Before Him Comes Me

by Sure, Alexandria

  To: Franky Jones

  From: Frank Ryan

  Subject: confirming

  Franky,

  Good morning, I was reviewing your resume again. I am very impressed with all of your accomplishments. Your professors at NYU sang your praises graduated number 2 in your class, and you had some pieces shown at the MOMA. Then what you have done at Google, Rick was not pleased to be losing you. My question is why did you step away from the art to do computer programming? I am glad you want to revisit and use your education in the arts.

  I just wanted to touch base with you to make sure we are still on Thursday the 28th at 4pm?,for your orientation, sign all the necessary paperwork, and give you a tour of the office.

  Frank Ryan

  CEO Maestro LLC

  To: Frank Ryan

  Fr: Franky Jones

  Subject: why?

  Good Morning to you Frank. Thank you for the compliments. Yes I had some pieces shown years ago, it was nerve racking to say the least, but a great moment in my life and I sold them all. To answer your question, I was interested in the process of how web content is created, how art and other graphics are transformed using 0’s and 1’s. It is a timely procedure but fascinating.

  I am happy to being going back to what I love which is art. It might be a different medium but using that creative muscle again is exciting.

  Franky Jones

  To: Franky Jones

  From: Frank Ryan

  Subject: moving

  I would love to chat with you about the more once you get here. The programming aspect, I have a team in place but they need some guidance and I think you could help them.

  I know you said your move was all set, but if you need any help let me know. Please.

  Frank Ryan

  CEO Maestro LLC

  From: Franky Jones

  To: Frank Ryan

  Subject: thank you

  My move is all set I have my cousin Jenny coming in from Brooklyn to help me. Thank you though.

  Also I want to thank you for this amazing opportunity. I can't wait to get started and yes the 28th at 4pm works for me if you need to change it I am flexible.

  Franky Jones

  To: Franky Jones

  From: Frank Ryan

  Subject: you’re welcome

  I am glad you’re excited so am I. Hopefully I will talk to you before then. I would love to put a voice to the person. Have a nice day. I was also wondering if you would like a tour guide. I can show you all the wonderful things that are New York, and can our parents be anymore Italian. You are Francesca and I am Francesco? What is it with them and names? I am sure you aren’t just Francesca Jones you probably have three middle names? Right?

  Frank Ryan

  CEO Maestro LLC

  To: Frank Ryan

  From: Franky Jones

  Subject: you’re funny….lol

  Yes I feel the same way about our names and it is comical. And yes I have two middle names Olivia Maria. Shocker right, aren’t all Italian women named Maria? You would give me a tour of New York? It has been awhile since I have been in the city. Take me to the top of the Empire State building, then buy me a hot dog from the street vendor, and buy me an (I heart) NY t-shirt?

  A phone call would be nice to put a voice to Frank Ryan.

  Franky Jones

  To: Franky Jones

  From: Frank Ryan

  Subject: I am so glad I could make you laugh

  I will do all of that and more. Really nice to know I can put a smile on your face, you have no idea. Have a nice day Franky and talk to you soon.

  Frank Ryan

  CEO Maestro LLC

  I can't help the smile I feel on my face. I could like that Frank Ryan.

  The stewardess taps me on my shoulder bringing me from my daydream “can I get you another drink?” I spy the tray full of mimosas refraining myself from asking for two more. I smile up at her “Thank you” I take the offered glass. Her blue eyes sparkle and she smiles “you have great style, I love the track suit. Its designer isn’t?” I return her smile “it is DKNY” she nods “I love the black, the silver piping along the legs is pretty, and the shoes are perfect” she chuckles I look down at my silver converse all-stars or “chucks” and giggle. “Yeah I like to mix it up” she smiles back “like I said I like your style. Have a nice flight if you need anything my name is Sharon” I smile up at her “thank you Sharon, probably need another one of these soon’ she smiles and walks away. I look down at the glass in my hand seeing the definite line from where the orange juice and vodka meet. I glance at the ring on my middle finger. My mother’s fire opal ring, it used to be a bracelet but she turned it into a ring. The way the colors mix in together as if flames of a fire. The pinks melting with the reds, white encompasses the perimeter, specks of green scatter through the middle. Guess that’s why it’s called a fire opal. My mind wanders to all of things that were hers, which are now mine. That trip to the lawyer’s office sent me for a loop…….

  I glance down at my phone wondering where this guy is he is already 20 minutes late and I am starting to get irritated. Just then he walks through the door an older man with salt and pepper hair. Very Italian the strong roman nose prominent on his face. He smiles exposing white slightly crooked teeth. I stand to greet him but he says “please Ms. Jones stay mi scusi (sorry) I apologize for being late”. He mumbles a few curses in Italian. I reposition myself in the well-worn brown leather chair. It’s one of those high back chairs the kind you would see in the office of an English professor’s office. It’s supple and strong. I sit up straighter as he rounds the desk slowly sitting in a matching chair with a file in his hands. He sets it down flexing his fingers over the top in a pulsating motion. His expression is unreadable. I start to feel nervous and give my phone one more spin catching it quickly. For when I look at him, really look at him he looks so sad. I think my mother and he were close. My heart constricts a little for the both of us. Exhaling audibly through his nose “I know you have already dealt with your mother’s estate, she came to me about a few other things, more personal matters. These are some documents your mother wanted you to read after her passing. She had reservations about sharing this with you for fear, the shear fact of how you would react. Her main concern was to have me help you understand. She did all of this for your benefit, for your future. She did everything out of love for you first and foremost. I would like you to know I advised her to tell you about your father sooner. I personally think it was the easy way out, she wasn’t a coward but how she handled this was weak in my mind.” My eyes flick to the file, what could possibly be in there? A sense of dread washes over me. It’s cold and stifling. I feel like running. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, and then exhale slowly easing the anxiety. “Excuse me I don’t understand? I am alone in this world. I have a great job. I make money hand over fist” My voice rises as the pain churns “my future is secure Mr. Abbatangelo! So I don’t know why I am here? I don’t know what else you have to tell me?” He takes a breath then slides the file to me. I flip it open and see my birth certificate. I pick it up and read. Mother: Dominica Maria Caprapini Father: Francesco Alberto Caprapini. I look up from the paper my eyes filling with tears. I have never seen my father’s name. I never heard his name come from my mother’s lips, until that fateful moment. All she ever told me was that he died. Which now I know is not true. He is alive and well living in New York. He knew about me but never came for me. I don’t know why but I plan on finding out once I am settled. Those were the last words out of her mouth. He was alive and I should look him up. I wanted to be mad at her for lying to me all these years. I didn’t want the anger there in her room when she was taking her final breath. I can remember the feel of her hand clinging to mine, the deep look of sadness in her eyes. The guilt of her secret and the impact it would have on me. I could see the fear of leaving. She wasn’t afraid of death. She was afraid of not being there for me anymore. I swallowed hard and tried to push that memory down with the
rest. Fuck! Why did she have to die! Why didn’t she tell me she was sicker than she really was so we could have spent more time together! I would have taken a leave from my job to spend it with her to make more memories. She always had to be in control. Always! I fan my hands in front of my face to stop the tears from falling. I am not breaking down. I notice Mr. Abbatangelo gets up from his desk, he places a plain cardboard box in front of me. I place the birth certificate back in the file and glance at the top of the box, a small white label with my mother’s handwriting “Francesca.” He sits back down in his chair. Leaning on the desk with his elbows, his hands laced together. The look of sadness still in his eyes, he breathes “She wanted you to have this box. She said it will answer any questions that you have about your father. It ate at her for years, not telling you about him. She hoped this would help bring you peace. You should go through this before you search him out.” I push the box aside. I am stunned right now staring at the box. Wondering what it holds? “Ok thank you” is all I say he nods. His eyes trained on me, but still unreadable. I push the box aside and turn my attention back to the file. I flip the birth certificate over. Picking up another piece of paper, it is a bank statement. With my name on it, my birth name. Not the name I grew up with but for me I am Franky Jones. I will always be Franky Jones. Not this Caprapini person. I read the statement it shows a balance of $250 thousand dollars. I shake my head wondering where this money came from, and the anger bubbles. We lived so modestly as I was growing up, and she had this money. I don’t understand that. I pick up the final piece of paper. A deed to an apartment at 15 Central Park West. I mumble “what the fuck?” I glance up at him “sorry” he smiles the first real smile this morning “its fine I understand” I look back at the deed, a three bedroom apartment, one bathroom on the 47th floor with a balcony. I shake my head this is surreal. Central Park West is the best fucking neighborhood in New York and I live there. I look up at Mr. Abbatangelo and say “what….it’s like she knew and prepared for this” I rest my head in my hands rubbing my temples roughly. I glance back up at him “she knew didn’t she?” He nods I can see the pain in his eyes. I suspect he was more than just a lawyer to her he was a friend. He sighed “yes she knew about 6 months ago that it was back and terminal. She only disclosed it to you a few weeks ago. But that was her wish I am sorry. She had all of this set up for you, the money, and the apartment. They were all things your father provided for her. He had always hoped you two would come back. Now that she is gone it’s all yours” I take a deep breath wishing I had a shot of tequila right now I need to numb myself. I guess everything happens for a reason. Now I know it wasn’t quickly, she knew all along. I close my eyes I can still hear her say “take it baby girl, have a good life. Please follow this. It is your dream what you went to school for, what you worked so hard for and now as creative director, you will be in charge and running things. This is your time baby girl” She was in control, even in death, making this transition easy on me. Always looking out. But how is it going to be easy without her? I try to hold back the tears. I look up and say “is there anything else?” he doesn’t say a word but shakes his head and finally he says “no that is all” I take a deep breath and stand up smoothing down my slacks to wipe away the sweat from my hands and tucking in my blouse. I can see my heart pounding through the silk. I will myself to not breakdown now. I slip my phone in my purse and pull it up onto my shoulder. I grab the box and tuck it under my arm. I stick my hand out “thank you very much for your help and I am sure you did more than this. I appreciate it beyond measure. Please send me the bill” as I look into his eyes he smiles. I tilt my head “she took care of that already didn’t she?” he nods with a small smile. My breath catches in the throat as a frightening thought creeps into my head “did she arrange for this job to as well?” he looked at me puzzled “job?” I shake my head “never mind. Thank you again for your help, with everything” he sighs “it was a pleasure your mother was a feisty woman and very determined to make it right. She was an amazing soul I will dearly miss her” I see his eyes well up. Yeah they were more than friends. I give into the warm smile that curves at my lips. My mother was truly amazing. She was my whole world. I know I get her stubbornness. That’s why we butted heads so many times. I nod “yeah she was always determined or controlling is more like it” and then he chuckles “yes that would be your mother, if there is anything else you need please do not hesitate to give me a call” I smile “thank you again”

  The sound of one of the stewardesses making the deplaning announcement brings me out of my thoughts. Since I am in first class, I get to exit first. The advantages to having money, it’s not the worst in the world let me tell you. I grew up modestly is the best word to describe it. We never went without but I did attend a private Catholic school. I didn’t get a car on my 16th birthday, but I didn’t need one. I didn’t have the best clothes my mom liked shopping at Target and Kohl’s plus I wore a uniform so my fashion sense was limited. I glide through the airport because all I had was my carry on. Everything else is already here waiting to be unpacked tomorrow. When I step out of JFK the air hits me first. It’s crisp and there is rain in the air. I can smell it. I take a deep breath inhaling New York. I want it to seep into my lungs and penetrate my skin, as apprehensive as I was for returning. Standing here right now, my feet on this ground I know it was the right choice for me. A young man walks up to me “do you need a cab miss?” I see his NYC taxi ID card hanging around his neck. I nod “yes please” he steps to grab my bag as I step to put it in the trunk our hands brush. He shakes his head “I got it for you there are still gentlemen in this town go on get in” I blink a couple times taken aback by his words, and notice a hint of a southern accent. He’s new to the city, hasn’t been jaded by the masses yet. “Oh sure thank you” I slide into the back seat, watching as he slides into the driver’s seat. He turns smiling “so where to?” I return his smile and it feels good to smile “the Trump Tower please” he nods “you got it miss”

  With my bag in hand I walk through the brass and glass revolving door. Smiling like a loon, I almost want to make one more go round, but I don’t. I step right up the marble reception desk. A beautiful blonde, who could pass as one of Trump’s Ms. America contestants greets me with a dazzling smile “good evening can I have the name for your reservation?” I pull out my wallet and hand her my American express black card “Franky Jones” she takes the card, and begins clicking away on her computer. I glance around the opulent lobby. Everything shines, from the marble floors to the crystal chandeliers. The collection of plush chairs perfect for sitting and people watching. It’s warm and rich. It’s New York. She says “miss we have you in the park suite for just the night. Check out is 11am. Is there anything else I can do for you?” I shake my head “no thank you but can I still order food?” she smiles “yes you can we have dining service 24 hours” I nod “thank you very much” I turn to leave she calls out “ enjoy your stay and have a good evening” I smile and make my way to the elevator. As I ride up the events of the last few weeks seem to have caught up with me. All I want is something to eat, a hot shower and sleep, restful sleep.

  When I step into my suite the first thing I see is a bouquet of flowers, a cut crystal vase bursting with white roses and daisies sitting on the coffee table. I set my suitcase by the couch and sit down on the lush gray couch then pretty much stick my face in the flowers and inhale. Roses have such a sweet warm smell. I know does warm have a smell? I don’t know but they smell warm. I grab the cream colored card it’s small but heavy. This florist’s uses quality paper. I have a thing for paper. It’s the artist in me. I tuck my finger under the flap popping it open and tug out the card as I read it my heart swells and so does my smile.

  Franky

  Welcome to New York beautiful!

  Looking forward to meeting you finally in person The last few weeks have been hell. Even worse since I’ve heard your voice. OUR dinner date can't be soon enough, and I think we should change the
meeting to TODAY

  Frank

  I can't help the smile on my face, reading it again. That sneaky man I wonder how he knew where I was staying? I notice the handwriting. It looks masculine and neat. It could be his? I am going to believe it is. That he took the time out to do that for me. A knock at the door startles me out of my thoughts I open the door to a white coated young man with a tray I notice the bucket of champagne and something covered. Does this place have mind reading skills and sent me food? He smiles “Ms. Jones may I?” I open the door wider for him to enter he sets the tray on the on the small counter near a kitchenette, just a sink and coffee maker. I am sure there is a refrigerator too. This is the Trump Tower. He proceeds to open the champagne as I stand there confused. The pop makes me jump. He turns to me still smiling “compliments of Mr. Ryan” he fills the flute leaving it on the tray. I shake my head with a wide smile on my lips “thank you” he nods and exits the room. I take the glass and bring it to my lips feeling the bubbles popping. I take a sip the taste of berries invades my mouth. I stick my finger in the hole atop the silver cover. I gasp when I see a collection of Ghirardelli chocolates. The man is sweet pun intended. There is another card. I pick that one up and enfold it shaking my head