Frank's Last Words

Then

I’d never laughed as much as I’d laughed with Frank on the long walk home. He hadn’t stopped talking, he was so full of energy, so enthusiastic about his music and I just loved that about him. He also told me about his family, it was so obvious that he was a family guy and I loved that too. He was very serious about his music and ambitious and said a little bit of him wanted to show the world what he could do, he wanted the world to hear his new band, MCR but then a small part of him said he just loved playing his guitar wherever he was, anywhere, in his bedroom, alone with just himself for company or in front of a crowd.

He just loved playing.

We arrived at my house before I knew it, the walk was half an hour and the time had just gone by so quickly. I almost wanted to turn back and begin another walk with him. He was good company and he’d asked about me a little, I told him I danced and that I loved it too, it had been my life for as long as I knew it. When I told him I couldn’t be a professional dancer because of my height he put his hand out onto my shoulder as if he understood.

“So what do you want to do?” he asked me.

“I’d love to have a dance school of my own. For short people.” I said then we laughed together.

“No, I’d love to teach other kids what I know but I wouldn’t charge them the earth, dance lessons can be expensive.” I said. I was lucky, my parents could afford it but other girls I knew hated me because of that fact. It wasn’t my fault that my parents could afford it.

“Wow,” said Frank as he inhaled on his cigarette. He was looking at my house through the huge wrought iron gates.

“Its…its not that big inside.” I said so him, feeling embarrassed. I hated the fact that we lived in such a huge place. It was a mansion and I hated it. What was the point of it all? So we had money? So what? I could only sleep in one bedroom, I could only eat at one table and take a bath in onebath. Why did we need seven bathrooms for fuck sake? Why did we need ten bedrooms? Why did we need a dining room and a breakfast room and a room with a huge table that was only used on Christmas day?

I hated it.

And it looked as though Frank hated it too.

“Its huge, you could fit about fifty of my parents houses in there.” He said. He wasn’t looking at me and I didn’t know what he was thinking. Probably that I was some stuck up little rich kid that always got her own way and always got what she wanted. Well I wasn’t like that.

I wasn’t like that at all. I loved my parents dearly and it was great that we were well off but it wasn’t everything. Having my Dad home more often would be better than having so much money.

“What does your father do?” He said, still not looking at me.

“He…he’s a business man, something to do with shipping or something. I hardly see him, he’s away most of the time.” I said. He didn’t even ask what my mother did, he probably thought that she was one of those women that just didn’t work, just spent loads of money and had lunches with their friends. Well she wasn’t like that either, she hardly had any friends, all she did was sit in her office at her computer and write her books. I hardly saw my parents at all.

“My mother is a writer,” I said. I needed to tell him, very few people knew who she was. Most of my friends knew that she wrote but they just thought she wrote for a travel magazine. She wanted it kept secret; she loved the fact that nobody knew who C S Wilson was. Most people thought it was a guy.

“A writer?” Said Frank. This had caught his attention. “What does she write?” He asked taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Horror books. She’s a horror writer.”

“No way. I love horror books, horror films, you name it, I love it. What’s she written? Anything I’d know,” he said. He seemed so interested. Would he now be interested in me or just because my mother was C S Wilson? Horror writer extraordinaire? Known the world over. Well, sort of known.

I looked away. I wanted to tell him so badly but I wasn’t sure I was quite ready yet. I hardly knew him and my mother wouldn’t thank me.

“Oh…nothing you’d know really. Listen,” I said yawning. “I’m going in now, I have my show to do tomorrow. Thanks for walking me back Frank.”

“Hey, its OK, I enjoyed our walk. Good luck with your show and…see you around sometime, yeah,” he said then he turned and walked away. I watched him, please turn around and just look at me once more. Please. If you turn around, just once then I think you like me as much as I like you.

Well, he did.

He turned around once more, put his hood up as the wind had gotten up then he waved, he smiled and gave me butterflies all at the same time.

Now

I’d just washed up the dinner dishes, he was snoring loudly on the sofa in front of the TV as usual and I’d just put the phone down to my mother.

Unusually we’d grown closer over the past year and that was all because of Frank. She was excited, one of her books, Bloodsuckers had just been turned into a movie and the premier was next week. She wanted me to go with her to the premiere as her guest. Since my father was no longer around and had set up home abroad with some woman and her three kids I was the obvious person for her to take. I was proud of her; she’d worked hard to achieve this. It had been her most popular book and her fans were dying to see it, it was going to be the film of the year everyone said she also said it was time that may be everyone finally knew who she was.

I had butterflies in my stomach as I went back into the kitchen because she’d told me who had played the theme tune to the new movie. It was MCR. Frank’s band. They’d played the theme tune to Bloodsuckers and they were attending the premiere too.

So I was going to see him again.

And hopefully, this time, I’d get my answer.

I was finally going to know why he’d dumped me two days after telling me he loved me.

But did I really want to know the reason?