Every Burden Has a Version

Finally, I saw the genuine Frank. Perhaps he craved to see the real me primarily to distinguish if I was still there and didn't let my guilt flow to my head. I will always have culpability and ignominy. It has not vanished. I will always have my insecurities, doubting every move I make. I was lacking confidence. Although, Frank noticed my diffidence and my timidity since Frank knew the most about me. We were both unconfident as people though. That’s probably the explanation of why we stayed friends after twenty something years. We would boost each other’s self-esteems and then contradict the compliments we received.

On the other hand, that wasn't the only rationale on why we were still comrades. We had so much in common in a broad-spectrum. We loved the same music, movies, people, books, foods, and everything under the sun. He was technically the guy version of me. Then, Frank was there for me and I was there for Frank. Now, we were just friends. Whoever said two opposite genders cannot be friends without having some sort of desirability or attraction for each other can shove the movie When Harry Met Sally up their ass.

Can men and women ever be purely, platonic friends devoid of the inducement of sex and magnetism? Certainly so; it’s palpable, but it’s obvious the friendship won’t last forever. Someone is bound to get married and to start having a life of their own with another person. It only lasts for awhile; nevertheless Frank and I are different. However, numerous people believe it’s a verified fact that men and women can never be just friends because sex is always the bond that unites them. Again, shove that ‘proven’ piece of information up your ass so far that it comes out the other end.

After Frank and I went to a twenty-four hour AM/PM convenient store to grab ice cream, we decided our night came to a conclusion at one and decided to go home. Frank’s house was simply pictorial and was far from a cookie cutter home. The lawn wasn’t overgrown, the windows didn't have jail bars on them, nor did his garbage cans overflow unlike the houses surrounding his. He was a guy too so I was impressed.

“Your lights are on,” I spoke as Frank pulled into his driveway. “Is your roommate not much of a sleeper?”

Frank laughed. “Mikey, no,” he amused giggles. “He stays up super late playing Dance, Dance Revolution or some other video games that involves shooting heads of zombies.”

“Oh, then, we’ll get along flawlessly.”

Frank jumped out of his car, sprinting to get my door. I let him this time.

“Of course you’ll two get along. Just mention as many videos games as you can. Don’t bring up food because I have to go grocery shopping since he ate all the food in the house and he’ll get depressed when he realizes we don’t have waffles.”

“Should I be writing these rules down?”

Frank smiled and opened his door to his house.

“Hello, Mikey?” Frank shouted, taking his shoes and then his coat off. He reached over to me and slipped my layers of coats off that I put on immediately after I got off the airplane. “I’ll get your luggage. Mikey is in the living room,” he whispered. “I suppose I should have left my shoes on.” He shook his head. “Just a habit,” he cackled.

I grinned and artfully walked to the living room.

“Fucking zombie,” Mikey screamed, his eyes glued to the television. “Die, die, die!”

I looked at Mikey. His light brown hair covered his face and he had that glasses that hung at the end of his nose. He was sitting about an inch away from the television. No wonder why he had glasses.

“It helps if you know the cheat codes. You will never run of ammunition ever again.” I watched as he chopped off a head of a zombie, the blood gushing all over the screen.
Mikey’s head shot up and he held the video game controller to his upper body. His eyes enlarged.

“Really?” he asked very slowly.

“Yeah, the cipher is like left, right, triangle, square, down, left.”

Mikey entered the code. “No way!” he shrieked. He gazed up at me. “Are you, uh, Violet?”

“Are you, uh, Mikey?” I mocked him, joyfully.

“Frank told me about you.”

“I know nothing about you. Well, very vaguely. What’s your last name?”

“Way,” he answered.

“Did you work at a video game store a few years ago?” He had a memorable puppy dog face.

“Yes, but I work at a book store now.”

I dipped my head. “Charming,” I mumbled as Mikey deceitfully scratched the inside of his thigh.

“What’s the tattoo on your neck?”

“Oh, this old thing,” I inhaled. “I did it myself last year with a pencil and then ran over it with a needle. I'm pretty sure I have led still under my skin. I’m a horrifying insomniac.”

“Why did you do with a pencil?”

“I didn’t have a needle and ink with me at my house. See, I get these extreme ideas in the middle of the night for the reason that I can never sleep. I couldn’t find a pen and paper so I just did it on my neck. It’s the Sagittarius sign. I was born in November. I heard Frank got one of a scorpion on his neck for October so I got one myself.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Have you ever stabbed a pencil in your neck where your main jugular is? If I was to pierce my jugular I would have died. It’s similar if someone would to slice my throat open.”

“No,” he responded, terrified. I should know by now that the way I talk is spine-chilling and I typically frighten people by just saying hello.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because it would be painful,” he sniffed.

“Bravo! You just answered your own question.” I applauded him.

Mikey’s face went stiff and he turned off his video game then sat on the couch behind him. He hugged himself across his chest.

“Don’t let her scare you, Mike,” Frank expressed amusement. “She’s just trying to give you nightmares. She did the same thing to me several years ago.”

Notes

Blah blah blah wasn't that great of a chapter, but there is more soon! There is always more.

-christy-