“I hope I don’t get mobbed for autographs.”
“Frank.” She laughed and shook her head. “Can we sit down now?”
“I’d rather not. Not right now ... listen.” He pointed with his head to the jukebox and the next song playing.
“You did play our song. Did you play that first one on purpose?”
“You think I was gonna waste our entire song getting you up to dance?” Frank fluttered his lips. “Please.”
Ellen stepped closer to him, placing her face near to his, and they slowed down in that dance to a point where they barely moved. “Thank you for this, Frank.”
“The night is not over yet,” Frank whispered sensuously. “I’d like to take you from here and do what I had planned to do with you.”
“What is that?” Ellen asked, feeling his warm breath as he spoke so closely to her ear.
“It’s the one thing I know we used to do all the time, since we were kids, that we had fun doing. It always took our minds off of everything, because we did it together.”
“You were planning this?”
“Oh yeah.” Frank pulled her closer. “Do you know where I’m going with this?”
“I think so.”
“How many times did we occupy our boring summer nights with it?”
“Winter too.”
“Even though it was too cold to do it outside.”
“We still did,” Ellen finished his sentence. “You want to do this now? Or is it too early? We can make it seem like the old days.”
“It’s never too early. I’ll take you far from here.”
“Let’s do it, Frank.” Ellen stepped back and looked up to him.
“El, you realize you are the only person on the face of the earth that knows what I’m thinking without me saying anything.”
“I’ve known you forever, Frank ... the music stopped.”
“Then let’s get out of here. Are you ready to have some fun?”
“More than you know.” Ellen let Frank take her hand and he led her off the floor and through the tables.
Frank stopped before he left. “Danny!” he yelled over. “Have fun cleaning up.”
Ellen looked oddly at him while following his lead out. “What was that all about? Why does Danny have cleanup?”
“He bet me I couldn’t hit the bull’s-eye and he lost.”
“What did you bet?”
“My chest hair.”
Ellen stopped cold, mouth open, in the Social Hall doorway. “I would have killed you if you lost.”
Still holding the door open for her, Frank lowered the collar of his tee shirt. “Yeah, but it’s still there.” He smiled at her softly, motioned his head, and brought her from the Social Hall.
<><><><>
It was a good thing that Frank had taken Ellen to the garages because her scream would have ricocheted through the Living Section. “God, Frank!” She bent down to pick up the sopping-wet cloth that flew across the garage, smacked her in the face, and dropped to the floor. She re-saturated it and tossed it back at him smacking him in the already wet chest. “You cheat.” She turned to dump out her bucket of water again.
“Hey, El?”
“What ...” Smack! It hit her again. “Frank!” She held out her arms. She was soaking wet. “I can’t believe I agreed to torture myself like this with you.”
“Yeah, but how many jeeps did we wash?” He carried his bucket over with her to dump it out.
“Three.”
“Productive night.”
“It always worked when we were younger. Of course people always thought we were whacked, washing cars after midnight.” She tilted her bucket. “But it always took my mind off ...” Another shriek came from her when Frank dumped his bucket out, not on the ground, but over her head. “I hate you.” With quick thinking, she tossed the entire contents of her bucket at him. Frank jumped back but not fast enough to avoid the splatter of water that came his way.
“El.” With an ornery look, he picked up the hose.
“Frank, no.” She held her hands up and squinted, trying to backup. As she bumped into the doorway, the stream from the hose came at her and her blocking hands only caused it to spray outward and into her face. “Stop!”
“All right.” He turned off the hose and dropped it. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, but I’m feeling cold.”
“It’s hot out, so what.” He ran his hand over his wet head. “The jeeps look good.”
“We always did a good job, but I don’t ever remember getting this wet.”
“Oh, we got this wet.” Frank walked closer to her. “In fact, I can really remember ...” He bent down.
“No.” She saw him pick up the rag, but she had nowhere to go.
“Shh.” He stepped closer. “I can remember when you’d wear white shirts like this.” Another step closer. “And I remember thinking how hot ... you ... you would look,” he softened his voice, “when you were wet.”
Ellen swallowed, watching him bring the cloth right up to her chest level. So slowly he moved that rag, squeezing it in a teasing manner, letting the water trickle across her chest and down her shirt.
Frank kept his eyes on her chest, watching it rise and fall, the dampness of it exposing the skin that stuck to her shirt. “El.” He saw her breathing get heavier.
Ellen’s eyes stayed fixed on his fingers that lightly touched the low collar of her shirt. They trailed over her skin and up to her neck. Letting her eyes follow his hand, they led her to his eyes and she couldn’t pull them away. She felt his body step closer to her. “You did ...” She took a heavy breath. “You did what you said you’d do.” She heard the wet cloth hit the pavement. “You took my mind off of things. Are you gonna ... are you gonna stop here.”
Frank was so silent, almost a painful look was upon his face as both of his hands went to her face then slid back to her hair. His fingers gripped the wet strands, pulling back her head and tilting her face towards his. He brought his nose to hers, brushing it against hers, and breathing with an ache as his body pressed into hers. “Ellen,” he whispered her name, touching her lips so softly with his in a tease then pulling back. “More than anything, right now, I want to kiss you.”
“What’s stopping you?” She brought her mouth to his but Frank pulled back.
“The fact that nothing will be able to stop me is what is stopping me,” he spoke through heavy, breathy words, “I can’t do this. This isn’t what tonight is about.”
“Frank ...”
“No. It’s not what tonight is about.” Touching her face one more time, he kissed her quickly then pulled back. “Tonight was about making you smile and I did that.”
“Yes you did, Frank.” Ellen watched him proceed to clean up like the moment that just was, never happened. She smiled at him, really smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And ... you know what?” Frank bent down and picked up the buckets. “Everything will work out for you. I’m sure of it. How you’re feeling right now will get better.”
“I don’t want it to.”
“You want to stay sad?”
“No. You said how I’m feeling right now. Right now, Frank, I’m happy that I have you in my life to make it all go away.”
Frank had nothing to say to that. He just wanted to enjoy her words, and he basked in them while he finished putting things away. “You ready to go home, or you think you might want to go back to my house and talk?”
“Talk? It’s pretty late, Frank. I might start to ramble. You know how I am at night.”
“Then we’ll stay up and talk as late as you want. All right?”
“I’d like that.” She watched Frank pick up his boots and set them on the workbench. He then proceeded to undo his pants. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t walk home in these pants. I can’t move.” He dropped them. “Wanna walk back half dressed?” He winked. “Come on it’ll be fun, me in my boxers and you in that wet tee shirt.”
“If I do this
with you, will you make me a sandwich? I’m kind of hungry.”
Frank, wearing only his boxers, picked up all his clothes, his boots, and his shoulder harness. “I’ll make you a sandwich.” So simple it seemed with Ellen, just being them. Frank placed his arm around her, holding his clothes and hers, and walked slowly with her back home.
They fought over the front door and who would get in first. Ellen being smaller and wetter, slipped herself between Frank and the door, stumbled into his living room, and laughed. “I won.”
“I let you.”
“Right.” Ellen saw him ready to drop the wet clothes. “Leave them outside.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Frank opened the front door and set the clothes on the porch. He carried his shoulder harness inside, tossing it over the back of the couch. He saw Ellen standing with her arms crossed tightly. “What’s wrong?”
“What the hell temperature do you have the air conditioner on? It’s freezing in here.”
“Sixty-five.”
“Sixty-five? Christ, Frank.” She began to jump up and down to warm up.
“Want one of my shirts?” Frank pointed to the steps. “I’ll go get one.”
“Please.”
“Be right back down.” Hurrying, Frank charged up the steps and into his room. He took a moment to remove his damp boxers and toss on a pair of shorts. He grabbed a tee shirt from his top drawer for Ellen and ran back down the steps, fully intending on turning down the air. “Here’s the ...” he stopped when Ellen turned to face him, she stood without her top, “... shirt.” He slowly walked to her, extending out the shirt, staring.
“You really want me to put this on?” Ellen laid her hand on Frank’s.
“Yeah. No. Yeah ... no.” He moved into her. “What are you doing?”
“Wanting to warm up.”
“You know, all I wanted to do was spend some time with you. This is an added bonus.”
“So I take it you aren’t turning me down?”
“You are making it very ...” Frank slipped his hands on her waist then brought Ellen close to him. “Very ... difficult.” Just as he lowered his head to kiss her, he heard three banging thumps coming from below, and Frank jolted back. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes. What was that?”
“Stay here.” Frank reached for his revolver in the harness over the couch and turned to the kitchen when he heard the basement door open. “Shit.” In one motion, he tossed Ellen her shirt, took a step to the kitchen, raised his revolver, and clicked back the hammer. “Freeze!”
Henry shrieked and jumped when he saw the gun pointing at him. “Frank!”
“Henry, what the fuck?” Frank placed back the hammer and lowered the revolver. He set the gun on the dining room table. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been here working. Why is Ellen half dressed? That is wrong, Frank.” Henry looked past Frank to Ellen who tossed on her shirt. “I can’t believe you’re doing this already with her.”
“I’m not doing anything with her, Henry. We got wet washing jeeps. Now what the hell were you doing in my basement?”
“Ellen’s leaving.”
“Answer the question.”
“Ellen’s gone.”
“Shit.” Spinning around, Frank saw the open front door, and he took off after Ellen. “El.”
“I’m going home, Frank.”
“No wait.” He pulled her back. “We were gonna talk. I was going to make you a sandwich, remember. Not to mention you were standing almost naked in my living room.”
“I’m sorry about that. I feel embarrassed. I shouldn’t have hit on you.”
“No!” Frank’s eyes widened. “Hit on me. Hit on me any time. El, I ...”
“Frank, I’m going home. This isn’t going to work. It was a great night, but it’s not going to work.”
“What isn’t going to work? Fine, leave your clothes on. Hitting on me isn’t important. Just don’t go, please.”
“And what? Go back to your house while Henry is there?”
“I’ll make him leave.”
“Then what?” Ellen asked.
“Then he’ll leave.”
“Then what?” Ellen asked again.
“He’ll go home?” Frank shrugged and Ellen began to walk away. “Wait. What?”
“Then he’ll be back. He’ll always be back, because you’ll always hang around him. You get mad, like last night, and then you forget.”
“Henry’s my friend.”
“So am I.”
“What? I can’t be friends with both of you?” Frank questioned with edge.
“You shouldn’t be.”
Frank released the grip he had on her. “I can be friends with both of you.”
“I don’t want you being friends with both of us, Frank. Because if you only knew.”
“Knew what? What should I know.”
Ellen shook her head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. Go back to your friend.”
“Fine. I will.”
“Go.”
“I am.”
Ellen turned from him, arms folded across her body.
“El.” Frank tossed out his hand in frustration, then stormed back inside his house. “Henry, you being in my basement better be fuckin good ... what are all these papers?” Frank looked down at his coffee table. “Why are you smiling? You’ve been miserable all day.”
“I got it, Frank.”
“Got what?”
“I think I can do it.”
“Do what?”
Henry picked up all of his notes. “I think I can make Dean see again.”
“Re ... repeat that?”
“All of this,” Henry showed Frank the papers, “my notes from the SUT program. I have created a program for the microchip for optical enhancement.”
“Explain that.”
“Dean’s eyes are fine. It’s his brain that is failing to send signals to his optic nerves. If we implant Dean with a microchip, that microchip will replace the signal the brain is failing to send, therefore, Dean will be able to see again.”
“Holy shit.” Frank plopped in shock to the couch. “Will this work?”
“I think so. In fact, I will make it work. I have to. Day and night if need be. There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“We can’t take a chance on lobotomizing Dean, and lobotomy is normally done to make room for the chip.”
“So we can’t implant it then.”
“Oh we could, if the chip was smaller.”
“Make a smaller one.”
Henry slowly sat down next to Frank. “I’ve been trying. I can’t. I don’t even know where to begin, to make one that small that will take the program without overloading it.”
“It has to be able to be done,” Frank stated.
“Oh sure. But right now, I can’t do it. I’ll figure it out though.”
“Henry, you know who can probably do this?”
“No, Frank.” Henry shook his head. “No, I won’t ask him.”
“Why?”
“I want to do this alone.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want him to help. No. This has to be mine,” Henry said defensively. “This has to be all my doing.”
“That is stupid. You came up with the idea, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is all yours only he’ll help you achieve it faster, if he can. Ask him.”
“Aw, Frank,” Henry whined.
“Ask him. If you can get Dean back his sight, then you do it. That is what is most important.”
“I guess you’re right.” Henry stood up. “I’ll talk to him in the morning. He’s probably sleeping now. It’s almost two.”
“No he’s not.”
“How do you know?” Henry asked.
“He lost a bet. He’s at the Social Hall now. Go.”
“Against my better judgment, I’ll go.” Henry pouted and walked to the door. “But ... if it works
, it’ll really be great huh?”
“Yeah it will be.” Frank stood from the couch.
“Don’t say anything to Dean until we know it works.”
“No problem.”
Henry opened the door. “Do you think Ellen will think it’s great that I can make Dean see again?”
“I think she’ll be very happy, Henry.”
“Good.” Henry grinned. “I’ll be back, I think. Night, Frank.” He shut the door.
“Happy but still pissed,” Frank said to the closed door. He turned around to see Ellen’s wet shirt on his floor. “At you ... and now me. Shit.” He picked it up and clenched it.
<><><><>
Not much ever surprised Danny Hoi. Not the amount of glasses he had to wash, not the number of tables still left to wipe off. Not even the fact that Robbie Slagel, while taking down some of his equipment, kept getting thirsty and grabbing a clean glass. None of that surprised him. Henry walking into the Social Hall, still dressed like he was at the softball game, did. Danny looked up from behind the bar then returned to doing his glasses. He figured Henry had to speak to Robbie. Why else would he be there? He realized what Henry wanted when a stack of papers hit the bar.
“Danny.” Henry sat on a stool. “I need to speak to you.”
“Are you going to be all mean to me because I’m in a good mood, Henry. I’m not in the mood to have you being mean.”
“No. I have to ... I have to ask for your help. I need to know if you can help me.”
“I don’t know. With what?”
“Recognize this?” Henry stood slightly, and pulled something from his pocket, and laid it on the bar.
“A microchip, but it’s blue.”
“Yes.”
“It’s not from a SUT.” Danny examined it.
“No. I made that.”
“Does it work?” Danny asked.
“I guess. It’s accepts the data.”
“The data?” Danny asked. “You know how to program these things.”
“I used to use the prefab programs on the disk that Robbie found, but I also learned how to create new programs.”
“Excellent.”
“In fact, Danny, I know quite a bit about the chips.”
“So what do you need me for?”
“See the chip? To implant that in the brain, a portion of the brain has to be removed to make room.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 313