“First Thing, we go Bowling ––– Last Thing, we Bowl” - Isaac Myers III

The first thing I did when I got out of bed in the morning was look over at the clock that was hanging above the refrigerator in Gina's apartment. I had heard a few of the birds that would gather on the fire escape outside the window at the end of her bed begin to chirp so I guessed that it must have been around 5:00am, maybe 5:30am, but the clock read 4:30am. The birds were out early and the sun was taking its time to rise and I sat on the end of the bed for a few moments and thought about what I wanted to do next. There were a few options and I let my mind go through each one of them, considering the pros and the cons of each, weighing my options.

One thing I could do next was stand up and walk over to the window and open it a bit more so that we could feel more of the cool April air move through the apartment. I liked this option. It was my favorite so far. Another option was to crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour. The problem with this option was that I knew if I slept for another hour then that one hour would turn into three hours and when I got up again, three hours later, I'd feel a lot less refreshed and not nearly as well-rested as I did in that moment ––– sitting on the bed and looking out the window at dawn. I didn't like that option. The third option made the most sense and I could also go through the third option just after finishing the first: walk over to the stove and put on the kettle and make a cup of tea. I decided on those two, a combination of option 1 and option 3; or better stated: option number 1 immediately followed by option number 3.

By the time I had a cup of earl grey tea in my hand and was taking small sips from the mug I noticed that the first cracks of dawn were making their appearance in the morning's sky. I was glad I hadn't gone back to sleep and even though I thought it might be kind of nice if Gina was awake as well and having a cup of tea with me, it was just as well this way. I was having my quiet time at dawn and she was sleeping and probably dreaming happy dreams and that was all anyone could ever really ask for, to lay peacefully in bed and dream something soothing.

There was just enough light that was coming into the room now that I didn't really need the reading lamp on the desk that I was sitting in front of, but even so, I switched it on and enjoyed the additional warmth of the yellow light against the oak desk and upon the magazine that I was reading. The magazine was an old copy of Time, one from 2007, I think. All of the stories in there were from this era of life that I had kind of forgotten about. I read a short piece about Barack Obama and whether he had a chance to win the Democratic primary. There was also a write-up about the iPhone and whether it was worth its price and what it would mean for all of the other cell phones on the market back then. I didn't read that piece, I just flipped through it and smiled with a knowing nostalgia as I looked over a few photos of the early iPhones.

Then I heard something fall in the apartment next to us. It sounded heavy. It made a giant thumping crash against the wood floors and I actually jumped out of the chair a little bit. Gina woke up and looked out the window and the looked over at me and started rubbing her eyes because she wasn't sure what had happened. She just heard the thud and didn't know where it came from.

She got up out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweatpants that kind of sort of matched the navy blue Giants t-shirt of mine that she was sleeping in. Then without any hesitation she opened the door to the apartment and stepped across the hall and knocked on Frank's door.

"Frank," she said. "Are you in there?"

She knocked again.

"Is everything okay?" There was a long pause before she said, "Are you all right?"

The door to our apartment was still open and she looked back at me as if I might have a suggestion of what to do next but I really didn't have any idea. I didn't know who Frank was and this was only my third time sleeping at Gina's place so the whole thing was pretty bizarre: why was she knocking on this guy's door at five in the morning? That's what I was thinking.

Through the door I heard someone begin to moan. It was a man's voice and it was a long and trying moan and I gathered that it must have been Frank. He didn't use any words, just grunting and sighing and moaning.

"I'm coming in there," Gina said. "Just wait, I'll get you some help."

By this point I had set that copy of the old Time aside and had finished my cup of tea and was kind of just standing around the kitchen by the sink and not really knowing what to do next, if anything at all.

Gina walked back into the apartment and just kind of shook her head in disbelief. She headed back toward the closet and ran her hand across my chest a couple of times as she was walking away.

This was when I wanted to spring into action and do something heroic ––– to rescue the day, but I had no idea what to do so I just kind of kept standing there, lingering in the kitchen. I put on more hot water.

"Do you need any help?" I asked.

"No," Gina said. She was sifting through a couple of jackets in the closet, checking their pockets, looking for something. "It's just Frank."

She turned around and presented a key. "He just does this."

Outside the birds were really chirping now, no –––– the birds were really singing now, they were singing and the sun was coming up in all of its glory and it pretty much looked like daylight (or almost daylight) outside.

As the tea kettle cried out again Gina was standing in front of Frank's door again and holding the key that she pulled from one of the jackets in her closet.

"Frank," she said, "I'm coming in," then knocked.

"Wait," he said. "Just a minute."

"Are you dressed?"

"I said just a minute" ––– that's what Frank had said in that moment.

Gina looked back at me and I glanced over and gave an approving nod. Whatever she was doing it looked like she must have done it before.

"I'm okay," Frank said.

"Are you sure?" Gina asked.

"No," he said through the door. But then Gina didn't move and there was a long silence so he said, "Well, all right, you can come in ––– I guess you can help me."

Gina put the key in the lock and opened the door and looked back at me and gave the nod that meant I want you to come with me, so I set down my newly-poured mug of tea and did.

Frank's place was dreaded. Socks and t-shirts and tea bags (can you blame him) and books and half-opened bags of potato chips and a plate with a chicken bone or two were kind of just everywhere. But there wasn't a stench, just a moderately unpleasant stiffness in the room.

Where was Frank? When Gina and I walked in we didn't see him at first but then as we kept walking into the room we noticed that there was a foot with a red sock that was sticking out from under the bed.

Frank said he wasn't hiding beneath the bed. He wasn't afraid of anything. It was just that his bowling ball had fallen off of the shelf by his bed, bumped up against the wall, and then rolled beneath the bed, so he was down there, reaching for it when we walked in.

He must have been in his late fifties and he had this thick beard and was wearing a white undershirt that was kind of stained in the middle and he was also in his boxers which wasn't that pleasant but Gina was looking past that (and also looking past the mess in his apartment), so I tried my best to do the same.

The bowling ball was bright red and he kept it in a black bag with white stripes and a small pocket on the outside.

“We’ve got a match tonight,” he said.

“Where?” asked Gina.

“At the Lucky Strike, on Tenth Avenue, you know the place?”

Gina and Frank both looked over at me.

“Do you know the place?” Frank asked again.

I didn’t realize that he was talking to me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I’ve been there, once or twice I think.”

Frank started to get up off the floor and Gina helped him get up. They both sat on the bed and I just kind of stood there by the door for a little while longer.

“You bowl?” he asked

––– and before I could answer:

“With her?” he said.

I hesitated. Then Gina jumped in, “Frank, that’s Gary. We’re friends.”

Friends? I thought.

“That’s not what I asked,” Frank said. “I asked whether you two go bowling together.”

“Well, yes,” Gina said. “Like I said, Frank, we’re friends.”

Frank stood up off of the bed real quick.

“I knew it!” He said; and he let the bowling ball thud against the floor again.

“You’ve been messing around with this guy here –––– this . . . Gary,” or whatever you call yourself.

He gave me a mean look; and I mean, mean. Crazed.

“Look, Frank,” Gina said, “It’s not like that. I already told you, the two of us, you and me, we’re not together, Frank. Remember, what the doctor told you?”

Frank turned away from Gina and started walking toward the window but Gina kept on and followed him.

“I’m not Martha,” Gina said. “She’s gone Frank, remember. She left.”

“Then who the hell are you then?” He looked over at me, “And then who the hell is he?”

Gina gave me a look like I was supposed to move over by the window and join them. I stood still for a while but she gave me the same look again and I was pretty much caught in the moment so what the heck, I walked over and stood by the window as they kept talking.

“Gary,” Gina said, “Tell Frank your name, first and last, and also how you know me.” She looked over at me, assuring me, telling me to go on.

I looked over at Frank and at this point I noticed that he had been crying; there were tears in his eyes and he looked really afraid, like he didn’t know where he was and he didn’t know who he was and the whole thing was a lot to deal with so I just told him: “Hi Frank,” . . . he looked at me right in the eye, “I’m Gary . . . Gina’s friend.”

A silence fell between the three of us and not one of us moved ––– not even a little bit ––– for a good while so I thought Frank had started to calm down, but I was wrong.

“You god-damned liar!” Frank said, really shouting. “You think I’m fucking deranged? Is that what you think, Gary!? Is that what you think!? You don't think I know what’s going on between you and my wife, Gary?! You think I don’t know!?”

“Hey!,” Gina screamed, she was really getting in his face now, “Frank! Frank! Cool it, Frank! Be cool.”

Next thing you know Frank is picking me up and throwing me against the window and getting real close to my face and saying things like, this’ll be the last time; this’ll be the last god-damned time, you hear me?!

And I was friggin shook! Trust me, I was shook.

And then Gina was clawing at Frank’s back, trying to get him to let go of me and I was yelling too ––– get off of me! Get off me!

Then not before long there was a knock on the door followed by the bell and someone kept ringing the bell to the apartment. One of the neighbors started beating on the door, really pounding on the door, mostly because it was six in the morning and we were all yelling and screaming and carrying on and didn’t they know that there were other people in the building who needed to get some sleep for christ’s sake!

So Gina stopped trying to pull me off of Frank and went to open the door; and Frank kept a hold of me real tight; then Gina let the person at the door in. That person was a guy named Donald who turned out to be the building’s super and thank god he knew how to get Frank to get ahold of himself.

“Frankie!” Donald cried out, “Frankie! Stop it! Leave’em alone.”

Donald shot across the room and pretty much tackled Frank onto the bed and then the bowling ball thumped onto the floor again and Donald and Frank started tossing and turning and trying to land punches on each other and pin the other guy down. It was wild.

Then Frank fell onto the floor again and Donald was standing over him, god bless him (Donald). Then Donald took a quiet and soft knee beside Frank, who was breathing very heavy now. And Donald said this so calmly and with so much love and care for Frank, I’ll never forget it: “Frankie, it’s okay. Frankie, it’s okay. It’s okay.”