Page 37 of Everything We Thought Was True
Frank knew. It meant they were over. His heart already hurt thinking about it. He nodded.
“You break my heart, Frank Antinori. You really do. I think I always knew you would.” Henry’s voice shook, and Frank’s eyes filled with tears. Henry plopped down next to him and intertwined his hand with Frank’s. “Now what do we do?” He kissed Frank gently on the lips and then gave him a small, pouty smile.
“Don’t let go? Keep going on as we were? Love each other?”Frank said.
Henry shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think we both know that isn’t the best thing for us.” Henry looked away, and they were both silent for a while. Then he turned back as though he’d just received a phone call with the answer. “I’ll always be your friend. I can support you. But I can’t go on as we have been. I need to be out.” He gave Frank’s hand a squeeze. “You aren’t ready yet. I am. I have to do this before I chicken out. It won’t be easy. I’ll pave the way. You won’t be too far behind. I know it. I can’t promise that I’ll wait for you. But I can promise I’ll be there always.” He stared at Frank expectantly.
Frank had known this day would come, could see it looming on the horizon. His love affair with Henry had always come with an expiration date. He couldn’t expect Henry to wait for him. Besides, he didn’t know if he’d ever have the guts to follow in Henry’s footsteps and fully come out, because that would mean losing his family. And he couldn’t bear that. But losing Henry—the first man he’d ever loved, his world for so many years, the one he could truly be himself with... he might not survive that.
Frank felt like his insides were burning. He worried he’d be physically sick and almost doubled over in pain. He knew he was doing the right thing by setting Henry free—by choosing Teresa and their beautiful children and not turning his back on them. But it also devastated him. Frank felt like a caged bird peering out between the bars, watching another bird fly away, free at last.
Chapter Twenty
TERESA - JOHNSTON, NY
1979
Teresa swallowed hard, her heart ricocheting against the walls of her chest. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, and Frank was in the doorway. He looked hesitant, keeping some distance between them.
“Teresa, what’s going on?” he asked, leaning against the door.
The kids were downstairs, listening to music. Teresa could hear the Pink Floyd song “Comfortably Numb” wafting up the stairs and couldn’t help thinking that was exactly how she felt. Like she was drifting through her life. Numb. But she didn’t want to be numb anymore, dammit. She was anything but comfortable. She needed to confront Frank once and for all. Teresa had to summon the courage because once this was out in the open, there was no going back. Now that she knew there were lies sitting just beneath the surface of her marriage, she wanted to know them all, no matter how much it might hurt. Every single one. Lies, even small ones, piled up until they eventually toppled over.
“Frank, that’s a good question to start with. What’s going on with you? Really going on? And please don’t lie to me. I know something isn’t... right.”
Frank shifted his eyes to the side as if he was deciding which way he wanted to go—to deny it or come clean. She was afraid he wouldsay the thing she feared the most.If he says it, does that mean I’ll have to leave him? Or will he want to leave me?She wondered if there was a way for them to stay a family for the kids.
Teresa stood up and took a step toward Frank. She nodded, encouraging him to speak up. She needed to hear every word of what he had to say. If she didn’t, she would talk herself out of believing it. And as much as it hurt like hell—as if someone was punching her in the stomach repeatedly—she needed to hear it to convince herself that what she’d suspected for so long was real. Even if it would tear them apart.
“There’s nothing wrong, Teresa. I’ve got a lot going on with work.”
Frank had chosen denial. She wouldn’t accept it. Not this time.
“No, Frank, that’s not it, and you know it.” She stared at him, and this time, he met her gaze and didn’t look away.
“What more do you want from me?” There was an edge to his voice—a defensiveness. He stepped into the room, pointing at her. “I provide a good life for you and the kids. If not for my hustling, you and the kids would have nothing. You'd be just another Italian girl from the West End of New Rochelle, living next door to her mama with a drunk of a father. And all you do is nag me and act ungrateful while getting fatter and fatter.”
Teresa sucked in her breath and took a step back, feeling for the bed behind her to steady herself. She felt dizzy. She couldn’t believe it. Frank was going on the attack. It was so unlike him.
She took a few deep breaths to gather herself then stood back up, facing Frank directly. “How dare you! I’m the glue that holds this family together. I take care of the kids, the house, and more, while you go gallivanting with who knows who, doing who knows what. I may be an uneducated West End Italian girl, but I'm no idiot, Frank. I knowwhat's going on.”
She felt the deep disappointment that comes from being intentionally wounded in one's most vulnerable place by the person one used to trust.
“So you won't give it up, this life—going out constantly, leaving me and the kids all alone? Making a fool out of me? You think people don't know what's going on, Frank? Who do you think you're kidding?”
Frank glared at her, his hands fisted, a strange glint in his eyes, like a bull ready to charge. He’d never been aggressive physically, but then again, she’d never confronted him so squarely. But he didn’t move closer to her. Instead, he collapsed onto the bed, leaned forward, put his face in his hands, and started sobbing. He looked young and lonely and vulnerable, like a boy who’d just watched his beloved dog get hit by a car.
“I’m sorry, Teresa. You know I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”
Half of Teresa wanted to gather him in her arms. The other half wanted to batter him with her fists. She stood there, paralyzed, letting the two sides battle it out. Deep in her gut, she hurt for him. This was her husband, and she could see that he was devastated. But her heart was breaking for herself and for Anthony and Lena. She was feeling stronger and stronger in her conviction that she deserved more. She deserved to be someone's priority, not to be caught up in his confusion. If Frank being who he really was meant they had to be apart, she was coming to terms with that.
But as the minutes flew by, sobs racking Frank’s body, Teresa’s own body lost tension. She deflated—however unwillingly. She’d never seen him cry like this. What pain he must be in. What horrible, harrowing pain.
He looked up at her, his face twisted in torment, and she realized she was crying too. Fat tears escaped her eyes and made their way down her cheeks. She walked over to Frank, put her hand on hisshoulder, and pulled his head into her stomach. He wrapped his arms around her waist, burrowing his head into the extra flesh around her midsection.
She stroked his hair and said, “Shhh, shhh” over and over, torn between feeling a maternal need to comfort her sobbing husband and awkwardness at doing so.
In her heart, she knew that if Frank could change, he would have. He wasn’t doing it for sport, but because it was who he was. And no amount of love she could give him could change that. Frank was broken inside, and all her love couldn't fix it. Nothing could fix it. He would constantly tread water, trying to keep his head above the surface so he wouldn't get pulled down under. And for years, she’d been holding onto him with one hand on him, in the water, and one hand on the shore. And she didn’t even know how to swim. Yet here she was, the lifeboat that kept them both afloat. Well, it might be time to let go. Frank would either go under or drift out to sea without her, but Teresa needed to stop trying to swim and plant herself firmly on the ground. Anthony and Lena needed her to be strong. They would need her even more if she and Frank parted and the reason for it got out.
