Frankie & Formaldehyde

Chapter Sixteen:

"I lost my job."

"Stands to reason."

Chuck squinted into the midday sun, the cool beer Shirley had given him warming in his hand. Frankie stood to his left, her worn fingers gently worrying the edge of her sandwich before she took a tentative bite. Larry was busy chatting with the young woman and her son who lived across from Frankie's house. The warm smile she gave him suggested Larry wasn't about to head out into the city like he'd planned. The boy giggled and ran a circle around Larry's gangly form, a stream of bubbles flying after him as he ran barefoot through the soft, dark green grass. His laughter abruptly stopped as he stumbled into Chuck's shins, his pink plastic jar of soap spilling onto Chuck's black shoes. His tiny, innocent face looked up at Chuck with growing uncertainty.

Chuck bent low and blew into the bubble ring, sending dozens of large, rainbow smeared spheres across the backyard. A shriek of delight dispelled the tense moment, and the boy ran off, frantically clapping in a vain effort to capture the fragile prisons of joy.

"They've shut down all operations in New Hope," Chuck told Frankie, who politely nibbled her sandwich in silence beside him. "Osmosis Inc. has packed up and left, and due to the overwhelming public display of what they call prejudice against their efforts, they are not planning on restructuring their offices here, or rebuilding any new facilities. According to them, New Hope is a planned ghost town. It's going to be mighty hard to get work around here." Chuck's strong jaw jutted outward. "Guess I have to get used to retirement."

"I thought you didn't work for Osmosis," Shirley quipped.

"Denial can be a powerful thing. Sometimes hidden beneath what you think is hard work." He watched the tiny, laughing figure at the far end of the garden, the bubbles long since burst, a smiling woman with a cocktail glass in her hand reaching over the rose bushes. "It's no sin to work hard, but you have to catch a break sometime. Otherwise we're all just rogues, eating each other up in Earth's arena." Chuck frowned. "Did she just hand that boy a shot glass?"

"Dolores!" Frankie shouted, and waved her tipsy neighbour closer. "Come and join us!"

With effort Dolores teetered her way along the rose bushes, the silk of her black and pink kimono catching on the thorns and forcing her to pause in her haste every few seconds. Pulled threads dangled from the long, rectangular sleeves. "How wonderful!" she cheerfully grinned over her toothpick and olive. "Such a pleasure to see everyone out and enjoying the summer days again!"

The grocery store youth, whom Chuck learned was named Ethan, marched up to them, his spatula dripping with hickory flavoured BBQ sauce. "They're just about ready. Rare and medium, just the way you ordered."

"The corn is in the kitchen, with Mr. and Mrs. Eisner. Helga is busy roasting the last of the potatoes." Frankie knocked on her kitchen window, and the stern Helga peered out through the curtains, her face partially obscured by linen ducks. "Are they nearly ready?"

"Rush, rush, rush," Helga complained. "Always, you people, rushing."

Mr. Eisner brought out a large, green salad and set it on the picnic table in the centre of the yard. Shirley dared to pick a purple onion out of it while Larry hovered closer to the BBQ, a beer handed to the youth who was still cooking the last of the steaks.

"I guess it's best we enjoy the feasts while we can," Shirley said. She plunked her mighty girth onto the bench of the picnic table, the wood whining beneath her weight. "Once this runs out, we won't have any supplies coming back in here." She kicked at the ground, a sense of growing disappointment evident. "I'm going into the city, to move in with my son and his wife. I tried to get them to come here, but he can't leave his job and she's...Well, she's a true believer, if you get what I'm saying."