Frankentown (20 page)

“You know, my dad always used to say that to me when I’d catch him smoking a joint on the porch. You know, to cover his ass from ‘the old lady’. Thinking back at it now, it really wasn’t all that surprising that he’d have just gotten lost in South America.”

Frank thought it better that he’d left the thinking at this. Any more would’ve sent him further down memory lane than he’d be comfortable with.
It wouldn’t have been quite as painful as useful, but he didn’t know that..
Allen always made a stupid puppy-face when Frank gave him a reason to feel sorry for him, which, of course, drove him nuts.

“So what are we drinking tonight?”

The first course were whiskeys.

It was almost a ritual, but not quite.
They’ve only done it twice this year and once several years back. Most of what they drank was only beer, and neither of them qualified for a status of ‘connoisseur’, but rather ‘swallower’.

If it got you drunk, good, and if the alcohol had a decent prominent taste, even better.

Within half hour, the vision started to blur, the colors were brighter and the world appeared to move in a singular collective motion. Everyone was instantly reduced to debris; like floating bits of kelp in the windy currents of the pacific ocean. The bar spun with them and the walls were tall and gross.

Frank gazed at the ‘cheap floozies’ lining up at the bar, wearing na
ïve
push-up bras in fool’s hope of catching themselves the perfect husband for life from a pool of drunken dogs.

∴
This was why he was continuously single.

“Just go for it.” Allen said,

baiting Frank to go up and ask one of them out, then conveniently excused himself to the bathroom. Frank held out although he had to go too, as if the postponement of urinating would earn him a medal.
But really, he was just lost in himself.

The concept of a relationship had a new meaning: something he hasn’t had in a long time. In a way, his relationship to his best friend, Allen, reflected this as well. Allen has always been a little more than an acquaintance, and going to ask a girl out somehow seemed right, at that moment.
 

After all, he’s drunk, so what does he have to lose except, worst case scenario, a meaningless night with a girl who dislikes strings attached.

In tunnel vision, a pretty brunette sat at the bar, hair down her curved back, almost resting at her posterior. While Allen was gone, Frank gave in to his simpler self and did exactly what he was set up to do.

“My name’s Frank. What’s yours?”

The girl turned around and batted her eyelashes in disbelief. Without another word she raised her left hand to reveal a big engagement rock and a wedding band on the ring finger of her velvet hand.

Frank’s face resembled a face of a puppy who’s car keys got flushed down the storm drain.

“Frank?” said a familiar voice in a broken German accent. Steve sat next to his wife that Frank just tried his moves on.

“Whoops?” Steve asked.

“Whoops.” Frank nodded.

There was no question that the two must have just gotten there, or else they wouldn’t have felt so forgiving to Frank.

Judging they were not. In fact, Steve offered him a sympathetic nod that said more than mere words could express, but if it had to be summed up, something along the lines of
“I understand, I have a hot wife and you’ve never met her. It’s cool. Let’s move on.”

“How are you doing?” Steve politely asked when no reply came from Frank, who was just a sliver too drunk to remember to apologize.

“Meet my wife, Carolyn.” Steve said.

So he attempted a greeting but his words came slurring out in a sludge.

“Hi Carol Loin.”

Carolyn shoot him a shocked speechless look.

“I think it’s high time I went back to my table.

 
Have a great rest of your evening.

Nice to see you Steve.” Frank said and returned to the table where Allen was just arriving back from the bathroom, seemingly with a great story to tell him.
“Well, at least we don’t have to feel embarrassed about not inviting him with us” Allen said while he waved at their friend and his wife.
“I didn’t even know he was married.”
Frank felt guilty. “Some friends we are.”
“I’m not feeling guilty man,” Allen protested “he’s never even mentioned her. We’re not good enough to meet his better half? I take offense!”

“You’re drunk. Shut up. Let’s get you home. I feel like sleeping this monkey off.

The streets spun as Allen drove the car back home. Although he was an exceptional drunk driver, he often took the risk on without giving much thought to the possible consequences. This was only one of many things that drove a wedge between him and Steve, who they knew to practice yoga daily, apart from eating raw onions like granny smith apples and wearing his hair tucked in a neat little ponytail. ‘The German Buddhist’ they called him behind his back.

Frank had asked to be dropped off a few blocks away from his house. The fluctuation in temperatures going up the hill were not as significant as they tended to be that time of year. Given the uncharacteristically warm night and the fact that Allen was driving drunk as a skunk, he really wanted to walk at least some of the alcohol off. Allen didn’t have to be asked twice about being dropped off.

“Goodnight!” Allen merrily called.

“Goodnight, sweet prince.” Frank replied, playing along.

 
The global warming’s going bezerk,
Frank thought, as he lumbered up the hill. Within the next block, the alcohol seemed to have caught up with him and he threw up down a stormdrain bearing a “No Dumping” sign.

Chapter Twentyfour

Home Visit

“Perhaps I overdid it.”

Frank woke up with his head resting on the seat of the master bathroom toilet. Strangely, there was absolutely no barf in the toilet.

How did he get there?

How come there was no puke?

He let this question go only to answer it promptly. The experience of waking up in strange places was becoming all too familiar.

The empty house was always far too empty and he sometimes spoke to himself to fight off the loneliness. At times the fact that he had lived alone in the house had gotten to him. But there was really nobody else but his colleagues. And Chida. It’s been seven years since he’s last seen Chida, in the Bay, at Lyle’s funeral. Then she went back to Conville and he hadn't heard a word of her since. Since then, it has been just him, waking up to the cold downstairs kitchen and hot java and the mandatorily soggy cereal. At night, he'd make himself a mug of tea he saw advertised as ‘Corpohydrine PM’, which vaguely sounded like one of the medication for enlarged prostates with all the relieved looking middle-aged spokesmen on midnight TV.
 

Sedatives - Anti-Stress

To help sleeping

Regulate

nervousness

and daily stress.

It put him straight to sleep.

His dream that night turned out to be very dramatic. This was in-part due to the feverish state the human body gets into to deal with all the alcohol he had consumed. As he lied in bed, all his pores oozed liquor which started vaporizing.
Frank, stinking in bed.
Like a booze ball.
At least that’s what his ex said.

But he didn’t mind nor care that he stunk. He was not only asleep, but his spirit was once again outside of his body. He was weightless and stars surrounded him from all sides. The whole dream was in context of the people who had lived in the house before.
 

His people.

His family.

It was like being transported back in time to a time when they were all together.
There was a space and time Frank could recall when his family was still a family. it all worked, though barely.
But there used to be an unbreakable family bond.

They were thick as thieves.

Nobody was there to share the nostalgic atmosphere of the house, reflected on the temperature inside. The house became cold. Even if Frank
could
remember his dad's trick to getting the heater to work, the house was now empty. There was no point anymore. The cold blue moon fell on all the surfaces inside the house. He could feel the presence of his father, his brother, and mother.

He made his way to the kitchen which now was not nearly as cold as he knew it to be.

In the kitchen he looked out of a window and saw a tall gray silhouette.
He knew immediately what he was looking at, because he’s seen them before, which made him a slightly less scared. The being was tall and had a faint red glow.
Involuntarily, he went through the main door to get closer, desperately wishing he hadn’t.

It seemed well shaped as opposed to the one old flabby one he saw at the base. He remembered! The base, the flight, the ocean, it was all coming back to him!
The creature had a squarer head than the ones from earlier, but its neck was more defined.
It was definitely older than the other ones he'd seen, but still, very creepy overall.

If Frank had a skin, he thought, he would be crawling out of it about now, and it kind of felt like he did, even though his body was suspended, and asleep, without him really even being inside. There have been dreams like this in the past, so this may have not been an uncommon occurrence altogether, especially given his colorful history of drinking.

The being took notice, turned its head to him and stared him right in the eyes.

 
He was instantly hypnotized and could only stare back at it. Its eyes were too enormous and too deep to look away. You wouldn’t, even if you wanted to.

I've been dying to see you.

The creature spoke with the voice of his dad and very clearly.
Frank’s father had never much spoken and instead resorted to half-assed, remotely compassionate grunts and semi-friendly ‘whatevers’ to communicate, so Frank wouldn’t even know what a full sentence from him sounded like. Despite all this, Walter felt the most sincere affection to his son.
Every word perfectly articulated.

"Dad?"

Frank, I'm glad you're ok
∴

"Do I seem OK? I'm freaking out!"

You're doing great
∴

"Why do you look like this?

Are you dead? Am I dead?"

No, no, no, of course not
∴

"Are you dead?"

The whole time it had not occurred to Frank that this creature could be anything but a weird
 
stringy wrinkled alien grossly resembling his father, glowing a shade of burnt-orange.

"What is going on?"

You won't understand it now, But we're not gone. We've always been with you
∴

"Everyone?"

Everyone
∴

And just like that, the alien was gone. It all seemed far too real. Frank was completely flabbergasted at the whole situation.

What just happened?
His thoughts were interrupted by a creak from the hall. Somebody was inside the house!
 

He peered over the side of the wall to see if anyone is in the hall, and though it was dark, nobody was there. The next creak came from upstairs. His alert rose and his senses sharpened, as he made for the way up. The staircase was decorated with wood veneer, of which very little space remained unpopulated by the many frames, each a memento and tribute to the time they’ve spent together. But something wasn't right.
This was definitely a dream.
The frames he’d taken down years ago, for the sake of pain and establishing his own life, were hung up as well, and his swimsuit calendar that was still stuck on February was nowhere to be found. He decided that the house is old after all, and the wooden construction creaks and cracks whenever it feels like it. And he was right. Then he wondered whether he would be in bed?
It was time to check, and he wasn’t wrong.
As he flew upstairs, he saw a figure underneath the sheet, clutching an oversized teddybear he had in his bed. Hurrying over to check that it is really him, he sped up and just when he was close enough to see that it really was himself, he fell back into his body and awoke.

The gentle drumming of the drops hitting the window panes eased Frank out of the dream within seconds. The overcast noon light helped him feel quite awake quickly, as his eyes had almost adjusted.

According to his alarm clock, it was 3:20am.

The sheets were warmer than the air around and he didn't feel like getting up. When he gave it a little more effort, and rolled over, he saw a midnight tree lit by a very strong street light. He forgot to shut his blinds.

When did they install the street light?

He had to get up to reach the blinds handle, and when he did, he looked out at the overpoweringly bright light.

In a moment the light pulsated and flew away from the house, into the distance.

“Holy granola!” said Frank, regrettably.

There was no more sleep that night.

Only a sobering freaked-out Frank nested on his couch in silence, drinking tea and huddled in all the thermal clothing he could find, which wasn't much, so he also put on a bathrobe.
It has been a long time since he's realized that the decor of the house had no dramatic changes in the past decade, but now that he had, he was forced to evaluate himself as someone who just can't seem to move on.

In an effort to change that, he started moving the furniture around the way he had always wanted it to be. His parents never let him in on any decision making. Then everyone disappeared and now he was always ‘just a kid’.
 

He kept it up until the sunrise and even managed to turn the thermostat on. His mind raced and he covered everything from A to Z.
Could differences in temperatures of living conditions dictate behavior?

After almost two hours of cleaning the house, rearranging and having decided that in the morning he’d get wood stain and go to town on the staircase, he sat down and fell into a deep deep sleep. Once again, he was floating above himself.

Frank always found it to be stifling to see yourself on old pictures, as one thinks of their life, but to see yourself from this new angle truly puts the concept of ‘yourself’ in a different, new perspective.