Frank & Yvonne

Frank returned to his dilapidated apartment at 6th and Market late one night after a serious drinking bout with his former girlfriend Yvonne. Their relationship was rocky - an on again, off again sort of affair - and this was the tenth time they had broken up. It all started in a cheap Italian restaurant in North Beach.

"Frank?" she asked.

He chewed on his overcooked gnocchi, swallowed, and looked her in the eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something. I mean, I don't know how to put it... because I don't want you to think it's a big deal and all. I mean I know how you'll take it, but I want you to know it means nothing to me, absolutely nothing."

"Hold on a sec." He grabbed his glass of house wine and drained it.

Frank and Yvonne complemented each other perfectly. He was a man of few words and resolute action, rare qualities that she found appealing. She, on the other hand, descended from a great line of gabbers. After several disastrous relationships with equally talkative partners, she found herself irresistibly attracted to Frank's laconic ways. Once Frank told her that she talked too much, although secretly, he found her endless chatter endearing.

"OK. Continue," he said.

"Remember the night I went out with Helena and Willard? Remember? It was when you were at your parents' place in Reno . Willard's friend Winthorpe was there too. We all went out to eat, and afterwards we hit a bar where the ball game was playing. That's when Willard and Winthorpe got drunk and got in a fight with some Dodger fans. Remember?"

"Um. Yeah. I think so."

"Well, afterwards we went dancing at the Alleycat and drank some more. Willard bought some herb and we smoked a couple joints. I was so trashed Frank . So trashed... I could have slept in a gutter. You know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah ."

"So, Helena was driving that night and she told me I could get a lift. The thing was... well you know how far away my apartment is from theirs. I told her to let me sleep in their spare bedroom and that I would take the bus home in the morning. So, we all left the club and when we got to her place we drank and smoked some more. Oh Frank . I was so trashed . Really. I was a mess. And you know how persistent Willard gets when he's drunk. God! He's such a pest sometimes! But I was caught up in it, and kept drinking and smoking along with the rest of them. It was getting light outside and I started drifting off, so I said I had to get to bed. Everybody was in the same way. I guess it's just the idea of facing the morning and being that wasted... you know? Anyway, we all went to bed. Winthorpe was still with us so we had to share the bed in Willard's spare bedroom."

“You mean, just you and Winthorpe?”

“Umm. Yeah.”

"Hold on."

Frank picked up the near empty bottle of house wine and offered her some. She declined. He poured the rest in his glass and drained it. He judged the wine to be very poor after all. Bland. Lousy aftertaste. There's nothing worse than a bottle of cheap wine.

While Frank was contemplating the swill that he had just imbibed, Yvonne looked at him from across the table. OK. I hope he takes this the right way, she mused. Then her mind digressed, as her speech often did, and she thought, Hmmm... he does look vaguely handsome in this light. If only he cleaned up a bit. A nice little shave. A trim here and there. We can work on that. Yes. Yes we can.

"OK," he said.

"Frank I was so tired. So tired. And so out of it. You know how I am when I smoke and drink, right? I can't say no. I just go along with everything. I mean what would you do if you were stoned and drunk, lying in bed next to someone that was all right looking? OK, OK, I know it's no excuse, but this is what happened... I was lying there, and then I felt Winthorpe moving close. He got on top of me and we just did it. I couldn't say no. I couldn't say anything. He just stuck it in, and we did it. God Frank. It was nothing! "

" What? Nothing! Why'd it have to be Winthorpe? That guy's a moron! He'd fuck a pumpkin , for chrissake! You know how he is!"

"Frank, calm down. You're making a scene. Haven't you ever done something you regretted? Haven't you? Frank, Frank, hold my hand. I love you!"

"But Winthorpe? I thought it was finished between you two! I thought that was your past! Winthorpe! You know how much I despise that guy! And after the stories you told me about him!"

"Frank. I'm so sorry. You have to understand that what happened means nothing to me! I wish it hadn't happened. But you know what?"

"No. What."

"I swear, when I woke up the next morning, the first thing I thought of was you."

"Gee. Thanks."

They finished the rest of their meal and paid the bill. Frank smoothed over with a little help from the grappa that they had ordered. He was a sucker for Yvonne, plain and simple. He told her it was all right, and that he understood her. They were happy again and they left together in a taxi. They rode up to New Montgomery, got out, and walked to their usual bar, Hawg Heaven. It was decorated inside with vintage motorcycles hanging from the ceiling. Gretchen, the bartender, always flirted with Frank, and gave him and Yvonne their first round on the house. They drank gin & tonics. That's what Frank liked about Yvonne. She was a drinker. She could last the whole night with him, drinking and shouting obscenities at ghosts. They were quite a duo.

After a couple hours there was a moment of silence and Frank remembered their conversation in the Italian restaurant. The alcohol only exacerbated his misery and his racing mind became expansive.

"I feel so alone," blubbered Frank. "I feel so alone in the world!"

"What are you talking about? What's wrong with you?"

"I just feel so alone in this lousy place. It... it's just that nobody understands me!"

"I understand you Frank. What are you saying?"

"The world is so heartless! There's racial cleansing in the Balkans! The polar cap is melting and we're all gonna drown! But do you think anybody cares one bit? No! It's a rat race to the very end! Every face is blank, empty of emotion! People mistake stupidity for personal freedom! That's what I mean! People make me sick!"

"God Frank! What's gotten into you? What are you talking about?"

"WHY THE FUCK DID IT HAVE TO BE WINTHORPE?"

Frank stood on the bar and shouted it over and over again. Nobody paid attention to him and that just excited him more. He jumped off the bar, attempting to grab the tail pipe of a vintage Royal Enfield, but missed and landed in a heap on the ground. Eventually, he and Yvonne were politely escorted out of the bar. After all, they were good customers.

Once outside, they walked into an adjacent alley. Yvonne was hysterical at this point and Frank was unable to formulate any more concrete thoughts. Pure emotion poured out of him. They argued fruitlessly until Yvonne walked off in a furious bundle.

"That's it, Frank. When you're sober enough to rationalize like a normal human being, we can talk. I'm going home!"

"Yeah?" he yelled after her. "Yeah? Uh... Well... It's over! I said it first! You hear that? We're not talking any more 'cause it's over!"

As Frank walked back along Mission Street to his apartment, he felt a vague determination growing inside of him. He took the side entrance to his building and walked four tortuous flights up to his apartment.

When he got inside he went to bed immediately. He lay awake, listening to the sound of cars hissing by on Market Street . He thought about Yvonne, but she soon disappeared, giving way to new thoughts. It was his version of carnal justice, with all it's illogical manifestations, that got the better of him. He thought of Gretchen, the bartender at Hawg Heaven. He liked the way she poured his drinks and flirted with him on the sly. He saw her buxom form, her tight, barely sufficient pants, her bold breasts, and that made him happy. Frank soon fell into a dreamless sleep. He woke up early with a dry throat and got himself a glass of water. Then he lay back in bed and listened to classical music on the radio.

He called in sick to work the next day and went to the St. Francis Theater on Market Street . He paid $3.50 for one movie and stayed for three: a horror movie, a cop thriller, and a disaster movie. When he left the movie theater he couldn't remember what any of the movies were about. It was dark outside and he headed up Market Street until he got to the 711 bar. Inside he made small talk with the German bartender and the German kept saying, “ Oh weeelly? That's weeelly something man! ” after every remark by Frank. It was his hack at American vernacular. When Frank went to take a leak he passed by a payphone and thought briefly about calling Yvonne. He withheld his impulse, however. He wanted her to be the one to give in.

He left the bar and walked further up Market Street , trying to convince himself he didn't know where he was going, but with every step he was getting closer to Hawg Heaven. He knew that moments like this were dangerous for him. This strange driving instinct he had inside blocked out the rest of the world. It's no use to fight myself , he thought. He let himself go, and five minutes later he was at Hawg Heaven.

Gretchen was happy and surprised to see Frank come in alone that night. She poured him the usual and asked him how he was doing.

"Not too bad. Broke up with Yvonne last night," he replied.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said with a mischievous grin.

She went to the other end of the bar to take care of some customers. She poured a couple beers and returned with an unlit cigarette in her mouth. He lit it for her and she leaned in and said:

“We're going to have to make up for lost time.”

Frank cracked a smile and lit up his own cigarette. Then she said:

"You don't know how glad I am to see you tonight. Alone. I've had a dry spell for I don't know, about a month now."

She took a drag off her cigarette, exhaled a lusty cloud and smiled. Then, as if she was talking to herself:

"God! And I thought this was going to be another shitty night! Thank you so much for coming, Frank! "

"'Twas a woman who drove me to drink, and I never had the decency to thank her."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"How 'bout another one?"

"Sure."

"Rrrrrrrrrrrr ... I can't wait to take advantage of you!"

"That won't be hard to do."

Gretchen came back with another drink, also on the house. Frank sat there blowing smoke rings, wondering if Yvonne was going to come in the bar that night. If she did, he would try to be cool as ever. That's the way you have to play it with women. Always be cool. Never give them the edge , he thought. Gretchen kept his glass filled for two hours until the bar closed, while he schemed and plotted for hypothetical encounters. After she counted the night's till they went outside together and hailed a cab to her place.

She had a nice apartment somewhere in Hayes Valley . When they got in, she showed him around briefly. Near her room in the back was the living room. In it, some tribal music was playing and a guy in pink ballet tights was hopping around. To one side and back again, always repeating the same routine with minor variations.

"That's Fabian. He's practicing his 'Dance of Men' routine for his big audition tomorrow," she said. "I hope you don't mind the noise."

"No! Not at all. It actually seems strangely appropriate."

Fabian did a series of exaggerated tai chi moves and then leaned back and waved his arms in the air. Then he leaped and spun around, with his arms outstretched. Gretchen led Frank by the hand to her room.

"I hope you don't mind the mess," she said. "You can tell I wasn't expecting company!"

"I prefer to see things in their natural state."

"I'm going to take a shower, honey. Make yourself comfortable. You can take some bong hits if you want. The weed should be next to the dresser."

Frank stripped down to his boxers and sat on her bed. He looked around the room. It was even messier than his. Next to her bed she had a collection of lubrications, sex toys, and condoms in various sizes. She had photo albums with nude pictures of herself. He lit a cigarette and looked at them. There was one of her partially obscured behind some trees, like she was some kind of an Amazon woman. She was baring her teeth in atavistic glory. Frank lifted the cellophane cover and took it out. He found his pants near the bed and stuck the picture in one of the pockets. He took another drag off his cigarette and listened to Fabian's "Dance of Men" routine in the next room.

After a few minutes Gretchen came in and dimmed the lights. Then she took her towel off, threw it in the corner, and approached Frank. She pulled his boxer shorts off and purred.

"Mmmmm... nice. Very, very nice."

Then she devoured him on her large unmade bed. Gretchen took him like a true drama queen, gasping and moaning and talking dirty. Finally, after they both couldn't take it anymore, she begged him to finish. Frank plowed into her and collapsed like a wet rag by her side. Despite his drunkenness, for the first time since the night before he felt he had a grasp on the situation. His desire slipped away into the cold plains of rational thought. He realized that Gretchen made him feel mechanical and stupid. The tribal music stopped and he fell into another dreamless sleep. When he awoke the next morning, he tried to put his clothes on as quietly as possible, but to no avail. Gretchen stirred in her bed and turned towards him. She yawned and said:

"Are you leaving? I thought we might get breakfast somewhere."

"I have an important meeting this morning," lied Frank.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Thank you so much for last night! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Come here!"

Frank approached her reluctantly, and she gave him a stale early morning kiss.

He left the apartment and entered the cruel bright world outside. The sun made him hideously aware of himself. The only thing he could think of was Yvonne. He took Gretchen's picture out of his pocket and stuck it on a random car. Then he took the Fillmore bus down to Market Street and walked the rest of the way to his apartment. When he got inside he called Yvonne.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Yvonne. It's me."

"Oh Frank! I'm so glad you called!"

"I've been thinking about you all night..."

Frank and Yvonne got back together for the tenth time and went out that night. Only this time Frank suggested they try a different bar.