FRANK TAKE ONE

Standing in the line at Sam's Club with a fifty-five pound sack of cat food, I begin to lecture myself.

      “It's got to stop. You can't save them all.” 

 

But I had raced to the shelter yesterday after spying on Frank's wedding, and liberated a calico kitten, and now there would be nine cats in my house.

It had been a gaudy wedding with five bridesmaids in purple and the groomsmen's cummerbunds in the same color. Dozens of brown skinned, dark-haired children had skittered up and down the steps of St. Rita's, defying the summer heat. My car had hidden in the shade of tall live oaks, as I watched the photographer take picture after picture of the lovely bride and proud groom.

Bam! A grocery cart smacked the small of my back. I turned, furious, and heard a familiar voice say, 

 

      “Mijito, no! You hurt the lady. No chifles tanto!

Frank, Francisco Reyes, was scolding a small child and hadn't looked up yet. I thought about wheeling my cart away quickly, but I had a sudden rush of desire and couldn't move.

The next instant his handsome face was creased with apologies and he was beginning to say, 

      “I'm so sorry...” when he recognized me and blurted out, “Lanie! Oh my God! It's—how are you? And right now, are you okay, did the cart hurt you—this is my son Panchito.”

      “Your son? But you just got married yesterday?”

      “Now how did you know that? But I guess it was in the papers. I'm divorced.”

He laughed out loud, exposing two gold crowns not present when we were sweethearts in high school ten years earlier. His blue Polo shirt fit his frame, now filled out and solid. A big gold watch on his left arm might be one of those fancy name brands. I didn't know. I was wearing one of my series of watches from the Dollar Store.

      “I mean, I was divorced. I have two children, Panchito here, actually Francisco Junior, is six and Gabriella is eight.” He looked down at me, still smiling.

      “Panchito must apologize to you, but I don't know your name now. Is it still Decker?”

      “Yes. I'm still single. I'm a professor at UTSA, never had the time.” 

      “So you really were that serious about your studies after all. I must admit, I was really hurt by your email. You hear about somebody breaking up that way, but I never expected you to be that type. I would have thought you'd come talk to me. Tell me to my face.”

His expression closed and his black eyes questioned me.

      “It was my parents,” I suddenly hear myself saying, words I've wanted to release for years. I stared down at my faded green sweatshirt and my scuffed SAS loafers.

      “They told me that if I kept dating you, they wouldn't pay for college, not a penny.”

Now my voice quavers, but I glance up. His eyes are like obsidian, fathomless.

      “Why? Why did they want me to disappear from your life?"

I can't answer him because my mind is full of images from high school, when we spent hours in each other's arms, breathing in each other's breath.

“I am ashamed to tell you but it was because...”

      “I already know. They made their attitude towards Latinos clear from the beginning. But you went along with it and that hurt.”

      He sighed. “You made that choice--”

      “It was them”--He must understand that it wasn't my fault, not my responsibility.

      “No. It was you. You accepted their values.”

Then he smiled again, that agonizingly beautiful smile.

      “It was for the best, because I met Elena that fall, and without her I never would have had Gabby and Panchito. I'm sure it was the best for you, too.”

Our carts had reached the parking lot now, and he headed left towards a new Chevrolet Tahoe.

      “Goodbye, Lanie. Have a good one.” And he turned to his son, arranging the carseat straps on him with practiced hands, unconscious grace and strength in his movements.

      “Bye, Frank,” I answer blindly, thinking that the Humane Society shelter would still be open. Ten cats is only one more than nine. Ten is a good number. I had hit the speed dial for the shelter by the time my cart reached my old Honda Civic.