Where There’s Life, There’s Hope.

Frank’s life had been going swimmingly. He had everything he’d ever wanted. A loving ‘parental’ figure without any mental incapabilities, a semi-scholarship to UCLA for Business in the music industry, he worked part time at a local grocery store which paid well enough for him to afford a fairly nice guitar and the tattoos that began to cover his body about a year after he moved to LA. It’d been three years since he touched a razor and he was proud of that fact. Much prouder than he’d ever been in his entire life.

But, with all these things why did he feel so empty until the night he’d gotten Raymond Toro’s call on that faithful day New York’s skies came crashing down?

Now, he found himself nervously waiting to board an eleven-o-clock plane to Newark International Airport just days after 9/11. He sure as hell wasn’t going into JFK just days after that tragedy, he couldn’t bring himself to see destruction in the streets...it was bad enough he was going to have to see the city-scape that would now be missing two of it’s most recognizable buildings. Frank didn’t think he’d look at the city-scape. The emotions would be too over-whelming.

He’d always thought of Jersey as New York’s younger brother who happened to get into a lot of fights during school and hung out with the wrong crowd. Close, but, there was a definite sentimental gape between the two. Although being a Jersey boy, he’d always had a soft spot for New York. A soft spot that had now been throughly fucked over by some assholes trying to make a statement.

Frank shuffled in his stiff backed chair and stared out the big window at the over-cast day just beginning to settle it’s self throughly atop LA. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. His mother would have killed him if she knew he was chasing after some ridiculous dream.

“A proper education can never be taken away from you Frank.”

He stared down at the tattoo on his arm. The spiraling words entertained his wrist like a bracelet. “Finchè c'è vita c'è speranza”- Where there’s life, there’s hope. The same words that were carved onto his knife that sat in his bedroom locked inside a shadow box so he could never use it for evil again. His parents would be with him as long as he was alive, and they would protect him.

Taking a semester off from school to go chasing some dream with a friend from community college seemed rather ludicrous at first but, he had high hopes that getting into a band in the Jersey Punk Scene would help him discover who he was, and hopefully give him a little insight on business in the music industry.

“Now Boarding. Flight 184 to Newark, New Jersey.” Frank grabbed his black book bag from beside him and headed down to his terminal. Swallowing down his fear and hoping for the best.

This was the start of the rest of his life.

Notes

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