A Lament for Frank

“What…what happened? What‘s wrong?”
Lenore’s question was simple. He wasn’t breathing. Frank, he was dead. A clang of wood and strings rang in the room as her violin fell from her hand. Sudden fear, sadness, guilt, all of it rushed over her . Lenore screamed as she lunged to the bed to grab his hand and knocked the bed side table over.  The bottle of anti-depressants spilled onto the floor.
“Frank! Don’t do this to me! How could you just… like that!?”
He did look so peaceful in his bed, like nothing had happened. His hair framed his pale face, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, loosely wrapped in his grey and white sheets; he looked serene. A very beautiful reflection of life.  If it wasn’t for the shouting and crying, it would have been perfect.
“What happened Frank? How did this happ- I love you Uncle Frank!” she sobbed grasping his hand tighter, “Frank? What did I do?”  She was supposed to be watching him. Suppose to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.  Take care of him. But maybe it was a matter of time. He was so sad; his illness had bothered him for so long.  He had trusted her, the entire family had trusted her to help him.  She was the only one he would talk to; the only one smart enough to “get him”.  He seemed to be doing better. How could she not see it? He’s dead now.
The second shock of realization of what had just happened made her jolt out of the room, stumbling out the door and down the hall.  She grabbed the phone and smashed the buttons for help.  The phone rang once. She knew she should have seen it coming. The phone rang a second time. He told her himself he wanted to die. The phone rang again. But he was a coward. He said so himself.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“My uncle! Please help!”


*****************************************


Lenore opened the front door of the big house and slowly took a step inside the open room; her shoes quietly tapped the floor as the leather carrying case rattled softly in her hand. It seemed her very presence was a disturbance. The House was lit with the bright orange evening light; reddened even more by the autumn leaves from the maple outside.  She could remember how quiet the house was when Frank first left.  Not a single ‘good morning‘, rarely a phone call, not a song played together.  
It didn’t seem possible, but the house became more quiet when Frank returned, but he never made a sound when others were around. He never got out of bed. Most of the house reflected as much. There was no need for most of the rooms. Most of the things were covered with dust if they wasn’t already covered with sheets. Half the light bulbs were burnt out and the plants were long dead from neglect.
Lenore slowly walked across the floor of the main entrance, stopping only to place her hand on the old baby grand piano covered with one of the sheets in the middle of the room. A moment’s pause only to remember what this home used to be like before placing her case down and heading upstairs.
“Hi Uncle Frank!” Lenore said with a cheery smile as she walked into his grey room, “Just got off of practice. I hope you’ve been feeling well.”
“I feel enough,” He said somberly as he shuffled in his bed to sit up. Lenore was disappointed. He was the same as he had been for a while: bed ridden. “You know, you’re the only person I’m gonna’ sit up for.” He was only 32 but he was so pale. His eyes were  dark  sunken in. He looked old, too old for his age. In fact it looked like the youth in him was rotting away from his flesh to his insides.
“Uncle Frank, you really should at least get up and do something—anything really.  Just get outside and look at the sun; it will make you feel better.”  Frank rolled his eyes.
“Look at the sun? I’ll burn my eyes out…”
“You know what I meant,” Lenore pulled up the whicker rocking chair. She knew it was too much to ask, he wouldn‘t even play with her anymore. “Everyone’s glad you’re talking again…I know it’s been hard…” It was tense. Even Lenore’s cheery and calm voice in an attempted conversation couldn’t completely dispel it.
“Hard?” he said, “that’s a little bit of an understatement ,” he sounded groggy, perhaps to be expected since he was in bed all day, “besides those other psychopaths we call “family” have nothing to offer but condolences. Tch… they are wasting their time on me.”
“You know they mean well.  They love you. What else can they do, really? They can’t give you another leg.” Lenore instantly knew she shouldn’t have said that. She quickly changed the subject.  
“Grandma wants to come up to visit you.”
“That old bat finally wants to leave that grand resort she lives in to see her son… she shouldn‘t waste her time,” his arms crossed, “that lady hasn’t actually looked me in the face since I got off that plane with my leg missing,” He made a sarcastic smirk as he crossed his eyes to imitate his mother, “‘I still love you Frankie, now I’m going back to my condo to have the life I always wanted when I was young; while you, rotting away, deal with the trauma of an amputation,’ she’s better off with out me. I don‘t really want her pity.”
“Uncle Frank…” Lenore interjected, “Everyone still wants to talk to you. Why won’t you say anything to them?” There was no need for Frank to go on like that. He was a great man. She knew he was.
“Why?” He closed his eyes, “Len, people change…and I’m a coward. I’m the biggest coward you will ever meet, and I just can’t trust everyone to understand that. I don’t even talk the same way. I‘m worthless.”
“Frank, how can you say that. You aren’t a coward. You aren’t worth--”
“Besides, no one cares about anything-- or anyone other than themselves.”
“Is that what this is all really about, people not caring?  You’re wrong. We still care about you.”
“It’s true, it really is. Maybe you haven’t been alive long enough to know. No one cares. No one should.”
“What are you saying?  The world hasn‘t stopped“
“I know. So I stay here in my bed. I don’t want to be in people’s way. I don’t want to screw up again.”
“Uncle Frank, not everyone is selfish, that’s why people want you to get out and be yourself aga-“
“They just want that so they don’t have to come in here and take care of me anymore… I never asked them to anyway. I never asked you to come--”
“Frank, I come because I want you to be your old self again.”
“My old self was just as selfish, not to mention really stupid …I don’t want to be that bastard again,” he spoke as if he was ashamed of himself, “ I was a nothing…I did nothing. I am a damn, selfish, cowardly idiot,”
“How can you say that? Remember? You did something,--we used to play together! You and me! You would play the piano and sing, and I would play my violin. And mom, she would listen to us and write us lyrics to play. Why don’t we do that anymore?”  
“No Len. I can’t”
“But why?! I know you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Yes I do. We played music together. How could you not know a person better?”
She missed it. She missed the times she would come over to learn how to play the piano. It was quite a long time ago before he volunteered. Four or five years maybe.  After school she would go to his house for lessons. She remembered how impressed he was when she picked it up so quickly. But it wasn’t the first musical instrument. After the lesson she would pick up her violin and they would play together until her mom would pick her up. They were such beautiful melodies, every single one seemed to be a new Lullaby for the day as they played into the night. And Uncle Frank had such a wonderful voice…
Frank sighed, “No, Len, I don’t think so.” Music was the last thing on his mind; “no” was the last thing Lenore wanted to hear. “I just can’t.”
“You…you can’t. Frank, I got a call from Sis the other day, she said you were walking around,”.
“She’s been here? Why? What did I ever do for her?” Frank didn’t seem to understand.
“She said you actually stood up and--”
“I’m pretty sure I have yet to leave this room,” Frank interrupted. His eyes were intense, like he was trying to hypnotize her. Lenore carefully continued.
“…and, she said that you went on you crutches to the kitchen. She said that you went to the kitchen, grabbed your medicine, shook the bottle and the took some of them. Like she wasn’t there and you were taking care of yourself.” Lenore sounded optimistic went she spoke, holding on to hope that at the time he had the will to stand and be his old self.  His eyes softened.
“I don’t remember any of that Len.“ His eyes unfocussed; a wave of sadness and regret crossed his face.
“Len, listen to me. Len. Have I ever told you about the war?”  Lenore didn‘t know what to say. She never wanted Frank to volunteer in the first place.  As she recalled, he volunteered to be a SEAL, to get right into the “interesting action”.  While he was away, he would send letters back all the time, telling the family of the hard training, all the amazing places, and all the interesting people. But that didn’t stop Lenore for fearing for him and their music. That was a long time ago. The fear wasn’t misplaced. When Frank returned, he didn’t have a left leg anymore. She hated everything about the war.  It seemed it only broke the souls of good men and accomplished nothing.  Frank was proof of that.
“Len? Are you listening?” She snapped her eyes up.
“No, no you haven’t. You‘ve never said a thing to me.”
“I haven’t said a thing, because I knew you wouldn’t like it,” Frank smirked a little, “I know… you’ve been protesting the war lately,” Lenore was taken by surprise by this. She was too afraid to offend him, and make him feel bad for volunteering.
“How do you know that?”
“Well just because I don’t talk to anyone else doesn’t mean they stop yappin’ back, or I stop listening” he suddenly seemed more awake , “ and how old do you think I am, I was going to my first homecoming dance when you were born. I haven’t completely forgotten how young adults think and act.” He acted almost insulted but Lenore couldn’t help but snicker a little.
“Uncle Frank, you don’t have to tell me…”
“I’m telling you whether you like it or not,” Frank leaned his head back, “I need to tell someone anyway.” Lenore wasn’t about to deny him.
“Did you know that the last mission I was in, the one where I lost my leg. Yeah—did you know every man involved was given two Cyanide pills?” Frank paused, “They were these really big light green ones. One for themselves and another for, well, just in case.” Lenore was horrified. He continued, “ We all knew very sensitive information. Top brass really wanted to make sure the enemy didn’t find out.” Lenore remained terrified. He must have been making it up; no one could have been in a situation that would require that kind or action.
“Don‘t be so afraid. Just listen .” She lost eye contact in a slight shame, but Frank didn’t stop a beat, “My buddy, Lucas, and I were to infiltrate and enemy base. We got in just fine. Had an informant inside.” He had never seemed more awake. His eyes scanned the ground, like he was actually looking for something. “It went way too well at first. We should have known better,” he stopped, his eyes unfocused.  Lenore could see the thought in his face. He was choosing his words carefully.
“Uncle Frank? Are you ok?” His attention suddenly snapped back.
“Well, long story short, we were caught, and I was shot in the leg. I managed to escape for a time, but I knew that they would catch up to me. And Lucas…oh God Lucas, I -- I should have gone back for him,” his voice sounded frail, like was going to break at any second.
“Uncle Frank, you can stop, you don‘t have to tell me--,”
“They all said he was MIA and presumed dead…god I hope that’s true, I saw him shot but.” His voice had become so weak. He stopped and stared at his hands and rhythmically clenched them. “I should have stayed with him,” he confessed, “and if I was any sort of man I would have died with him than run away.” he started to rub his eyes; cover his face.

“I’m a coward, Len!”

He was trying, trying so hard to make her understand. “I should have swallowed one of those pills and died with him then.” He let go of her hand and sat back in his bed. “But I’m too afraid. I’m too afraid even now, when I’m in a living hell.”
Lenore was speechless…She finally understood why he didn’t want to stand up. Why he couldn’t be his old self. Why his life was in so much trouble.  Things could never be the same. Too much had happened. His old self had failed his friend, and could quite possible fail everyone else…even her.  
“Uncle Frank…” she still could not think of anything to say.
“…Don’t worry about it Len, you don’t have to say anything.”
Lenore was struggling with herself. Frank could tell. Both knew the old days were gone but Lenore wanted the days when they played. But she also wanted Frank to feel better and be happy but she also wanted him to play is baby grand.  She was ashamed; she was still thinking of herself.
“Hun? I’m sorry… I should ha--”
“No, Uncle Frank, it’s fine,” she smiled, “I want you to feel better, and if talking about these hard things will help, then I’ll listen to every story you have to tell.”
She looked at the clock, it was time for Frank’s evening medicine.  She slowly got up.
“I think this is the first step. I think you’re are getting better Uncle Frank.” She smiled wide as she stepped to the door.
“Yeah, I think so too.”

A few minuets later, Lenore came back up the stairs with Frank’s bottle of anti-depressants and water.  She still struggled with herself. She knew it would be a long time before Frank would be even close to his old self. She didn’t even know if he ever wanted to play again.
“Great. My crazy pills are here.”
“Here you go Frank. I hope they help you.”
“Yeah,” he said sarcastically as he shook the bottle.
“Rolling for that lucky number?”  He grabbed the glass of water, “they’ll make you feel better  Frank.”
“ You know Len, you still play your violin right?” The very question startled her.
“Huh? Oh yeah,” she smiled with a glimmer in her eye, she had been waiting for a conversation like this for a long time, “been playing the piano too.“
Frank smirked, “That’s my girl. Doing anything special with it lately?”  
“Well I’m going to play both the piano and the violin in a concert tomorrow,”
“Really?! Did you bring your violin with you? I would love to hear you play. I haven’t heard one of our songs in a while.” Lenore had never been so excited.
“You want to come down stairs with me? Maybe we could play together?” She hoped she wasn’t asking too much. She felt selfish, but she wanted it so bad.
“I can’t Len.”  Just as she thought, “but I can hum with you. Will that be ok?”  She smiled. It was a start.
“Yeah. Of course it’s fine. My violin is down stairs, I can go get it.”
“Great, I’ll take my Crazy pills and then…” he trailed with a smile as cranked the lid off the bottle.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” she said as she turned to the door, while Frank shook the pills from the bottle into his hand . Lenore almost skipped down the hall to the stair case. And as quickly as she was down stairs, she shot back up them and quickly back to Frank‘s room, leather case in hand.
“I’m back,” she greeted with a cheery voice, placing the case on the ground and unlocking the clasp.
“My god…it’s been so long since I’ve heard you play. I hope you’ve gotten better,” he teased. It was almost like he was normal.
“So do you want to hear something from the show?” Lenore asked. Frank paused to think for a moment.
“No….no I don’t think so, play one of our songs. Our lullaby song-- the one you wrote,” he smiled, “yeah… I want to hear that one.”
“But you said that song was so sad, why would you want to hear it?” Lenore asked as she lifted the violin and bow from the case.
“Just because it’s sad doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful, “ he said as he shifted in bed for comfort, “now play for me.” Lenore lifted her instrument to her shoulder, and positioned her bow on the strings.
“Ok, if you want. Here we go.”

The first clear notes of the verse sung from her strings as she began to play the bittersweet song. The rhythm swung back and forth as if to rock the listener to sleep. Frank closed his eyes and swayed with the beat. Lenore entered the simple chorus; even sweeter notes poured from the strings, and as the chorus began, Frank began to hum along. Frank remembered. He remembered her song and he did the closes thing he could to singing it him self. A smile graced his face, now looking more youthful.
Lenore closed her eyes and entered the second verse as Franks humming died off and he let out a sigh as he laid back further in his bed to listen to the rest of the song, a slight smile still on his face. She could feel it. She could feel her song reaching him and pulling him back. She knew it; she could help him with this.  
She entered into the chorus again, waiting for Frank’s voice to ring in again…but it didn’t come. She couldn’t hear it. She opened her eyes. He wasn’t moving. She stopped playing.
“Frank?” He didn’t respond.
“What…what happened? What‘s wrong?”
Lenore’s question was simple. He wasn’t breathing. Frank, he was dead. A clang of wood and strings rang in the room as her violin fell from her hand. Sudden fear, sadness, guilt, all of it rushed over her . Lenore screamed as she lunged to the bed to grab his hand and knocked the bed side table over.  The bottle of anti-depressants spilled onto the floor.
“Frank! Don’t do this to me! How could you just… like that!?”
He did look so peaceful in his bed, like nothing had happened. His hair framed his pale face, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, loosely wrapped in his grey and white sheets; he looked serene. A very beautiful reflection of life.  If it wasn’t for the shouting and crying, it would have been perfect.
“What happened Frank? How did this happ-
she stopped.  She looked across the floor. All the white pills that were scattered across it. And then she noticed one. It wasn’t white. It was light green.

*****************************************

Lenore hung up the phone. The ambulance would be there any time. Maybe they had some sort of remedy for the poison, but she knew it was already too late.  He had it planned too well. He couldn’t take the cyanide just like that and take his life. She knew, if he could, he would have done it already. So he left it up to chance.  Mixed them in with his medicine. He knew. he knew one day soon he was going to die
She couldn‘t control the tears. He died listening to her play. He knew he was going to die, and so he chose to go out by song--her song. She wished she could have helped him more. She walked quietly back to the room to see Frank one more time. It was almost like he was frozen in a moment; the happiest he had ever been in a long time. Lenore could hear the sirens in the distance: it was time to say good bye. She leaned down to pick up her violin,  brought the instrument to her shoulder, the bow to the strings and began to finish the song. But it wasn’t her song any more-- it was his. And for the last time she wished that they could have played together again.