After an explosion, when the dust settles, events flow over a new riverbed. Nothing is quite the same.
The powderkeg inside Franck had been building. A simple traffic jam was about to light the fuse.
Nice hat, big boy. The breathy smirk in her voice always steamed him. She'd say it out of the corner of her mouth while brushing past him on her way out of the kitchen. Or say it to his face as others snickered. The tease was the same, the delivery just a little different, every lunchtime shift.
Regina's voice wouldn't let go of him. Stuck in traffic, he had not much else to think of. Franck fingered the ridges of his beloved pinstriped, brimless cap, nestled securely in his dark frizzy hair. He tried to think of something other than Regina. That brought Sal to mind, the owner of the restaurant. Again today, he had refused to find Franck a different shift. Or the tidy banker who just a half hour ago had screwed up Franck's account with a have-a-nice-day smile.
Nice hat, big boy. He shook his head as if to shake the voice out of his mind. Nothing could get Franck to take that hat off during daytime hours.
If the Sun and Wind of Aesop’s fable had bet each other they could get Franck’s hat off, both would have lost. It required a modern power to win that wager: Traffic. Franck hated standing still.
Port Haven had virtually no traffic jams. Twice a day, cars backed up for a short time at one highway exit and two city intersections. That was about it for rush hour.
Now traffic was in near-gridlock, waiting for police to clear an accident scene at Hollows Corners. This was driving Franck mad, because there was absolutely no way out, not even a clever, creative escape route. Or so it seemed.
He had swerved onto Woodland Road with Regina on his mind. Franck desperately wanted a new shift, not only to get away from Regina, but also to get more tips so he could pay Bob the utility bills on time for a change. If only he could move to the more lucrative weekend dinner shifts.
He replayed the scene with Sal, inserting a bit more drama and courage on his own part. This time, Sal was just about to cave in and give Franck new hours, when Sal’s face morphed into Franck's bank manager. Overdrawn account. Penalties. Bounced check. The bank notice had arrived yesterday in the mail; they were ripping him off.
“Frank,” the banker had said, just a half hour ago.
“It's Franck.”
“Huh?”
“Franck, with an ahhh. Like the French composer. It doesn't rhyme with bank.”
“Oh.” The manager frowned at this distraction. “Well, Frank, or Frahhnck, or whatever…”
OK, he should have jumped in here and deftly said, “No it's not Whatever, it's Frahhhnck. Now you listen to me,” and then he would have calmly and cooly maneuvered her into treating him like a VIP. Instead, he'd started yelling at her too fast about how the online banking site had failed to submit a payment as scheduled and about the bounced check and all the charges that weren't his fault.
“Well there's nothing I can do, it's all taken care of by our back office. I can't reprogram our computer, now can I?” She smiled quickly. “Just put in your payment a day earlier next time. That's what I do! Have a nice day!” He’d lost his cool until the manager quietly ushered him into her office and handed him her business card.
“When you cool down, Mr. Wainwright, feel free to contact me directly and I'll take care of everything for you. But for now, please leave. My staff is beginning to feel threatened and I don't want to have to call a guard.”
Threatened? His arguments made eminent good sense. This manager, who usually pretended to be his friend and called him by name every time he walked into the bank, was suddenly treating him as if he were riff-raff wandering in off the street and scaring the…
A car horn burst his bubble. Was someone honking at him? What a jerk. There was nowhere to go. Stuck in traffic. Stuck at work. Put up with Regina’s taunting. Keep asking for a dinner shift. Idling cars. Money sifting through his fingers because of a stupid bank procedure. Can’t even pay the electric bill yet. Drivers all around him waiting mindlessly like well-programmed robots. The heat rose in his collar.
Franck rubbed his neck and reached for his new Taj Mahal CD. He put it on loud and sang along. No matter how hard you go down, I’m goin’ with you… Now I’m up here like a mule in a one-horse town…
He opened the windows wide to let in the crisp fall air, and eyed the maple leaves turning red by the side of the railroad tracks.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, and felt grateful for the high perch of his SUV. Much less claustrophobic than being low down in traffic. His roommate, Bob, had been shocked when Franck had brought home a used SUV last spring. Bob didn't think Franck was the type to want a gas guzzler. But then Franck never liked being or doing what others expected.
There was movement ahead, a space opened, but the car in front of him sat still. Why didn't that guy keep up? Big empty space and he just sits there.
This driver was toying with him. Everyone was toying with him – the banker taking his money and ushering him out with a smile, Sal leading him on with promises of better shifts that never materialized. They think I’m too young to know the difference, thought Franck. They’re wasting my time. I’m 25. Things should be moving for me by now. These cars should be moving for me. That guy has space but won’t go. This is crazy.
The time spent sitting in traffic suddenly felt crushing. It was unbearable.
The moment arrived for the unthinkable. Franck reached for his little hat, yanked it off, and threw it onto the passenger seat. He honked his horn. "What are you freaking doing?" he shouted at the driver in front of him.
Then he noticed why the fellow was leaving a big space. Railroad tracks. He was leaving the tracks empty. "Just like they teach you in Driver's Ed," he sneered. "Good little driver. Freakin wimp."
Now there was more movement. The car in front of him was able to cross the tracks. Franck gave that fellow a driving lesson of his own. He drove right up on the guy’s tail and sat on the tracks, tapping his hand on the roof of the car in time to the song on the CD. He hated standing still.
The cars coming the other way stopped at a red light. The woman driving opposite Franck also left a wide gap for the railroad tracks, and seemed to be staring at him intently.
Franck refused to look back at her. "Trying to teach me a lesson," he grumbled fiercely. He drummed his hands on the steering wheel hard enough to lightly tap the horn by accident. The driver in front of him craned his neck to glare at Franck in the rear view mirror.
The driver who had stared him down had a green light now. She eased slowly alongside Franck, and shouted out her window, "Maybe you should get off the tracks, big boy!" and moved on down the street.
Big boy! Franck exploded inside. He flipped a bird out the window, rocked in his seat, and grabbed the steering wheel fiercely. Traffic was not moving ahead or behind. People were waiting for nothing. They all seem so compliant, thought Franck. He remembered how compliant he’d been today. The banker was probably chuckling to herself about how easy it had been to dispense with Franck.
Bells began to clang. The railroad gate opposite him lowered very slowly. The gate on his own side, Franck realized, would be coming down behind. He shot a look both ways down the tracks.
That's when he spotted the shimmering headlight of a train far off to his left.
…Chapter 1 concludes next Friday…
Author’s Note
This is the first half of Chapter 1. The second half will be sent to you next Friday. Is this a good length? Or would you be comfortable receiving the full chapter all at once? Please let me know in the comments, or in the poll above, thanks!
My plan is to provide the first 3 chapters of this novel, and see how you guys are doing. (At that point, if people wish, I can continue serializing this novel; otherwise we can move on to a novella and come back to Franck’s later. Essays and short stories will be interspersed. Note that you will be able to choose to subscribe only to the items you’re interested in — the choices show up in the tabs at the top.
I've enjoyed diving back into Franck's Wild Ride. I like the symbolism of Franck's frustrations trapping him at an actual crossroads. I'm rooting for him to sort it all out--to grow into real self-advocacy. I think this half chapter ended in just the right spot!