Our Memories Blanket Us With Friends We Know

Gee, I know I haven't written for a while. But I need to. . . I wanted to tell you about my father.
He's famous. You know his work-- he actually built the Lake House. He sold it years ago, after my mother died. I guess he was trying to slam the door on that chapter of his life. Of course it was my life too. I got it back.
That's just one of the reasons why we don't get along.
I've made my share of small, stupid mistakes in my life. But I've made one huge, epic, massively stupid ultra-mistake. And that was going to architecture school to study under the great Frank Anthony Iero.
Everybody said I had his talent. Try to learn from the old man. Follow in his footsteps -- maybe all the anger and mistrust would just. . . melt away. Yeah right. Every class becomes a war zone. Every dispute inflamed by years of bitter feeling.
Somebody had to surrender. So I did. I quit.
And that is why, at the same age when my father was embarking upon a legendary career, I am throwing up condos and living in the old man's house.
I don't know what I was expecting. I guess part of me thought, well, Dad's in a bed in Hospital, he's about to have serious surgery, it might go a little bit deeper than 'Is this decaf? And I think he might not make it through. I think this is the end of the road for him.
When I quit school I rejected everything he stood for. That's how he saw it. So buying this house must have seemed like a sick joke. Maybe he was right. I don't know and it's too late to change things now. One thing's for sure: if I really was hoping for a tearful little bedside reunion. I'm as stupid as he thinks I am.
Well. I seem to have poured my little heart out here. Sorry. Thanks for reading
I find myself wanting to tell you things I've never told anyone. Things I didn't know myself until I wrote them down to send to you. Maybe that's the strangest part of all of this.
Love, Frank.''

Gerard's fingers linger on this letter, on the last word, "LOVE." Pepper trots up and jumps into his lap. He pets him, thinking. Getting more and more attached to the man that keeps writing straight to his heart.

*~~~~~*

Franks at work when he get's the call.

" Hi, Mister Iero Jr.? "

" Call me Frank. Can I ask who's calling at this hour? " He looks around the construction site. Hopefully Mulhern can't see him. All he sees is Jamia smiling at him.

" It's doctor King, your father's doctor. I'm afraid I have some bad news. "

Everything stands still for a moment, his fingers quiver around the mobile phone.

" I'll be there in a minute. "

Frank ends the call, runs to his truck and takes off. Jamia sees him dashing away and try's to call after him. But he doesn't stop.

*~~~~~~*

''Frank I am terribly sorry about your father. It's very shocking. It just goes around in circles and I don't pretend to understand it. All I know is the shock feels so fresh to me, even though it happened two years ago, so I can't imagine what it's like for you. The things just happen. . . sometimes. Last February- I remember it was Valentine's Day, but it was really warm-- I was having lunch. And something happened. I won't bore you with the details now, but it was rough. Not like what you're going through, but it bothered me a lot. And a friend gave me some good advice. She said to go somewhere that made me feel most like my true self
So I did. I drove to the Lake House. And that was the day I got your first letter''

Gerard put the pen down on the bed and relaxed into the comfy sheets. He really didn't know what to say. What could he at this sort of time?
" Come on, Pepper. " He patted for the dog to jump up and and they both waited for sleep to come.

*~~~~~*

Frank's outside a chapel, in a dark suit, nodding at mourners as they file in for his father's memorial service.

Frank listens, blank-faced, to the pastor. Ray and other students among them.
Dakota King, the doctor, is sitting in the back. He looks like he hasn't slept.

The funeral reception is being held at Frank Senior's school. Examples of his work on display around the room. Frank's head is bowed with all the other mourners.

After the reception, Ray and a few other students help fold chairs and clean up.

Franks standing alone before a large photo of the Lake House, looking lost.

*~~~~~*

ART INSTITUTE OF NEW YORK, it read.
Gerard looks around and finds exactly what he came for.
He is in the architecture section of the Art Institute bookshop. He takes the book he wanted to the front and pays for it. He's feeling happy as he drives back home to grab Frank's letter.

*~~~~*

Frank's at the mailbox. He holds the book that Gerard has sent to him, along with a letter.

He reads through Gerard's condolences and looks back at the
book.

''It's a place we both love, and it's a place your father built, so I hope you can find some solace there.
And I hope that whatever separated you will come to seem less important, and perhaps, in time, disappear.
It won't be published for a year or two, so don't show it to anybody. But I thought you should see it.
Yours, Gerard.''

Frank opes the first page. The title is ''Frank Iero - Life Works'' The publication date is 2004.
Then he notices Gee had marked one page. Frank turns to it.
It's the photo of Frank at age 7 with his parents on the jetty of the Lake House.

Frank is standing on the jetty, staring at the photo.
He eventually flips through the rest of the book.
There's photo's, blueprints, sketches- a lifetime of beautiful work.
Frank can't help but look at it admiringly.

*~~~~~*

Gerard's on his bed again. He stares at it.
On the page Frank has written in charcoal. "I WANT TO MEET YOU. FOR REAL THIS TIME."

*~~~~~*

Frank and Gerard write and pace, anxious and eager-- another exchange of letters that plays as a continuous conversation.

Gerard: How?

Frank: Pick a place. I'll be there. I promise. Tomorrow, what do you say?

Gerard: Frank. It’s not tomorrow for you. You’ll have to wait two years.

Frank: I don't care. I'll wait. Go to the restaurant tomorrow and I'll be there. I'll be two years older but I'll be there.

Gerard: What will you do all that time?

Frank: Think of you. And work out every day, get in shape, pray I don't lose my hair. . .

Gerard smiles: Are you sure?

Frank: I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I've lost so much time already. I don't want to lose any more with you.

Gerard feels giddy: See you in two years then.

Frank takes a deep breath: See you tomorrow night. Where would you like to go?