The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Next door,” Joe answered. “Do you think I want them here with the language you three goddamn assholes use?”

  Frank shrugged. “Guess not.”

  “Dad.” Hal folded his hands. “I take offense to that. I rarely use bad . . .” He shifted his eyes to Frank who laughed. “What is your problem?”

  “You take offense.” Frank shook his head with a laugh.

  “What is wrong with me taking offense?” Hal asked.

  “Really, nothing. You saying you take offense is another thing,” Frank said. “Why do you talk like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you do. I don’t know . . .”

  Joe interjected. “Proper.”

  Frank snapped his fingers. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Proper. Why do you talk proper?”

  “Why not?” Hal asked.

  “Why do it?”

  Joe grumbled. Robbie laughed.

  “Why not?” Hal asked again. “Civilization is being rebuilt. Why not speak civilized?”

  Frank scoffed, “I speak civilized. You speak pompous. It’s a fucked up apocalyptic world, Hal, and you talk like you’re ready to schedule tea. Plus, your women are lesbians.”

  Hal gasped. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Frank shrugged with a snicker. “It’s funny.”

  “There is something wrong with you.” Hal shook his head and ate. “I swear you get worse the older you get.”

  “But . . .” Frank held up a finger. “No matter how old I get, I can still kick your ass.”

  “You think?” Hal questioned with a snap.

  “I know.”

  “You think?”

  “Boys,” Joe grunted. “Stop it.”

  “Dad,” Frank defended. “I’m merely stating the facts. Ask Robbie. Hal, ask him who can kick who’s ass.”

  Joe set down the fork. “Leave Robbie out of it.”

  “Yes,” Hal agreed. “Robbie would be biased. You can be in a wheel chair and he’d still say you’d kick my ass.”

  “That’s because I could,” Frank stated. “Tell him Robbie.”

  Robbie tilted his head innocently. “He could, Hal. Sorry.”

  Hal grumbled. “Figures. Frank, you have brainwashed him.”

  “No.” Frank shook his head. “He respects me. That’s because he’s been with me. You, on the other hand, haven’t been around.”

  “Yeah, Hal,” Robbie instigated. “Where have you been?”

  A squeal came from Hal. “I’ve been out in this world. I surely would have been in Beginnings had someone not taken the contingency note off of Dad’s door.”

  “Who?” Frank asked. “Who did that?”

  Robbie raised his hand. “Guilty.”

  Frank laughed hard. “Oh, man is that funny.”

  “Funny?” Hal questioned with anger. “You think it’s funny that . . .”

  “Hal,” Joe interrupted. “This complaint is getting old. Robbie made a mistake. Let it go.”

  Hal couldn’t believe his ears. “You act as if it was nothing. You guys were together. I spent years thinking I had lost my family.”

  “Robbie never thought we died,” Frank said. “He searched for us. You should have searched too.”

  Robbie looked up. Even though he knew the reasoning behind Frank’s comment, he had to add fuel to the fire. “I searched for you guys? When?”

  “Yes, Frank,” Joe repeated. “When?’

  “When what?” Frank asked.

  Joe held back his irritation. “You said Robbie searched for us. When?”

  “Um . . .” Frank’s eyes shifted about. “I had a dream that he did. So there.” He exhaled. “Anyhow, even if Robbie did search for us in the non-Frank dream world, bet me we wouldn’t have found him dressed like a wuss.”

  “A wuss?” Hal asked with edge. “Why do you pick on my uniform so much?”

  “Look at it.”

  “Yes, look at it,” Hal said. “It has flare. It stands out. You, on the other hand, dress the way you did twenty years ago.”

  “Yeah and there’s a reason,” Frank stated. “Not all of us can wear button down fancy fuckin uniforms with fashion boots. Some of us have to be comfortable to do the shit we do. Plus . . .” Frank ran his hand down his own chest. “With the exception of the sweater, I go to great lengths to look this good.”

  Hal rolled his eyes. “Yes, Frank, it’s tough to be you.”

  “A lot tougher than being you.”

  “All right,” Joe finally intruded in a strong manner. “You wanna know why you two bicker and fight so bad? Yell and judge each other?”

  Frank shrugged. “No, not really.”

  “Frank!” Joe snapped. “I’ll tell you. You’ve never walked in each other’s shoes. That’s why.”

  “Dad.” Frank snickered. “I can’t walk in Hal’s shoes. I wear three sizes bigger than . . .”

  Joe closed his eyes. “Frank . . .”

  “It would be tough. I mean walk in shoes that are too small . . .”

  “Frank!”

  “Of course he could walk in my shoes. There would be room to move about and shove a pair of socks . . .”

  “Frank.” Joe slammed his hand. “Knock it off!”

  “All right!” Frank yelled. “I’ll fuckin wear Hal shoes. Can I at least take off the sweater?”

  “Christ.” Joe rubbed his eyes. “Why do I bother? No, Frank. What I mean is you’ve never done each other’s job.”

  “That’s because Hal can’t do my job,” Frank nodded. “Can he, Robbie?”

  “I doubt it,” Robbie agreed.

  Hal held out his hand. “Of course he’d agree. He can do your job, Frank. Anyone can do your job. What do you do? Walk a few perimeters, fill out reports, yell a lot.”

  “And what do you do?” Frank asked. “Raise the flag, lower the flag. Eat at your Mess Hall. Hal, your job’s as fuckin easy as Dad’s . . .” He saw Joe look at him. “As Dad’s used to be. Yeah.”

  “If you two think each other’s lives are so simple, switch,” Joe suggested. “Twenty-four hours, switch jobs and everything.”

  “Oh my God.” Robbie smiled. “This would be so great. Can I switch with you, Dad?”

  “No.” Joe answered. “Frank? Hal?”

  “Sure.” Hal sat back. “I mean, if I can’t do Frank’s job, I’m not fit to lead my community. I’ll switch. Frank?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do it. Name when.”

  “Let’s see. We are heavy into Spanish literature this week, so I’d prefer my men not speaking like baboons. Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday it is . . . no.” Frank shook his head. “I’m off on Wednesday.”

  “You take days off?” Hal asked. “Wow, I don’t.”

  “No. I don’t take days off. I’ll do it Wednesday.”

  “Good,” Joe spoke up. “It’s settled. Wednesday morning, both of you finish up your early morning stuff. And from eight a.m. Wednesday to eight a.m. Thursday you switch places. Hal, do you have a uniform big enough for Frank.”

  “Uh!” Frank’s shriek drowned out Hals’ response. “No. I am not wearing a UWA uniform.”

  “Um, Frank,” Robbie whispered. “You’re wearing a tight blue sweater. Really, it isn’t any worse.”

  “True, but still,” Frank argued.

  “But still, my ass,” Joe said. “You switch everything. Hal will dress like you. Everything. You agreed. If you back out now, Hal’s the better man.”

  Hal grinned “Frank?”

  “I’ll do it,” he grumbled. “Now, what exactly is the point to this switch again?”

  Through the moans of Hal and Robbie, Joe spoke up. “It’s for you to appreciate how hard the other works. And for me . . .” He gave a twitch to his head. “It’s gonna be worth it just to see you, Frank, in . . . what do you call them? Fashion boots.” After a flash of a smile, Joe happily returned to his dinner. It was quiet and it was enjoyable, because Frank had finally shut up.

  ^^^^

 
“Two hundred and thirty-two, El.” Dean followed Ellen down the hall.

  “Dean. Enough.” She laughed.

  “No, I’m serious.”

  “You’re making too much out of this.” She walked into their room. “Stop it.”

  “El, listen.” He shut the bedroom door. “I figured it out. I figured out I am owed two hundred and thirty-two hours. Now I went to Danny and he said, ‘Dean, you never punched the time clock’. So, like a ‘Frank’, I believed him and went to Joe, figuring he could pull some strings. I didn’t know about punching a clock. Hell, I didn’t know about getting paid. Joe laughed.”

  “That’s because this is silly.” Ellen plopped on the bed. “Dean, you really don’t even need Danny Dollars. You want to see a show, bowl, buy something, do it. The dollars are . . .”

  “A symbol.” Dean finished the sentence. “They symbolize that you worked hard. El, half the enjoyment of having something is knowing you earned it. I want Danny Dollars. Why didn’t I get them?”

  “Danny hated you when it all started. That’s all I can think of.”

  “Swell.” Dean sat on his twin bed.

  “Dean, they won’t do you any good. You’re not allowed to hoard them. You have to put them right back to the community.”

  “Hoard them?”

  “Yeah, save them up. I can see you doing that.”

  “Ellen, I probably would turn them all over to you anyhow on pay day.”

  “Ah, that’s sweet.” Ellen smiled. “You don’t need them. What is the big deal?”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I would love to have them just so . . . just for once I can buy my wife something. Take her somewhere like on a date.”

  “Oh.” Ellen nodded and sang the word. “This is what it’s all about. You’re mad about my date with Frank.”

  “No. Yes, but not why you think. Frank and I have a sort of understanding.” He saw her laughing. “What?”

  “It’s funny, you two getting along.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem natural.”

  “Well, it doesn’t feel natural either, but we’re still doing it. Only, until you tell me we’re officially staying married, I can’t tell you who to go out with.”

  “We’re officially staying married, Dean. Are you making me break my date with Frank?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re mad.”

  “Yes. But not about the date,” Dean explained. “Taking you out . . . I want to do that. Since New Bowman was developed, I never got a chance to take you there. Every guy in this community who is involved with a woman has taken her to New Bowman. It’s the night spot. I have a wife and haven’t taken her there. Then again, Frank says the reason I’m not making progress with you is because I never tried.”

  “You haven’t.”

  Dean went silent for a moment and he slowly stood from the bed. He walked over and crouched before Ellen.

  She giggled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna try.”

  “Dean.” Ellen stood up laughing. “You don’t have to try. We’re O.K., we’re really getting there.”

  “But, El.” He stood before her. “We haven’t touched. We haven’t kissed. It’s been forever since we’ve . . .” He lowered his head and brought it close to whisper, “You know how long it’s been.”

  “Dean,” she whispered back. “We’ll get back to all that. We will. It takes time and steps and . . .”

  They both looked up to the sound of coughing.

  Dean took a breath. “Elliott. I should go check on him.”

  “I would like to be the one, but . . .” She saw Dean getting ready to speak. “I know. He says, ‘no.’ Dean? When do you think he’ll let me care for him?”

  “I think he should be letting you care for him now, but I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow when he starts getting better.”

  “Can I ask you something? Honest opinion, O.K.?” Ellen waited for Dean to nod. “I’m starting to think this is bullshit. I know that sounds cold with him sick and . . .”

  “It is,” Dean interrupted. “I think it is. You care for him, a lot. You want to be there in a doctor capacity and friend. Out of caring for you, he should want you there. Now, I don’t think the question is whether Elliott cares about you or not. I believe he does. The question is, does he know how to care for someone. If you think about it, I’d say the answer is ‘no’. Elliott doesn’t know how to care. He needs to learn. If you think about that, at this point in your life, his life, is that a learning process you want to wade through/” Dean started to leave.

  “Dean.” Ellen stopped him. “Are you saying this because you don’t want me involved with Elliott?”

  “No. I’m saying this because I don’t want you hurt. You don’t need that. Other things keep you too happy for you to get down over him.”

  Ellen snickered in a scoff. “Elliott would never hurt me.”

  Very seriously, Dean looked at her. “He already has.” He grabbed for the door. “Think about it.”

  Perhaps in was a momentary lapse of brain power, but Ellen stood dumfounded when Dean left as to how Elliott hurt her. Just as her mind wished she was able to go into the next bedroom and help take care of Elliott, she knew exactly what Dean meant.

  ^^^^

  “Frank, no.” Hal grabbed Frank’s hand mid-reach into the Scrabble lid. “Seven tiles.”

  “I took seven tiles,” Frank stated. “Now I’m getting one more.”

  “No, Fran,.” Hal argued. “Read the rules. You only take seven tiles.”

  “When I’m playing with Robbie, he lets me take eight.”

  Hal looked at Robbie. “Is that true?”

  “Yeah,” Robbie nodded staring at his tile holder. “I mean, he is at a disadvantage sometimes.”

  “I am,” Frank said. “I’ve been temporarily mentally disabled off and on for a while. See . . .” He reached into his back pocket and handed Hal a note. “It’s a doctor’s excuse from Dean.”

  Hal read the note. “Frank is temporarily mentally disabled.” He handed the note back. “Seven tiles only.”

  Deciding to give his two cents worth, Joe interjected. “Hal. Seven tiles. Eight tiles. It’s Frank. What does it matter?”

  Hal stared at Frank’s hovering hand. “All right. Take eight.”

  “Thank you.” Frank reached in and pulled one out. “Yes! Oh, yes! This is beautiful.” He placed it in his holder with a smirk.

  Like a spirit rising up into the clouds, Joe stood from the dining room table into the cloud of cigarette smoke that lingered above the Slagel men. “I’m calling it a night.”

  Hal stopped setting up his tiles. “You’re not playing?”

  “No, and you three should think about rest too. You were wrestling with a pretty big bear.”

  Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Robbie looked up. “Wait until you see the next one we get.”

  “Oh, brother.” Joe shook his head and gave a pat to Frank’s back as he passed him. “Night.”

  Frank leaned into the table. “Notice which one of us he gave affection to?” He winked.

  “I heard that,” Joe said then stopped when the door opened. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Johnny stepped inside. “Hey, Pap. Dad. Am I too late?”

  Joe shook his head. “You can take my place in Scrabble.”

  “Going to bed, Pap?”

  “Yeah. Night, John.” Joe lifted his hand and walked down the hall.

  “Sorry, I’m late.” Johnny took off his coat and tossed it at the coat rack. It bounced off and fell to the floor. Rolling up his sleeves, he walked over and sat next to his father. “Dr. Dean had so much work for me.”

  “That’s all right.” Frank laid his hand on Johnny’s back. “You’re here now.”

  “Cool job on the bear guys.” Johnny reached for a tile rack. “Hey, Uncle Robbie, since Dad is playing, are we playing your rules for Scrabble? Or re we using Ellen’s or Pap’s.”

  “Mine,” Robbie answered. �
��They’re the fairest.”

  “Wait a second.” Hal held up his hand. “You mean everyone has different rules when it comes to playing with Frank?”

  “We have to,” Robbie said. “It’s Frank. My rules are simple. He gets an extra tile, spelling doesn’t count for him, and you don’t have to use a ‘U’ on a ‘Q’ word. You can use a ‘W’ because they sound alike.”

  “That’s absurd,” Hal commented. “What are Ellen’s rules?”

  Johnny decided to answer. “She sticks pretty much to the game rules with the exception of switching tiles. Dad can switch his tiles any time he wants and not lose a turn, but . . . he loses ten points for every tile he switches.”

  “And Dad’s rules?” Hal asked.

  “Simple,” Robbie answered. “Blunt. The moment Frank uses a misspelled word, made up word, or one Dad deems stupid, the game is over. Dad wins.”

  Hal smiled. “I like that way, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll win.” He rubbed his hands together. “All right, since I’m first.” Reaching for his tiles, he saw Robbie shake his head. “No? I’m not first? I picked the letter ‘A’ when we all reached into the bag.”

  “True, but . . .” Robbie pointed to Frank. “Frank goes first. He always goes first. My rules.”

  Hal grunted. “Go on, since you have a gloating look.”

  “I do,” Frank said cockily and began to lay his tiles down. “Ha!”

  “Fuck?” Hal questioned. “You’re proud of the word ‘Fuck’?”

  “Yeah,” Frank nodded. “And it’s worth what?”

  Robbie answered and wrote down the score. “Twenty four points.”

  “Bite me, Hal.” Frank reached for replacement tiles.

  Shaking his head, Hal stood up. “I’m getting a drink. Anyone?” He saw them shake their heads. “I’ll be back.” He spoke as he walked backwards. “Don’t let Frank touch my . . .” He saw Johnny’s coat on the floor. “Tiles.” Bending down, because he wasn’t one for a mess, Hal picked up Johnny’s jacket. As he lifted it, his eyes caught a glimpse of it fall to the floor. Hal probably wouldn’t have made that much out of seeing it had it not been so small and odd shaped. A key, just like one he had just seen earlier. Shifting his eyes to see if he was being watched, Hal placed the jacket on the rack, turned and, with a small scuff, gave a kick to the little key and sent it a few feet from him. In a swing of his arm during the walk to the kitchen, Hal swept the key up from the floor and continued his pace.