Written By Brad Harness
Frank Valera sat unhappily staring out the living room window. He twirled his wedding band around his finger meditatively. He looked around the room, which was almost empty now, and cursed. How could she have left him? he wondered.
He stood up and walked through each room in their diminutive bungalow set prettily amidst the pine trees at the end of a cul-de-sac. Each room was about half empty now since Pandora left. Yesterday.
He had not thought things would go this far. He knew she had been depressed and unhappy for months now, but her family had been round to chat with her often and that had seemed to brighten her mood.
Presumably she had moved in with her parents. “But what about me now?”, he asked himself.
“Should I stay here in this house, shelling out rent which I can ill-afford? Or, should I move someplace more affordable – maybe start my life over there…”
The phone in the kitchen jangled to life and Frank shuffled in to answer it.
“Hello?” he responded.
“Mr. Valera?”
“Yes.”
“This is Big Boy Furniture on Broadway here in OuterHaven. You are very much past-due on your account…”
“Ah, yes, well…a about that…”
“This is the third warning, Mr. Valera, and your last. Our trucks will be in your driveway in half an hour. Please, let them in. They will be repossessing your – I mean our - furniture.” And with that the woman on the phone hung up.
Frank – Frankie to his buddies – slammed down the phone and sighed heavily, sweeping his bangs off his face. “Damn!” he shouted, punching the wall – and hurting his hand.
That was dumb, Frankie, he told himself. Don’t do that again. Think, man, think…you can get yourself out of this hole if you’d just think clearly. Clarity was the problem, because it was due to his lifestyle – drink, women, gambling – that he was in this position in the first place. Poor Pandora had had enough, and he knew it was all his fault. But that lack of clear thinking had let him drive her away. Now she was gone, and in 25 minutes – he glanced at his watch – 22 minutes!… the furniture would be gone as well. There would be little left to hang on to. My ship is sinking, and fast, he admitted. Time to abandon ship, eh?
NEXT WEEK: PART 2
