When Frank finished his business deal, he returned to Grandma Stella’s house to take his son home once the birthday party was over. The father and son lived together in a two-story condo, part of a new gated community in the western side of Santa Ramona.
Frank and Johnny shared the same Italian-American looks, inherited from ancestors and a land they knew nothing about. But their personalities gave their appearance different effects. Frank’s handsome face conveyed a slick congeniality, while Johnny’s younger version of the same face suggested a shy vulnerability.
On the ride home, Johnny stared out the window.
“Look, I know you’re mad I didn’t come to the party,” Frank said.
Johnny didn’t say a word.
Monday morning, the day after his birthday, Frank and Johnny were back in the car again. It was only four exits on the Route 91 Freeway from the condo to Santa Ramona Middle School. Not a great distance, but Frank was determinedly weaving between different lanes.
“You always got to keep your eye out for a passing lane, Johnny. Never lose a chance to get ahead. The freeway’s always going to be crowded, so you got to look for an opening and take it. Otherwise, you just get stuck and everything will pass you by.”
After he dropped his son off at school, Frank picked up his mother, Stella, to drive her to a recurring doctor’s appointment.
Frank always had his eye on the passing lane.
Ever since he was a child, Frank had yearned for something better. After the loss of his father, his modest upbringing on his mother’s salary as a grocery clerk provided love and the essentials, but in his mind there was always something lacking. He knew there was a bigger, more exciting life out there, and he was missing out on it.
As an adult, Frank chased success through the many incarnations of his business career, as restaurant entrepreneur, car dealer, insurance salesman, and stockbroker. None of these endeavors had brought riches or satisfaction.
When Johnny’s mother left him to marry her wealthy boss, Frank made some reckless real estate investments in another failed attempt to hit the big time.
“You never should’ve bought all those homes, Frank,” Stella lamented, as they got back on the freeway and headed toward the medical center.
“Relax, Mom. It’s going to all work out.”
Frank knew if he’d listened to his mother earlier, he wouldn’t be in his current jam. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that to her.
“I don’t see why you have to aim for so much, Frank. I never made the big bucks working at a supermarket. But I have a home. I have my son, my grandson, and my friends. Isn’t that enough?”
Frank shook his head. No, he thought, that isn’t enough. Once again, something she would never understand.
“Mom, you’ve always had your opinions. I know you like to tell me how to live my life, but there’s one thing you’ve got to remember. You had your time. Now it’s my time.”
“My time isn’t over,” Stella fired back. “I have experience, instincts, and advice that you need to hear.”
“It’s a different world now, Mom. The old rules don’t apply.”
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