Faded

I watched him as he descended his driveway mid-morning, no doubt checking for the mail that wasn’t there; every day like clockwork he wandered down the driveway, a lit cigarette in his hand, vacant expression clearly evident on his face.

He always opened the box slowly, careful as if it might shatter underneath his touch. Closing it though was a different matter; he slammed it shut as if the metal burned his hand on contact, anger taking over his previous blank stare.

What he was waiting for I didn’t know, all I knew was that every day at the same time he went to check his mail.

I’d been watching him for more than a month and everyday was the same.

I usually kept to the comfort of my couch when I watched him, but the gathering storm clouds appearing in the sky had beckoned me to the front porch. I was sitting on the worn bench swing reading and watching when the clang of metal colliding forced me to look up at him fully. He was dressed in jeans and a black hoodie, his rolled up sleeves showing the colorful tattoos’ that graced his arms; the few beams of sunlight peeking through the clouds shining off of his dark brown hair. He looked my way then and when our eyes met I offered him a sympathetic smile, tucking my book underneath my thigh. His gaze held mine as he flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the gravel, his feet carrying him across the narrow road until his checkered sneakers were crossing my lawn.

“It looks like we’re going to get a storm you know?”

He simply stated, placing his hand on the bannister, a nervous look on his face.

We’d never spoken until now and his voice made my knees go weak, an evident New Jersey accent lacing its way into his words.

I brushed a strand of hair from my face and reached for the pack of Marlboro Reds sitting on the table beside me. I fixed my eyes on him, lighting my smoke and taking a drag.

“That’s why I’m out here.”

I said, exhaling the smoke from my lungs.

“You can sit if you want.”

I added, gesturing to the empty space beside me.

He scratched the back of his head, turning to look at his driveway across the street before turning back to me and coming to sit on my left; staring off into the distance.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I had put out my smoke some time ago, his silent presence making me wonder what he was thinking.

He glanced over at me for a moment - the sound of my voice snapping him back into reality - before looking back to whatever he’d been looking at.

“A beer if you have one.”

I rose from my spot and went into the house; walking down the hallway to the kitchen; I’d grabbed two beers from the fridge and when I came out he hadn’t moved an inch.

“Here.”

I said, handing him the beer. He took it and mumbled a ‘thank-you’ simultaneously popping the tab and taking a gulp. I resumed my spot in the swing and tucked my feet under myself, opening my own beer and placing it down on the table.

The silence between us had grown deafening and after drinking half my beer I couldn’t take anymore.

“So, what brings you to this side of the street?”

I asked, twisting the tab on the can of beer; he sighed before looking over at me.

“I honestly don’t know.”

He muttered, still looking at me.

“I guess I never even told you my name, it’s Frank.”

He extended his hand towards me, waiting for mine. I reached forward and grasp his calloused hand, shaking it slowly, and only for a moment.

“I’m Anna.”

We smiled at each other before giving our attention to the cans beer, both of us lighting cigarettes.

The storm clouds grew above our heads as we talked into the afternoon; we had eventually started on the bottle of Rum that had sat in my freezer for far too long. There were talks of music and art, things that brought us grief and anger, along with things that made us smile. Not once did we talk about his fascination with the mail box and its lack of contents; I’d almost mentioned it but immediately thought better of it.

The sky had darkened to a charcoal grey, the wind picking up and tossing my hair around my face, the smoke from mine and Frank’s cigarettes swirling in the air; that’s when the rain came. It started slowly and then all at once the sky opened up and unleashed a downpour, splashing on the deck and soaking our feet.

“We should go inside.”

Frank shouted over the howling of the wind and the splatter of rain on the deck. I nodded back at him and raced to the door, flinging it open and stepping into the entryway. We took off our shoes and walked through the living room, setting ourselves down on the black plush couch, just as the first crack of thunder shook the thin walls of the house.

“Good thing we came inside when we did.”

I said, adjusting myself so I was facing Frank. He did the same and gave me small smile.

“So this is your place?”

He asked looking around at the artwork on the walls.

“Yeah, it is. It’s not much but its home for now.”

He nodded, still examining the walls with his gaze.

“It’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

I said twisting the bracelet on my wrist as he fixed his eyes with mine once again.

“It was my Dad’s.”

I said quietly, looking down at the floor. He’d been gone for six months now.

“You mean Jack?”

An edge of excitement in his voice; I nodded.

“He was a nice guy; we’d have coffee every now and then, even a beer occasionally.”

I nodded again, eyes still fixed to the floor. I couldn’t let him see me cry.

Sensing something was wrong Frank moved down the couch and placed a hand on my arm.

“You okay?”

I looked up, a tear falling down my face.

“Yeah, I just miss him is all.”

“Where is he anyways?”

I paused; he didn’t know. He didn’t know that my Dad had had cancer and was placed in the hospital a month before he died. Wasting away on a mechanical bed, tubes feeding him sustenance and drugs; that cold, menacing room with only myself and the nurses to keep him company.

“He died Frank.”

I managed to choke out, the tears spilling over my lower lashes and down my cheeks; the look of shock on Frank’s face made it all the worse. He moved even closer and wiped the wetness from my face, pulling me into his chest and letting me cry.

“I’m so sorry Anna.”

He whispered into my hair, smoothing it down over my head. When I finally collected myself I leaned forward and took a smoke from my pack, placing it between my lips and lighting it with shaking fingers.

“It’s okay, he was sick.”

Frank still had his arm around me, rubbing my back in small circles; offering me the only comfort he could.

“I didn’t know.”

He said solemnly, an apologetic look on his face. I looked over at him, giving him a small smile.

“I know.”

I reached for the bottle of Rum placed on the coffee table and removed the cap, taking a gulp; wincing as it burned its way down my throat, passing it over to Frank.

His fingers fell over mine as I grasped the bottle, causing me to look up at him; his hazel eyes boring into my grey ones, as his face inched closer.

He hesitated as his hand came up to cup my face, stroking my cheek before gently placing his lips on my own. It was quick and I barely had time to register that it had happened before he pulled away completely. His hand coming to rest on his thigh, a blush of embarrassment creeping up onto his face.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do that.”

His voice was shaky as was the hand that came up to brush through his hair; I didn’t give him a chance to collect his thoughts as I grasped his face, turning it towards myself and crashing my lips back onto his. After a moment his hands rested on my hips as he laid me down over the couch, placing himself over me, kissing me back as hungrily as I kissed him, my arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him closer.

We lay kissing on the couch for what seemed like hours, pausing for breaths of air and the removal of sweaters; our contented sighs and whispers echoing through the living room, paired with the occasional clap of thunder; the blinding light from the lightning illuminating the room for a few seconds at a time. The pitter-patter of rain eventually died down and when it did Frank and I were both down to minimal clothing, our jeans thrown across the room along with our shirts. Locked in a tight embrace he pulled back, looking at me while brushing the hair from my face, a smile on his face, my hands tracing his spine.

“We should stop Anna.”

He whispered in a husky tone, before leaning down to kiss me again.

“We should.”

I breathed back, his lips travelling down my neck.

He sat up slowly, reaching forwards and grabbing a smoke. I did the same, placing the blanket from the back of the couch around myself. We finished our cigarettes, and I watched as Frank got up and wandered the room for his clothes, finding them and getting dressed as if he was in no rush. When he was fully dressed he came back to sit beside me on the couch, looking out into the distance as he had when he first arrived.

“We’re both broken people Anna.”

He said, looking over at me, a sad look in his eyes. The same look he had when he walked
down the driveway every day.

“I guess we are Frank.”

He forced a smile and rose from the couch, leaning down and kissing my forehead, before he walked across the room and put his shoes on.

“Goodbye Anna.”

“Goodbye Frank.”

I spoke as he turned and grasped the handle for the door and opening it, pausing only to look back at me once more before crossing the threshold, the click of the door closing and signalling his departure; I watched him walk back across the narrow road and up his driveway not knowing if I would ever speak with him again; or if I would ever know what he was waiting for to show up in that damn mailbox.

Notes

Just something I wrote while I am waiting for Cemetery Drive to evolve.
Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

Helena.