FRANK GOES TO THE DARK SIDE

 

As I levered the fifty-five pound sack of cat food into my cart, I practiced the new strength training I'd learned at the YWCA. I kept my back straight, lifted with my knees and guided the sack in easily with my new increased upper body strength. Maxine and Willie would now have a huge supply of their favorite food, courtesy of Sam's Club. Heading to the checkout, I reminded myself to pick up a new camera memory card. I planned to enjoy every minute of my Venezuela scuba vacation, and now I didn't mind my picture being taken. My new denim skirt was two sizes smaller than before, and the burgundy scoop neck T-shirt I was wearing with it looked good on me.

Bam! A grocery cart smacked into my back. I turned, annoyed, to hear a familiar voice say,

“No! No chifles tanto. You hurt the lady!” Frank Reyes was scolding a small boy of about six.

“That was a fast honeymoon,” I thought to myself. My mother had called that morning to say that she had spotted Frank's name in the bridal section of the paper, and she never did understand why we broke up.

“Gotta go, Mom,” I'd told her, “I'm leaving for Venezuela tomorrow.”

Frank had finally stopped scolding the frightened little boy, and was now looking up to apologize.

“I'm so sorry—Oh! Lanie? Is that you? How are you? I mean really right now—are you okay—did that brat of mine hurt you?”

He glowered down at the child who seemed no more than five.

“No, please don't worry. I'm fine. Oh, and my mother said you got married yesterday? I put the question into it because I really wanted to know about the little boy.

I checked out through the register as he continued to talk.

“Yes, she's wonderful, her name is Vanessa. She has a son, Gabriel here. He's six.

I smiled and nodded. Etiquette had been preserved. I headed to the exit.

Before I could leave he had caught up with me and tugged at my arm. His voice was as captivating as it had ever been, smooth and low.

“Look, I haven't seen you in ages. Can you have a cup of coffee with me? It really hurt me to get your email. You hear about people breaking up that way, but I never thought you were that kind of person.”

But I had been that kind of person, needing to cut him off without getting hooked in by his gorgeous smile and fantastic kisses. I'd been in thrall to him and let him cut me off from my friends, give in to his demands, and receive the brunt of his jealous accusations. The slapping and finally forcing me into the bedroom had come, I saw now, as a logical extension. But I didn't want to make a scene now, so I said only “You never listened to me. I told you I was going on to college and that I didn't think it could go anywhere with you, and you never listened to me.”

He never listened, I reminded myself silently, because I hadn't had the strength to speak loud enough. Sometimes he could be brilliantly funny, tender, romantic, giving me little gifts and surprises. I never knew which Frank he was going to be when he came through the door. Now I wanted to get away without making a scene. He was still holding my arm.

Fumbling on, I said the wrong thing, “I wanted to get on with my studies, and you wanted to go right into construction work.”

His face reddened. “Yeah, well, I did good with the construction work. Got my own company, got a new F-350, and this Rolex is the real thing, too.

He could have added that he was still handsome. He filled out his blue Polo shirt better than he had in his skinny high school days, and with an open shirt and long hair he could have posed on a romance cover.

Trying  to pull away from  him, I said, “We had different goals. I teach at UTSA now. I'm doing what I want to do with my life, you're doing what you wanted to with yours. Excuse me, I need to go.”

“It was your parents, wasn't it? They put you up to sending that email because they didn't think a Latino was good enough for their daughter. I could tell that.”

“Actually, my mother--”

Now he was starting to yell. “I can't believe you threw away the best loving you'll ever have in an email! An email!”

People were starting to stare at us, and all I wanted to do was placate him and get away. Then a sense of calmness come over me. He hadn't changed, but I had.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “Frank, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you in person before. I really broke up with you because you wanted me to give in to you all the time, and if I didn't you'd get angry and completely out of control. Now get out of my way.”

He stared at me, eyes obsidian with rage. I shoved my cart past him, and headed to the new Civic. My heart was still pounding, although I was proud of myself. Getting free from the need to please angry men—I had thought the counseling could never pay off. I drove off smiling, thinking of blue waters and gorgeous fish.