Carla loves Frank

IMG_0032Carla loves Frank. Carla loves crappy movies too. She always says, ‘It’s so bad, it’s good.’ Frank never understands what she means and teases, “Define good.”

Sometimes they fight over what movie to watch. Frank likes thrillers with chase scenes and foul language and blood, but Carla refuses to watch. She says it gives her nightmares.

Carla has an affinity for ‘his and her’ clothing. Once she ordered matching black tee-shirts with a pink fluorescent heart design. She had used a glue gun to fill in the heart with pink glitter. Over one breast she wrote her name and across the other, she wrote ‘loves’ and in bold red letters, she scrawled F R A N K around her abdomen.

It was not until the annual company softball game when she insisted they wear the fluorescent tee-shirts. It would be cute, she said, all the secretaries would know just who Frank went home to at night. When he refused, “No way, girlie!”, a large tear creased her cheek. He took the tee-shirt from her slender fingers and with a long deep breath, he pulled it over his head.

It would have been less noticeable to have his body marked up with tribal tattoos than to wear this psychedelic lovey-dovey rag, he thought to himself. And when she wasn’t looking, he rolled the shirt above his chest and pretended to sunbathe. But he could escape no longer, the softball game was about to begin.

When it was his turn at bat, he took a firm stance near the plate. The sun danced along the glitter that crossed his chest like light reflections off a disco ball. His work colleagues rained cat calls down from the stands:

“Hey man, wher’d you get that awwesomme tee?”

“Frankie and Carla siting in the tree…k-i-s-s-ssss.”

“Smoocher boy…Smoocher boy.”

He looked into the crowded stands and saw Carla grinning and pointing her index fingers—back and forth, back and forth— at her bosoms like a giant animated billboard sign.

“Hey bader, bader, bader,” yelled the shortstop.

“Strike one. Strike two. SteeeRIK Three!” The umpire shouted, “You’re OUT!”

Turning from the plate, laughter followed him out of the batter’s box and into the dug out. He smiled and looked down at his heart…

Frank loves Carla.

-Lesley Lababidi

(all rights reserved, copyright 2015). To copy or re-produce photography and/or writings, written permission from Lesley Lababidi is required.

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