Chapter Text
- Premonitions
Francis “Frank” Delfino : Cha lie Weber
Laurel Castillo – Delfino : Karla Souza
Our story begins on December 7, 1941, we find Frank and his wife Laurel residing in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jK7-iqbpAg He is a structural engineer employed by the DuPont Chemical Corporation; Laurel is a secretary and intern architect at Palmer & Lamdin a prominent Philadelphia architecture firm.
Unknown to them the Naval and Army Air Corps bases at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii is being attacked by the Japanese Imperial Navy at 7:55 am. - 1:55 p.m. Philadelphia time. We find them at their old small but comfortable townhouse.
It is a cold, sunny day with snow gripping the East Coast. A typical Sunday afternoon is unfolding for newly married couple, church programs lie on the table in the hallway, lunch has been served, Laurel is cleaning up the kitchen listening to the radio and Frank is drunk on the couch listening to records, enjoying the cold and windy Sunday afternoon in their comfort victorian brownstone in Rittenhouse Square when Laurel begins to scream.
"WFRANK! FRANK! DAMN IT WAKE UP!" She shakes Frank from his stupor knocking the highball glass of whiskey and coke off his stomach and it spills all over him and the couch, "DAMN IT FRANK! It's the end of the world! And you're DRUNK!" Laurel is in a panic that he has never seen before, he yells back, grabbing her arms, "WHAT,?? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??????."
She grabs the needle from the record that has been automatically replaying time and time again the annoyingly catchy Glenn Miller song Chattanooga Choo Choo ((((( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2aj0zhXlLA )))),
"HEY! my record." She grabbed the fragile 78rpm record from its turntable and broke it,
"WHAT THE HELL LAUREL?" Yelled Frank.
"IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD FRANK!"
"STOP IT LAUREL WHAT'S WRONG?"
He stood there with the smell of whiskey in the air looking at her. He could read the disaster that she was all too aware of. Tears were rolling out of her eyes as she had not stopped to wipe them away with her apron. In his mind he knew, it had begun. He had been preparing for this moment for years, this was it, it had finally started. The only question was where....where had the attack happened?
"DAMN IT FRANK! YOU DAMN DRUNK."
Laurel kneed in front of the big console radio and turned on the set. The warm hum of the vacuum tube radio came to life and filled the air of the room. As the radio warmed up and the dial lit up over the static airwaves they heard an announcement https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZbKLkJymyQE .
"OH MY GOD! MY GOD! MY GOD!" Frank kept repeating as his mind raced between the liquor and the shock. "THE JAPS!!!!!! WHY THE JAPS????... WHAT DID WE DO?????? PEARL HARBOR???? THEY SANK THE WHOLE DAMN PACIFIC FLEET! HOLY SHIT!"
He sidestepped her and went to the opened bar cabinet, produced two high ball glasses and poured straight Old Forester Whisky in both. He handed one to Laurel, she sipped it then took a gulp. He kneeled beside her and tried to hold her but he she scooted away, attached to the speaker of the radio set as the announcer in a soft and staticky AM tone told of the overwhelming destruction, catastrophic death and then impending war to come.
Laurel fell against the soft cloth covering the speaker weeping as Frank held her, stroking her hair.."It’s ok, it’s ok." he kept repeating.
Laurel sobbed, "No Frank, this time there is nothing you can do you can't fix this. They will take you and my brothers away you're all going to die, we're all going to die."
Frank was a bit surprised at the fatalistic view of the situation that was some 4000 miles away in the Pacific Ocean. The radio announcer called for all Civil Defense staff to report immediately to assigned areas in Philadelphia as an air raid or attack might be imminent. She looked at Frank holding her glass.
"I won't go yet,...not till you're OK." She laid her head on his shirt sleeve and felt of his silk tie and whispered, "You have to go."
CHAPTER II
Frank was a volunteer Civil Defense Air Raid Warden for their neighborhood in Baltimore. He thought of the mass bombings by the Nazis in London last year and this past spring. Newsreels, magazines, and classified photos at the DuPont plant showing the carnage played in Frank's mind. The broken buildings, people running, children being evacuated to the English countryside. Even there the Nazis were attacking, no place was safe. He imagined their own tightly built neighborhood ablaze rocked by the concussion wave of 5000-pound blockbuster bombs.
Frank reach up and turned the radio off, turned the record player on, lifted the needle to the record under the one she had broken, as the sound s*
o play
"I'm going nowhere yet till I know you ok." Laurel continued to weep as the depth of the situation began to mount.
"Maybe this is a hoax,..like War of The World's."
"Oh for God's sakes Frank who would do a thing like that again."...
"Let's just check," Frank said in a soothing tone. He reached up and turned the radio back on. Again the hum of the radio filled the air and he began to move the dial. Station after station was reporting the same attack. It was real; it was not a radio play. This time there were no Martians no Orson Welles, this was it.
Frank reach back up and turned it off. "I’m sorry." he said as he pressed his face to her neck,.."I’m so damn sorry." Laurel weep uncontrollably,... Frank said in a whisper, " We'll get through this it will be ok, I will help fix this."
In a look of disgust she said, "For God's sakes Frank, you're not God or President Roosevelt. You're an engineer!"
"I will help.", he quipped. "FRANK not yet!" she replied. He pulled a small black and chrome cigarette case and a chrome zippo lighter from his vest pocket and lit two cigarettes. "Here," he said, as the smoke drifted in the air of the living room. She looked up at him with both cigarettes in his mouth a cloud of smoke encircling him. "My God Frank, you look like a chimney." "Just take it, Life magazine says menthols make you breathe better." She took a long drag and blew the smoke out of her nose.
"I'm gonna go out and kill them all!", he said with his teeth clenched. "Stop it Frank just STOP THIS"
Laurel looked around in a daze and said, "I need an ashtray." Frank laughed. "Today we can use the rug as an ashtray." as he flicked his cigarette. She then buried her head into his chest, putting her hand on his face and gently felt of his beard, and fell limp as though she was drunk. He was truly disturbed to see her this way.
CHAPTER III EDIT ALL OF THIS IT MAKES NO SENSE!
Laurel was not easily shaken. This is what had drawn him to her when they met at Yale in the fall of 1939. Frank was a guest lecture on industrial engineering to a senior level architecture course. He had done it just to make a few extra bucks and try to finish the requirements for his engineer’s license.
Laurel was a senior in the class he was instructing; the attraction to her was instant. Though it did not seem that way at first. He remembered the first time he saw her on that warm September day in the old Gothic inspired Street Hall at Yale. In the church like interior, she entered the high fan vaulted ceiling drafting studio with its pointed Gothic windows. She was the first person there and to Frank’s amazement a woman! A beautiful woman!
Black hair parted on the right and pulled back. Wide eyebrows. A strong face like Greta Garbo and Katharine Hepburn. She wore a white and blue polka dot collarless blouse opened at the top, no necklace, a tan wrap-around-skirt that hit at her knees, with a pencil thin brown belt that matched her brown and white wedge heels. A small brimmed tan hat sat cocked on her head. She looked like the cover of Harper’s Bazaar he thought.
She sat down middle area of the large drafting studio next to the windows. And said nothing to him
"Hello.", he said. As she looked around the room, ignoring him as she removing her hat.
"You must be",..checking his grade-book. "Laura Bet-a-court?"
"Laurel,... Laurel Castillo" She stated in a machine like way.
"As in Castillo Cuban cigars and pipe tobacco?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.
"Yes." She did not elaborate.
OH! Frank thought to himself; she was cold and immediately began to dislike her. (Bitch he thought). He smiled big, trying to turn the charm on. "I’m Fra"…she cut him off,… "Mr. Walker. The DuPont Engineer. We know."
"Yes, yes I am,…"
"We’ve heard about you from Dr. Miller. You design nylon stocking and paint plants."
Defensibly Frank said, "And ammunition and bomb plants, and houses, and department stores and airports, and….."
She stopped him,.."I get it."
"And you have worked for? " He asked. Expecting some no name local architect that had hired her cause she was pretty.
"Freshmen and sophomore years, Wallace K. Harrison this summer Walter Gropius and Marcel Breuer."
"OH OH….I get it." Frank felt outclassed. At 22 she had worked for the some of the most important architects in the world next to Frank Lloyd Wright. The door opened and in poured a raft of students all men yelling and screaming, LAUREL!!!!! She had their respect. It was intimidating.
After a few late night drafting table discussions and smoke breaks. Frank felt like he had her figured out. Rich spoiled Boston debutant and above all a quick wit that came off to her male counterparts as flirtatiously rude.
CHAPTER 4
Her parents wanted her married and not to be in college. She had coerced them into allowing her to attend Yale on the premise of becoming an accountant for her father’s tobacco company. However, she had actually enrolled herself in the College of Fine Arts to study architecture. After this discovery, they had “cut her off”. But let her keep her graduation present, an extravagant white 1937 Packard 12 convertible roadster, that Frank ridiculed her for “needing an extra parkin' spot”.
However, she was doing this all on her own and in a “man’s” profession. She was not scared to fight and fought with Frank in heated discussions at critiques that drew everybody’s attention. They seemed to detest each other. It became so intense that Frank got in the habit of prepping little caustic wisecracks before she could even get started on him.
She constantly critiqued him. “He obviously spends too much time reading Esquire.” “He is too well dressed, always three piece suits, occasionally loud ties, polished wingtip shoes, hats, that ridiculous car, and a beard! Only symphony conductors, philosophy professors and hobos have beards.” “He is more interested in looking like an athlete than an architect.” “And that T square tucked under his arm when he arrives in the studio! Who does he think he is? Frank Lloyd Wright? "– He had got his point across. She had noticed him.
The more they fought the more intrigued Frank got. It was like a completion. Many times after class he just sat in his car ready to beat his head on the steering wheel, wishing he could make her go away. He knew any resistance was futile after one day in the studio when she came up behind him as he was working on a steel beam detail with a student.
"That’s wrong," she said. "Don’t you know how to do that?"
In an irritated voice, he responded back, "I know how to do this, and don’t talk to me like I’m five." He looked at her like she was crazy.
She pushed between him and a fellow classmate and erased a portion of the drawing.
"You forgot the hole in the beam for the men to guide it in place. And you need a bracket for it to rest on as it's being riveted. That’s how you do it." After she corrected the drawing she promptly left the studio.
Frank felt that old stomach-churning feeling of falling in love; with somebody, he did not really know, but this time he liked it.
This was his equal, the part that he was missing. He has tried before and no one had fit the bill. She was everything. Deadly quick wit, unyieldingly intelligent, with the looks of Katharine Hepburn and the will of Eleanor Roosevelt. He had to have her.
Off the bat, there was obstacles, a 10 year age difference and she was engaged. The wedding was scheduled after graduation in June of 1940. This, however, didn't stop Frank. As he would say, "boyfriends are speed bumps, not stop signs.” Thoughts of “mild life crisis” were in his mind but soon dismissed the more they fought in class. She seemed to be able to avoid everything that he could do to charm her. “She’s a refrigerator in a skirt n’ hat.” Also, Yale strictly forbade student-instructor dating. It meant immediate termination. Frank didn’t care, he had a job at DuPont, and with his feelings for Laurel, this job was now just for fun.
CHAPTER 5
With all of this in mind, late one evening he “accidentally” ran across her at the Sterling Library in the near empty lavish Linonia and Brothers Reading Room studying with a thick copy of architectural graphic standards.
"Working late?" He asked and smiled. He held copies of Life, The Architectural Forum and Esquire,…she grabbed them,..and said,…"Though so, real deep reading."
"I didn’t see any books of Shakespeare or Ayn Rand laying around." he said smiling at her.
There he was, again, that man. Overbearing and over dressed in a brown and black houndstooth suit with a dark blue vest, did any of his suits match? She thought as she continued her critique. Starched white shirt, as usual, paisley tie of autumn colors, light brown wingtips mirror polished and grey small brimmed wool hat in his hand. "Did the Duke of Windsor have a yard? "she smartly asked.
"Don’t you think he’s handsome and romantic?" Frank responded.
"I think he’s a fool for marrying that Simpson woman and a coward for abdicating and not being their King."
Frank though – God,… is there anything in the world she’s missed? He was quiet then asked. "Do you think there will be a war with Hitler?"
"Who are you, Walter Winchell? Just go away." She begged looking at him.
She was having trouble concentrating on the fight. It was the same feeling she got every time she saw him. Like all she wanted to do was run her hands in that vest of his and get a good feel. Maybe even run her tongue over that beard he thought was so cool. Find out if he was a big wheel or just a hub cap.
"Well?" he ask. "WAR?"
"No I think Chamberlain will stop him, so will the French. I hate war. It’s ridiculous. Just give Hitler what he wants. Don’t fight him all he wants is war don’t give that to him."
"Wish I could see it your way." He said.
They sat there just looking at each other. The lights of the library flashed on and off signifying the end of the day for the staff. It was midnight.
"Well, I’ve got to go." She stood up quickly and gathered he things.
"What about your book?" Ask Frank.
"It’s the libraries. You can’t check it out. It's reference material." She said smugly.
Frank looked around at the empty room and slid the book in his briefcase with the magazines. "We’ll bring it back; after all, I’m a teacher."
She smiled, "You’re just an adjunct, not a real professor."
He looked at her and smiled at the overtly rude comment, "Shall we go, or do you want to get locked in here with me?"
"Not with you." She quickly replied but was thinking about how much fun it might be to get him on one of the big library tables.
"I have your book." he said following her.
"I don’t need it."
They walked out of the reading room together and into the massive narthex of the libraries Gothic cathedral like interior and out into the cool October evening to her car.
"Say, don’t you have a coat?"
"No, I sold it." She said with a proud note.
"Here." he placed his overcoat on her shoulders.
She shrugged but then settled into it and said, "Don’t do that, I’m OK, I don’t need it."
"Your teeth are chattering,… drop it by my place in the morning, no one has to know." He was silent enjoying just being near her and out of the atmosphere of the architecture studio. "May I walk you to your car? She glared at him. "You can’t miss it," he said in a whisper.
"You don’t drive a Model T either, that car of yours, a Cord, you're gonna have to get rid of it. They went out business last year you know."
"I know I just like the car." He said.
"It’s a silly car." she stopped walking and asked him point blank. "And just why were you here tonight "hanging out" at the library anyway?"
"I was just relaxing, my apartment is small."
"I’d thought you’d had a place at the Ritz and flew in every day."
"No, I’m just here, finishing my engineer's’ license by way of teaching."
"And you’re not here to make money to pay off that car and those clothes? And take advantage of young innocent girls?" She looked at him holding his hat in his hand and said, “Those clothes.”
"Enough with my clothes. You don’t dress so bad yourself for somebody’s that’s “cut off”."
"You’re immature for a man of your age, why are you not married?"
"Can’t find the “right” one." He began to walk away from her towards her car.
"I can see why you have not, she doesn’t exist." she yelled at his back.
"I think she does." He just looked at her over his shoulder. She began to understand the depth of the situation.
As they got closer to her car Laurel said to Frank, "Get in. I know you walked."
"No.," he said. "You don’t know me. I could be a rapist or an axe murder."
She looked him up and down and back to his face. "You're no murdered you couldn’t hurt a fly. And as for women, I don’t think you’d ever have to rape a woman to have sex. You’re not all that mysterious."
"But I’m quite shy." She looked at him in total disbelief.
"Get in." she motioned him to the other side of the car.
He got in; no arguments. It was nicer than he had imaged. Soft tan leather and brown crushed velvet upholstery with a mahogany and chrome trimmed dash that lit up like a jukebox. Nice car, he said as he turned on the radio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJfAWWDJsAk he looked around. "Just a single seat car, a roadster, no back seat." He said disappointed.
"Get your mind out of the gutter. It has a rumble seat. You can ride back there."
"That’s OK, I like it up here." He was silent then looked at her and asked. "Why are you so nasty to me?"
"I just don’t like you. You just too much. The clothes the car the attitude. I don’t think you're all that. You're pretty plain just trying to be big."
"I’m not trying, I have “made it”. I worked my ass off to be here,…. well at DuPont. I’ve got my own office, a secretary, a damn nice apartment and that silly car you hate so much. I am happy."
"Then why are you here?" She asked in a demanding voice.
"Because I lo.. you." (Oh shit he thought, that came out way too quick.) "I mean I think about you.....Often. I mean I, I,...I find you fascinating." He stopped. "Look all of this is sounding wrong. I need to go. I’ll walk home. Just give me my coat."
"No don’t go. Are you trying to say you’re in love with me?" She laughed. "You even don’t know me."
He felt like he was being scolded and could feel the heat of embarrassment in his face. "Look just let me leave. And I’ll never talk to you outside of class again."
"No don’t do that. I’d miss you…… Fighting with you."
What? He looked at her in an odd way. That’s what this is all about, the fights, showing me up, making fun of me. You do like me, don’t you?
Don’t let it go to your head, Your such a child to be over 30 and don’t gloat I can and will do much better than you. I am getting married, you know?
Oh yes, I know. He was silent thinking of a good comeback. So just how much do bartenders make?
I’ll have you know he’s a Wolfson of the Boston publishing Wolfson’s and he’s just doing that until were married.
Laurel Wolfson?..hum…that sounds great. I’ve seen him before; you could do better blindfolded with one hand tied behind your back in your sleep.
(She kinda liked that idea), but came back to her thoughts. And for what seemed like the 100th time, told him of her impending engagement, wedding at the cathedral, reception at the country club and a glamorous honeymoon in Havana or Rio.
He told her of his plans for the future,..again. Design a house for me and my “family” and…. She stopped him before he could repeat his story again and said. You’d better hurry you getting old you’ll never see them grown at your age. He rolled his eyes.
She sat there contemplating the situation and then asked him,..so….. Are you going to ask me out or shall I do it?
He was surprised at this turn and said, I’m a little too old for you. Don’t.
I don’t like boys my age OK. So I’ll ask you out. Will you go with me to New York City on Friday evening after studio?
He was floored; a woman had never asked him out, he thought for a moment. Sure. OK, we’ll go. I’ll get the train tickets.
Well? She glared at him.
What? he said.
Kiss me damn it! She reached over and grabbed his tie and pulled him over to her. They met and he pulled her into him kissing her. She pulled back and finally got that feel in his vest, it was what she had expected of a man who looked more like an athlete than an architect.
He whispered You touched my boobs, Do I get to touch yours? and laughed.
She was quiet at first. Trying to figure out if this would go according to plan.
She relented. Ok even trade. She said in a laugh like she was not at all serious.
He pushed her into the seat of the car kissing her, slowly running his hands into the overcoat he had put on her and felt of her through the soft satin blouse she wore. Kissing him, she could feel his beard and thought this might be time for that tongue thing. She pulled back and did it.
WOOH! He said stopping. Freak!.... Do it again.
Do I get an A in your class now? She ask.
No, he said. And accident blew the car’s loud horns grabbing the attention of a passing police man.
He tapped on the window; Frank turned around blocking Laurel to the policeman and rolled down the window. All OK here? Ask the policeman. Just going home, sir. Ok, have a good night. He said in suspicion of what events were transpiring in that car.
I need to go. This is too much. He said.
She looked at him, straightened herself up, sat back and put the car in gear.
They were quite driving through the streets to his place. He took out a cigarette and lit it. She gave him a look of, where’s mine? Sorry, here. He put another one in his mouth and lit it too and handed it to her.
Yuck! she said.
Just smoke it, damn it!
Don’t order me around! She demandingly
You are the most impossible woman I’ve ever met!
Yes but you just felt me up! And you “love” me. She laughed
You licked my face, that deserves a YUCK. Who taught you that move?
She drove up to the old colonial style brick building where he lived and stopped the car. OK, get out.
He just looked at her. You need to get off your high horse, OK. We’ve still got a long time till Christmas Break and I’m back in the Spring for another class and you have to take it to graduate. Remember that. THIS, he said, moving his finger around in the air, didn’t happen OK.
OK, I love you too, blew him a kiss and drove away, with his hat overcoat and briefcase in tow.
Oh God what have I done now? He thought to himself as he watched her car drive away. Was this another mistake? What would everybody think? You’re an old man with that young girl! Is that your daughter? He shivered at the comments he could hear in his head. He turned and looked at his reflection in the darkened storefront window pulling his eyebrows up with his hands looking at his face and thought,..um I don’t look that much over 30,...I bet I could pass for 25 if I tried hard. He thought of being 25 again and how much he hated that age. A quick shiver brought him back to the present.
Then there was “that” feeling that empty feeling when she left. Her presence gave off, an energy. Frank felt it from the first time he met her. When she entered a room or when she was just near him he could feel it. When she left, the room died, replaced with a hollow melancholy loneliness. His one objective was to end this feeling that had haunted him all of his life, she was the end.
_________________________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER 6
After that, they met in hallways, between the book stacks in the library, took long drives in the country, train rides to New York City dancing and dining at nightclubs and to his townhouse in Baltimore.
Laurel thought of the happy world they knew. The war was distant problem in a foreign country,...her thoughts went back to she and Frank at the World's Fair in New York City https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dyQe1sWKPE and how happy they were walking among the pavilions in the dark, holding each other watching the water fountains and fireworks. She remembered kissing him under the Trylon and Perisphere at the center of the fairgrounds. Pushing his hat off and feeling of his beard, as he ran his hands in her long black perfectly coiffed hair. She remembered how he truly looked the part of a college professor, though he was really just a boring DuPont engineer.
Then the phone rang jarring her from the happy memory. Don't answer it she said in a muffled voice as she was pressed in his chest. I have to he said,...he got up to the ringing black table phone,...Hello,..yeah,..yeah I heard,..yeah I'm drunk, it's Sunday and were now in a war...OK I’ll bring a bottle, I’ll be there in an hour. Over the radio came another announcement for all Civil Defense personnel to meet immediately was being broadcast again.
Where's my gun? GUN? What gun? she asked. My 45, he said looking in his desk drawer. We don't have a gun. Laurel, I've had a gun since I was 9. Yeah, a shot gun, not a handgun who are you now Humphrey Bogart? she asked. Laurel,...my gun…where is it at? I got it when I joined the Air Corps,..don't remind me, she said looking out the window at the long shadows that were falling over the narrow empty streets. She turned around to an empty room, FRANK????,..where are you???
In their bedroom she found Frank standing on a chair going through her closet,....in a hat box? he said, scolding her. Laurel?..with a frown on his face, he smirked and said, really that was original. No one would have ever thought of looking there.
Frank brandished the gun, as she opened her dresser drawer. Wrapped in a pair of new nylons was the bullets,..you won't have those much longer he said,..she looked at the bullies and looked at Frank with an odd expression. Not the bullets he said, the nylons. They are going to ration that stuff,..nylons Frank??? You've lost your mind. Just wait, by New Year’s you won't be able to he gas or sugar he stated in a sure voice. He then put on his shoulder gun holster, which fit under his armpits and across the back of his vest. He loaded the gun, placed it in the holster and ask, you feel safer now? Hoping it might arouse her. She looked at him with a blank expression and said, NO.
Oh hold on,... Here!, said Frank, still puffing on the butt of his cigarette. Out of his closet, he pulled a large gold trimmed white box. It's your Christmas present,..sorry I didn't wrap it I wasn't expecting the Japs to bomb us,... Hitler ya not the Japs. He laid the box on their bed. Open it,… we might not be together to see Christmas.
No, No, Frank, no,..the box said Herman Gabbe & Brothers. Inc. Fur Dresser Manhattan. Frank, NO,..it's too much...Open it! He said with a smile.
No. she said, feeling of the roughly textured box. He leaned down and put her hands on it and guided them to open it,...and took out a knee length, deep brown fur coat.
Do you like it????,..He held up the coat and opened it to reveal a goldish satin interior embroidered with her initials on the lining. He said, I even designed the lining. He smiled even bigger, it was a bald-faced lie but so incredibly thoughtful.
Oh My God Frank,...!!!!!! He walked over to her side of the bed and placed it over her shoulders, pulling her black hair back over the collar. He then began to rub his beard on her neck. It was one of those things he had learned that made her weak every time he did it. She giggled and he then began kissing her neck.
He whispered on her neck, I wanted to get ya one since I met ya. Ya looked so cold that fall at Yale; I didn’t think ya even owned a coat. She laughed remembering that cold winter and how poor she was despite her family's fortune. She stood there again crying,..."why today?"
What a horrible day. She could feel his hands on the coat caressing her arms inside coat as she looked at him in the round mirror above her art deco dresser. He thought she would fall down with exhaustion, surprise, and want.
A loud knock at the hallway door interrupted them. Frank rolled his eyes. What tha' hell now? He left their bedroom and went down the dark hallway. The pounding continued, OPEN UP! Baltimore Police! The police? He thought to himself.
He opened the door to find two blue uniform clad, heavy Irish accented policemen standing in the doorway, You Frank Walker????,..yea I am, and I'm paying that parking ticket right now,...Oh ah wise guy, said the policeman,... your Civil Defense Warden is lookin for ya. Ya gotta go. They spotted two Kraut subs off the coast. OK, OK, give me a second. Come on in. Nah we gotta go we're hustling up all the deadbeats, drunks and sissies who won't show. With a frown, Frank said, Thanks, as he closed the door.
CHAPTER 7 EDIT THIS
Well I got my walking orders, Frank said as he went into their bedroom, she was not there. LAUREL??? He went in the dining room and through the door to the kitchen. There she sat at the kitchen table in her new fur coat, listening to the radio, drinking coffee from a cup of the "good china" as Frank put it. He laughed, That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all damn day.
He looked at her and said, Aren't you hot in that thing?
Laurel said, Yes, it's stifling. But I love it, she smiled.
He put his elbows on the table got near her face and looked both ways and asked, Soooo…who got that for ya?
You did.
Ohhhh, he said as he got closer to her face and kissed her, as he pulled away he said quietly, I’m spoiling you. She laughed.
I'll get you another one when the Japs quit and another one when the Nazis quit, he told her smiling.
He then said to her, You need a saucer for that cup.
I don't think formality is necessary today, Frank. After all, we burnt a hole in the living room floor.
Momma will kill you if we break that stuff.
Frank went into the dining room and retrieved a thin white decorated saucer. He began to hand it to her and said, Just be careful it’s imported from...he stopped,....looked at the bottom of the saucer and read,… Japan. He slammed the on the tile floor. BASTARDS!!!!! The little bastards...
FRANK!!!! Laurel shouted at him.
He went into the dining room and pulled the china cabinet doors open, and began to grab dishes. FRANK DON'T! Not today!…. like you said your mother will kill us. I hope I can still get another saucer at Gimbels. He looked at her and said, Hell I hope they throw it all away!
He stood back with his hands in his hair thinking,.. feeling the oiliness of his hair tonic on his fingers and then rubbed it on his shirt sleeves. You're gonna ruin that shirt, she said. He gave her a wild-eyed look as though she had told him not to put too much sugar in his coffee or that he ate too much candy.
He breathed deep, grabbed her, setting her on the corner of the dining room table spreading her legs apart in her dark blue polka dotted skirt, kissing her like this might be the last time,..I’m gonna make sure your Dad sets here at Christmas dinner. Stop it, Frank, she said with a smile,…..he stopped short of taking her new fur coat off and said,…I’ve got to go.
They stood there; quiet in the dining room as the daylight began to fade in the early evening, each not quite knowing what to do. She ask, Do you have all your stuff? Yea I got it here, somewhere, he replied. Hope I don’t need as gas mask cause I ain’t got one.
Frank,… do you think anything will happen? I don’t think so,…they tell us everything at the plant. Frank thought of the classified photos of German Boats with aircraft catapults (http://i.imgur.com/Jji4ZMY.jpg ) it was a disturbing thought but it was classified “experimental” so he felt there was not much need in panic.
He held Laurel close to him and said, just stay calm, nothing is going to happen here. Keep the door locked don’t let anyone in INCLUDING YOUR NOSY FRIENDS OR FAMILY. She rolled her eyes, he looked at her and said, the last thing I need tonight or tomorrow is your mother or FATHER coming down here from Boston to “save you”. Hopefully, they have closed the train stations, bus terminals, airport, bridges and my God I hope the harbor too. FRANK!!!!, Maybe I’ll get lucky and the Krauts will sink your Dad’s yacht with them on it! FRANK STOP. He then growled low like a dog.
They HATE me, I’m a, “lecherous old cradle robber”: I think that’s how you father described me? Well you are almost 40 and I’m just, he cut her short. I’m only 36, and you are just a mere child of,..I know,… I know,…. 24. Frank put on his coat completing the suit that he had put on for church that morning never imagining what would happen this day. You need your overcoat it's cold outside said Laurel. He adjusted the gun in his shoulder holster,..she looked him over and said with a smile, you look like a gman,..or a gangster. I'm just not that exciting Laurel, said Frank. She said, I like you better when you’re bad,..he smiled, you got that from a May West movie, I’m still just a dull engineer.
OH your “helmet”,..oh how could I ever forget, she placed the white plastic low brimmed round helmet on the crown of his head and laughed. That fits you so well,..she just laughed. He looked in the hallway mirror and adjusted the chin strap. They didn’t make this for guys with beards. She adjusted the helmet and looked at him and began to cry.
No, no, don’t, don’t we gotta be strong. This is just the beginning. Only God know how long this will last. He kissed her hard, felt of her face and tried to remember her standing there just in case anything happened. I’ll see ya in the morning he said, she said Ok, I love you, I love you too. Frank walked out as she closed the door. He waited,…
LOCK THE DOOR,..
DAMN IT FRANK!!!!!
That’s better.
END CHAPTER 6