Frank

By Gina DeNicola

Would you recognize the flutter of true love if it stood right in front of you?

What if it disappeared with no explanation... until thirty years later?

 

As a young lawyer, Frank Tarallo had just landed a job at a big law firm in Manhattan. He and long-time girlfriend Lizzy Moretti had been living together in an upt

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atmosphere Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781646330829

Book preview

Part One

1

She ran as fast as her sore old knees would let her, down the sterile hallways of the local general hospital, slowing only briefly to look in all the rooms as she passed. The glow from the bright fluorescent lights bounced off the shiny linoleum floors but provided no direction, no clue as to where she needed to go.

As she turned the corner past the nurses’ station, she paused to check the signs. Which way is critical care? She couldn’t focus her thoughts, much less her vision. She squinted and took a deep breath; the strong antiseptic smell stung her throat. There was no one at the nurses’ station to help her. She assumed the staff was doing rounds, tending to patients—maybe one of them was with Frank.

Frank! How could this be happening? She had just gotten him back, and now he was here, in the hospital.

She picked up speed again, turning left down the hallway and pushing through a set of heavy doors. She had to find him. They were running out of time.

A nurse had just stepped out of a room when she saw Sophia practically burst through the doors.

Ma’am, can I help you? Are you okay? Who are you looking for? the nurse asked.

Sophia grabbed the nurse by the arm to steady herself. She could barely get the words out. Frank Tarallo, what room is he in? Her breathing was heavy, panicked.

The nurse quickly led Sophia to a desk. Let me check. Would you like to sit for a little while? Do you need any water or some crackers?

Sophia plopped her weary body down in a chair across the hallway from the nurses’ station and waited, waving off the suggestion of water. She was focused. This was no time for a snack break.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the nurse spoke, with more cheeriness in her voice than Sophia thought was appropriate. Found him! She walked over to Sophia with a small paper cup of water in hand, holding it out to her like a polite demand.

Room 501. Come on, we’ll walk there together, the nurse said with a kind smile. Sophia stood and gulped the water with a quick thanks. She hadn’t realized she was thirsty until the cold liquid hit her belly. It occurred to her she hadn’t eaten that morning. She’d gotten the call while she was making her morning coffee, but that wasn’t important now.

The two ladies walked side by side down the hallway, taking a much slower pace than Sophia wanted, but the extra time gave her a moment to think. Maybe Frank was in better shape than she thought. She hoped so. She also hoped she didn’t smell like sweat, not that he would care. He always loved what she looked like; even on her busiest days, he said she looked charmingly disheveled.

Today was no different. Her dark-brown hair with flecks of gray was tied up in a messy bun. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and her old, favorite rust-brown cardigan, soft and long. It was her go-to outfit. The only jewelry she ever wore was a simple pair of diamond studs, a gift to herself years ago. Frank once said they sparkled like her eyes when she laughed, so from that day on, she never wore any other earrings.

At the end of the hallway on the right, the two ladies stood outside room 501. The door was cracked open, and Sophia wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was quiet inside, so perhaps Frank was sleeping or heavily sedated. She looked to the nurse, who nodded and smiled, an unspoken encouragement between women. Stepping forward, Sophia pushed open the door and peeked inside.

Frank Tarallo covered the full length of the hospital bed, propped up by two pillows and draped in a thin white cotton blanket. His eyes were closed, and Sophia couldn’t help but think he looked old, much older than the day before. Her eyes followed the IV lines and noted the machines surrounding him like an electric audience. She wondered if he was in any pain. At least he was stable now since he’d been moved from the ER into his own room.

Torn between not wanting to disturb him and rushing over and kissing his face, she chose to slowly back out of the room. She’d get an update on his status from his kids, grab some food in the hospital cafeteria, and then wait around with the family for him to wake up. No need to interrupt him while he was resting.

The same nurse saw her close the door and walked over to check on her in case she had any questions.

Is Frank your husband? she asked in a quiet voice. A little surprised by the question and the rush of thoughts it produced, only then did Sophia let herself start to cry.

Weakly, she managed to say, Yes, we got married a few months ago, a truth that registered both joy and sadness. From the look on the nurse’s face, Sophia figured she knew there was more to story and was probably curious, but she didn’t press the issue.

Sophia just couldn’t get a grip on those tears. It was as if all those years of lost time together, wondering what could have been, came crashing down, and her head started to spin as she lost what little color she had left in her face.

Do you mind if we sit down for a minute? asked Sophia, digging for tissues in her purse.

Of course not, said the nurse. The women walked to a nearby sitting area, and as soon as Sophia sat down, her heart opened and years of sadness came pouring out.

I wish we’d been together a lifetime already, but circumstances got in the way, Sophia explained.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, the nurse said as she gently placed her hand on Sophia’s arm for comfort. She didn’t seem to be in a rush to check on other patients, so Sophia continued.

"I wasn’t looking for Frank, or love, for that matter. It just happened one day, thirty years ago, when he walked into my bakery. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. We reconnected last year, and it’s felt like a fairytale ever since. But now he’s here, and I’m worried I’ll lose him for good. He’s the love of my life," Sophia told the nurse between sniffles.

As the two ladies sat in silence, Sophia tried to stop new tears from forming, but all she could think about was the way he first looked at her so many years ago—instant chemistry filling the small counter space between them.

2

At 9:00 a.m., it was already a slow Monday, and Frank couldn’t get Sophia out of his head. The weekend had gotten away from him; he hadn’t been able to run like he normally did, and he worried it would throw off the entire week’s rhythm. He had a pile of deadlines at work that he hadn’t come close to completing last week, and just looking at the stack of papers that needed his attention made him tired, which made him even more susceptible to wandering thoughts.

It had been about five years since he last saw her, yet he was astonished how, out of nowhere, she would still pop into his head, derailing his entire day. It could be something as simple as the smell of freshly baked pastries in the office’s break room. Other days the aroma of coffee resurrected her face from his memories. Sometimes it would happen while driving around town, and he’d hear Right Here Waiting, the love ballad by Richard Marx, which was the song that was playing the first day he walked into the bakery and stood in line, waiting his turn.

One more monotonous workday done, he was determined to go for a run as soon as he got home. The summer heat would make the run a little more miserable, but he saw it as a necessary evil, almost a self-inflicted punishment while he expended more energy, running farther and faster away from home, running to forget . . . and to remember.

He was ready within minutes, changing out of his work clothes and into his running clothes. As he laced up his running shoes, he shouted to his wife, Lizzy, in the general direction of the kitchen. Hey, Lizzy, I’m going for a run, I’ll be back in an hour or so.

***

The sound of Frank’s voice grated on Lizzy’s very last nerve. He hadn’t even bothered to say hello to her when he came in. She tried not to notice that he seemed a little more anxious than normal as he strode out the door to go running.

Lizzy stood at the kitchen sink in her favorite gray sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt, clutching her coffee mug and a cigarette, looking out the window at nothing in particular. She was worn out from chasing their two kids around all day and longed for adult conversation, but it would have to wait until dinner when she’d ask about his day, and they’d repeat the same methodical conversation they’d had every night for the last five years.

Life hadn’t at all turned out the way she had hoped. She was