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There was a damp chill outside, as if the pieces of air were made of cold and would only be tricked into warming for bare moments, but would always fall loosely back into their chilled states.
To Frank it felt magnificent, it felt metallic. It was a blessing on his overheated flesh. Frank felt feverish, like his blood was too thick. Frank felt the onset of plague, and real or imagined, it didn’t typically matter.
The park was usually fairly deserted at this time of day during the week, and today was no exception. There was a thin, half-naked guy doing yoga positions on a blanket. There were two guys throwing a Frisbee around. Occasionally a runner or bike rider would pass him on the path, and that was it.
Frank sat down on a bench usually reserved for one of the many homeless people who would not-so-surreptitiously sleep on them at all hours of the day. He stared down at his near blown-out shoes and began thinking of the crazy homeless guy from earlier in the morning.
How the hell had the guy gotten into the house to begin with? The folks in the other rooms of the house were usually so good about not letting just anyone in through the locked front door. And seriously, the guy didn’t try to take anything, he wasn’t hunkered down looking for a place to stop and fix, he just walked in and started rambling. How many people out there in the world were just plain crazy?
A biked buzzed as it passed in front of him with speed.
Frank looked up and noticed one of the Frisbee guys quickly looking away. Had he been talking out loud? He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand feeling an uncomfortable heat.
And that sex in the club’s restroom story, he was sure that Jeffery’s friend Shawn had told him a remarkably similar one. They had laughed at the ridiculous lengths Shawn would take the story, what with the parrot, and then a waitress with a wooden leg. Frank remembered that night, how they had sat around that filthy kitchen table, drinking Jack and Cokes and laughing till they cried.
So what? So Shawn had told this story to Chuck what’s-his-name and old Chuckles had sold it as his own to Wank. But something…
Frank felt those tickling fingers that signaled someone watching him. He raised his eyes up to look at the Frisbee players without moving his head. Sure enough, that same guy seemed to be looking at him again.
Raising his head up to face the Frisbee guy fully, Frank saw him quickly jerk his head away. Frank looked at the other one, but he was too busy trying to catch the Frisbee between his legs. Frank watched the first guy for a minute or so to see if would look over again, but he seemed fully engaged in his tossing a plastic disc back and forth.
Something was tugging inside of Frank’s head, trying to get him to remember something. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He could hear snatches of voices bouncing around in his memory; people he had known made incomprehensible noises back there. Mike’s voice popped up, nearly saying an actual word, and Frank sat up suddenly.
A guy in dayglo yellow crackled before him on a speeding bike.
Something Mike had said the night before, what was it? Frank was almost certain that’s what his mind was trying to remind him of. Something about…