Crazy For You

by Sandra Edwards

  “What are you saying?” Candy asked.

  “I’m saying I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up again,” Jerry muttered.

  “I’m going to take her home,” Frank said, unwavering. “And I’m going to take care of her.”

  “Frank…the next time she goes into cardiac arrest, do you really want Little Frankie witnessing that?” Jerry asked. “And if she’s at home the next time it happens...she’ll die there, because the equipment won’t be there to save her life.”

  “What are we supposed to do then?” Rich asked.

  “My advice to you is...” Jerry said. “There’s an institution down near Ft. Myers. They specialize in comatose patients. She’d get the care she needs there.”

  Institutionalized, Frank thought. This couldn’t be happening. Why was Jerry telling him this? He didn’t want to hear that she probably wasn’t going to wake up.

  “Frank...” Candy squeezed his hand gently. “We need to think about what’s best for Roxanne.”

  But Frank didn’t want to think about how Roxanne might never come back to him. He couldn’t turn his back on her either. He had to admit, Candy was right. Above all else, they needed to do what was best for Roxanne. “You’re right, Candy,” Frank finally said with a hint of reluctance.

  The doctors subjected Candy to several tests, all of which resulted in a clean bill of health. It seemed that no real harm had come to her when she’d fallen and hit her head in the emergency room.

  As each day passed and Roxanne continued to lay in a lifeless coma, it left an increasingly dismal future for her prognosis. After about four days, and more tests than Jerry could count, reluctantly he relinquished hope for Roxanne’s recovery.

  Frankie heard about his mother’s hospitalization from his father. Frank tried, as best he could, to explain about a coma.

  “Daddy...” Frankie said, “when is Mommy coming home?”

  Frank sat down on the couch. “Come sit with me. We’ve got some things to talk about.”

  Frankie climbed up beside Frank on the sofa. “Is Mommy still sleeping?”

  “Yes. Yes, she is.”

  “Why don’t you wake her up?”

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Is she ever going to wake up?”

  “Yes. Someday.” Frank said definitely. “I don’t know exactly when, but she’ll wake up as soon as she can.”

  “Can I go see her?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Frank didn’t want Frankie seeing his mother hooked up to the machines. Nor did he want him witnessing the hospital staff performing another emergency resuscitation on her. Hell, that’d scared the shit out of Frank. He couldn’t let that happen to Frankie. And he couldn’t let Frankie worry too much either. “If you go see her she might try to wake up before she’s ready.”

  “Is Mommy going to be okay?” Fear invaded Frankie’s voice.

  “I don’t want you to worry. Your mommy’s going to be fine.”

  Frankie held a look of intensity. “I miss her.” His bottom lip quivered as tears welled around his eyes.

  “Don’t you worry.” Frank pulled his son into his arms and comforted him. “Your mommy’s going to be okay. I promise you that.”

  “Daddy?” Frankie pushed back, looking into Frank’s eyes. “Can we send Mommy some flowers? Like we did when Aunt Candy was in the hospital?”

  “You bet we can.”

  Frank vowed that they’d send Roxanne flowers every Saturday until she came home.

  ***

  Part III

  ***

  Chapter 25

  March 1989

  Tampa, Florida

  A week after the overdose, there hadn’t been any change in Roxanne’s condition, so Frank had her moved to a long-term care facility in Ft. Myers at Jerry’s recommendation.

  Not long after that, Jason and Jerry showed up at the house with legal papers, saying Roxanne had them drawn up years ago. The document basically stated that if she were ever institutionalized or incapacitated, she didn’t want her family and friends viewing her body.

  “I’ll take that to court.” Frank said.

  “Believe me, Frank...this is not easy.” Jason looked at him with remorse, but Frank didn’t buy it. It was a smokescreen. That’s what it was. Jason continued, “It’s not something I really want to enforce, but we have to remember, these are Roxanne’s wishes.”

  “She may have wanted that then, but who’s to say that’s what she’d want now?” Frank said, as if he gave their theory the benefit of the doubt. But really, it meant nothing to him.

  “If you want to take it to court, go ahead.” Jason stood his ground. “But you’ll find it’s quite legal. The courts will uphold her wishes.”

  “Frank…as much as it hurts,” Candy said. “If that’s what she wanted, then that’s what we have to do. We have to respect her wishes.”

  As much as Frank didn’t want to admit it, Candy was right. But this latest obstacle threatened the success of his plan. He’d intended to spend most of his waking hours with Roxanne. Not only would he have the opportunity to talk her out of the coma, but it would give him a means of passing the time until she did wake up. However, if he could no longer see her, he’d have to find another way to occupy himself until she came home.

  Not knowing what to do or where to go, Frank headed for Roxanne’s study. A slight chill brushed past him as he walked across the room. Approaching the desk, he thought about the last time they were in here together. Frank pushed his self-pity aside, moved behind the desk and eased down into her chair. Eyeing the computer, he wondered if she had a new book stored on the thing. He continued to stare at it, thinking about taking a look at what she might have been working on. But what the hell did Frank know about computers? Nothing. But there had to be a manual. Right?

  Frank began rifling through the desk. In the first drawer he found a bunch of disks arranged in a file box. The front of the file had been labeled…My Book.

  He commended her silently for her incessant organization and pulled out a couple of disks. She had handwritten tags on them. Things like: notes, important events, and misc. That probably meant the information he was looking for was on those disks. He kept searching the desk until he found the computer’s manual. If he wanted to see what she’d written, he’d have to get those files up on the screen.

  After a lot of time and a bit of reading, Frank figured out how to bring the files up so he could view and read her words.

  From the disk titled “Frank and Me” ~

  When I signed the contract with Winston-Fischer Publications to publish my first novel The Secret, I was in the first stages of my pregnancy, and hiding from the father of my baby. You all know him as the rock-star Frank Garrett, but when I knew him he was someone totally different—before his rock-star days.

  My reasons for leaving him aren’t good ones, but they’re the only ones I have. All those songs he wrote about the hooker—yes, they’re about me. Surprise! I turned to prostitution for a brief time during our relationship, without Frank’s knowledge, because I was trying to help him. Garrett-Hollander was nothing more than a struggling bar band back then. I’d decided in my warped understanding of reality that it didn’t matter where the money came from so long as Frank had the opportunity to continue his dream. I made a mistake when I decided to do it without discussing it with him first. After all, ours was not a trivial or casual relationship. As soon as he found out, he put an end to my brief stint as a prostitute. But Frank and I couldn’t pick up the pieces after that. He couldn’t get past what I had done, and I couldn’t get past his anger.

  I was Frank’s prisoner. A prisoner he hated. My jailor had turned cold and calculating. After all, I’d been bad and I had to be punished. Frank and I lived in a constant state of turmoil for about six months, and it took me three of those to figure out I was pregnant. Now I know what you’re thinking, but my son definitely belongs to Frank Garrett. I’m one hundred percent certain of that.

  Fearin
g for myself, and the child I carried, I made some really bad choices. The whole thing seemed simple to me—if I’d told Frank I was pregnant he would’ve quit the band to take care of the baby and me. I didn’t want that burden placed on my shoulders. I was afraid he’d end up hating me and our baby for robbing him of his chance to realize his dream.

  Just after my arrival in New York City, and before the ink had dried on the publishing contract, the opportunity to sell the movie rights to my first book literally fell into my lap. I sold the rights for a minimal fee in exchange for a small percentage of the film’s revenue and to be able to retain some control over what went into the screenplay. At that point, I wanted to call Frank and try to work things out. But I’d learned that the band had won this contest, one that afforded them the opportunity to record an album. Since I’d left, Frank had started writing lyrics. That was something he’d never been able to do in his entire life.

  The guys were scheduled to go on tour out west where they would eventually start working on the album. I couldn’t interfere with that. Music is his soul. It’s what he does. If I’d called him and told him about the baby he would’ve turned his back on the music to come to New York and do the right thing. I didn’t want that liability on my shoulders.

  Then again, maybe I was afraid he wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to find out whether or not he’d turn his back on me. I couldn’t have handled that any more than I couldn’t handle turning my back on him. Granted, I didn’t handle the situation the best way I could have. And staying away from him was easier said than done. Some say I didn’t have a firm grip on reality back then. There are those who’ll say I don’t have one now, anymore than I did back then. But I say reality is what you make it. Yet, it’s never what you expect or want.

  ~ ~ ~

  From the disk titled “Kirk and Me” ~

  Lyle Williams produced The Secret. The very talented Martin Ford wrote the screenplay and in turn taught me how to write one as well. At my first scheduled meeting with Martin, I recall waiting alone in Lyle’s office. Even though I wasn’t writing the screenplay I did have basic control over what went into it. That meant Martin and I had to work together to set the framework of what he would write about.

  The lead actress hadn’t been cast yet and Lyle had no one in particular in mind. The lead actor was another matter. Lyle had his heart set on casting Kirk Bronson, the famous British musician, as Ben Herrington. As you know, eventually he did. It wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish. In the beginning, the last thing Kirk wanted or intended to do was act.

  While I was waiting in Lyle’s office for him and Martin to return, Kirk Bronson came in. I know the stories that have gone around about Kirk and me. Most of which are my fault. But right now I’m going to set the record straight. When I met Kirk Bronson I was almost five months pregnant, and like I’ve already stated, by Frank Garrett. Contrary to popular belief, sparks of passion did not ignite between Kirk and me when we first met. He and his wife Sara were very happily married. And me, I was happy in my own little dream world. It would be more than a year-and-a-half before anything romantic happened between us. I won’t say it’s because he’s unattractive, because he isn’t. But I didn’t plot and plan to have an affair with him or break up his marriage.

  By the time Lyle and Martin returned, I’d learned quite a bit from Kirk. First, he had no idea they wanted him to read for the part of Ben Herrington. He was aware they wanted to use his music in the film, but he had no idea what the movie was about.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “Star of the movie?”

  “Me?” I was flattered that he’d think so. “No. I wrote the novel.”

  “Really?” he asked, intrigued. His brown eyes sparkled and his blond hair was long and silky-looking. It made you want to touch it. But I didn’t dare.

  I had wanted Ben Herrington to be the exact opposite of Frank Garrett. And this guy was, as far as appearances go.

  The door opened and Lyle and Martin came in. Seeing Kirk, Lyle’s face lit up. A little too eager to please, I remembered thinking of Lyle’s enthusiasm over Kirk.

  “Kirk—” Lyle shook his hand. “—we have a sample script here and we’d like you to read for the part of Ben Herrington.”

  “Mr. Williams,” Kirk said politely, “I’m a musician, not an actor.”

  “Ben Herrington is a rock-star.”

  “Well, that much we have in common. However, the person who portrays him will have to be an actor.”

  “A movie would be great publicity for your band.”

  “If you would like to use our music, that’s fine.” Kirk stood his ground. “But as far as the part goes…you’d do well to hire yourself an actor.”

  Lyle and Kirk bickered a while longer, until finally Kirk said he was pressed for time and he had to go. I do recall him stopping though, long enough to settle a quick gaze upon me. “It was nice meeting you.” He smiled. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  Looking back now, I know Kirk was just trying to be polite. But back then I saw something entirely different in his gracious manner.

  Be careful, I’d coached myself, remembering how friendly Frank had been in the beginning. “It’s Ms. Simon,” I said curtly.

  What I’m trying to put into words is the way I could, all of a sudden, become so suspicious of people for no apparent reason.

  ~ ~ ~

  Frank pushed away from the desk and massaged his forehead. Poor baby. She must have been so confused. Now Frank wished he could have, or would have, been there for her.

  Frankie sat at the snack bar, eagerly watching Rose prepare his breakfast. He looked on in anticipation as she dished up his bacon and eggs. “Rose…?” She put the plate down in front of him. “Is it Saturday yet?”

  “No, Frankie. It’s Thursday.”

  “How many days till Saturday?”

  “Two. Now eat your breakfast.”

  Candy came in. “What happens on Saturday?” She sat beside Frankie and stole a piece of his bacon.

  “Hey…that’s mine.”

  “I’ll pay you back when I get mine.”

  Frankie gave a grumbling response.

  “So what happens on Saturday?” Candy pressed for an answer.

  “Daddy says on Saturdays we can send Mommy some flowers.”

  “You miss your mommy, don’t you?”

  Frankie nodded. Candy felt sorry for him.

  She finished breakfast and went to look for Frank. They needed to talk about the Academy Awards. And she thought the flowers were a nice gesture.

  Surprisingly, to Candy anyway, she found Frank in Roxanne’s study. “Frank…” she said softly. She entered the room, hoping she wasn’t disturbing him.

  “Hi, Candy.” He looked up from the computer screen. “What’s up?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m just looking at the book she was writing.” His eyes went back to the computer. “I never knew what she went through.”

  “I guess it just goes to show…there are two sides to every story.”

  “So what are you doing?” His eyes didn’t leave the computer screen.

  “Well...” She hesitated, hoping she wouldn’t have to put too much effort into talking him into going out to L.A. “The Academy Awards are next weekend. Have you thought about going? On Roxanne’s behalf.”

  “Of course, I’m going.”

  “Frankie’s real excited about the flower thing on Saturdays.”

  “Well I have to keep her front and center in his life. I won’t ever let him think she’s left him for good.”

  “She would’ve liked that.” Sadness poured over Candy.

  “Stop talking about her like she’s dead. She’s not dead.”

  “Frank,” Candy said defensively. “I’m on your side.”

  He hesitated and then said, without looking at her, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

  Would wonders never cease? Frank Garrett offering an apology. That was prett
y amazing.

  “Are you sure you’re doing okay?” she asked, and didn’t hide her concern.

  Frank finally lifted his gaze from the computer screen. “All I know is…I want her back, Can. I need her to come home.”

  “We all do, Frank. We all do.”