Body of Immorality (24 page)

Her words were molten lead. They sank into the pit of his gut. Franklin virtually doubled-over, holding onto his stomach like she’d stabbed him. The pain was white hot. She had set him on fire after all.

“But I
told
them you were
coming!”
Franklin virtually bawled. “I told them how well we’ve been getting along! Do you have any idea what this will
do
to them?”

The expression on Sarah’s face was one he’d never seen before. The blood drained from her cheeks. Ferocity came into her eyes: shock, disbelief, and yes…even horror.

“You told them I was
coming?”
she said. “Good
God,
Franklin, how could you do such a thing? You hardly even
know
me! We only met a couple of
months
ago! How could you have
said
that? Are you
insane?
What in God’s name is the
matter
with you? Who in the hell do you think you
are?”

He could not reply. Again, her words were like blasts from a cannon. It took all his focus not to wail like a baby.

Franklin mimed her previous expression, watching the cars go by. He opted for anger because the tears were coming freely now. He was growing tired of her abuse.

“I thought everything was going
fine,”
he said, as if to himself. “I thought we were getting along. I didn’t think you’d
not
want to come. It’s just…me, I guess, jumping to conclusions. I’m sorry, Your Highness. How you can stay here is beyond
my
comprehension. This city! God forbid! What’s so good about it? God knows I’d want to blemish your castle, this perfectly criminal paradise!”

That ought to make her feel like shit, he thought. He held onto his reserve while still coloring his words with rancor.

“It’s not that bad, Franklin,” Sarah said, in defense of the city. “I happen to
like
it here.”

This sudden twist of fate was beyond his comprehension. Could anything be more unfair? It was everything he
hadn’t
imagined, the exact opposite of how he thought it would be! He’d never felt so humiliated, so dejected and stupid in his life. Franklin held onto his stomach willing away the sensation he was going to throw up.

Sarah didn’t sympathize. His love meant nothing to her.

“But why?” he said. “What’s there to possibly like?”

“It’s exciting,” Sarah said. She smiled, looking at the scenery, the apartment complexes, the nearby park, the hurrying bustle and activity. “I don’t understand how
you
can’t see it, Franklin. There’s so much to
offer!”
She nodded, as if that explained everything.

“It’s a cesspool,” he criticized. “Brimming with vile sin and contamination.”

“Franklin,” Sarah said, laughing. She looked at him. “You’re
so
naïve.”

The fire jumped from one to the other. Franklin delivered Sarah a look of poison; it made Sarah flinch.

“You smug, self-righteous wench!” he said. “Think you’re better than everyone, huh? Working your way into
publishing!
Prissy college
snot!
Have to establish the importance of your existence, don’t you? ‘Sarah Radcliffe, ladies and gentleman,’” he said, mocking her. “‘All independent woman! The world would be a better place if you shut your mouth and listen to what she has to say! Heaven forbid
she’s
ever made a mistake! How could you! Bold, spirited woman!’

“You make me sick!” he went on. “Just because you have tits doesn’t make you better than everyone else. Condescension and pretentiousness aren’t the same as intelligence. Why don’t you try acting like a fucking lady for a change? There’s strength in femininity, you know? You think Ingrid Bergman is remembered for her mannish qualities!”

Sarah’s former defiance returned. She stretched her legs out and folded her arms. Making him laugh, she even pouted, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Don’t pretend you know me at all, Franklin,” she said, determined to make a stand. “How
can
you? If anyone knows anything, I know
you.
You’re easy to figure out. Don’t think you know me because you
don’t.
Got it? Don’t pretend you know
anything
about me!”

Franklin was furious! Blood boiled in his veins, pumping loudly in his ears.

“You impudent concubine!” he said, standing from the bench in fury, not caring how he looked now. Heedless of the stares, he pointed an accusing finger at Sarah as though wanting to stab her.

“
You’ve
got nerve, don’t you? How
male
of me to be so
un-
submissive to your power! What on
earth
came over me? That’s the driving force today isn’t it? Equality? Men are always the ones making mistakes and apologizing. Women are always in charge, emasculating the masses. There’s nothing attractive about that.
You’re
what’s wrong with the world, people like you, and
everyone
like you, Sarah high-and-mighty Radcliffe! You think you’re smarter than everybody else? I tried to give you a life, something
beautiful,
and
this
is the thanks I get?”

Franklin surprised himself by laughing uproariously. He shook his head, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Pray to the flawless and perfect, everyone!” Franklin said, motioning to the passersby. “Not God!
He
can’t do it! But
Sarah
will! Sarah can do
no
wrong!’”

Franklin paused for breath and pointed again. Sarah looked shocked, furious, and humiliated. People paused and looked their way.

“Let me remind you, honey,” Franklin said, “You exude the same discharge, urine, sweat, and blood as everyone else. And until you learn to act like a lady, don’t expect that gentleman to come along. It goes both ways!”

He had to stop! He was breathing heavily, running away with himself. He was saying things he couldn’t take back. She’d
never
forgive him. What was he
thinking?
Yet, it was too late now. He didn’t care if he hurt her or made her cry. He wasn’t done. Part of him, in fact, was enjoying the charade.

“
You’re
going to Oregon whether you like it or not,” he said, still pointing his finger. “God knows why I’d want you there to begin with after the crap
you
just pulled. That’s a promise you can count on, missy! So let me give you one piece of advice: Start. Fucking. Packing!”

Sarah started to cry. It made Franklin feel better at least. Maybe she’d understand what she’d done, how she’d made
him
feel.

Satisfied, Franklin grunted, balled his hands into fists, and stomped away down the street.

*

The scene played over in Franklin’s mind: the look on her face, the testimony to her mightiness! Did she not understand what happened that day at the bookstore, looking over the mystery section at her, stars coming into focus? Had their magnetism been lust and nothing more? Had he imagined it when Sarah pulled
Othello
from the shelf, rifled through the pages, and quoted, “‘
O God that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!’”

Her quoting Shakespeare was perfection, magic in an otherwise hostile environment. Franklin wanted to prove destiny had a hand in their relationship. How could they heal the sad and afflicted if they were constantly at war with one another?

He’d always been fond of Shakespeare, especially
Othello.
Surprised, Sarah had given him her number that day. He’d called her that very night.

Everything had been perfect. Not a flaw was visible. Theirs was the perfect romance. They talked; they dined; they took long walks, saw movies together. It
was
a fantasy, he realized. He and Sarah could conquer anything. Wasn’t that the definition of Destiny?

*

Franklin’s plane left Denver International Airport in four days. He’d been able to live without most of his belongings for the last week. Starting over meant starting from scratch. He’d already shipped most of his things earlier that week.

He wanted to call Sarah and apologize. After the horrible things he’d said, he wasn’t sure she’d pick up the phone, let alone talk to him. They’d come too far, he thought, for him to leave on a bad note, though. He only prayed Sarah would forgive him.

In his apartment—barren now except for a few boxes, a mattress on the floor, some Chinese food and a six-pack in the fridge—Franklin grabbed a beer, threw the cap in the sink, and took a long pull. He went to the window and stared into the street below.

He sighed as the cars drove by. An ambulance screamed down a nearby street. Two black men argued on the sidewalk between an entire block. A blonde woman walking an Irish setter watched the black men, and veered away. Franklin finished his beer and grabbed another.

He sighed and set the bottle on a trunk below the window, one of the only pieces of furniture he had left.

Franklin leaned against the windowsill, soaking in the last memories of the city.

“With you, Sarah,” he said.

*

On May 30
^th
, the day proved blistering without a cloud in the sky, rare heat for this time of year in Denver. More heat, less water, Franklin mused, wondering if God could show a little sympathy and allow less heat and more storms.

The heat emanated visibly in waves off the sidewalk and streets. Blinding chrome, bright reflections from windows and car bumpers stabbed Franklin’s eyes. He was perspiring heavily already. His thin T-shirt stuck to his skin. Sweat gathered between his toes. He should’ve worn sandals instead of socks and shoes.

He was whistling, though, as he walked along Pennsylvania Avenue to Sarah’s—thankfully—air-conditioned apartment.

She’d picked up the phone when he’d called earlier that day. Surprising him, she’d been patient as Franklin pleaded his case. She’d not hung up, slamming down the phone. Franklin had sincerely apologized with a broken heart. He hadn’t meant what he’d said, he told her. He’d been angry. She’d never had anyone talk to her that way before. He was wrong for jumping to conclusions. He only wanted to say goodbye. Would it be okay if he stopped by? Sarah surprised Franklin by telling him how good it was to hear his voice. She wanted to part—like him—on a happier note. He couldn’t have been more pleased.

Sarah’s dark blue Saab was parked at the curb, he saw. She did fairly well for herself. The magazine she worked for,
Everyday Issues,
had been gaining positive readership since she’d been hired. The Saab, however, was a gift from her father. Franklin couldn’t remember what he did for a living.

In the late spring heat, Franklin turned up the walkway to Sarah’s house. She rented the ground level of a green and white Victorian. The house was in fair condition. The paint looked fresh. The slabs of concrete, however, were in need of repair, cracked and broken along the pathway. Thistles and weeds grew between broken stones.

At the porch, Franklin knocked on the door.

The door opened after a fumble with the lock. Sarah stood as radiant and glowing as he remembered. Her eyes were wide and forgiving. She was wearing a sexy pink outfit today, looking like a child, her hair in pigtails, an adorable teddy bear holding a blue heart, smiled at him from the shirt she wore. She had tight, white shorts on. Her feet were bare.

“Hi, Franklin,” she said, leaning against the door. Her smile, it seemed, was genuine.

“Hi,” he said.

Franklin took a deep breath and tried to smile.

“Come on in,” she said, stepping aside.

“Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah shut the door behind him. He was thankful for the air-conditioning. It was cool inside. Franklin vaguely noticed the apartment, family pictures on the mantle above the fireplace. A computer sat on the dining room table; sliding glass door led into the backyard.

“I don’t know what to say, Sarah,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m a little off my rocker sometimes. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time. But I
have
to go to Oregon. There’s nothing here for me anymore. With you, yes, but the city—”

Sarah’s eyes went to the paper sack Franklin held. “I know,” she said. “What’s that?” She nodded at the paper sack.

“Oh,” he said, looking down. “I packed my tape and markers accidentally, but I still have a few boxes to send. I didn’t realize it until I was on my way over. There’s that Walgreen’s right there, so—”

Franklin shrugged. Sarah looked at him as if he were the most hopeless man she’d ever seen.

“Look, Sarah,” Franklin said. “I don’t blame you, you know, for telling me what you did. I’ve never been with anyone like you before. Sometimes, I’m hoping I’ll hate Oregon, so I can come back and appreciate the city. With you, you know? But I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again. I just…didn’t want to leave on a bad note. I just want you to know how much I’ll miss you. I want you to know how sorry I am. If I could change it, I would. I admire you, Sarah. You’re very determined. I think that’s what I love about you.”

Franklin bowed his head, nodding several times as if to say, ‘There, I said it. It’s out.’

“Oh, Franklin,” Sarah said, stepping forward. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She put her cheek against his chest. “
I’m
sorry. I wish I could change it, too. I never wanted this to happen to you—to me.”

Franklin responded, hugging her close, despite the bag he carried.

“Oh, Franklin,” she said. “I didn’t want
any
of this to happen. When I saw you that day at the bookstore, that goofy
Othello
thing I did, I just thought…I don’t know. I love you, Franklin. I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I
do
love you. I hope you’ll think about that when you’re gone. I hope you know that. I will always love you, okay?”

Was she trying to denominate his love? Was her love
more
important than his?

Franklin hated it when people said they
always
loved you. When you were never going to see each other again, what difference did it make? Were the words supposed to cushion the blow? Were they doing you a favor? Christ, people made him sick!