Part 10: Cult-ture

Previously in…the Vines Inquiry— Frank confides in his childhood best friend Harlow about the strange goings-on since he’s been back on Carlisle.

It had been his father walking into Frank’s room the previous night. Not even sneaking—a stroll. He came up like the Sandman. Sprinkled something on Frank’s head, and then he’d fallen back asleep. 

No, he’d been asleep all night. He’d blinked and it was morning. He’d blinked and he was walking out the front of the manor, bundled in clothes from high school. 

“Good morning, Francis,” Rosalind had said as he passed by the parlor. 

“Good morning.” The noise echoed out of his chest, slipping through ribs over lips. 

Back in the diner, Harlow grabbed a few packets of sugar from the caddy and put three out in front of Frank. “I know you like yours black, but trust me, you’re gonna want to slice this bevvie a little bit. Jean has a generous pour.” 

The waitress Jean returned with the two Christmas coffees—and yes, it was hard for Frank to ignore that there was no whipped cream, but God’s toughest battles to His strongest soldiers—and smiled at the pair again. 

“Seeing you two here, together. Brings back a lot of memories,” said Jean. “Midnight movies. Prom night. I did always think you two would end up together until…”

“Jean!” called Lester McCroy from the kitchen. Harlow and Frank turned at the shout. Jean… Jean did not. 

“But here. Now. It’s a strange time of year. Isn’t it, Frank? During the storm. Did your parents invite you…or did you just decide to come?” 

“It’s not so bad having him back,” said Harlow, rubbing Frank’s wrist. 

“Of course.” Jean’s smile stretched further, threatening that taut neck. “It’s just you know how people act around the holidays. The tourists. And others. With the Drawson boy missing…Strange time. I wouldn’t think you’d want to stay.” 

Frank took a sip of his coffee, unable to break eye contact with Jean as she glared back at him, head tilted to one side. 

Drawson. Frank scanned the dusty card catalog in his mind, searching for the name. He found it suddenly, jumping out of the stack as the card slit open his thumb; a mental paper cut. They’re family that runs the ferry line. The kids always ran a booth under Lillian’s. 

Jean pressed her lips together, disappeared them into a thin line; distinguishable from the rest of her sunbed-tan face only by umber eyeliner. Frank looked away and around. He tried to catch his eye on something, but when he turned back, Jean was there still, staring. 

“Coffee’s delicious?” said Frank. Jean gasped in a breath and jerked back into motion. Her smiled stalled twice, but then refreshed and she massaged Frank’s shoulder. 

“Whatever you say,” said Jean, staring out the window. She walked towards the front door to greet some more locals. “Henry, don’t worry. I saved an extra slice of mince pie for your niece. No, no. I just had a feeling.” 

Harlow took a deep sip of her coffee and swirled it around her mouth, savoring. “What?”

“That was odd,” said Frank. 

“Hush. You get used to it. Just take a big gulp.”

“I mean Jean. The storm.” Frank wiggled his fingers, evoking ominous flurries.

“This much snow freaks people out. You forget, oh Prodigal Son.” Harlow heaped on the Bay twang. “With your city boy snow plows and your electric sidewalks.”

“I take it you’re not up-to-date on New York’s municipal priorities…”

“There’s always that feeling you might get stuck here forever,” said Harlow. “For some of us, it feels like that all the time.” 

Frank took another sip and felt last evening’s vomit rising up in his throat before signing a treaty with whatever Jean had spiked into his coffee. He had to admit, he felt better. 

Did I vomit?? What IS the truth? 

“Well if we’re stuck here, let’s take in the culture.”

“Cult-ture,” said Harlow. 

“Isn’t there at least a local drag queen we could go see? Like the person who owns the hardware store or something? We could swim to Baltimore!” 

“I do have a standing invite from Chase Lounge, but her Insta says she’s visiting her family in Tahoe for the holidays. Auto Man Fempire came into the bar last year! But that was just cause she was thinking about buying a house.”

“Here?”

“Something-something property flipping something. I’m surprised you’re not all queened out from the city.”

“There’s really no such thing,” said Frank. “You should come and find out. You’re always welcome to stay with me. As long as you want.”

“Weren’t we talking about you, and your problems? I couldn’t leave my parents.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to be grateful for your parents enjoying your company, but I can’t be grateful when mine finally do?”