This is

Frank

What’s today? Sunday? Goddamn. No, it’s gotta be Monday. Chili today. Or is that a Sunday thing? I sure as hell ain’t going to church. June 15^th, 1952. Molly looked absolutely stunning. Blonde curls, those eyes. Never forget those. That was a church. Sure was a beauty. And all those people there just for us. Agh, damn it. This damn thing. Best scooter my ass. Gonna get the last of the goddamn chili now. Come on! Ah, there we go. This goddamn thing. July 21^st, 1952. What a gorgeous church that was. Molly, standing there staring at me with those eyes. And that smile. All those teeth lined up so neat. Prettiest thing I ever saw. Goddamn, it is Sunday. Chili is good though.

“Hi Mr. Holcomb, what can I get for you today?”

“Chili…and a beer.”

“Ha, I think I can only get you that chili. How’re you feeling today sir?”

“Still kickin’ boy.”

I miss Molly. January 13th, 1993. Goddamn ugly church. Dark and black and cold. And all those goddamn people with their handkerchiefs and those looks. I was the only one there. Really there. Her eyes were closed but I still saw them. No one else. Chili is shit today.

This goddamn thing.

“Hi Mr. Holcomb. Need a little help there?”

“Goddamn it. This thing’s quittin’ on me.”

“Not a problem sir. Need me to push you?”

“No…thanks. It'll start up again.”

“Are you sure you don't need some help, that's why I'm here."

"I'm fine."

"Have a good da—.“

Smug little snot. Goddamn it. I need my legs again. Need my strength. Need my ring. Today Monday? Sunday? Yeah Sunday, chili. These little punks running around here. October 18^th, 1974. That one was a screamer. Came right out though. All covered in goo. William. Good day. Downhill from there. Something wrong with that kid. Shoulda had another. Shoulda tried again. Or maybe not even tried at all. Didn’t need him. Molly was mine. Didn’t need him. Never once been here. Don’t know what it was. Didn’t turn out. I’m sleepy.

“Hi, Mr. Holcomb. Anything I can get for you?”

“No. Going to my room.”

“Want me to walk with you?”

“No.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Hrrm. Fine. I’m tired.”

“You should take a nap sir.”

“Thanks, didn’t think of that. Jesus. What’s your name?”

“William. I just started here. Just got out of school and—“

“William eh? Why don't you go by Will or Bill then?"

"I don't know, never thought to I guess. "

"Well you should think about it."

"You know someone named Will or Bill?"

"Not really. Bye kid."

Goddamn kid. I’m not a damn fool. Can do it myself. Don't need him. Not at all. Goddamn long way from the dining hall. Too many people use hallways. And the echo. Rattlin’ around my ears. Every sound off every wall. Sounds busy. Crowd. Church. Shit. Earl.

“Howdy Fritz.”

“Hey Earl, it’s Frank.”

“How the hell are ya? Didn’t see you at Bingo. Thought the worst.”

“I never go to Bingo. And I’m still here.”

“Well you should join us. It’s getting sparse on Saturday nights.”

“Yeah. I’ll think bout it.”

“You hear? Last week Carl passed. Right bout a month after little ol’ June went. He always fancied her I think. And Ruth and Edna are both coming down with something. And Merv—.“

“Well aren’t you just a ray of goddamn sunshine.”

“Sorry, just saying it’s getting sparse.”

“Don’t think I don’t know it. I’m tired. See you Earl.”

“Bye Fred. See you at Bingo.”

No quiet in this place. Cold too. Thank God the door locks, they’d probably be talking to me in my sleep. Sleep. No bother. None at all. February 13th, 1993. She looked so peaceful. Made me mad. How could she go, and look like that? She missed me. But that look. Blank. Not letting me see those eyes. Not even upset. No remorse. Just left. Kid was there. He didn’t care. Didn’t need to come. She was mine. Left me with him. His loud house. Always people. His doors didn’t lock. Goddamn it. People coming and going. Now, here. Quieter at least. Bed next to the window. That goddamn guy down there. Think I’ve seen him before. Out there with his beard and shaggy clothes. Get a goddamn shave and a job. Worked 47 years at that mill. Hard goddamn work. Gave Molly a good life. Worth it. Can’t be happy without good work and a good wife. Can’t be happy with a son like that. Didn't need him. 49 goddamn years I worked there. Now, here. Cold.

“Mr. Holcomb, you in there?”

“No.”

“Sir, it’s time for your medicine.”

“Goddamn it. Come in.”

“Here ya go sir. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes. Leave.”

“Oh. Ok. See ya Mr. Holcomb.”

“Hey, shut the door!”

Just standing there. Dirty bum. There’s JoAnn. And that big gaudy church right across the street. Goddamn bright in here. And cold. Goin' to sleep.

Scott

Two bucks. The bus pretty much takes you anywhere in the city. It’s a good deal. Only 40 cans. Not bad. Warm too. Get to sit with people. Get to talk. I like the bus. It’s family. People see the beard, the tangles, the rips. There’re no straight paths. There’s a bubble round me. But the bus is family. Has to be. Today was a good day. Got 94 cans. That’s...four dollars and...70 cents. Good day. Ow, nice lookin lady there. Red dress. Open seat next to me. Over here. Come on. Over here. Tough luck. 94 cans though. Good day. Something about the sound of the bus door opening. It’s like Christmas. Pair of socks or a lady in a red dress. Always exciting. Stop. Man. Nothing special. Socks. Love the bus at sunset. It’s a good one today. Feels clean. Warm. Cold today, but the sun is good. And this sunset. Pink, red, yellow. Best time to ride. Pretty full today. No one next to me. Still some company though. The noise, the bustle. Stop. Business man. Better than socks. Across from me. Odd that he’s here.

“Hello there. How’s your day going?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good. How bout that sunset eh?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t want to talk. I’ll break him.

“So what brings you to the bus?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh so you do it all the time?”

“No. I…my car got impounded.”

“Ah, that’s tough. How come?”

“I have business to do.”

"Oh."

That’s a nice briefcase. Lots of papers in there. Phone, notepad, folders. Flask. Ah. Poor guy. Nice of him to talk to me. Better than yesterday. Today Sunday? The 15th. Wow, 2 years now. Good choice. It was good. Pretty good. I think so. Didn't want that life. Didn't mean to hurt her. Had to go. Had to. Right? Wanted a kid. I didn't. Wanted a home. Not a house. A home. Don't think I did. But first birthday, baseball games, all that. Hands are cold. Coulda been nice. I think. She was great. Warm. Wasn't for me. She could do better anyway. Can I? Needed out. Too far out now. But free. Wife, kid, home. I don't know. Happy now but...Stop. Old woman. Better than socks. Next to me. Smells like cinnamon.

“Hello.”

“Hi, how’re you today?”

“I’m lovely. And you?

“Good day today. Loving the sunset. It’s a good one. Where're you headed?”

“Oh my, yes. Absolutely gorgeous. Just heading home. How about you son?”

“Home. Ha, yeah home I guess.”

“What’s your name dear?”

“Scott. You?

“JoAnn McCarthy. Pleased to meet you. "

Stop.

“Well this is my stop.”

“Me too actually.”

She’s nice. Bet she lives in the retirement home. Probably nice in there. Bet it’s full of nice people. All as nice as her. Not too bad out here though.

“You seem like a nice young man. Here.”

“I can’t accept that. I like to earn my money. Gotta have something to do.”

"If you don't mind me asking son, how'd you get to be...here?"

"That's a tough one. By choice. I can tell you that. I...yeah."

"You alright?"

"We'll see. How about you?"

"We'll see. Ha. Well, good-bye dear. Good luck.”

“Thanks. You too.”

Looks nice in there. Warm. Second story. Old man. Bet he’s nice. Blinds close. Time to go home. Home. The church is dark. Light enough though. Beautiful in the morning. Light coming through the stained glass. Bright. Warm. I’m going to sleep.

Frank

Cold. Quiet. Done.

Scott

Cold night. Might be cloudy today. Ah yep, sure is. Something happening across the street. White coats, ambulance. What's this? Cart. White sheet. Still. Body. Another one gone. Hope they were happy. Time. Second story window. Blinds still closed. Cloudy today. About time for some clouds anyway. Cold.