the Mail and Frank

The Mail

The cats are all crowded near the window now. Two of them are looking at the same spot and the other one is looking at a different spot. Now they're all looking at the same thing. They're bending the blinds. The metal blinds are bent because they're pressing their noses to the window pane. The sun is coming through the blinds. It looks like it's the middle of the day but maybe it's just before the middle of the day. It's hard to know. Christmas feels like it was two months ago. The tree is gone. I don't remember what people gave me. I think that means the days are getting longer. I think that means the sun is rising earlier. I think that means it feels like the middle of the day before it's the middle of the day. It's hard to be sure.

But the cats are really looking at something. I'm sure it's something and not just shadows or bugs or an outdoor cat or a dog or someone just walking by. I'm sure they're looking at someone right outside the window, by the mailbox. But I'm not entirely sure so I have to keep looking for clues.

I'm pretty sure I just heard a metal sound, a small sound, fast, dull, a sound like a small metal door being slammed shut. I'm pretty sure the mailman is here.

I am also pretty sure I just heard another metal sound coming from the kitchen. I am guessing it was the frying pan hitting the wok because the frying pan and the wok go together and when they go together they make that same sound. I'm not sure but I think there might be someone in the kitchen. I think that shadow on the ground looks like a human shadow. I'm pretty sure it's not mine because it's so far away and it's moving and I'm staying still. I think someone is in the house with me.

The cats have moved so I think that means the mailman came. I'm not going to go out the door and check. Not this time. I got locked out last time and some strange guy had to let me back in and I don’t want to see that guy or get locked out again. So this time I'm going to go out the window.

There's a screen on the window. I don't know what else to do except to use my house key and saw through each metal wire of the screen. It's really hard work and I'm getting impatient, but I'm pretty sure the mail came and I'm not going through the door and I heard another sound in the kitchen, like the fridge being opened, so I also think I should probably get out of here because there's definitely someone in there. It smells like bacon.

It's not very far between the window and the ground so I guess I'll just jump. Hopefully I can jump as high as I can jump low, because that's how I plan to get back inside. By jumping.

My ankle made a cracking sound and it hurts a lot so I'm crying a little, and I know I must have screamed because my ears feel like they just heard a loud sound. They kind of echo and it feels like someone stuck their fingers inside them pretty deep. But it's okay, because I am right in front of the mailbox and all I have to do is get the mail and jump back up to the window.

I knocked on the door of the mailbox with my knuckles and I'm pretty sure I bumped it hard enough that it moved the envelopes inside, and the little whoosh sound I heard means there are letters in there. I remembered to bring my fishing line and hook and now all I have to do is slide the hook through the slot where the mailman drops the letters, snag the letters on my hook, and pull them out one by one.

"Frank! What are you doing?"

            There's a man looking out my window and he knows my name.

Frank

When Jim arrived at Frank's apartment today, Frank was sitting in the gray armchair by the windows as usual. And, as usual, Frank didn't turn his head when Jim entered the room. Frank's habit of pretending he was alone didn't bother Jim in the least. In fact, it allowed him to get through his morning duties much faster.

            First, the bed would have to be made. Frank liked to get out of bed slowly. He would go under the covers and make his way to the foot of the bed. He would then untuck the sheets and slide himself onto the floor. The bed always looked essentially unused, but if Jim didn't retuck the sheets, Frank would get very upset.

            Throughout the course of the morning Jim fed the cats, picked clothes up off the ground, watched TV, read a little bit of In Watermelon Sugar, and opened a window to air out the apartment. During all of this, Frank remained silently in the armchair, looking at the closed blinds. It never ceased to amaze Jim that someone could be so interested in something so unchanging.

            Around noon, Jim moved to the kitchen to prepare Frank's favorite lunch, a BLT with extra B. He hated making BLT's because for the remainder of the day he smelled the rancid scent of cooling fat on his hands, his shirt, and everywhere in the house. He hated the smell so much that he imagined it sticking to the skin of his hands and his face. He felt it there even after a long scrub with St. Ives.

            After the bacon had cooled on paper towels and the bread had been toasted, Jim constructed the sandwich and set it on the kitchen table for Frank to eat when he was ready. He then walked to the bathroom to wash his face and hands, inspect his ever receding hairline, and to floss the remnants of breakfast from his teeth.

            As he was drying his hands he heard Frank shout. Jim went to the living room to see what was wrong and saw that the window had been opened and the screen had been ripped to shreds. Not again, Jim thought. Recently, Frank had discovered that there is a man who goes from house to house delivering mail. He discovered this fact one afternoon when Jim came inside with a post card addressed to Frank from his brother.

            "Hey Bud, how ya been? Warm wishes from Cancun. –Al"

            "How'd you get this?" Frank had asked.

            "The mailman brought it here. He comes by everyday."

            "When?"

            "Near the middle of the day."

            Jim stuck his head out the window and looked down. Frank had his ear to the mailbox and his fishing line in his hand.

            "Frank! What are you doing?"

            Frank looked up at him, his eyes and mouth wide open as if he didn't know why anyone would be up in his apartment calling down to him.

            What a waste, Jim thought. It was Sunday, and the mailbox was empty.