For Storms and Saints

The drive to Linda’s house was long and full of the kids laughing, shouting and the occasional cry when the girls ganged up on Theo. Frank told me to tune them out and we talked about France and his music when we got to the house. Of course I said happy hellos and gave long hugs and kisses to Linda but then the kids wanted all of her attention.

He was currently on break with one band, the cellabration because of their album release, giving him the perfect opportunity to continue on with his other music project with our mutual friend James. Frank wasn’t too keen on sharing his thoughts with Victoria because she always had a way of making people feel like shit when they open up to her, I knew she never did it on purpose especially with Frank but that’s just who she was or at least the way she had presented herself all those years.

While in France, Frank had mailed me torn out pieces of paper from composition notebooks. Telephone calls were expensive and didn’t want to rack up my or Frank’s phone bills with odd hour phone class so we could tell each other how our days were or something so we resorted to mail (still expensive but Frank liked to send and receive mail) and social networks. The writing was messy and dark; his writing was brilliant and sometimes fucked up but that was the best part. Frank had started writing in college, he knew that in the midst of writing a thousand songs to only wind up with one or two he really liked, some of the things he wrote weren't meant to be songs much like the prose or poems he had already began to post online in 2013.

“ - I mean we already have the album 98% done...there’s just the beginning we need to record. We have a few songs recorded but none of them feel right to even add to the album, ya know? So, as of now we’re just stuck…”

I was sitting on the couch with Frank next to me but I was facing him with my knees brought up to the cushion. Linda was with the kids, making food and giggling in the kitchen, Theo running in and out of the house with Bugsey, the dog Frank bought Linda years ago for company. I sat there, thinking as we both watched the outside world pass by through the window in silence.

“How about one of your poems under the bed?” I was referring to a collection of poems Frank had written that he literally kept under his bed. The bed here. The bed in his and Victoria’s house held their various shoes and winter coats due to lack of storage Jersey houses had.

Frank looked over at me with a sly smile. “Let’s go.” We started up and dashed up the stairs like mad men to his old high school bedroom still equipped with Batman sheets and tack marks on the wall from the posters he put up. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him lay stomach to floor and stick his arm into the darkness before pulling out the box that was tattered and worn from years of opening it, dumping things out and even inhabiting a small bird for a period of time that I made him take care of.

“Let’s read these and sort them into piles of okay, decent, and presentable.” He started, brushing past me to head back down stairs and into the dining room. We moved the fake plastic grapes Linda had in a bowl for more room and began pulling the contents.

“Frank!” Linda yelled, hitting his shoulder lightly with a tea towel, “Noa is not back to be your personal editor or publisher, ya know.” She joked, winking at me.

“That’s true, Lin, but he sure has hell needs one.” I joked back. Frank rolled his eyes at us and gave a weak, sarcastic laugh. Linda brought us coffees and snacks with the kids full from hearty Grandma’s cooking, threatening to pull them into sleep trailing behind her to climb on our laps. I snuggled close to Theo and planted a kiss on his head while scanning the notebooks and multi-colored sticky-notes, folded up corners of Psychology exams and glossy textbooks. I edited in my brain, adding commas and words to make it sparkle wherever it needed it but I still needed to keep in mind the bits and pieces of the Death Spells album James and Frank had sent me in 2013.

It felt like hours that we were there, drool starting to form on my shoulder and sink into the cloth and onto my skin from Theo’s agape mouth.

“You have Where Are My Fucking Pills? right, you kept that one?” I glanced up and he nodded, eyebrows knitted together. I took a moment to admire him like I’ve done so many times before. He was hunched over so he resembled Quasimodo and his rough, tattooed hands clutched a stack of paper and his dark and perfectly arched eyebrows pulled together and his cheek dented into his mouth in a funny way like he was biting on the inside. Every so often he would bring his hand to his face and rub one eye or run it through his hair. Victoria and I both agreed that it was far too long yet it worked for him, especially for his cool, alternative dad look.

“Hey, I think I got something.” He was waving a piece of crumple up loose leaf paper that he had smoothed out on the corner of the table. He placed in on front of me and I peered down at it, trying to make since of the mess of his writing. On top it was titled DILUTED.

We have survived this life so far, but how far have we really come?
What stops us from finally feeling complete?
The time I have taken to myself has left me with the feeling that I may just be fine by myself
the leaves once green, now a fiery red, crackle underfoot as we make our way past the rotten pillars of our past discretions.
I need this to be over and I know that now holding on to cold hands and sunken eyes hasn’t held the same charm as it once did
I am fast approaching my rebirth no more childish dreams no more adolescent wants no more breath of the fresh air
leave me to my work I am not like all the others
may I walk through this hideous world without fear of my regret
I shall consume the hate that consumes me
let me wash away my pain and mistrust in the tears of those stupid enough to get in my way
I shall cut off the hand at the wrist and feed upon my master
none can be better none will be stronger no one will hold judgment over my head
I am the beacon, the forest fire, the tire yard set ablaze
I am the smoldering ember in the darkness that surrounds us all
this is my passion this is my calling this is me
My love and my hate for you are infinite

“I think with a few tweaks, additions and re-wording, I think this will be perfect. You could read it and add softer, maybe a quieter music behind it and that’s your intro…”



We brought the kids home to a house with the lights turned on and Victoria lounging on the couch in her night clothes, hair tied up and a glass of red wine in her hands. She smiled at us walking in the door, Theo in my arms again, his tiny hands shielding his eyes from the warm light of the house and shoes missing somewhere int he car. The girls ran to their mom, jumping on her midsection which made her groan but laugh, kissing each of them on their head.

“You guys have fun at Nana’s?” She asked, brushing Clair’s hair away from her sticky cheeks. I plopped myself down next to Victoria, letting Theo shift in my arms more comfortably. “Looks like Theo did. You mind taking him to bed?” She mumbled, smiling gently at me after placing a soft kiss on his exposed forehead. I shook my head, smiling back at her before grunting as I tried to stand up. The girls laughed at me as I failed, my buff hitting the soft cushion once more. I was successful on the second try, sticking my tongue out at them over my shoulder. I saw Frank take my place, his head falling on Victoria’s lap and one leg coming on the cushion. This image of them together is what has kept me from telling Frank how I feel during their numerous breaks, fallouts or fights.

I always fell selfish when it came to Frank and I knew it wasn’t fair on him nor the kids if I did that to him. Hell, even if I hated Victoria for what she did to me and Frank in high school, I knew that if they were happy together they should stay that way. I wanted to be that bitch that slept with people’s husbands for the hell of it but I couldn't. I could only put myself in the wife’s shoes if they came home to some woman in their bed with their husbands. I’d lose it.