by Michael Lerner
Frank laughed as he bounded into the room with long strides, owning the bar instantly. All eyes were not on him, but I was sure everyone felt his presence as he exploded with energy and confidence.
“Ryan! Who you sleeping with tonight?” Frank bellowed, his hand extended, as he strode up to my table. We had no chairs. The table was waist high, built for holding drinks and not much more.
“None of your business,” I retorted. I smiled, gripping his hand. He squeezed hard once then released me.
“Ryan, let me tell you,” he said, an evil grin snaking across his face. “The babes dig me, but I am so tired.”
“And married.”
“Separated!” He corrected.
“Whatever!” I said, and we both laughed as I surveyed the room. A small group was scattered around the square bar. The lighting was poor and the shadows dominated, making everyone appear unfriendly.
“Hey, thanks for jumping my car last night,” I said. My hand was in my pocket, and I was pressing one of the buttons on the side of my cell phone. It was a bad habit, because once in a while I’d end up calling someone. I’ve done it three times to one friend in particular, and now she’s taken to calling back and leaving me nasty voice mail messages about it, like “Drop dead!”
“No problem,” Frank said. “Glad to help. You’ve helped me a hundred times. Remember that time Claire and I were out of town and you came over and watered the plants? Friends help out friends,” Frank responded.
“No, really. Coming out at 1 a.m. like that… “
“Just keepin’ it real, my friend. Just keepin’ it real.”
“What’re you up to tonight?”
“Open mic night at the Rud,” Frank said, running his hands through his thick mane of hair. He stuck his index finger in his ear and twisted it around.
“You and your lady laureates,” I joked, in reference to the three young women that joined Frank at the Rudyard Kipling downtown once a month to read their doggerel in front of an audience.
“I ran through them like a yellow light!” he laughed. He pulled his finger out of his ear and stared at a small glob of brown earwax on his fingertip. Using his thumbnail, he flicked it to the floor, making a slight snapping sound.
“You gonna pick your nose and swallow a bugger next?” I asked, laughing. “Hey, guess what? I have a date tomorrow at noon up at Heine Brothers with LadyLake147. Real name’s Deena.” I tried to hide the emotion from my voice, adopting what I hoped was a winning smile.
Frank snorted. “Ah, the quiet one? Why do you want to date her?”
“She’s hot,” I said. “Have you seen her in that tight, black dress?”
“Love the cleavage,” Frank said.
“You doing her?” It wasn’t an idle question. I was getting apprehensive. I’d chatted online with Deena for a couple weeks and we’d run into each other a few times at online community events. The last time I’d seen her, she ran up to me and grabbed my hands. I rubbed her fingers and kissed her on the cheek as we said hello. My heart was now pounding in awful anticipation of where this conversation might lead. If Frank was involved with her, I wanted to know.
“Oh, it’s nothing like that.” He waved one of his long hands dismissively.
“Like what?” Frustration slipped into my voice before I could cut it off. My bad luck of running into Frank’s women seemed as endless as a Gong Show Marathon on the Game Show Network. I didn’t begrudge Frank his success with the ladies. I just didn’t want to mess with his girlfriends. That’s all. I knew he was going through a tough divorce, and despite his repeated denials, the rumors said he was hitting home runs like a baseball player on steroids.
“I’m not doin’ her, man. I swear!” He was smiling.
“Oh, come on.” I telegraphed rolling my eyes, just to get a reaction.
“I’ve got too much going on with Claire to mess with Internet hoes. Trust me, if I do anything like that, it’ll be out of town.”
I noticed I was holding my breath, so I let it out with a sigh. “Deena asked me out.”
“You stud! I remember when she first messaged me. She said ‘I’m real quiet and shy. Can you help me break out of my shell?’ So I told her, ‘Sure!’ And we got together and talked for a while. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I guess. Look, man, I really like this one,” I said.
“Trust me, man. Trust me.”
We ordered a couple of beers, and just as I was finishing mine, Amy strode through the door and came up to us, slamming her palms on the table. Startled, I put my hand on my drink to make sure it didn’t tip over. Like Frank, Amy was a long time friend.
“Ryan!” she said, her face lighting up as she bent in to give me a peck on the cheek. “Amy,” Frank said, putting his hand over my face and pushing me away playfully, then grabbing her head, tilting it, and planting a dramatic kiss on her worthy of an old Humphrey Bogart movie.
“Meowrrr!” Amy growled, smiling as he pulled away.
“Baby, you know you want it,” Frank said.
“Let’s get out of here and get something to eat,” I said, throwing a couple of dollars on the table.
“Sure, honey,” Amy said, cradling my arm and walking away with me. Her brown eyes were stuck on Frank as he trailed us. They were in a staring contest. When we reached the door, Amy turned away, but I was still watching Frank. He pointed at Amy and mimed the physical act of thrusting into her, then sped ahead of us and hopped on his motorcycle which was parked right out front.
“You wanna ride with a real man?” he said to Amy as he pointed at her, a big smile draped across his face.
I yelled an obscenity at him.
“No thanks,” she responded. “I’ll ride with Ryan.”
“Suit yourself. Meet ya both at Big Hopps!” He gunned his engine loud enough to make my ears sting a little, then pulled away from the curb. Amy’s eyes followed him until he turned the corner. She then shuddered, as if coming out of a trance.
“I don’t know what gets into me,” she said. “I know he’s full of it but when I’m around him I forget. Gawd he makes me hot.”
“I have a date tomorrow with a girl he knows,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“A date? Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you. Email me a link to her profile later so I can check her out.” She gave me a quick, light hug from the side. “I look great tonight, don’t I?”
“Always,” I said, smiling. “Frank said he wasn’t into her.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s not.” She popped open her makeup mirror and applied a layer of dark red lipstick to her thin lips, then straightened her short, blonde hair.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, silly. He told me he’s not screwing around. I believe him.”
I knew better, but I didn’t comment further as we headed for the parking garage.
My mind wandered. I imagined Frank doubling back to the bar to meet Deena. He embraced her, spun her around in his arms, then went in for a soft kiss. She ran her hands through his thick red hair and playfully poked him in his dimples. They left the bar together. Deena hopped on the back of Frank’s motorcycle and pulled close, her hands disappearing underneath the bottom of his shirt as she wrapped her arms around him. Frank’s motorcycle gave off a loud hum, leaving a thin wafer of smoke as they rode away for a midnight rendezvous at the upscale Brown Hotel.
I replayed it over in my mind a few times until I was startled back to reality when we reached my car. What was I thinking? I shook my head and dismissed the dark thoughts.
I wanted to believe Amy. And I wanted to believe Frank.
But Frank was Frank, and that meant plots within plots.
* * *
The next morning, I left my apartment to meet Deena at the Heine Brothers coffee shop on Longest Avenue, not far from downtown Louisville. As I turned onto Longest, cars were peppered on both sides of the street, leaving a narrow passage. The only way to get up and down the street was to drive slowly, hoping a parking spot was open to the right when you had to avoid an oncoming car. Sliding partially into those open slots, I’d leave less than an inch for the other car to pass. I’ve never seen an accident on Longest, and I suspect those who venture on such back roads are experts at dodging and weaving. I know I am.
I parked at the bank across the street from Heine’s, and as I pulled into the lot I noticed the sign that said “Park at your own risk.” Years ago the bank charged for parking to try to make money off of their lot, but they gave it up and now they have those signs. To me the signs read, “To hell with it!”
As I walked up to the coffee shop, I thought about the many long afternoons I’d spent sipping coffee in the middle of a light drizzle, chatting with friends under the short awning over the front of the store. The coffee shop itself was small. Most people sat outside at the round stone tables, regardless of the weather.
I was annoyed when I saw Frank was at Heine’s with Claire. It was a cool but bright morning, as the sun cast a short shadow past the sides of their two laptops that set back-to-back on one of the tables. Frank and Claire were facing toward each other, both lost in their screens. Gently rubbing the stubble on his chin, Frank pecked away at his keyboard with his right hand.
I walked up behind him. “What are you doing here?” I asked in a joking tone as I tried not to notice the drab, light blue blouse with vertical yellow stripes Claire was wearing.
“What’s up Ryan?” Not the usual banter that day as he didn’t even look up from his laptop. Claire slid her mouse across the stone table, making a dull rolling sound.
“Ryan,” she said in a curt voice. She glared at Frank. He continued typing on his laptop, trying to look nonchalant, but I noticed the slight rigidness to his back and neck, and the stiff movements of his arms. I knew I had just missed a heated argument.
“I’m meeting Deena for coffee,” I mumbled to myself, but it was loud enough for Claire to hear.
“Deena?” Claire said, and her typing became a loud click as she banged the keys harder and harder. Frank also picked up the intensity of his typing, and it occurred to me that Heine’s had a wireless network and it was likely their argument was still ongoing, in IM. Claire was smashing her lips together, mouthing words I couldn’t quite make out as her guarded expression took on the luster of anger. Her eyes widened and she blushed, shaking her head.
A nasty smirk stole across Frank’s visage. Claire slammed her laptop closed, jumped to her feet and got right in his face. “I hate you!” she yelled, picking up a half full cup that was hidden from my view between their laptops and throwing the contents in his face. She turned away and marched into the coffee shop, crushing the cup in her hand and discarding it on the gray stone steps. Frank let out a sigh as we watched her storm off.
“I’m glad that wasn’t coffee,” he said, pulling his white T-shirt up over his face and drying himself off, exposing a thick layer of chest hair. “Ryan, you have no idea what my life is like right now.”
“Oh, really?” I wanted to ask more, but I was distracted as I noticed Deena approaching. She was staring straight at us. Her slightness struck me. She was thin and small. Fragile. Walking up the short stone stairs in front of Heine’s, she came up behind Frank. Lightly touching his right shoulder, like a small hummingbird brushing up against a flower, she said in a whisper, “Hi.” He turned toward her. I couldn’t see his face as he whispered something that startled her. She froze, then pulled her hand away and shoved it in her jeans pocket, turning to face me.
“Hi,” I said in an upbeat tone, forcing myself not to get lost in the crevasses of her shoulder length, auburn hair.
“Hi.” She said again, and didn’t volunteer anything further. Everyone, including Frank, had warned me she was quiet. We both stood staring at Frank for a short while as no one spoke. He clicked away at a much more sedate pace on his laptop. I grabbed the bottom of my polo shirt and pulled downward, rubbing the cloth back and forth with my thumbs. For some reason this always made me feel better when I was out of sorts.
“What are you kids up to today?” Frank broke the silence in a low voice. I imagined he was only half listening as I answered.
“I’m hungry,” Deena intoned. She pulled her thick glasses off and cleaned the lenses between a fold in her lavender shirt, rubbing the cloth on both sides with her thumb and index finger.
“How about Ramsi’s?” I asked. Heine’s was right next door to Ramsi’s, and it was common for people to meet for coffee first, then head over to the restaurant.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good.”
“You kids have fun!” Frank said, raising his hand in a wave of farewell. His eyes never strayed back to her.
“Let’s go,” I said, as Deena and I took the short walk down the street to Ramsi’s in awkward silence.
* * *
One of the unwritten rules of living in the Highlands is that you eat at Ramsi’s three times a week, even if you don’t like the restaurant. It’s just so darned convenient, perched at the corner of Bardstown Road and Longest Avenue in the heart of the Highlands. I can’t remember how many times I’ve argued with friends about where to eat, only to have the conversation end with, “let’s just go to Ramsi’s.”
I’ve always felt that Ramsi’s is about more than just good food and drink. The front dining room is compact and cozy, and the place has a comfortable feel to it like an old pub. The chairs don’t match, and every table is shaped a little bit different, much like the eclectic menu, which includes a sampling of cuisines from around the world. Somehow it’s snug and fun and relaxing all at the same time.
We walked through the doorway and I had the usual sense of disorientation as I realized I was right in the middle of the dining room. The faint aroma of cigarette smoke rolled over us like an invisible blanket. We milled about for a moment, but soon a waitress rushed up to help us get our bearings. She led us to a thin, rectangular table for two. I sat with my back to Bardstown Road, facing the elevated bar. Not a word had passed between Deena and I since we left Heine’s. As I sat there regarding her, she fidgeted and tried to get comfortable in her chair. I took notice of her tight blouse, her light, gentle complexion, and finally, the nervous smile that seemed riveted into her face.
I decided to end the silence. “How was the drive over?”
“S’ok,” she replied. She seemed about to elaborate, as her bottom lip moved from left to right, but instead she lapsed into silence.
And the moment dragged on.
An uncomfortable silence can be as tense as the tail end of a long flight, right before the plane touches down. Somehow, it was a little easier with Deena. I knew it was going to happen so I didn’t feel the usual overwhelming pressure to pick up the conversation.
“I thought about walking down here,” I said. “It’s only about two blocks from my apartment.” I paused. “I love living in the Highlands. Everything’s handy.”
She nodded as her eyes flitted around the room, never settling on me.
“Do you think it’ll warm up soon?” I tried again.
“Maybe,” she said, smiling a little bit more than usual.
Another long pause ensued, and this time I hoped the waitress would arrive soon.
My next comment just seemed to slip out, and I cringed as I heard myself say, “You’re kind of quiet.” I hate when people say that to me. It makes me feel even more self-conscious.
“Ha, yeah, I’m quiet. I’m working on it though!”
I laughed nervously, picking up my menu and scanning the many selections. “I’m usually the quiet one. This is a new role for me.” I was surprised that we both seemed to relax – a little – after that. Maybe I could enjoy the challenge of hanging out with someone that was quiet like me.
There was a long pause as she caressed her triangle shaped cloth napkin. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re doing fine… I… I like this. Eating out. You can give me a call anytime you want to eat out like this.”
I picked up my water glass, gently shaking it, and the comforting clink of tiny pieces of ice echoed pleasantly out into the room.
A bit more awkward silence and then we ordered. I chose the Chicken Parmesan sandwich. I’m not very adventurous when it comes to food and often pick the most familiar item. Deena had the Mango Salmon Mango. The conversation dragged for a bit, then the meal arrived and as she bit into her steaming sandwich, I made what turned out to be a mango-sized blunder.
“Funny running into Frank at the coffee shop,” I mumbled out loud, almost to myself. Deena picked up on it. The poor conversationalist was a good listener.
“Yeah,” she said, suddenly animated. “Who was the woman with him?”
“The one who stormed off? That’s his wife.”
“His… wife? What do you think she was doing there? Frank told me he was moving out today and moving in with a friend. Do you think she noticed me? I thought she was kind of dumpy looking. I can’t believe he was there with her, I know he told me he was moving out today. Do you think she looked mad? I wonder why she was there? I don’t think he likes her at all. Do you? Do you know her? I wonder what she’s like? He can’t be staying with her, can he? He did say he was leaving. I talked to him about it yesterday, and he was sure of it. He said he was tired of it all. And I asked if I could come over…”
My head was spinning. Suspicions awoke in my mind, at first a loud whisper I tried to squelch with denial but soon a howl of certainty. Fool! My mind reviewed last night’s conversation. Frank had assured me he had no interest in Deena. That he hadn’t done anything with her. But evidence to the contrary was unfurling before me like a tattered flag. “What the —“ I began. But I had pressed her favorite button, and the energy I unleashed had not yet run its course.
“Do you know her at all?” Deena continued. ”Do you know why she was there? I wish I knew. I thought that might be her. I didn’t like the outfit she was wearing. Did you? I felt like she was looking at me nasty when I walked up. Do you think she knows what’s going on? But I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s leaving her. Supposed to leave today. I was going to come over tonight. We haven’t done it yet. We’ve done everything but that. I hope he’s leaving her today, that’d be great! I wonder what she thinks, if she suspected anything when I was there. Do you think?”
“You and Frank?” I said, my hands gripping the table as the nails on my index fingers dug into a groove in the wood. I knew the tips of my fingers would hurt the minute I pulled away, but I welcomed that. “You and Frank.”
She stared down at the table, blushing. “Yeah, I guess I don’t mind telling you. You’re such a good guy, I know you’ll keep my secret.”
“You’re in love with Frank?” My voice was gaining in pitch as I gripped the table and shook it. Our glasses seemed to jump as they threatened to vomit their contents onto the table.
“Shh! Yeah, it’s a secret.”
“Why… why are we on this date then?”
“Date? We’re having lunch together. When Frank and I are together we’re usually alone. I want to get to know his friends.”
There was a long pause. I didn’t experience the usual wall of fear building up to fall on top of me. As I sat there listening to the silence my ears and face warmed up. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But this time, I had gone through the trouble of checking with Frank first. I all but begged him to warn me off this girl, and he kept silent. He could have given me some vague hint that she was not for me. Hinted that she had anal warts. Something. Anything! Instead he convinced me nothing was going on, that as far as he was concerned, she was available.
Every other time something like this had happened to me in the past, I had shrugged it off. Wiped the guacamole off my face, and moved on. But not this time. An icy white anger gathered behind my eyes with the pressure of a sinus headache and threatened to break out.
I spoke in a soft, conversational tone, “What kind of a person are you?” When there was no immediate response, I repeated the question again, loud enough to carry to other tables in the tight quarters. “What kind of a person are you!”
A bucket of tense energy spilled out into the room and I noticed the smiles that were frozen on people’s faces as they tried to go on with their happy conversations. I was grinding my teeth, and my eyelids were mere slits firing out invisible lightning bolts of recrimination at Deena.
As my repeated question pummeled her, for once, the serene smile on her face vanished and her eyes opened wide, perhaps looking straight at me for the first time that day.
“What do you mean?”
“This happens all the time with Frank and I’m sick of it. How do you think it makes me feel to find out my date is lusting after one of my best friends?”
“What? I… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? I know!”
As my agitation grew, Deena reached out a thin, delicate arm and laid her small hand on mine, squeezing. Instead of calming me, her sweet gesture just made me angrier. I shook my hand loose and faced her sad frown. “I can’t believe you’ve got so little respect for me that you’d do this to me. Why not tell me up front that you wanted to go out as just friends? Maybe I’d decline. I’m so sick of it! Did you really just want a free meal?”
“No, I…“
I crossed my arms and frowned. “No, it’s fine. Really. I’ll pay for the meal. And you can hurry back to Frank. I bet he’s still waiting for you at Heine’s. You can give him a lapdance! It’s my treat!”
Feeling the eyes of the entire room on me, I pulled out my wallet and dumped its contents on the table, my hands shaking. It was forty or fifty dollars, twice the cost of the meal, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there. I left the money piled in front of my untouched plate of food, got to my feet and left without another word. As I hit the door I thought I heard Deena call out my name, but her words were a light tinkling bell that the street noise of a motorcycle’s revving engine swallowed whole.
* * *
“Hey, I’m sorry!” I had left quickly, but Deena rushed to catch up with me as I walked down Bardstown Road. My mind was a black cloud of anger, and I didn’t even notice that I was headed in the wrong direction, away from my car and toward Baxter Avenue. The Mid City Mall and its hoards of panhandlers passed by on my left as I felt her thin arm grab my shoulder from behind. A car horn blared as I shook it off, stopped, and turned to face her. I felt like I’d made a fool of myself in the restaurant, but my anger hadn’t dissipated. I didn’t want to talk to her.
“What do you want?” I barked.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even think…”
“I always finish second to Frank. He’s slick. He’s smooth. He’s sophisticated. Every woman can see through his act, until he puts the spotlight on them, then they melt into his arms. I can’t compete with that, I know it!”
“Ryan, I…”
“You have no idea… I… I was really into you. When you asked me out, I hoped you were into me, too. You know what else?” I paused. I was going to tell her about how I had daydreamed I ran my hands through her hair, kissing her. She had pulled away, smiling at me and rubbing my nose and touching my cheek. Instead, I finished, “Forget it. I never had a chance.”
“I’m sorry!” Tears were jumping out of her eyes, fired like bullets at the sidewalk. “I never even… never even gave it a thought. I just wanted to get to know you a little bit. I… I won’t bother you anymore.”
She turned around and walked away.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I said. My fury died down to doldrums. Her tears unlocked my sanity and forced it back to the forefront. I dodged a kid holding a skateboard and caught up to her, grabbing her arm and turning her to face me. “I guess I should apologize for unloading on you like that. That’s been building up for a long time. It’s not your fault.”
“Can’t we just be friends?”
“Maybe… I… Yeah, we can be friends.” I pulled her close and hugged her, trying not to inhale her sweet smelling perfume. Her softness drew me in, but I forced myself to break the embrace.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been with a lot of guys. I don’t always handle things well.”
“It’s okay.”
“Hey, maybe I can set you up with my roommate!”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said. I figured Frank would score the roommate soon enough. I thought about telling Deena that chances were good she wouldn’t be with Frank much longer. But that was her problem, not mine.
I walked her back to her car and sent her home. As she pulled away, I inhaled her car’s unpleasant exhaust fumes, an aphrodisiac to my gloomy mood. A hazy disorientation struck as I fished around in my pocket, past my glasses case, and pulled out my cell phone. I popped it open and paged through the name list. When I ran across Amy’s name, I shrugged my shoulders and hit the “call” button.
“Hello? Ryan?” She said. The minute I heard her voice, I wished I hadn’t called. “Did your cellphone call me on its own again? I hate that! Drop dead!” she yelled.
“She’s in love with Frank,” I said in a monotone voice, not caring if she hung up.
“What? What happened?”
“She told me. Right there on the date. She’s in love with him.” The awful events of the afternoon replayed in my mind as I relived the feeling of utter rejection. I felt defeated. Frank had beaten me down.
“I’m so sorry.” I could sense the genuine sadness in her voice.
“Not as sorry as I am. Why does he always do this to me?”
Silence.
“I’ll talk to you later.” I heard the soft, far away sound of “wait” coming from the phone but I clicked it closed and pocketed it. A moment later the phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call, but I ignored it.
I thought about going home and trying to put lunch behind me. But Frank had lied to me. Could I let that stand? Not this time. Instead I headed back to the coffee shop. I was mad, and heating up fast. It was time to have it out with Frank.
* * *
“Frank!” I yelled, followed by several epithets. Frank was alone. Claire wasn’t there, and her laptop was gone.
It was early in the afternoon, and the tables outside Heine Brothers were packed with casual coffee drinkers trying to relax in the cool air and bright sun. I was about to spoil the tranquility. My interruption promised drama, an end to peaceful contemplation and the relaxed sipping of Mocha Javas.
“Ryan, what’s the problem?” He seemed to come alive like a marionette puppet, bouncing to his feet and turning to face me as my words reverberated across the small outdoor area.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Deena?” I said, spitting on the cement sidewalk at his feet.
“Tell you what, man? Calm down!” He came over and put his hands on my shoulders as if to intimidate me into silence. I was about six inches shorter than Frank, so it must have made quite a comical scene when I slapped his hands away, then punched him in the stomach as hard as I could. I felt a strong sense of release as my knuckles poked into his chest. I realized I had wanted to hit Frank for some time. He dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach. Pain radiated from his face more than anger. “C’mon man!” He begged through clenched teeth.
“C’mon what?”
“I’m going through a divorce!” He grunted the words out.
“What does that have to do with lying to me?”
“Everything, man. Everything.”
“I don’t see how.”
“If I tell everyone my business, it’ll get back to Claire. That could hurt me. Bad.” He didn’t trust me to keep a secret. I was getting angrier.
“I’m not just anyone. We’ve known each other forever. Friends don’t do this to friends!” I took a step forward, menacing him with my fists, and he shied away, his jeans making a faint grinding sound as he slid across the cement.
“C’mon Ryan.”
“All you had to do was tell me to stay away from her.”
“Tell you? Tell you!” He paused. “I wanted you to take her off my hands!”
“I don’t believe you.” I frowned, and shook my head in disbelief.
“Look, I didn’t think she’d open up to you about… everything.”
“Obviously.”
“I hoped something would happen between you two, so she’d move on.” He had a sad look on his face. I tried to raise an ounce of sympathy for his situation, but it drained away like the cup of water Frank dropped when I hit him.
“I’m done with you. You’re never straight up with me!” There was a long pause, then I added, “I’m going out drinking tonight. I’ll be at Dutch’s Pub. Don’t be there. And here’s another thought. Call up all the women you’re sleeping with on the sly, and tell them, don’t be there either!”
He didn’t say another word as I spun around and stomped off. I felt his eyes on my back until I got in my car and drove away. Shrugging my shoulders, I pulled into traffic.
My blowup at Frank had built up over a long period of time, I realized. But looking back, I was shocked at how far I had taken it. Rarely one for physical confrontation, my anger and frustration had boiled in my stomach. It rose up like a flood and tore down a levy of civility, spraying bile on Frank.
My heart still warmed when I thought of Deena, and I had to fight down another daydream. It wasn’t going to happen with her. Thinking about it only heaped on the pain. I wanted to forget her. Of course, there’s no better way to shake off the pain of rejection than to find someone new, and that could happen at a place like Dutch’s.
THE END