Later that night and accompanied by Frank’s favorite song drifting through the background airwaves, I had the old back bumper off of the truck and began drilling through the thick metal bracket mounts in preparation for the attachment of the new model. Shiny metallic shards peeled away from the plate when a sudden electrical surge began sending the drill and overhead light into reactionary spasms. Now within the dark and the quiet patience of the day reaching its end, the brief interruption was immediately followed again by the erratic overhead lights behavior that eventually settled back into normalcy. Resuming the slow process, I found my emotional rhythm gluing itself to the rising wine of the drill as my last burst of pressure was now pushing hard in all attempt to break through the final barrier. As if being toyed with, I was offered up a sudden secondary black out, having all yet again settled into the quiet darkness.
Relinquishing myself to the black stillness, I was expecting maybe that Frank would arrive and again remind me that the electrical follies occurring within the house were going to be tended to. Deciding to check back him on the issue instead, I carried my calm assertiveness out of the carport, up the outside staircase, and on to Frank’s entryway. With a brushing open hand looking for the bell, my intention was quickly eclipsed by a moment’s hesitation as I exhaled with the knowing I had had enough for one day. Just as I began to turn away, suddenly as if on cue and like a flash of lighting bursting out from the house, all lighting was back alive and with it, a slurred distorted song from Franks old turn table. Startled and stunned, I leaned away realizing that standing no more then an arm reach away was Frank’s silhouette framed in just behind the sliding screen door.
“Jesus Frank you scared the hell out of me”.
Seemingly frozen in a daze, Frank remained motionless without saying a word. With a rise of irritation reflected in my voice, I directed a sharp tone of concern at the man of the house.
“Frank, are you o.k.”?
“Yep I am fine. Just waiting on the lights is all”.
Strange, I thought as I couldn’t help but acknowledge the tension beginning to build up higher toward him and the whole place in general.
“Well Frank you have a good sleep and we will see you in the morning”.
As I lowered my way down the staircase, Frank’s voice of denial trailed off behind me all the while remaining a prisoner without motion.
“Okedoak then, Okedoak”.
Lost in my momentary daydream behind the driving wheel, I had drifted passed my intended turn off to meet Tom for our scheduled Sunday’s tennis match. Circling back, I pulled into one of the few parking spaces left and headed over to the courts that were already in use.
“Pete”!
Looking to my left and shielding the late afternoon glare from my eyes, I joined Tom who was sitting among others waiting for their turn to play. Reaching up and out, our open hands slapped together in a gesture of camaraderie as both Tom and I then settled back down on to the metallic benches and watched on with a match already in progress.
“I think the one has had enough of chasing her friend’s bad game around”.
Looking forwards, Both Tom and I stared out and watched as the heavier of the two girls spat out a few sharp remarks while leaving the court. Whispering under his breadth while retying his shoes, Tom spilled a few quiet words my way.
“Promise me you’re not going to treat me with such respect”.
I have never considered myself a sore looser. But I never found myself to be satisfied looser either. Since our first meeting on the tennis court, it was apparent to both Tom and I who was the better player. Besides having more years on the court, it was Tom’s long reach that proved nearly impossible to bypass. I just resigned our time on the court as one of dissolving any work or life related tensions. With match point on deck, Tom stood poised and readied himself for his final play towards victory.
“Forty love and dinner owed”.
With a swift down the middle serve, the green blur of the ball connected and left the court at a speed that was beyond my ability to react to.
Meeting mid court for a sportsman like handshake, we stood in silence and took in the last light of dusk. The clear skyline gave way to just one lone jet racing eastward while laying out a white streak of its contrail. With a sudden change of expression, Tom straightened up and faced me with a subtle urgency.
“Pete I apologize for mentioning it so late, but I stopped into the clinic shortly today and an elderly lady named Grace had called asking for you. She mentioned that she is currently at Sac State Hospital having some testing done. She had mentioned she had lost your contact details but does want you to be in touch”.
Taken aback by the news, I was over come by a wave anxiety and Tom could see it in my expression.
“Did she sound alright to you”?
Slightly surprised by my abrupt posturing, Tom stopped and paused before continuing.
“She did sound weak over the phone Pete; you might want to be in touch sooner than later. If you need time to address the situation, let us know o.k.”?
I threw a brief wave good bye Tom’s way as he pulled out of the now empty parking lot. Buckling in, I hesitated with my keys as I sat in a motionless state with my concerned eyes staring out. Slowly I fixed them on the thousands of flying insects gathered in front of the courts powerful overhead spotlights. In what seemed like flying confusion, I acknowledged with increasing urgency that my life was mimicking what I was seeing. As the fresh resurgence of inner conflict began to boil within, I not only knew after twenty years of resistance it was time, but more so, the meeting needed to happen tomorrow.
Staring out but not really seeing anything but the images my mind played before me, I found myself digging into my past and pulling to the surface those repressed memories. I revisited a time in life where I was confused and a heavily depressed, mismanaged teenager. I was lawless while living under the roof of a stepmother whose only priority was for the bottle and little else. Our world together was tough and it broke completely apart when Grace came forward with the truth that she was indeed not my mother. It was a coveted truth that in hindsight had tormented her for years only to pass the reality on to me. I felt total abandonment and the day after my sixteenth birthday and still hurt from the effects of stolen booze from Grace, I left for southern California thinking never to return again.
Suddenly within a second all was dark. The court lights shut down leaving me much in the same mood as my last vision a moment ago, not very sure of my self and very much alone.
Taking a left hand turn off Madison Drive and continuing down the road of Sheer Oaks Drive, I coasted most of the quarter mile back to Franks place. On the way, I slowed to almost a stop several times to randomly observe the various homes of Victorian architecture that I thought made the area. But for me the real appeal had always been the mature Oak and Maple trees. Like giant soldiers in perfect standing formation, they lined the roadside on gradual westward turn. A feature that continued right up to the property line of twenty-one Sheer Oaks Drive where then a sudden an abrupt large hillock terrain covered by tall over growth, followed behind and beyond the properties boundary line.
The home, though slightly obstructed by the front yards large Oak tree, was now just coming into view. During most evenings, it was usually expected that Frank would be out sitting in his perfectly varnished antique lawn swing, enjoying a sip of his tart lemonade. I was actually looking forward to joining him and to recount the lighter side of the day’s events in an attempt at keeping things smooth between us, but tonight there would be no such meeting as the light of day was now gone.
Shutting down the cars motor and disengaging my seat belt. I let the moments pass while still not feeling in a hurry to get inside. A passing vehicle kept me present and as the car drifted by; my eyes raised themselves to look onto the exterior of the house.
Straightening up in my seat and forcing myself forwards so as to get more of a clear view through a few obstructing branches, not to my surprise, was the fact the homes single and only light was being emanated from that of my downstairs unit. For the brief moments to follow, Franks large shadow could be seen drifting about but was suddenly consumed as the whole of the property fell again under the cloak of night.
Exhaling back deep within my seat, I dropped my heavy head into my open hands feeling smothered under the cloak of surrender. It had taken some time in getting used to the fact that although non-threatening in any way, Frank felt he could move throughout the entire home without any concern of my own privacy. It was not even a week ago that I found him in very same location, standing stationary speaking to himself in an odd one sided conversation. His reasoning for roaming the house, I was told, was to keep the place in a clean condition. But we had made an agreement, and I assured him that I would let him know if I felt that there was anything that needed his attention, but it was evident that he was not about to change his ways.
That being the case, a heavy frustration hung overhead and while the meeting with Grace was the bigger pressure of the whole, it was these ongoing strange aspects of living with Frank that added to my state of now constant emotional uneasiness.
Lifting myself from the car, I marched my way across the street to the sound of a single door slamming just to the inside of the house. Everything had me wanting to pack my bags and leave. Upon reaching his front entryway, I began slapping my bare open hand against the surface of the door with a force of authority and urgency.
“Frank, we need to talk, it very important”.
All remained silent but I was having nothing of it. Grabbing at the handle in attempts to force my way in, I was willing to go to his level now for the sake of making my point. Knocking again, the door suddenly swung open exposing a disgruntled old man with untamed hair pointing in all directions.
“What’s with all the racket son, come in, come in”!
Motioning me in with his flailing swinging arm, he let go of the door handle and reached out for the light switch.
Defiant to invitation, I remained at the door waiting for him to face me again.
“I would appreciate it Frank if you would at least give me my private space and stop roaming around the down stairs unit. We talked about this before and you agreed to that”.
Pausing, I was trying to make my self clear but by this time all had been said already and anything else was old news. Dramatically, his whole being changed as he lowered his head becoming introverted and silent.
“Look Frank…”
At a loss for further explanation, a momentary acceptance overcame me that I was wasting my time and that I should just accept all the features that were the makeup of the house.
“I am sorry son”.
He vented with a small mumbling voice. He then looked up with what seemed to be tearing eyes of self-pity.
“I am sorry son. Look there is something you need to know about me. Some time ago I was diagnosed as being an aggressive case for sleepwalking. I really mean no harm but this is in fact the truth and I can’t seem to control myself”.
Stepping away and feeling awkward about the situation, I was without words of consolation as I was for a moment uncertain about whether he was being sincere or not.
“Look…I will catch up with you tomorrow Frank, o.k.”?
As the door slowly shut, I felt that invisible wall of concern between the both of us grow even higher. Pausing for a moment further, I sensed Frank’s presence just to the other side of the thin divide, still standing and maybe questioning as I was as to how our paths had come together. Even more concerning to me at least, was dealing with the heightened interactions of the bazaar nature of all that came with being a resident here. It was as if I was being taunted and lured in for some unknown reason.
Searching, I concluded to myself that there was room in me for this, and that as a practitioner of psychotherapy, Frank had involuntarily become my live in patient. While I was aware that it did not take much time to figure out most people’s psychological short comings, to find the exact origins and the desire to do so, was another matter. In Frank’s case, while it seemed to be a casual observation, there was in instant fear as well as intrigue about him and the place as a whole from the first time I stepped in. It was disconcerting but compelling all the same especially when, if what he was contending to be true, of suffering from aggressive sleepwalk disorder, something of which I knew little about.
Shifting my concerns to the more pressing matter, and without hesitation, I picked up the phone in hopes of hearing Grace’s voice and solidifying plans of meeting up. Reaching the receptionist, my call was redirected to a nurse who informed me that Grace was asleep and to call back tomorrow. Not disappointed, I was satisfaction in knowing I would be by her bedside in the morning.
With my pulse elevated and very much awake, I had a wash up and was drying off just to the out side of the bathroom when like an electric shock, it hit me. Looking though the dimly lit tunnel of the hallway; the faint luminescence of the far outside street light was working its way passed the hanging branches of the Oak tree and on through to lonely face painted atop the canvas surface.
Captivated, I was pulled through the dark hallway as if without a choice. My eyes glazed over in curious disbelief. We had previously agreed to not have that particular painting in the house; I found it hard to accept that he again decided otherwise.
Now closer and reeling in increased anxiety, I suddenly again recognized that beauty within it, and it was that beauty somewhere within The Reminder that wouldn’t let me go. An attraction that had me snared from the first time our eyes met.
Now standing within a foot of the painting, only those all-encompassing sorrowful eyes could be seen. They danced as if to be playing a game of hide and seek behind the shadows cast by the swaying movements of the branches to the out side. But then the switch happened and the fear overcame the affection. The red and the black began to come alive, rising and falling and swirling in calls of distortion. I pulled back as to try to escape the oncoming anguish but it was too late. Caught within the riptide of fear, I witnessed again vague glimpses of torment overlaid with shrieks of distress that followed swiftly with the final flashing explosion of red.
As the morning’s light began to fill in the confines of my room, I rolled over slowly all the while keeping my eyes shut. I became instantly aware of the pulsating pain emanating from back of my head. Gently reaching back, I touched upon a large bump coupled with an area of broken skin.
Opening my eyes to a blurred surrounding, I was surprised to see Frank who lay asleep in the old antique rocking chair across the room. Propping myself to an upright position while trying to fill in the sequence of events that led to the present moment, I blankly stared deep into my wrist watch, as it took a time to realize that it was a workday and that I was late.
Leaping to my feet and instantly clutching at my throbbing headache, I immediately recoiled back to the confines of the bed.
“Easy son, you took quit a fall”.
Standing from his morning slumber and still dressed in his nighttime attire, Frank re positioned himself bedside with a glass of water on offer. Without an initial response, I hesitated till the first fragments of last night events began to filter though and piece themselves together. With the realization came the irritation, and just the fact that he was sitting with me in the room now, filled me with further disdain. Without further acknowledging his presence, I stepped around him and left the house.
Behind the wheel and glancing at my watch, I could not believe I was driving to work so late. I was never late for anything, especially when it came to my profession. Pulling my car to a stop and giving myself a quick look in the rear view mirror, my sloppy appearance was clear indication of how I was feeling on the inside. All the same, I tried to give myself the assurance that all was o.k. before stepping out into an already sticky summer morning.
Bolting between the doors, I left little room for morning small talk and made my way to the confines of the kitchen. Pouring myself a coffee, I sat waiting for the inevitable appearance with Tom. On cue, he entered the room loaded with an already sympathetic gaze.