Blink of an Eye: Beginnings Series Book 8

by Jacqueline Druga

  Frank, who sat on the couch, leaning into the coffee table, merely shifted his eyes at him. “What the hell are you whining about?”

  “Nick,” Henry answered. “He’s tough, Frank.”

  “Aw,” Frank drastically whined, “let’s have a pity party.”

  “A pity party?” Henry snapped. “Oh grow up, Frank. No one past the third grade uses that saying.”

  Sitting in the other chair, Dean snickered. “Henry, look who said it. And that comment surprises you?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Dean,” Frank told him. “I let you into my house all evening. What? You don’t have nothing better to do than to hang out here?”

  “Actually no,” Dean said. “You have the kids. I’m done with whatever I can do. What else am I going to do? I’m blind, Frank.”

  “Yeah, so we’ve been told a million fuckin times, Dean. Take your turn.”

  “I’m thinking. And ...” He heard Frank whine. “What?”

  “Why are you talking? Move. It’s your turn.” Frank held out his hand and saw as he did, Henry taking another drink. “Why are you drinking, Henry? Give me that.” Frank snatched the bottle from Henry’s lips. “You’re drinking way too much, too fast. You’re gonna get plastered.” Frank brought the bottle to his own lips.

  Dean heard the close swishing. “Don’t drink, Frank.”

  “Don’t bitch, Dean,” Frank quipped back.

  “I’m trying to help. Do your other thing,” Dean told him.

  “I could do my other thing, Dean.” Frank set the bottle on the coffee table, and it was quickly snatched back up by Henry. “But my nerves are shot. Here it is after nine, the kids are asleep, I should have my house to myself, but no ... I have Ethel and Lucy sitting right along with me.”

  Henry took another long drink. “Which one am I, Frank?”

  Frank looked at him. “Which one are you, what?”

  “Ethel or Lucy?” Henry asked. “Which one am I?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It matters quite a bit, Frank. I don’t want to be Ethel. I don’t think there’s a person on the face of the earth that wants to be Ethel. She was weird.”

  “Henry,” Frank yelled at him. “Quiet. Dean’s trying to concentrate. If he doesn’t concentrate, he’ll never take his fuckin turn! God! There should be a time limit. Dean!”

  “It’s difficult, Frank.” Dean held up his hand.

  Henry shook his head. “Dean, I thought you were a lot smarter than that. Why are you playing Scrabble with Frank?”

  “Call it me giving Frank a handicap,” Dean answered.

  “But still, Dean, he’ll cheat.”

  “So what? He’s helping out. It’s a game, Henry.” Dean became perturbed. “It’s something to do other than getting drunk. Want us to start over and you can play?”

  “No,” Henry answered quickly. “I don’t want to play Scrabble with you and Frank. No way. I want to be with Ellen, but she’s on a date with Forrest right now. Did you see her? Not you, Dean, I mean Frank. She was really pretty and she’s being with Forrest.”

  Frank snickered. “So.”

  “So?” Henry leaned forward, drinking some more. “It’s a date. You don’t care? Both of you don’t care?”

  “Henry.” Frank looked at him. “Why would we care? She doesn’t like Forrest that way. He’s old. He’s little. He’s wrinkled. Ellen is the most superficial person I know. If there’s something about your appearance she doesn’t like, she’ll gag.” Frank stole the bottle from Henry and took a drink. “Now that Danny Hoi, he’s the one I’d worry about. He gets out tomorrow. I like the guy and everything, but I will kill him if he moves in on her. He’s stands a good chance. He has that hair-thing going for him.”

  Henry breathed heavily outward. “How does he do that? How does he have such good hair? I try, I mean I think I ...” He stopped talking when he saw Frank’s glare and even Dean lifted his head his way. “Never mind.”

  “Henry.” Dean fiddled with his tiles. “If you’re so worried about her date, why don’t you go to the Social Hall and intrude?”

  “You think I could?” Henry asked, taking another drink.

  Both Dean and Frank shouted ‘YES!’ at him.

  Henry jumped back in the chair. “OK, OK.” He stood up. “Whoa.” He grabbed his head. “I’m a little dizzy.”

  Frank shook his head. “Well float on out of here. Dean! Take your turn!”

  “I would, Frank, but Henry had me confused. He broke my concentration.”

  “See, Henry.” Frank pointed. “Go, and bring her back here so she can walk home with Dean.”

  “I don’t need her to walk home, Frank,” Dean commented.

  “No, but it’ll be fun, riding her about Forrest.”

  Henry moved to the front door, still holding his bottle. He swayed a little. “I’m leaving. I think, I think I’ll leave my wine here.”

  “You do that,” Frank said as he anxiously and impatiently waited for his turn. “Go.” He heard the open and shut of the front door. Henry was gone. “Thank God.” Frank pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. “I’m getting an ashtray. When I get back, you’d better have your tiles down, Dean, or I’m kicking your ass.”

  “I got it now. I got it.” Dean felt the board carefully, remembering the words that Frank told him were there. He felt for the letters he needed, then placed down his tiles in the order he had them on his rack. “Done.”

  “Good.” Frank laid the ashtray on the table, his cigarette dangled from his mouth. “What the hell is that?”

  “Glaze.”

  “No it is not. You have ‘gyrza’. That’s not a word, Dean.”

  “Frank, you told me what letters I had. I made a mistake. Do I not have the letters to make the word glaze using your ‘Z’?”

  Frank pulled at Dean’s rack. “Yeah.”

  “So I messed up. Give me a break. I’ll put the right tiles down.”

  “No way.”

  “No way?”

  “Nope.” Frank grabbed a pencil. “You’ll remove the tiles, and then you lose a turn because ‘gyrza’ is not a word. Therefore, I challenge it. Therefore, I get fifty extra points.” Frank made a buzzing sound, then snickered.

  “Give me a break, Frank, I’m ...”

  “Don’t,” Frank stopped him. “Don’t say it. I’m tired of hearing it. My turn.” Frank grinned widely at him. “Oh, Dean? By the way, in case you’re wondering, I have this gloating look on my face.”

  Dean sulked. “The one I hate?”

  “That’s the one.” With another short laugh, Frank placed down his tiles to his words, instigating Dean with every wooden piece he put down.

  <><><><>

  ‘This is so neat!’ Ellen thought as she stared at her Frank-voodoo-doll. The little black hairs she collected from the sink plunged nicely into the wax on top of the doll’s head to form black hair and his perfect goatee. Green clothes completed the look. Her Frank-doll was bigger than any other woman’s. Ellen made it that way. It had to be, all except the crouch area. She made that extremely small on purpose just to irk Frank if he ever found it. ‘Neat, really neat.’ She kept thinking as she walked, then she’d respond to Forrest. “A-huh.”

  “Uh wuss married foe ... foe-tee years.” Forrest walked side by side with her, his hands behind his back. “Uh em sure you hef felt dat way.”

  “A-huh.” Ellen smiled. ‘Wow did I do a good job.’

  “Sometimes loon-lay-ness guts to you und you hef ta rich et ta a nether. Oui?”

  “A-huh.” Ellen carefully began to wrap her Frank-doll in a cloth. ‘I have to show this to him. It’s too good.’

  “Un you do newt see de person dat you shoe see. Day are rut dear wit you und when you see dem, you know. Do you agree?”

  ‘I really think I did the best job.’ Ellen smiled again. “A-huh.”

  “Uh dink, El-loon, dat you und Uh coo bay a good cup-pal. Do you newt?’

  ‘No one, no one else’s is th
is good.’ Ellen proudly finished covering the doll.

  “El-loon? You und uh muck a good cup-pal. Oui?”

  “A-huh.” With a giggle, Ellen tucked the wrapped doll carefully in the pouch. “Great evening, Forrest.” She rolled her eyes and then fake yawned. “But ...” She stretched out. “I am really beat. Dean is a slave driver you know.”

  “Ah oui. Don con bay de wok-a-hell-lick.”

  Ellen looked to where they were. Grateful, she saw they were at the edge of the Living Section. “Well, thanks for walking me home. I can make it the rest of the way.”

  “Uh woo luck to wok you to you home. Uh woo luck ta comb in. Oui?”

  “Uh ... no.” Ellen shook her head. “Not tonight. God.” She pressed her finger to her temple. “I have this pain. I wonder if Frank is sticking a pin in a voodoo doll he made of me?”

  “Bay-foe we de-put. May we muv a sum to woot we booth a-grued to?”

  “Um ...” Ellen fluttered her lips, clueless. “Sure, Forrest.”

  “Ah, El-loon.” His hand reached to her hair as he stepped closer to her. Ellen shrieked loudly, jumping back. “Woot es et?”

  “A bug.” She faked shuddered. “I swore I saw a bug.”

  “Uh well pro-tucked you.” Another inch to her and Forrest puckered his lips her way.

  Trapped! Ellen felt the grip of what he thought was a romantic hold. Was it happening in slow motion? What the hell was she saying ‘A-huh’ to the whole time? What did she agree to? ‘Oh God!’ She squinted, moving back, but Forrest just chased her with those lips. ‘Oh God. Trish put him up to this. I know it.’

  “Forrest.” Henry’s calling of his name caused Forrest to move away from Ellen. “I’ve been uh, thinking about what you asked me.”

  “An-ray.” Forrest held up his hand to Ellen as if he were going to take care of it so they could have their moment. “Ef you donut mund. El-loon und uh are fin-ness-ing our det.”

  “I kind of do mind, Forrest.” Henry moved closer to them. His eyes could barely focus, and he rattled with words to say in his mind. “I really do mind. See, we’re still, still dedicated. And ... I wasn’t thinking when I said it was all right for you to take her out. I’d really rather you not touch Ellen.”

  “El-loon.” Forrest took on a chivalrous look. “Oon-loss you want me to stay. Uh moos buck away. An-Ray es my frund. Uh donut want to hut dat.”

  What Ellen really wanted to do was chew Henry’s ass out for interfering in her life. But swallowing her hostility toward Henry, Ellen decided to take his saving grace. “I completely understand, Forrest, completely. I’m with you, though I hate it.” She gave glaring eyes to Henry. “We’re still legal. Thanks for the date.” She extended her hand to the little old man.

  “Et hes ben ma pleasure.” Forrest took her hand and brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

  Ellen felt the feel of his too-soft lips.

  “An-Ray.” Forrest released Ellen’s hand. “El-loon. Goodnight.” Like a gentlemen, Forrest stepped back, turned, and walked slowly away.

  Henry stammered a step to Ellen. “El ...”

  “You’re drunk.” She brushed by him.

  “No.” Henry reached out to her quickly pulling her back. “Ellen.”

  “Henry, let me go.” She placed her hand over his and pulled his fingers from her wrist. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “I want to go home.” She moved by him.

  “Dean’s not there. He’s hanging out with Frank.”

  Though Ellen thought that odd, she didn’t make mention of it. “Then I’ll go to Frank’s. Excuse me.”

  “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” Henry asked as he followed her.

  “What is there to talk about? I don’t want to stand here and discuss us, with you. We’ve done that. That is not an option.”

  “I don’t want to do that either.”

  “Then why are you chasing me, Henry?”

  “Because I just want to talk to you.” His head dropped down. “Just talk. About anything,” he spoke with desperation. “I just want to talk to you. You, El.”

  “No.”

  “Come on,” Henry called out in a near sluggish whine. “I helped you with Forrest.”

  Ellen stopped walking and turned around to face him. “So you want paid back?”

  “Don’t you think you owe me?”

  “I can’t believe this is you talking.”

  “I don’t care how I sound.” Henry tossed his hands up. “If that’s what it takes to get you to come home and just talk to me, then I’ll be a dick to do it. Please, El, let’s go and talk. I promise I won’t bring up us. Fifteen minutes.”

  “I don’t think so, Henry. Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes too much. You’re drunk go talk to someone else.”

  Ellen walked off, and Henry turned in the direction of the Social Hall.

  The Social Hall was its usual rowdy-loud for a Friday night when Henry stormed in there. The first thing he did was go to the bar, pouring himself something stiffer to drink than just his wine. He downed it then poured another. He turned from facing ‘Sam’ the mannequin to the women who had gathered in their typical circle after their Friday meeting. A part of Henry was hoping that Ellen would return to her ‘moon tribe’. In fact, in his angry march to the hall, he had convinced himself of it. And he became angrier when he saw she wasn’t returning.

  Henry stood there for at least ten minutes, finally bringing himself to a sip when he hit his third drink. Thinking about Ellen as he stared out at those laughing and having fun, he ran her final words to him though his mind, growing more frustrated. His eyes felt heavy, almost too heavy, and his focus was at its worst. Running his hand down his warm face, Henry took a long drink of his moonshine and set down his glass when he spotted her. With his hands in his pockets and his body feeling as if it weighed three hundred pounds, he walked over to Jenny Matoose who stood laughing with another woman.

  “Jenny.” Henry cleared his thickened throat.

  “Henry.” Jenny raised her eyebrow.

  Henry swallowed, shifting his eyes around, standing in total hesitation.

  “Henry? Did you want something?”

  “I know ...” Henry closed his eyes, his voice was so graveled, “I know you can help me. Not you personally, but I know ... I know you’re close to these women.”

  “Yeah so.”

  “I need to be with someone.”

  “Sorry.” Jenny turned from him.

  “I’m serious, Jenny.”

  Jenny faced him again. “I am too.”

  “She told me she hates me ... she ...”

  “She is hurt. Do you think asking me this is going to help your case?”

  “I’m hurt too.” Henry lifted his shoulders so arrogantly.

  “You’re also very drunk right now. I can see it in your face. The way you’re standing, acting. Go home, Henry, and sleep it off. I won’t be a part of another mistake of yours.” Making what she felt would be her final turn away from Henry, Jenny felt the burning knot hit her the moment she picked her drink back up, In that moment, she heard a female voice behind her saying ‘then I will, Henry’. Widening her eyes, Jenny slammed down her drink, and spun around seeing Bev move from the Social Hall with Henry. “No.” She charged over to the two. “Henry.” She jumped in front of him. “Come back and sit with me and we’ll talk.”

  Henry ignored her and tried to get by her.

  “Bev.” Jenny blocked Bev’s way. “If you do this, if you break our bond of women, I will not be responsible when Ellen beats the fuck out of you. In fact, I’ll encourage it. This man is drunk, angry, and he doesn’t need to make a mistake right now.”

  Bev blinked long and hard with thought. She stepped back from Henry, moving Jenny with her. “You may have a point, but this man is also very down right now. Jenny, aren’t you the one who preaches to us that it is our responsibility to help them out. I’m not starting a relationship with him. I’m merely h
elping him through a rough time.” Bev began to move from her.

  “Bev, I swear to God if you do this, I will never stand by you through anything. There aren’t that many of us women for us to be stabbing each other in the back. I learned that the hard way.”

  “And I learned what someone doesn’t know, won’t hurt them.” With a semi-wave, Bev walked to Henry, placed her arm on his, and walked from the Social Hall with him.

  Jenny grunted, her whole body literally moved in that grunt. “Ellen.” As she went to charge for the door, she felt her arm being pulled back.

  “Let it go,” John Matoose told her.

  “I can’t, John. I have to…”

  “Let ... just let it go, Jen.” John brought his hand to his forehead.

  “How can I do that?” Jenny asked. “Ellen and I are rebuilding that trust. If I don’t step in right now, what does it do to that trust?”

  “You tried. You gave it your best shot. You didn’t fail. Henry failed. Bev failed. If you run to Ellen with this, with her still hurt over this wedding shit, it’s gonna make matters worse. I’m gonna tell you what will happen. One of two things, either Henry will do it, or Henry will chicken out. Either way he’s gonna feel like shit over it, a real piece of shit, no matter what he ends up doing. You know that as well as I do. He won’t give a squat about Bev. It’ll start between them and be over with just as fast. If you go running to Ellen now and she heads over to stop it, she could very well walk into the middle of it. Let it go.” John raised his eyebrows as a slight stern warning to his wife.

  Jenny closed her eyes and let out an emotional breath. Her hands actually shook from frustration, anger, and lack of being able to control what was happening. Jenny knew well that the relationships in Beginnings, between the very few women and multitudes of men, were all intricately woven into their own little groups. That was all well and fine that way, but if someone crosses the boundaries of the threads, Jenny was very much aware at how easily the seams would rip.

  <><><><>

  Henry’s shirt was the second piece of clothing off, Bev’s top was the first as he had her on his couch. His hand gripped under her short black hair holding her head to him keeping his mouth wide and hard as he moved it across hers. Her back was pressed against the arm of the sofa, and Henry’s other hand grasped her thigh pushing her shorts up and her leg outward making more room for his body as he pressed his waist in a near-rough anger against her. He could feel her one hand holding firm against the back pocket of his jeans. He felt the fingers of her other hand digging into the skin of his back, causing almost a pain, as she moaned with his preluding hard, rigid motions. It added to the surrealism he felt, the dream like state he felt he was in, his feeling of out-of-control.