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Brotherly Love

J. Charles Furman

    An old Peggy Lee recording of “Fever” sounded from the juke box. Frankie sat in the dark at the end of the empty bar, nursing a scotch and soda, endlessly snapping his fingers to the rhythm. And whenever the words, “Fever! You give me Fever, fever in the morning, fever in the evening. Fever!” softly rolled their way out of the old Wurlitzer, Frankie would close his eyes and sway his head to the melody, while belting out those unforgettable lyrics.
    With each word Frankie sang, he reminisced about old times, just as he had been doing since he first walked into the Flamingo Lounge, a little over four hours before. At that time the joint was crawling with patrons—some dancing, others shooting the booze. But most, it seemed to Frankie, were drowning their troubles in booze. Frankie realized that except for the faces, things had not changed much since he had last been in the place, some twenty-odd years ago. Only back then the Flamingo Lounge was known as the Tender Trap.
    Now, with it being close to three in the morning, Frankie was the only customer left in the place. His eyes shifted to an area in the back of the darkened premises. He searched for a small cocktail table situated there in the old days, when he frequented the place on a regular basis—the same cocktail table where he and a young lady named Joyce sat, on their first date.
    She had ordered a Tom Collins and he requested a seven and seven. Then, as if it were only yesterday, Frankie remembered Fritzie the waiter standing over them. While placing their drinks on the table, he had looked down at the young couple and asked, “You kids sure you don’t vant a Coke?” They both chuckled. Frankie quickly reassured Fritzie that he and Joyce were only having one, and “We’ll nurse it at that.” Satisfied with the young man’s answer, Fritzie winked at the two lovebirds. With the small tray balanced on his fingertips the waiter headed for another table, where someone was desperately flagging him down.
    Frankie recollected how he had lifted his glass towards Joyce and prompted her to do the same. When their glasses touched, Frankie anxiously made a toast to their “newly acquired friendship.” At that point, Frankie had no idea that before the evening was over, he would lose his heart to this wonderful, gorgeous young lady, who in time would become the joy and love of his life.
    With all the cocktail tables looking alike from where he was sitting at the bar, Frankie decided to get a closer look. He walked to the back of the lounge and strolled through a row of cocktail tables. Then, situated against the far wall a short distance from the parquet dance floor in the very same spot, where it had been twenty-five years ago, he noticed the small round tabletop. He walked to the table and bent over to get a better view. “Holy shit,” Frankie whispered, at the sight of his and Joyce’s’ initials—initials he had skillfully carved into the tabletop, moments after their first kiss.
    A ton of wonderful memories suddenly came back. In those bygone days on Saturday night, this table was considered theirs. Fritzie, the waiter, would always put a “reserved” sign on it. But when he saw Frankie and Joyce strolling arm-in-arm into the place, Fritzie would remove the sign and replace it with their drinks.
    It was at that memorable cocktail table where he and Joyce spent their Saturday evenings, amorously looking into each other’s eyes, affectionately holding hands. They talked about their dreams and discussed all their tomorrows, which always included buying a house in the suburbs and raising a bunch of kids. There would be two or three dogs running in the backyard for the children to play with. Then, at some point in the evening, they would walk hand-in-hand onto the dance floor, where, in each other’s arms, the two lovers danced the night away, whispering words of love.
    What at first seemed like fantastic thoughts of yesterday suddenly turned sour for Frankie, who was now desperately, trying to wash them out of his mind. Sitting in this place and listening to the music to which he and Joyce had once danced, only brought back the painful memories. With a finger Frankie began to trace the initials he had carved into the cocktail table; it was here that he had proposed to the girl of his dreams. Joyce had responded by delicately placing a finger to his lips and whispering in her warm and tender voice, “Until death do us part, Frankie.”
    Although it had been many years since that evening, Frankie remembered it vividly—so vividly that he realized, while drinking at the bar that was once the Tender Trap that forgetting about Joyce and their dreams would never be easy. Then he wondered why the hell he should still give a damn about her now. After all, it had been twenty-five years since he had last seen or heard from Joyce.
    The sight of that cocktail table ripped at Frankie’s heart. He turned and slowly headed back to the bar. Sliding onto his stool, he quickly exchanged half-hearted smiles with the bartender, who was rinsing some shot glasses. The two men did not know each other from a hole in the wall, but that did not usually stop someone as personable and outgoing as Frankie from initiating conversation especially with a bartender. But tonight Frankie was not in the mood to make small talk with anyone. So the only time the bartender and he spoke was when Frankie ordered a refill.
    As the Peggy Lee recording of “Fever” came to an end, a middle-aged gent, casually dressed, walked into the Flamingo Lounge, interrupting Frankie’s thoughts. Frankie’s eyes focused sternly on the fellow at the door. The man stood frozen for a moment, exchanging glares with Frankie, before walking over to the bar and taking the stool next to Frankie’s. The bartender leaned over and asked the newcomer what he was drinking.
    “Scotch and soda, and whatever he’s drinking, put it on my tab.”
    “You ready for a back-up?” the bartender asked Frankie.
    “Sure. But I’ll buy my own, and while you’re at it,” Frankie said, pointing to the cash on the bar. “Take it all out of there.”
    “Hi y’a Frank, it’s been a long time.”
    “Hu-mm, yeah, I’d say so.”
    “Are you waiting long?”
    “I wanted some time to myself to reminisce, if you know what I mean,” he said, as the bartender deposited the drinks on the bar in front of them. “So I got here a little earlier. You’re on time, as usual. So, don’t lose any sweat over it, Bobby.”
    “How you been Frankie?”
    “Me? I’m doing just fine,” he answered, lifting his glass and gulping down some booze. “Listen, Bobby, let’s can the small talk.” Frankie’s tone was belligerent and bitter. “Save that shit for your goombahs.”
    “You haven’t changed one iota from the old days Frankie,” Bobby said. “You’re still just as touchy as when we were growing up. But don’t get too carried away with yourself. It’s been ages, so pardon me, I was only asking out of concern.”
    “Concerned?” Frankie smirked and shook his head. “That’s a fuckin’ joke. I don’t believe this bullshit after twenty-five years of not giving a fuck if I lived or died, that you’d get in touch with me through one of those missing persons bureaus. Fuck me! What’s the point, Bobby? You finally got a conscience? Or maybe you found God, or joined some religious organization.” Frankie chuckled at his own remarks.
    Bobby met Frankie’s sarcastic tone head-on. “You’re questioning if I gave a shit? You know better than that Frankie.”
    “Alright, I’ll give you that,” Frankie admitted. “The Bobby I once knew back then always gave a fuck. A straight-lace square John,” he said, and then belted down some more scotch. “A real goody two shoes at that. I was always the fuck-up getting into trouble. That’s why you were Mom’s favorite from the get-go.”
    “That’s a crock, and you damn well know it.” Bobby said. “And as far as tracking you down, there’s somebody I’d like to introduce you to.”
    “Whoa, hold it right there. What gave you the idea I’m in the market to make any new acquaintances, eh, Bobby?”
    “I also figured it was about time we got reacquainted!”
    “Reacquainted?” Frankie put the glass to his lips, tilted his head back and polished off his drink. “Bobby, for old times’ sake, do me a favor and, save the song and dance.” He motioned to the bartender to pour him another. “Give me a break, will y’a, Bobby.”
    “No, that’s straight, Frankie. Don’t you think it’s been long enough?” Bobby pushed his drink aside and reached for a pretzel.
    “How’d you some to that conclusion?”
    “Because we’re brothers, Frankie, that’s why. Mom used to say we only got each other in this world. I love you Frankie. No matter what, I’ll feel that way until they put me into the ground.”
    “Yeah, okay, I’m here, ain’t I?” Frankie said, indifferently. “So give the hearts and flowers a rest.”
    “What’s eating you, Frankie?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “Because you’re acting as if I was the one who skipped town and disappeared for the duration,” Bobby said. “Twenty years is a long time, Frankie. So I’m going to put you back on the right track and refresh your memory.”
    “Refresh my memory?” Frankie repeated. “Spare me the details, Bobby. It’s all ancient history by now. If you intended throwing some shit in my face, why didn’t you do it when you had me on the phone last week? Instead, you had nothing better to do than bullshit my ass that it was urgent for me to come back to the city. For what, just to listen to your rhetoric?”
    “I hate to disappoint you, Frankie. But I didn’t bring you back here to lay any heavy shit on you. If that was the case, I would’ve told you what was on my mind, when I had you on the phone, and left it at that. Do you think I wanted to look at your ugly kisser any longer than I have to?” Bobby asked, trying to lighten Frankie’s mood a bit. “What I had to see you about was too important to discuss on the phone. But we’ll get to that later, first things first.”
    “This ought to be rich.”
    “Remember the Halloween party at the Knights of Columbus? The one you never showed up for.”
    “Sure, I was busy that night.”
    “Busy my foot.”
    “That Halloween bash was moons ago. So what the fuck does it have to do with the price of tea in China now?”
    “Plenty, and I’m going to run it down for you, whether you like it or not,” Bobby insisted. “The party was in full swing... a real blast. All the people in the neighborhood were wearing masks or were dressed up in some strange costume. Marge and I were trying to figure out who the ...hell you and Joyce were. Then at about midnight Joyce comes running into the Knights of Columbus, looking like the Queen of Sheba. By the down-trodden expression on her face I knew something was wrong. She was hysterical, sobbing like a baby. Then she told Marge and me that you never came over to pick her up, never even called her, not a word.”
    “Alright, alright, I should’ve clued her in that I was going out of town,” Frankie admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess I should’ve called, but I didn’t want her or anyone else getting wise to what I was up to. If Joyce had found out what I was involved with back then, it would’ve broken her heart.”
    “You didn’t have to give her a blow-by-blow description. A hip guy like you could’ve made up a story that an old friend in Chicago was on his death bed, so had no choice but to take off. Anything would’ve been better than nothing. Because when Joyce didn’t hear from you, she was worried sick and going out of her mind. Every day she was climbing the walls, thinking either you were pissed at her for something or maybe lying dead in the gutter somewhere.”
    “That would’ve worked out just perfect for the two of you, eh, Bobby?”
    “You know, you’re a sick bastard. But I’m going to make like I didn’t hear that dumb remark,” Bobby said, reaching for his drink.
    “By the way, since you’ve mentioned Joyce, how’s she doing?”
    “We’ll get to that in time.”
    “I guess you and Joyce must’ve made me an uncle by now... several times over, I bet. You probably got a couple of kids ready to go to college, eh, brother.”
    “Funny, Frankie, you always said some crazy things in the old days. But I never remembered you talking as stupid as this. I guess age as taken its toll on your brain.”
    “What’s the matter, Bobby, the truth hurts?”
    “Lets stick to the business at hand,” Bobby said, his eyes fixed on Frankie, who seemed, by the expression on his face, to be finding the conversation amusing. “If you were jammed up, why didn’t you at least let me in on what was going on?”
    “It was none of your business, that’s why.”
    “If I knew you were in deep shit, I would’ve made it my business,” Bobby said emphatically. After all, we’re only brothers, you know.”
    “And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”
    “You got that right, Frankie,” Bobby said. “Then after days passed and Joyce and I still hadn’t heard from you, we had a feeling you were in some kind of trouble. Just vanishing like Judge Crater...wasn’t your style, Frankie.” Bobby and his brother lifted their glasses and in one quick jolt, knocked off some booze. “Not wanting to upset Joyce anymore than she was, I made light of the situation. But all along I had a feeling you were jammed up and in some kind of jackpot.”
    “Jackpot’s putting it mildly. After Joyce and I had set the wedding date, we went down to Avalon and made arrangements for the reception. I gave them a down payment. The following week, as luck would have it, Teddy’s kid came home from the service looking for work and I get fired. Then all at once everything started going south. So with me up against it at the time and not wanting to call off the wedding, I went to one of those loan companies, but they told me my credit wasn’t work two shits. So with no alternatives, naturally, I thought about paying Jackie Gelardo a visit.”
    “You mean Jackie the Shark, don’t you?”
    “I was desperate. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
    “Are you nuts?” Jackie would juice his mother until she was in the poor house and not lose a minute’s sleep over it.”
    “That’s for shit sure. So when something else came up, something that could’ve possibly bailed me out of my financial woes, I decided to take the shot. At that point I figured anything seemed better than going to Jackie the Shark.”
    “Frankie, why were you hurting for dough in the first place? I was always under the impression you had some money buried.”
    “At one time I had a few bucks in my kicker, but after being out of work for a while, it started dwindling. To get even and to pay for the wedding, I began gambling in hopes of making a score. Blew most of what I’d stashed and began living day-to-day with just enough cash to barely get by. Naturally, I never mentioned a word to Joyce about my being barreled up.”
    “Gambling? You, Frankie! How come I never picked up on it?” Bobby lifted the glass and took a swig
    “That’s because I was a closet gambler, Bobby. I put all my action in over the phone.”
    “Yeah, I know the routine. The book gives you an unlimited credit line and you dig yourself into a hole.”
    “Hole my ass. It was more like an endless pit I got myself into. Dumb fuckin’ kid that I was, what did I know?” Frankie ran a finger across his neck. “So being I was short the dough for the wedding and had a chance to pick up some serious bucks without going to Jackie Gelardo, I figured what the fuck.”
    “So you dumped Jackie the Shark to hook up with another loser, Eddie Swallar, I thought you had more sense than that Frankie?”
    “With me on the balls of my ass, I had nothing to lose.”
    “Yeah, except for a couple of years behind bars, eh Frankie. Before you took off, I wondered what the hell you were doing hanging around with a two-bit hood like Eddie Swallar. Then after you took off Eddie skipped. That gave me every reason to suspect that the two of you were up to some shit.”
    “Eddie was nothing more than a petty thief with delusions of grandeur.”
    “So what happened, Frankie? You got mixed up with Eddie and one of his schemes? Is that why you took off?”
    “Who really cares, Bobby? As far as I’m concerned, that’s yesterday.”
    “I care! And I’m curious, Frankie, curious about how you got locked up out on the West coast,” Bobby replied, knocking off his drink and motioned to the bartender for another round. “You’re no hoodlum, Frankie. Sure, you were always getting into some kind of trouble. I can’t count the times you were sent down to the principal’s office for getting in your share of beefs. But that’s because you wouldn’t take any shit. It was all stupid stuff, Frankie, but as far as I can remember, you never did anything dumb like breaking the law.”
    That’s because mom would have lynched me on the spot.”
    “Then from left field Eddie Swallar comes into the picture, and you’re not the same lovable, charming, hot-headed Frankie we all knew, anymore.”
    “I was up against it, Bobby, going through rough times. But I’ll tell you one thing, deep down inside Eddie wasn’t a bad kid...just a little misguided. Let’s leave it at that.”
    “Look, Frankie, I know its all water under the bridge, but as long as we’re shooting the breeze, don’t clam up on me now.”
    “What’s the point, Bobby, you writing a book?
    “We always used to open up to each other in the old days, remember? Twenty-five years shouldn’t have changed that in least.”
    “Spare me the sermons, Bobby.” Frankie caught his brother’s glare and moaned. “Okay, okay, already, I’ll lay it out for you one time but don’t even think of interrupting me, and then I’m skipping. I should’ve never come in the first place. It was only a waste of my time.”
    The two men looked at each other, than Frankie began his story. “There was an ex con Eddie Swallar knew from the can, a guy named Skelly. He was a tall drink, with a huge Adam’s apple, who said he grew up on the hard streets of Los Angeles. Skelly tells Eddie and me there’s an all-night supermarket in L.A. that was ours for the taking. The place had a safe that was supposedly busting at the seams with dough.”
    “So you and Eddie figured pulling this job with a seasoned pro like Skelly in your corner was going to be easy pickings, right?”
    “Something like that.”
    The bartender brought over two more drinks and put them down on the bar in front of the men.
    Bobby lifted his glass. “Then, instead of things going as planned, the three of you get busted in the midst of heisting that supermarket?”
    “No not exactly. What is it with you, Bobby? Didn’t I ask you not to interrupt?”
    “Take it easy, Frankie, and stop getting so excited.” Bobby said, calmly. He felt Frankie’s eyes staring him down. “Alright, mum’s the word from here on in. So what happened with that supermarket heist?”
    “We never stuck that joint up after all. When the three of us went to case the supermarket, I had a bad feeling about it from jump street. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. Instinctively, for some reason, it just didn’t sit right with me. That night I began to think how mom used to remind us: When in doubt, walk away. Tomorrow’s another day. So, the next morning, when we all went for breakfast, I informed Eddie and his pal Skelly to count me out. I let them both know in no uncertain terms that I wanted no part in sticking up that supermarket. Eddie’s friend had a quick temper. I could tell he was pissed that I was backing out.
    “After breakfast, we were walking through a deserted alley behind the coffee shop, and Skelly pulls a gun on me. I was convinced the bastard had every intention of blowing me away right then and there. That’s when Eddie opened his mouth and stepped into the guy on my behalf. When Eddie wouldn’t back off, the guy put two slugs into him; one caught Eddie in the shoulder and the other went into his belly. I figured I was next, so I made a lunge for the pistol. While me and Skelly was scuffling on the floor, some innocent bystander comes walking into the alley. When he saw me and that moron wrestling for the .38, the poor bastard must’ve shit a brick. Then the gun went off. The guy who was passing through the alley took one in the leg.
    “Someone must’ve called the cops, because while Skelly and I are rolling on the ground, tussling, I hear a siren. From out of nowhere a squad car pulls up into the alley. Eddie’s friend must’ve had a warrant out on him or he’d been wanted for something, because at the sight of that police car, you’d think Skelly had seen a ghost. He managed to slip away from me and headed down toward the other end of the alley. The jerk was waving his pistol and like an idiot I chased after him. Two cops came out of the squad car armed to the teeth. Skelly turned and took a shot at them. I ducked for cover, and Skelly gets hit with a barrage of bullets. He instantly hits the concrete, squirming and yelling. Then, he just lay there, motionless. With his last breath, Skelly cursed out the cop who was standing over him.
    “The other cop threw a pair of cuffs on me. I wound up getting booked on attempted homicide. Eddie and the passerby were taken to a nearby hospital. Eddie was in pretty bad shape. When he finally came around, they questioned him. Of course, he never said a word to them about why we were out on the coast in the first place. He just said we were vacationing in L.A. and Skelly was an old acquaintance we bumped into after arriving in Los Angeles. Then he told them that Skelly said he had something he wanted to show us in the alley and when we got there, he pulled a gun and tried to rip us off. With Skelly pushing up daisies and the innocent bystander testifying that the only thing he saw was us fighting over the pistol. The cops had zilch, so they couldn’t hold me any longer. The rest is all academic.”
    “Wow! That’s some experience you had, Frankie.”
    “Yeah, and a lesson I’ll never forget.” Frankie sipped his drink slowly, caught up in the past. “It straightened my ass out for good.”
    “It must’ve knocked some sense into Eddie Swallar, too, because now the guy’s like a church mouse. Turned legit, got married and became a pillar of the community.”
    “Well, in that case, I guess the entire incident served some purpose after all, even though we both nearly got our heads blown off in the process.”
    A couple of months after the Halloween party, I ran into Eddie at Margiotta’s Bakery. When I asked him if he’d heard from you or knew what you were up to, he just dummied up. He claimed he didn’t have the foggiest idea, of what you were doing with yourself and hadn’t heard or seen hide nor hair of you since you’d left.”
    “Beautiful. Eddie kept his mouth shut, just as I told him to do the day he left L.A.”
    “Frankie, if you had no intention of ever getting in touch with any of us again, why’d you bother to call me from lockup the minute you got busted?” Bobby asked, curiously glaring at Frankie. “Because that was the last time we heard from you. After your release you didn’t come home and you never let anyone know if you were dead or alive. What was going on in that brain of yours, Frankie?”
    “I had my reasons.”
    “Reasons, what reasons?”
    “How do you think I would’ve felt seeing you and Joyce parading up and down the avenue, holding hands, snuggling caressing and kissing? That would’ve been some welcoming home, eh, Bobby?”
    Bobby lashed out in shock at his brother’s statement. “What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone completely nuts?” After you got sprung, we didn’t know what happened to you. Joyce and I were both worried sick. She called or came over the house at least ten times a day, asking if I heard from you.”
    “Yeah, I’ll bet. Now can I get the fuck out of here and get some sleep? Tomorrow I’m taking the first flight back to Chicago.”
    “Not so fast, Frankie. Just give me two more minutes, and then you’re on your own, fair enough?”
    “I don’t believe you’re actually going to make me suffer through more of this bullshit.”
    “Okay, let’s back up the wagon for a moment. Now as long as you mentioned it, I’m going to get you square on who gives a shit and who doesn’t. Furthermore, it wasn’t me who put an end to our relationship, but I guess we’ve established that by now, eh, Frankie?” Bobby wagged a finger at his brother. “Joyce and I sent you a letter, the minute you called and told me you got pinched in L.A.” He leaned a little closer to Frankie, their eyes fixed on each other. “When we didn’t receive an answer, we wrote again several times. That’s when we thought you probably never received any of our letters. I finally decided to fly out to Los Angeles to see for myself what happened. But when I called the jail to inquire about visitation rights, they said you’d already been released. We thought for sure you’d show up in the city, or at least we’d be hearing from you within a couple of days.”
    Frankie quickly jumped in. “Hear from me about what? So you were going to fly out to the coast to visit your jailbird brother? Isn’t that touching?” His tone was sharp. “Were you also planning on taking Joyce with you on this excursion?” Perhaps the two of you could’ve gotten married in Vegas. That would’ve been some honeymoon. My brother Bobby and the woman he stole from under my nose walking into the slammer to pity poor little Frankie sitting there with his dick in his hands. Or was it because the newlyweds had a guilty conscience? That’s a joke. First, stab me in the back by moving in with my fiancée... excuse me, ex-fiancée, then shove it in my puss.”
    “Wait a minute,” Bobby said. “Is that what this is all about? You thought Joyce and I were playing around behind your back? You’re a bigger imbecile than I ever imagined,” Bobby roared in disbelief. “So, let me ask you, Frankie, if you didn’t receive our letters, what made you think Joyce and I were together?”
    “I never said I didn’t receive your letters.”
    “Well then, why didn’t you answer any of them?”
    “I read the first one. When I got to the part where it said you and Helen of Troy were living together, I figured... what’s the point of going any further? So you could rub my nose in it?”
    “Nobody was looking to rub your nose in anything,” Bobby quickly shot back. “When Joyce and I thought you might be facing a long stretch, in good conscience, I had no other choice but to move in with her.”
    Frankie lifted his glass and took a swig. “In good conscience, don’t you mean, while the cat’s away, the mice will play? Isn’t that more like it, little brother?”
    “I hate to disappoint you, Frankie, but that wasn’t the case at all,” Bobby said. “After you’d left the city, Joyce got diagnosed with cancer and she also discovered she was pregnant. You were going to be a father. But nobody knew where the hell you where or how to get in touch with your ass. Then you called to say you got busted in California.”
    “Are you shittin’ me? Why didn’t you mention any of that in your letter?”
    “I did. But I guess you never read that far into it,” Bobby said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder before continuing. “With you in the joint and Joyce deteriorating rapidly, somebody had to be there to look after her. Joyce also couldn’t bear the thought of bringing a child into this world and not being married. I remember how she told me we were living in a cruel society. If she gave birth, as an unwed mother, it would automatically be one strike against the kid before the infant was even out of her belly. In her heart she wished it could’ve been you standing next to her at the altar, but being we never got any responses to the numerous letters we sent you and never heard from you after your release, she and I did the next best thing. With her hoping you might still show up, Joyce insisted that we wait. Then, when it got down to the wire, a couple months until her due date, out of necessity and with no other choice, we finally took off for Maryland and tied the knot.”
    Twenty-five years of believing his brother and the girl he loved had stabbed him in the back suddenly flashed through his mind in a matter of seconds. “Holy shit! Did I have everything all screwed up!” Frankie said, shaking his head and giving Bobby a long stare of remorse. “What a royal jerk I turned out to be, eh, Bobby?”
    “Amazing, we finally found something we both agree on.”
    “I guess I must’ve been some sap in those days”
    “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You were a stand-up guy with a heart for the world. Maybe a little hot-headed at times, but we all can’t be perfect.” Bobby put his arm around Frankie and gave him a squeeze for reassurance before reaching for his drink. “Whenever one of the guys was in trouble, you were always the first one to stick out your neck. Everyone in the neighborhood looked up to you, Frankie.”
    “Big deal! Some hero I turned out to be. Why the hell wasn’t I there for Joyce when she needed me?”
    “You had your own problems, Frankie. You were sitting in the can with your fingers up your ass, not knowing what tomorrow was going to bring. And thinking about it now, by the way I started off that letter, who could’ve blamed you for getting the wrong idea about Joyce and me?”
    “I should’ve known better, eh, Bobby?”
    “You were just a young punk who didn’t know which way was up. We all go though some shit in our lives, but hopefully, we learn from our mistakes, pick up the pieces and go on from there.”
    “I’d like to square myself with Joyce, Bobby,” Frankie said, lifting the glass. After taking a swig, he put the glass on the bar and asked, “Do you think she’d find a place in her heart to forgive me?”
    “I think she already has, pal.”
    “That’s great, Bobby. But you wouldn’t be shitting me, now would y’a?”
    “Not on your life, Frankie, and certainly not about something as important as this.”
    “Well, in that case, I’d like to go see her, Bobby. If only to let her know what a fool I was.”
    “At this point, I believe that’s all in the past as far as Joyce is concerned.”
    “The cancer, Bobby, she licked it, right? Because if there’s nothing else I know about Joyce, I can tell you one thing, that kid’s a fighter, always has been,” Frankie said, biting his lip and looking sadly over at Bobby. “So, tell me, how’d she make out?”
    “Not good at all. A year after your daughter Francis was born, she passed away. But as sick as she was, Joyce told me that just spending whatever time she had left with the infant you’d fathered made it all worthwhile. She always made a point of telling me how the baby had your eyes. And when little Francis laughed, she said it reminded her of your silly giggle. It was the most wonderful year of her life. She only wished you’d been there to share those last moments with her.”
    “Did she suffer much, Bobby?”
    “You know Joyce, as beautiful as she was on outside, inside she was one tough cookie,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “She’d be the last one to admit she was in agony...always putting up a front right to the end, claiming she was doing just fine. But we all knew better.”
    “That’s Joyce for you, Bobby. She wouldn’t think of complaining, especially if she thought it would bring grief to someone else. I want to see her, Bobby, to pay my respects and place some flowers on her grave, then spend some time alone with her. Would you take me to the cemetery?”
    “Of course I’ll take you, Frankie. Every husband has that right.”
    “Husband?”
    “What do you think? When we got hitched down in Maryland, Joyce asked if I would mind using your name. So just in case the minister was a nosy bastard, I brought some of your I.D. with me. On the marriage certificate he inscribed, ‘On this date etcetera, etcetera, Mister Frankie Bassallocqua wedded Miss Joyce Harrison.’”
    “Holy shit, even with me on the run, she was too much, wasn’t she, Bobby?”
    “That she was, Frankie. And through it all she never stopped loving you for a minute.”
    Then it suddenly hit Frankie. “Even after deserting her, she goes ahead and names our daughter after me. Francis. How is she, Bobby?”
    “She’s doing just fine,” Bobby answered, with a glowing smile.
    “Where is she? And do you think she’d mind seeing me after all these years?”
    “Mind seeing you? She’s the reason I hired that missing persons bureau to get in touch with you in the first place. At the end of the month Francis will be graduating from New York University with a degree in law. The girl’s brilliant.”
    “Sounds likes she takes after her mother.”
    “Thank God for small favors, eh, Frankie? But she’s got her father’s hard head. She insisted I try to locate you before her graduation.”
    “Did she really?”
    “That’s right! She said it just wouldn’t be the same unless you were there to see her receive her diploma.”
    “Wow! That sounds precisely like something her mother would do. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Bobby? So can the suspense. When the hell are you going to take me to see her?”
    How about this morning at breakfast?”
    “Oh, Bobby, that’d be great! I’ll get a room for the night and...”
    Before Frankie managed to get the last words out of his mouth, Bobby stopped him and said, “Don’t even think of it, my boy, because you’re coming home with me. In fact, I’ve got an empty room next to where Francis sleeps. By the way, I hope you’re not still in the habit of sleep-walking. The wife and I are down the hall, and with you parading around the house like a zombie, you’ll scare the living shit out of Marge.”
    “Marge?” Frankie asked, as if in shock. “Not Marge Peterson?”
    “Of course, who else would put up with me?”
    “I can’t believe it. Remember all the times you and Marge double dated with Joyce and me? Then after the show we’d come over here and dance the night away. Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it, Bobby?”
    “Yeah, those were the good old days, Frankie. Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll talk about it on the way home.”
    After Bobby and Frankie threw a couple of bucks on the bar, the two men bade the bartender goodnight, and headed for the door of the Flamingo Lounge.
    As they marched up the block, Frankie turned to look at the neon sign mounted over the entrance of the Flamingo, the same sign that many years before had read “The Tender Trap.” He put his arm around his brother and said, “You know, Bobby, except for you and me, there’s not another soul on the street. And yet it feels like we’ve got company.”
    “You mean like somebody’s watching over us, right, Frankie?”
    “Yep, it sure does. But I guess after polishing off a few scotch and sodas, the mind can play tricks on your imagination.”
    “That’s not your imagination, Frankie.”
    “What do you mean?”
    The two men stopped in their tracks and faced each other under the lamp post. Bobby put his arms around Frankie, who immediately reciprocated the gesture. As the two brothers hugged each other Bobby whispered into Frankie’s ear. “Before Joyce passed away, she told me that no matter where you are, she’ll always be there to keep an eye on you. That’s probably her looking down on the two of us right now, pal.”
    As Frankie and Bobby released their embrace, Frankie put his fingers to his lips, looked up at the stars dangling in the sky and blew a kiss towards the moon. Then the two brothers continued their journey home.
    Frankie’s face suddenly blossomed with joy. With every step he took he had the sneaking suspicion that Joyce wasn’t too far behind.



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