Letter to Frankie

A Story by lighthearted1

Letters to Frankie

If there were a ever a time the clouds crashing, collided with thunder and time, rain collapsing with the ground in peril of what beheld the vision in front my eyes it would be the day to this day that never was. It is the tasting of the earth beneath the foot I walk on and the this faith to avert too ________________destine to not _____________

You, like the spring of life insurrecting from beneath the soil of the earth where two minutes ago the hoes was dropped and one pair of feet went running to the swinging of a car door. The waking of dawn crept silently as surprises unwrapped from a cold gust wind caught up into my throat, leaving me with no words from shaking lips to emerge. What could I have said? Frankie you’re home. With broad shoulders peaking as little mountains towards the early morning stars and enlarged harden hands ripping the iron handle of black and blue suitcase your feet finally tasted the ground we used to walk and run as summer birds take to the heavens as kids. You were here and that was final and your presence was all that is said.

“Hey a beaver kiddo.” those exact words peddle into my soul gazing at the little brother now almost the average height of your shadow is the teasing of my stretching skin.

We stood two inches apart as I could remembering you saying too close for any men to be but those inches once were the distance separating us while you played the hero in war. Silence offers us the negligence we gave to yesterday’s friendship we tossed as footballs around instead of penning each other or talking on the phone. But I know why you didn’t called much or sent little white envelopes with my name on it, to you it was girls stuff and so I didn’t care too much. That moment we spent while the dawn erupted and the sun exploded over calm waters we heard crashing against giant stones we used to scrape our knees on as kids and it would bled. In that moment childhood called and I wonder where it went. Here you were my twenty one year old brother now sobbing on the back of my shoulder, oh the history of war. War had your eyes scratching and going against childhood clichés “boys don’t cry” in that moment Frankie I didn’t know what to say, couldn’t say nothing, I wonder where my voice went.

In your old room the posters on the walls still stood proudly up and the collective stacks of c.d’s still bear the same lyrics you love so much. The smelling of your favorite thing to eat in the morn sizzle and cracked on the frying pan downstairs as mother went to duty in the kitchen still the silence drove a wedge in between us. In my mind all I saw was the unsettling ease of the memory of your cold hands clutching the weakness of my shoulders and the cold tears trailing into the garden shirt sputtered with mud I had on. And still we said nothing. The black and blue suitcase flung onto the bed and when you open the leather thing there sat inside on the few clothes you had folded a skull. It was odd, I remember but I said nothing. I left you alone with the memory of the room, the suitcase on the bed and the dried skull. Frankie you were home.

After breakfast we all sat down and talked and listen to what you had to say. You didn’t mention a dry and hallowed skull. I said nothing but took in every breath with ever startle image of the many frighten things of war that can concur. Then you beg me to show you where I hid your red car, the thing amongst many things you didn’t love but this car you loved so much. On the trailing to the forest that surrounded our little home we headed north in the way to the small little creek, the path in front of the home. To the left of us is where you termed the eroding cliff “the edge of the earth” where now the current catch up to the gusty wind and beneath crashed against the rugged solid pieces of dirt. To the whistling of the waves you turned your set of eyes and watch out at the blue gracing ocean before we head in behind the trees.

“So how’s things?” you picked up conversations as if we were already in one but I knew that’s just the way you were. Although you were my eldest brother when you give a look, or made a gesture it was all that needed to spoke words were never necessary. Just the way you were. It is accepted and I answer with “things are alright. Everything is alright.” it became nothing too convincing for you still knew where we resided, the hard labor we still had to bare to make things shift, to make mass and scalp perfection thus making of things. You were my eldest brother. You’d been here before. Everything you knew already, you had to bare twas your early faith and with that you said nothing more.

When we got to the center of the forest wild birds called like the calling of your name. “Still a beauty.’ you said of the car you had for over six years as you stood upright with those up warding motion shoulders. I knelt down beside the car on the other side out of sight of your eyes and with my shirt wipe the smudge from off the drivers door. I forgot I still had on the garden shirt and made it more of a spot than a bit of dirt.

“You hear that.” you said now when I got off to my feet and saw you standing with your hands on your muscular ribs imitating superman; your eyes sapping up the glory of the sunrays. The beauty of the trees when theres only a bit of sunlight soaring through almost resembling the glaring of a halo. Playing in the background is the calling of wild birds.

“They’re calling your name.” I smirked

“Yeah,” you choked before you jeer laughter, ripping tiny bits of breath between each laugh. Then you knelt over and like a buckle hit one of your knees. I had to burst out in laughter again knowing you hadn’t change and this was the first jokes of many in years we had shared in the two hours you were here. Just the sight of you mother always use to say made her got all sappy and as woman do inside. Clinging to the sudden rush of breath and loss memory of labor pains engrave the sight of her boy in her head and womb again as if it ever erode and were erased away. But its been so long.

“How ‘bout we take this for a spin.” I threw you the keys with two big dice shaking through the air as it rested safely in your hands.

“Down old miller’s road.” I knew the exact heading of your heart’s desire and location of where secret nights you sat under midnight stars with your very first.

The engine jeered and the wheels smoked, your feet on the brakes ripped that sound that made your heart pumped faster and fresh new blood you felt jolting to your head. “Ooooh yeah,” you scream as you let go of the brakes and we roared through the path father and I kept cleared all these past spent years for this day we knew you were coming. Just for that moment you lived and in that moment the wind slapped me in the face everything became impulsive and I forgot that today is school and I hadn’t done my homework last night and the few hours I was to be behind lecturing prisons I am spending it with the coolest person in the world. It felt awesome.

55.60.65. Now we were hitting pass 70 and 120 is the speed you usually cruised down ole millers lane. Old buildings stood croakily up revealing its old age and the old mill where Frankie got his fist job_____. There we were speedily cruising cross the country to the first thought on Frankie’s mind. I know the first thing a solider wants to do when he’s back home its to see if the old place is still the same. And it still was.

We pulled into Carl’s mechanic shop. He wasn’t just a friend to you but you guys went way back. The good old days when you both were super adroit athlete on the football team. Every time you went for the goal he had your back knocking down any one oppose to the goal you were about to make. It’s still like that and it hasn’t change.

“Frankie” he exclaim. Watching you two grope each other in arms I step back to get a clearer mental picture. Wretched oil wrung from Carl shirt but Frankie embracing could not have been more sincere.
“What the world done to you my brother?” they pulled back and looked each other from toe to crown. “Seen things haven’t changed that much?” Frankie announced. Carl got the notion still smiling and veers down at the oil soaking through his shirt.

“Not all of us want to see the world my brother.” Carl motions up a knuckle and slapped Frankie on his biceps.

But you just stood and looking pass him spaced out in one of those moods you starting having ever since you were seventeen before answering “It wasn’t what I wanted but you have to do what you got to do my friend.”

I knew how this is going to go and I so badly wanted to stay hopped back into the red viva and race down another stretch but I couldn’t. Carl’s mother came around the front and saw me, saw you and excused me from the gathering. “Your mother said you need to get to the yellow brick house or you’ll be fishing for trouble when you get home.

I said nothing but got into the car waiting for me Carl’s mother drove and head back home to get my books and on the way to the yellow brick house got my homework done.

At lunch period word had gotten around that the towns hero is home and everyone wanted to see how muscular you had gotten. All the old teachers once yours now mine couldn’t stop commending me how attentive you were in school studies and were kind of disappointed when you taken the road to the military but to explain to them they will never understand so I kept the secret quiet.

“Hey Zen will you let Frankie know that we have those rippers up and running so he can pay us a visit anytime.” someone ask me from the left.

“Yeah sure. I remember saying to the kid who asked about asking me to ask you if you can teach him how to how to do combative wrestling moves off course I just shook yes and waited hours later for the bell to ring to see a swarm of pigeons around a red mustang.

“Hey, Frankie the color red is still so sexy.” One girl wink her eyes at you as I approached the rear of the vehicle and you bid all the girls screaming comments at you that you’re little brother is here. I never felt so adhere seeing all the girls I had once had a crush on through the years somehow, that day, at that moment remembers my name and reaches for the handled to open the passenger door. Yes sssir being with Frankie’s little brother couldn’t be any better at the moment you sat all bronze and champion golden in the light of the sun. Everyone waved us off as you jeer the mustang down onto another street. Frankie you were home.

Was home your haven away from the unimaginable horror of war using your notable strength and wisdom as a w***e to carry out its own wits, these questions kept me silent as we rode across town to just anywhere in particular. I wasn’t sure if I should bring up the collapsing on my shoulder, the skeleton on the bed, the unspoken words unsaid to dad though I could of saw a break for tears as we walk out through the house door before any other actions could be swept. Maybe he wanted to sweep you up in his arms, forgive you for crying or more or less wanted some quiet time with you. Dear I drill you Frankie with the anticipation that had the balls of my legs bouncing soundlessly in the car.

“So how was school?”

“Not much happen.”

“Your grades up?”

“Most times.”

Most times you were quiet or we were sailing through the timelessness of weary eyes and our lips kept the car eager to hear more but we were mute. You turned up to see that girl, the very first girl you ever had a crush on or had given you back your heart broken when you said you were going off to war.

“I’m pretty sure she isn’t home.” I manage to wrap my arms around my tongue and at least made it groan a few words at a time that held us there for a while.

the trailers door run wide open almost coming off its hinges I guess when she saw the car and Annabelle run right into your arms. I look away and tried to find interesting things to admire about the washed out color grass growing out the ground. She gripes your hands and begs you to come inside her home one more time. You turn to me as I turn to you and I shake a yes and both of you took off. I waited till it became almost dark and the sun croaked its head to the stillness of its bosom breast and rested its head.

A siren blare a couple of feet away and rushes pass the trailer homes the moment you walk out into the open. You were happier than I could have remembered you seeming as you came edging down the stairs. “She’s so sweet.” You pursed your lips into a gremlin of a smile turning the ignition and the car sparked on. Again, I sat silence and let silence became the low sound of your humming confining us to our quiet spaces or the corners of our most absent days but off course it could have been the last time I saw you I was 13 and you were off to the die for patriotism and country.