boobies in my
Face, and laughs and laughs and laughs. Sugartits,
I’ve never run so fast from anywhere
In all my fuckin’ life! What did you say?
Yeah, yeah! Ma liked it. She wore it every
Time that she went dancing. And if her friends
Were there, she’d tell them. “Frankie picked it out
Himself,” she’d say. “He shoulda been a girl.”
Homework
Hartford, 1956
If anybody listened to me, I’d
Tell them. Yes, Dad. Almost done my algebra.
I’d tell them that what bubbles up from all
The oranges and yellows when you shut your eyes
Tight is what you love. Right. No, Friday. “You
Know what you love by loving it.” She said that
– Sister Veronica – but I never
Knew what she meant by it until I prayed
For real, kneeling on Tuesday evenings at
Our Lady of Perpetual Help, held
By scents of wood soap and wax, gazing at
The ostensorium until Jesus showed
Himself. “Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.
Help me. Help me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love
Me. Love me.” Can’t Annie do it? Not like
Ricky Mulholland. With Ricky, when I close
My eyes, he’s there, but more than just his face.
I feel his shoulders, taste the salt on the skin
Of his neck. There’s nothing I can ask him
That makes sense. I’ll be down in a minute, Dad
Eyes Closed
Rome, 1997
“Sister, you ever think sometimes people
Look at you, and you know they see you but they
Also kinda don’t? Like the beggars here –
They see me OK – some rich guy from the States,
But that’s not me. Well, yeah, I mean it is ...”
Kevin’s old nun must think he’d lost his marbles
Going on like this. He should’ve just said
Sorry for swearing in church and left it at that.
“Francis, I know exactly what it is you
Say. Look at me, with this ugly old grey skirt
And the little white veil I’m wearing on
My head. Nobody, I think, says ‘Oh! There is
A woman who comes from Milano, and
Knows more about mathematics things than me,
And likes the ballet.’ No. They see a nun.”
“That’s what I mean. Even at home, even ...”
How was he gonna put this? “Even good
Friends, like Kevin, ya know? He looks at me and ...
He’s known me a long time and all, but all
He sees is a loudmouth, some guy who never
Finished high school and who’s gotten old. I
Dunno anymore. I don’t. Maybe what he
Sees is all there is.” He felt like keeling
Over. Holy Dinah, he was crying. “Look
At me, Francis.” Sister Veronica’s
Eyes stared into his. “I see you. I see
You, and Kev-een sees you too, when you let,
When you allow him see you. You know the chain
Kev-een wears? I wear one too. He told you
Who is on the medal?” Was she serious?
“It’s Jesus, Sister.” He sounded angry, but
He couldn’t help it. How many times did he have
To hear about the stupid medal? “Yes. It is
The Holy Face of Jesus. And when you look
At Him, what do you think? Can he see
You?” She held the medal up to Frankie’s face.
Maybe he wasn’t the crazy one. “His
Eyes aren’t open, Sister. He can’t see no one.”
Sister Veronica smiled. “Francis, that
Is incorrect.” If he had a quarter for
Every time a teacher’d told him that! “He
Sees you because you look at Him. He sees you with
His heart.” Yeah, she was one old grey mare who
Wasn’t what she used to be. Totally off
Her rocker. “If you want it, I will teach
You how to pray the chaplet of the Holy
Face. And then you will see Jesus. And He
Will see you seeing Him.” She looked up at him
And her eyes were shining kindness. Maybe
It couldn’t hurt. It probably couldn’t, right?
Alex Rettie is a Canadian poet, songwriter, and book reviewer with poems published or forthcoming in journals in Canada, the US, and the UK.