Every week or so I’d make the two-mile trek out to the mailbox and back. I didn’t usually get anything, except junk mail, but Jacob sent mail from time to time and there was in fact a padded envelop from him in the box. I opened the envelop on the way back to the cabin and it contained another envelop from Frankie. I smiled as I looked at her writing. Even that was the same as Anna’s. I opened her envelop and read her short letter as I walked. She wrote: ‘Jack. Where are you? All I got was word that the wedding was called off, with no explanation. I’m dying here. I’ve tried to call a thousand times but your phone just goes to voicemail. I’ve sent letters to your house but they get returned. I’ve sent this letter to your neighbor in hopes that he knows how to contact you and forwards this letter to you. Please call me. I know you must be in terrible pain. Wherever you are let me know and I’ll come to you. I can’t stand not knowing. Please call me.‘ She provided her cell phone number on the bottom and signed it, ‘I love you Jack. Frankie‘
I set her letter on the kitchen counter and stood back and looked at it. I needed a drink. I knew I was wallowing in self-pity just like I did when I ran off to the lake ten years ago. I had learned to be comfortable this way. I’d spent so many years before this past summer this way and I knew Frankie would call me on it. She would be right too. I stared at her letter and sipped my glass of scotch. That wasn’t a good sign either. I had graduated from beer to hard booze. I was sinking deeper and deeper and now I was feeling the double pain of Anna’s death all over again along with the loss of Donna. As much as I analyzed how I had morphed the love of Anna to my love for Donna, I was doing the same thing now in reverse. Anna was Donna and vice versa. I finished my drink and picked up the phone with a sudden feeling of desperation. I needed help and I hoped that Frankie could provide it.
I took forever to dial, one hesitant digit at a time. When the phone rang, I prayed that she would answer because I wouldn’t be able to leave a message and I doubted that I could muster the guts to call again. It rang three times and I grew more and more anxious with each ring. I was about to hang up when the line clicked and Frankie said, “Hello? Who is this?”
I said, “Hello, Frankie.”
She screamed into the phone and I had to pull the phone back from my ear, “Jack. Oh my God. The screen said ‘caller unknown’ and I almost didn’t answer it.” She started crying and I let her get herself back together before I spoke again.