by Jen Luerssen
During our break, we hang out with Javi and his dad at the bar, our usual spot. That way if people approach us to talk they aren’t in the way of the waitstaff at a table. I’m talking to Joe about his new renovation project when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn to see Archie and a pretty, tall, and voluptuous blonde next to him. “Hey Frank, good to see you man, this is my wife, Sadie.”
“Nice to meet you, Sadie,” I say and shake her offered hand. “What brings you guys here?”
“Sadie loves this club and I saw you were playing so we came down for the weekend.” How long do I have to talk to this guy? He’s the last person I want to see or struggle through small talk with.
“Great.”
“You guys are very talented, I love all the different arrangements, and I really liked your version of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now,” Sadie gushes at me and I really don’t want to like her but she seems nice enough.
“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites too.”
“So, crazy news about Mikey, huh?”
I’m assuming she took my advice and called him up to talk about her job offer. Unfortunately. “Yeah, great opportunity if she takes it.”
“If? She agreed a few days ago. She’s already looking for property in Calistoga.” He smiles and I want to punch him.
“Right, well I’m sure you need to get back to your seats,” I say dismissing him and make my way to the stage, even though we still have five minutes.
I quickly type out a text to Mikey but then decide it’s a bad idea because it comes off a bit angry. Joe joins me on the stage, a small step up really, not a full-blown stage.
“You okay? That guy is a total chooch, don’t let him get to you,” he says patting my shoulder. “That’s cool about Mikey taking the job, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I didn’t know. I haven’t talked to her since Tuesday.”
“Shit, sorry dude, I’m sure she just got busy.”
I sit and pull up my bass, sitting there, tapping it until the rest of the band blessedly gets their asses back on stage, ready to play.
I go through the motions for the rest of the set and then pack up and leave, not waiting to help Andrew like I usually do. I find an Uber truck that fits my bass and get myself home. My band will understand, it’s not the first time I’ve left like this.
This time when I call Mikey it rings a few times before going to her voicemail.
“Hey, it’s Frank. Ran into Archie tonight and he told me you took the job at Natale’s, congratulations. I’m sure you know how I feel right now, having gotten that news from him, so please call me back as soon as you can.” My voice is tight but in control. I’m sure she will know how I feel. I feel super pissed.
F*cking Space
I SLEEP HORRIBLY AND WAKE up for good around 5:00 am. I’m almost too tired to surf, but I need to leave the house, get away from my phone. Driving up to Sonoma has crossed my mind a few times, but it seems like a bad idea. Floating out in the water, I try to look at it from her perspective. Is she is planning to tell me? Absolutely. Is she really busy and didn’t have time to tell me? Maybe. I’m sure that Archie the assmunch was not the person she thought would break it to me. All of these thoughts are reasonable and mature. Why do I still feel like I want to scream into the void?
When I think about it, I did not want Mikey to take this job, which is not fair. I even seriously contemplate her offer of being her kept man. I’m Fucking Frank, and I’m a complete pain in the ass and I need to be close to the woman I love. She thinks I’m joking but I’m not. I’d physically tie myself to her if I could, and I know that’s not a healthy thought, but I don’t care.
After a few hours on the water, I make myself coffee and a bowl of Corn Pops, because this requires serious cereal. Coffee in hand, I FaceTime call Mikey. When she answers, I’m surprised but also so relieved.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I manage to say in a calm voice.
“Frank,” she says after letting out a breath. “I’m sorry you found out, from Archie of all people, about my decision. When I was in Calistoga, I bumped into him and filled him in.”
“He lives in Calistoga?” I ask this stupid question.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, with his wife. I have zero interest in him, Frank, zero.”
“I don’t want to talk about him right now, I want to hear about what’s happening with you, with us.”
“Just as long as we are clear that I’d never share anything with Archie before you.”
“We are clear and I’m not mad, I’m nervous, but not angry anymore.”
“Well, I’m nervous too, I don’t like you pissed at me, and I don’t like you not having all of the information.” She smiles at me and puts her hand up by her chin. “Peace?”
I smile back and put my own hand up too. “Peace. I love you, and I just want to know all the things about you and your life.”
“Okay, so I took the job. Sebass is losing his mind and I may be as well.” I watch her talk and am struck by how tired she looks. “I’ve been working with him and the intern to get things on track. I’m going to help him with hiring a new winemaker, but with the intern they can handle operations for a bit. I’ll probably stay at my parents’ place until I find a house of my own.”
My heart hurts. This is going to be hard. “So, what about us?” I ask, trying not to look as pathetic as I feel.
“Well, we will definitely be farther apart and I’ll be busier, but we will still be us,” she says and my heart sinks now.
“Mikey, look at me,” I say and she complies, her eyes red like she’s been crying. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong Frank. I made a big decision, I’m still emotional about it.”
“Okay, when can I see you again? I don’t like seeing you like this,” I say.
“I’m working overtime to get the Monkey ready for me to hand it off, trying to find a place to live, and ya know, eat. I’m not going to be free for at least a month. I’m just as disappointed as you are but I need the time and space.”
“Are you saying you need space, from me?” I ask, horrified.
“Just a little,” she says looking down. “I’m under a lot of pressure and need to focus on putting out fires up here.”
“If that’s what you want, then I will grant you space. Just know it’s not at all what I want.” I grip my phone resisting hanging up on her.
“I don’t want it either but I don’t know what else to do,” she says, tears running down her face.
“Hey, don’t cry. Take all the time and space you need. I’ll be here. I love you,” I say calmly, hiding my despair.
She wipes under her eyes. “I love you too. I’ll call you soon.”
I end our call numbly, drop my phone and shed a few tears of my own. I’m secure enough in my manhood to share that with you. It’s silly to think that men shouldn’t cry. Showing real fucking emotion is something we should all be encouraged to do. I understand the irony of this statement since I get uncomfortable when people cry. It’s not that I’m against crying. I just don’t know what the fuck to do in most situations when a person is doing it in front of me.
I resist the urge to call my mom and instead take a drive. Say what you want about it but I head south. Mikey wanted space, and fuck it I’m giving her even more today. I drive along the coast through Pacifica, the Devil’s slide tunnel and end up stopping at the Half Moon Bay Brewing Company for a beer and some fish tacos. I sit outside next to a fire pit enjoying a stout, making a really bad attempt at ignoring my thoughts.
After I eat and finish my beer, I hop back in the El Camino and drive straight to Joe’s house in Bernal Heights. He inherited the small victorian from his parents years ago and has crafted it into a paradise for him and his brother, Jack. He had to accept responsibility at a young age, stepping up to raise his six-year-old brother at 21. His parents ran a renovation company and Joe sold it but worked there and learned as much as he could about renovation a
nd restoration and opened his own business eventually. He is a complete idiot in social situations but he has talent and has made good business decisions so his company is successful.
Jack answers the door. “Hey Frank, you look like shit,” he says and I laugh.
“I’m sure I do, Jack,” I respond. “Your brother here?”
He nods and lets me in. “He’s out back with Betsy.”
“Betsy?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s staying with us for a few weeks. Very cool lady, way too cool for him.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the sliding door to the yard.
When I open the door, Joe and a beautiful woman with lavender hair covered in floral tattoos turn to me. Joe is smiling and Betsy, I presume, is standing with her arms folded and an unfortunate frown on her face.
“Fucking Frank!” he shouts, a little too enthusiastically.
“Just Joe!” I shout back and now he has a frown.
“Not cool, asshole,” he says in a low voice. “Frank, this is Betsy, my best friend.”
The lovely woman walks to me and offers her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says then pivots to face Joe. “Hold your horses on the BFF nonsense. I’m not even sure I want to be acquainted with you.”
“You wound me, Bets.” He holds his heart. “We can keep it all on the DL since Frank here probably thinks he’s my bestie anyway.”
I take a deep breath to keep from killing him. “I’m sorry to barge in, but can I talk to you?”
“I’ll be in my room,” Betsy says and escapes inside.
Joe throws his hands up in frustration. “Ugh, she’s impossible. How did I find the perfect woman for me only for her to shove me into the friend area?”
“You mean the ‘friend zone?’” I ask.
“I’m reclaiming it, taking back the saying. I’m in the area but I’ll be working my way into the more than friends region soon enough.” He runs his hands through his hair. I haven’t seen him like this in a while.
I rub my hands together. “Little Joe has a girlfriend? One that doesn’t like him back?”
“Oh yeah, live it up Mr. Unrequited. For once a woman finds me unfuckable, it’s a miracle.”
“For once? I’d love some of the drugs you’re taking here in the delusion area. I’m beyond entertained by you finally liking someone. It’s been a while.”
“Forget about her, why are you here and even more broody than normal?” he asks.
“Well, Mikey took her parents offer and then I’m pretty sure she broke up with me this morning,”
“What? Other Frank broke up with you? Are you sure?”
“She said she needed time and space from me. Sounds like a blow off to me,” I say and know this from experience.
He grimaces. “Shit, Frank, I’m sorry.” I duck when he comes at me for a hug. “Aw, c’mon, Frank. Let Joe comfort you.”
“I make it a rule never to accept hugs from people who refer to themselves in the third person. I just want a beer and to vent.”
He gets up, grabs two beers from behind the outside bar and hands me one. “Vent away, my friend.”
I do, and Joe is actually helpful. He gets me drunk after making me feel better, feeds me pizza and lets me pass out in his living room since Betsy is in the guest room. Getting to know her a little bit lifts my spirits. She’s funny, smart, and way too good for the likes of Joe. I can tell she really likes him though and it’s nice to see someone push back on his constant bullshit. She was also helpful as an outsider to give some perspective on my situation with Mikey. She also confiscated my phone after she caught me drunk texting. Not a proud moment for me.
I wake up the next morning to Jack singing a German drinking song in the kitchen. I have coffee and some Kix with him and head out feeling a lot better, if not a little hung over.
When I get home, I send Mikey a text.
Frank: I’m sorry for the texts last night. Joe got me drunk.
Frank: I’m not sorry that I’m in love with you and want to do whatever I can to be with you. Even if that means letting you have space.
Frank: All I ask is that you don’t give up on us.
Mikey: Drunken texts forgiven. Thank you for the space.
That’s all she sends and I have to accept it.
F*cking What?
IT’S BEEN A MONTH, A long fucking month. In that month we’ve recorded our song and have started our coastal tour. Fortunately, the tour is only three nights a week so we can drive or fly to these places and then end up home for a few days. Our first stops were San Diego, Laguna Beach, and L.A. We flew to San Diego then rented a van to drive us to the other venues then we flew out of LAX, otherwise known as the depths of hell.
The tour has been fun and distracting. We ended up recording Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now and it was very well received. We made a video and it’s the highest viewed on their channel so that’s something I guess. Lia told me not to read the comments because they were super pervy about me and Joe. Of course, Joe and I read them and although some were complimentary, some were a little much. Joe loved them all, of course.
I’ve kept my promise and not reached out to Mikey. She’s texted me a few times sending random facts about wine or a picture of what she’s wearing that day hoping we match. We match every time. I refuse to answer her though, it’s too hard for me. I’ve been helping my mom more at the store and last week she dropped the bomb that she wants to buy my father’s share out. I also met her new partner (as she calls him), Hal. He is an urban farmer and is one of the store’s suppliers. He also has a permanent store in the Ferry Building on the Embarcadero. He seems nice and really seems to like my mom. I could have done without her talking about his eggplant and zucchini but I’m used to it.
The band just got back yesterday from Portland, where we sold out two shows at a small club. It’s Thursday and we are at Ireland’s 32 tonight for our regular gig. It feels good to be somewhere familiar where we are regulars. We decide to do only requests tonight and I’m happy for the challenge. Feels like our time in Sonoma and makes me miss Mikey, but I like the feeling. I will miss her whenever she’s not with me. It sharpens my decision to stop giving her space. Joe and I plan to drive to the Monkey tomorrow. Joe wants to bring Jack so he can see where we spent our summer. Secretly I think he wants to get away from Betsy. He told me she’s been walking around the house in tank tops with no bra and he can’t handle it.
So, yeah, space is done, I can’t wait to see her anymore. My mom helped me with my speech to convince her to be with me. I’m ready to do what it takes. I’ll move there and commute hours to work and not blink an eye if that’s what she wants. Or I’ll stay in San Francisco and commute to her every free minute I have.
With Lia’s help, I recorded a song I wrote for Mikey, hoping that will help my case. It’s called Separated at Birth and it’s funny. Lia had a hard time getting through it when we were recording. She was surprised I wrote something so upbeat and optimistic. That’s how I feel about Mikey though. I refuse to wallow because she brings me joy, even if we are apart. I know, what the fuck, Frank? It’s gross, I agree, but I’m a changed man. I mean, not 100% changed, don’t get nuts. I still won’t ever pay for a parking spot, or put up with idiots.
Once we set up, Lia announces to the crowd that we’ve been touring and are happy to be here at one of our regular spots. “Tonight, we want to try something that was successful at our summer gig,” she addresses the crowd, holding her small but rounded belly. “We want to play your requests. There’s a list of all of the songs we know at either side of the bar so check them out, make a choice and throw it in this bucket.” She points to a large metal bucket next to her mic. “We will start with a few of our favorites and then add yours as the night goes on.”
The crowd makes a lot of positive noise and a few people head to the lists at the bar. We play Wicked Game, Mrs. Robinson, and Nothing Else Matters. While we play I see a few papers flutter into the bucket. I’m only paying attention to my i
nstrument, not the crowd. Lately, I’ve had no interest in interacting much to Lia’s dismay. According to her, she needs her hot boys to work the crowd, that it’s all a part of our image. I told her my image has always been an aloof ass, and have had no complaints.
Most of the time I play, I close my eyes anyway. I like to visualize what’s coming next and to enjoy the art of playing. The request bucket is filling up fast, again, I’m not really paying attention but the bucket is on my side so I catch the movement whenever someone puts a paper in. We finish up our rendition of Sia’s Fire Meet Gasoline and I vaguely hear Lia tell the crowd it’s time for one of their choices.
“Why don’t we have our sexy tall drink of water, Fucking Frank, pick from the bucket?” Lia asks and the crowd goes wild. I roll my eyes as she brings the bucket over to me. Funny, there’s only one piece of paper when I could swear I saw several being put in there. I give Lia a questioning look and she shrugs.
I take the paper out and unfold it. I reread the text a few times. It reads: Play Separated at Birth you sexy mother fucker.
I look up at Lia and she is smiling, her thumb pointed to the crowd. I follow her thumb and see the most beautiful sight. My Mikey standing front and center, smirking at me. I give her a little wave, put the paper in my pocket and start playing the opening strum of our song. I’m not exactly sure what’s happening but I have good feelings. I hold Mikey’s eyes and barely blink as the rest of the band jumps in and Lia starts to sing.
“You ripped your way into existence
As I waltzed in
Your scream accompanied by my silence
We were together in side by side bins
Like unmatched twins
Separated at birth
Our time on Earth
Back together again
My lover, my world, my friend
Separated at birth
Our time on Earth
Some call it fate
Our fashion sense innate
You fell back into my lap
Creating your potions while I nap