A Little Time with Frank by Joe S. Thomas

A Little Time with Frank

By

Joe S. Thomas

Frank was dog tired as he punched the time clock for the umpteenth time. He had worked at the same paper plant for over 30 years. It was Friday. He looked forward to going home, avoiding the wife who seemed to hate everything about him, grabbing his fishing gear and heading to his honey hole. Yes, that was the plan. However, things just never seem to work that way for Frank. He pulls into the long, rutted out driveway that his wife has been bitching about for at least 15 years. She just can’t seem to get it through her head that Frank hated the way it was too, but they simply didn’t have enough money to get it filled in, much less paved. As he neared the house he could see his wife Kathy standing on the porch, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Frank thought to himself, maybe she missed me today. As he opened the door on his 1977 Thunderbird, he heard his bones cracking as he attempted to stand from his long, sickeningly familiar drive from the paper plant. Frank felt old, useless and in the way. No sooner than he stepped a foot from the car he heard Kathy yell “you need to go to the store if you want any kind of dinner in the near future.” Frank turned back toward his car without a word, got in and stared hard at the woman he’d married 20 years ago. Before Alex died he’d felt things were going fairly well. When he passed, it seems he took his mother’s soul with him; at least Frank felt this way. Who are you to tell a man how to feel, friend?  Did Kathy not know just by looking at his gaunt, almost ghostly appearance as of late, that he was dying inside too?   Does she not hear him at 4:00 a.m. spilling his tears, blood, and soul out to God each night… Simply asking the man upstairs for mercy on his soul which is full to flowing over. Of course, Frank knows the divorce statistics after a couple loses a child. No two people grieve the same. Regardless if you gave life to the flesh and blood you are returning to the dust, just as the “good book” said we would. Frank made it to the grocery store after driving around and thinking for a while. He spent the last thirty dollars he had on food for his wife and two other daughters. Frank was low. After bagging his groceries himself and paying for his order with 3 different credit cards, Frank was out of there. Walking to his car, he watched a Range Rover, driven by a cute teenage girl with two young men in the back speed away. As Frank got to the 77’ T-Bird, he saw some sort of fast food condiment splattered all over the side of his passenger door. A lone tear dropped from Frank’s eye. All he could think was: my son Alex would have been the same age… Friends, there is no rhyme or reason to this story. It’s just some time with Frank. You never know where Frank may be, but I assure you, he’s around.          Dedicated to the memory of Lucas Parker William Ferguson and the Ferguson/Parker Family 02-11-2018