FRANK O’HARA—THE LAST PI

Chapter 3. Meet Frank O’Hara

Frank O'Hara had been hiding from his creditors for the past nine months, ever since the divorce was final. He began answering his business phone by saying, “Hello,” rather than, “O'Hara here,” or, “This is Frank.”

His life, his money, and his work had been on a downward slide since the judge hit the gavel and said “granted.” The divorce had been mentally painful and financially debilitating. He gave her anything and everything she wanted. His guilt, more than her request, demanded such payment. He wished he could have given her more.

On some occasions, when he didn’t recognize the number calling, he would answer his phone with a Hispanic accent and as soon as he realized it was a bill collector he would say, “No speak English,” and quickly hang up. There was no chance he would answer when the phone immediately rang again. He believed that one of the best things to come along for people who owed money was caller ID.

Sides were taken by their friends in the past year and the majority of who he had considered his friends laid their sympathies with his ex-wife who had done no wrong. It was without question he had been on the wrong side of the marriage vows. He gave her everything in the divorce he could, except the one thing she wanted above all the rest: something to take the pain of his actions away.

Lately Frank had been playing a song from the 80's over and over in his mind. He remembered the words from the part that reverberated in his head, “I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you. Now don’t be sad, two out of three ain’t bad.” Damn, he thought, that guy Meatloaf was right on. He recalled not being that familiar with it when it first hit the radio waves, but now those words seemed to play in his mind and came to him at the oddest hours, like a mantra explaining the reasons for his past year’s actions. But the guilt inside his mind yelled that he was selfish at the very least, and more likely a selfish prick.

It wasn’t sex as most thought, that had pulled him to the new young love. Frank had spent most of his life living on, or damn near as close as he could to, the edge. Then she left.

There was no doubt as Frank looked back, that he could see her exit coming. His marriage finally ended when his wife found out and moved out. Frank filed for the divorce, which he believed was the right thing to do. The reason for the divorce, which had shocked all of their friends, was actually no big secret. In a no-fault divorce state like Arizona cause was never listed, but was common knowledge if anyone really was interested. In Frank’s case it was another woman. Most of Frank’s friends were well aware, and unlike the hit man, shared their knowledge with their wives. Such information was sent out faster than flowers on Mother’s Day.

Not just a woman. A younger woman. Thirty years younger. The worst scenario for jilted wives, their friends and relatives, and Frank's friends and relatives. A half-assed affair that went against the laws of nature, it made for great gossip and better yet, was perfect for failure.

Frank knew they’d never understand that it was a real relationship, simple as that. He never felt the need or desire to explain it. There didn’t seem to be a starting point for him to talk about it, and other than the bartender who had to listen to him on the third margarita, no one else wanted to hear or understand his side, if he even had one. He was alone, and everyone (including the lost love and the ex-wife) thought he deserved it. Frank silently and sadly agreed with them all.

Even younger men who had never met him and heard of his affair didn’t like him, simply for being an “old man” who was operating in what they perceived to be their territory. The prevalent idea that it was all about sex for him and money for her didn’t actually apply. Frank tried not to give a shit about what anyone thought, but still did not like hurting the woman he had married twelve years earlier, or falling off the pedestal his daughter and son had put him on before hearing about it.

She had been gone more than two years. He had thrown away all the photos, all her notes, all the items that one has from a four-year relationship. But he couldn't throw away the memories and pictures of her that still played in his mind.

Everything turned out the same, he thought. Didn't make a damn bit of difference. He should have moved in with her like she asked. But deep down he knew she wouldn't have stayed around forever. The age factor didn’t bother her, or so she said. She would sometimes tease him by telling him when he got too old she would just put him in a closet “with some good books and snacks.” Frank loved her not as a younger woman, but as the person she was to him at the time. The age difference didn't bother him but wisdom taught him that one day it would.