13
FRANK
On Friday morning, Frank woke up in time for work, even though he had not set his alarm clock. His body was automatically programmed to, and early rising had become routine. Feeling groggy with a banging headache had not. For a moment he mentally prepared to get up and face the day, until he remembered that he didn't need to face anything that day. He could take all the time he needed to sort out the pain in his head. Before he dragged himself out of bed, he remembered what happened the day before.
Firstly, that he'd called in sick with enough of an excuse to cover himself for two days off. Connor wasn't expecting him in work. At least some things were going perfectly to plan: Frank had indeed drunk so much on his sick day that he really did feel too ill to work on Friday, just as planned.
Frank sat up and drank the tall glass of water that he had thoughtfully put beside his bed the night before along with the headache tablets. Then he lay back down, finding some relief behind his closed eyelids and in the soft pillow.
He lay there and recalled other details of the day before.
Secondly, he'd been so brave and bold when he'd clicked submit on his man seeking man profile. More than likely, however, he'd never have found the courage to meet anyone from the site. Now, he didn't need to. Frank recalled how he felt caught out when he met Chris in the café but found Chris was just a nice guy. They had enough differences between them to make things interesting, and enough in common to make things even more so.
Chris was exactly the kind of guy Frank could fantasize about. He'd also learned that it was one thing to think about it and quite another to do it. Hence, Frank had drunk and drunk. Drunk beyond his capacity for performance.
He’d thought Chris was giving him the green light all afternoon and evening. Frank must've been too drunk to notice when it changed to amber. The light changed to red, and he only had himself to blame. Waking up in his own bed, alone, and with the hangover from Hades, Frank felt relieved they hadn't taken things further, because in reality, it would have probably been just a fumbling embarrassment. Frank may have needed alcohol to give himself the courage to go through with something new, but why would Chris want to go home with such a drunk guy?
With questions about his sexuality swimming in his hurting head, Frank dozed off to sleep again. When he woke up a couple of hours later, he felt considerably better. Delicate, yes, but not quite as fragile.
Everyone feels better after a shower, and when he stepped under the spray, Frank remembered he needed a plumber. If he could get one today that would be ideal, as he usually worked Monday to Friday, when plumbers worked as well.
In the kitchen, after completing his bathroom routine, he searched for local plumbers while drinking his first cup of coffee. He made a call and left a message giving his address and explaining that his shower drained really slowly.
Then Frank contemplated the day ahead of him. He'd probably do more woodworking.
It was another day of September's Indian summer.
Inside the shed, Frank fully opened his bi-folding doors, which completely opened up one side to the garden so that his woodworking space appeared to be a three-sided building. He pulled out his fold up deckchair and set it in a shady part of the garden with a perfect view inside the workshop. When he thought he might sit and drink more coffee before getting started on one of the projects, his phone rang.
"I'm returning your call. I'm Mike, the plumber. You mentioned your address. I'm working in the very next street so I could come and have a look today. Will anybody be home?"
"Yes. That would be great. I'll be here all day. I might be out in the shed so you may need to give me a call on this phone if I don't answer your knock on the door."
"I understand. I've got a shed of my own, mate. I'll see you in the next hour or two."
"Will you have time to repair it today?"
"No. It will be just to look. I can tell you what I think and give you a quote in writing and I could probably fit you in next week. I mean, it's not as if it's an urgent problem, you can still use the shower."
At least the day wouldn't be completely wasted if he got his drainage problem sorted out.
Laying out his tools on his workbench for no reason, Frank thought about how he ended up back home in his own bed, alone. He'd drunk some and then drunk some more for Dutch courage. And then a lot more.
He'd enjoyed spending the evening with Chris. They'd laughed a lot at the same things with a shared juvenile sense of humor.
On the face of it, Frank wouldn't think he'd have much in common with a man who drove a car like that and wore a shirt like that. A gay artist. Frank had never met anybody like him, but in fact they had a lot in common. They had many similar experiences. Particularly of people's disrespect.
He was attracted to Chris, and he liked the idea of experimenting with men in a sexual way. Attraction, interest, curiosity, holding hands, that was all very well, but Frank didn't know whether he could go through with something more physical. Out of nervousness, uncertainty, or fear, he'd drunk himself to oblivion when the possibility seemed close.
Just as well, Chris had put him in a taxi and send him home. He probably didn't want to be mauled by a drunkard.
Frank wasn't sure that he could go through with it sober.
He felt confused.
He wasn't sure his desire was genuine or fantasy. Or was it because things had ended with Ash all too recently?
There was no chance of seeing Chris today. They had planned to meet on Saturday, so Frank had over twenty-four hours to clear his head and decide what he wanted. That process was interrupted by the vibration in his pocket and the sound of the phone ringing.
"Hello. It's the plumber, I'm outside your house, but there is no answer."
Frank started toward the house immediately, unused hacksaw still in hand. "I'll be right there."
Inside the kitchen, he placed the hacksaw on the table on the way to the front door.
He swung the door wide open. "I'm glad you could make it today as I've got a day off work." He angled his body, inviting the plumber in and directly toward the stairs. "It's the upstairs shower that's not draining away properly."
The plumber led the way, and Frank closed the door.
In the bathroom, the plumber released the self-cleaning shower trap. "Not clogged up, here." The plumber asked various questions such as when did it start to be a problem? When did it last drain away swiftly? He ran the shower and watched the rapid build-up of water in the tray. "I'd say the chances are that the shower waste pipe is blocked. Do you know if you've got an easy access hatch?"
Frank stared blankly at the plumber for a moment, as if he were talking French. If he knew what the man was talking about, he could've probably fixed it himself. And then he remembered he did have an access hatch below the shower.
"In the kitchen, do you want to see?"
"Yes, lead on."
When they entered the kitchen, Frank stood clear, pointing up at the ceiling hatch directly below the shower.
The plumber walked into the middle of the room looking up, but when he looked down, the view outside the window appeared to grab his attention. "Are you a carpenter?"
"No. A scaffolder. That's just my hobby out there."
"That's a pretty impressive chop-saw for a hobbyist. Your back yard looks better equipped that my fiancé's van."
"Your fiancé's a carpenter?" Frank asked.
The plumber seemed to stand up a little straighter. "Yes." He beamed proudly.
Frank thought about it as he spoke. "I've only ever met a few women carpenters."
Mike let out a bellowing laugh. "And my fiancé isn't one of them. He's all man." Mike turned toward the front door. "I'm just going to get some ladders and then I'll take a look in that hatch."
The ringing phone shook Frank from his stunned surprise. He looked at the display and when he saw Ash's name he didn't answer.
A moment later the plumber returned, climbed his stepladder, and began peering and reaching into the hatch.
Frank watched in fascination. Not fascinated by a workman doing his job, but that this tradesman had admitted to being gay, or in a relationship with a man, so perhaps he was bi. Whatever he was, that was irrelevant. The shock came from the way he'd mentioned it to Frank as if it were perfectly normal and acceptable. And why the hell shouldn't he? It was obviously Frank with the hang up here.
"I was going to give you a written quote, and you could call me back next week, but to be honest, mate, I've got the blocked part of the pipe right here in my hand." The top of the plumber's head and his right hand were hidden inside the access space. "It'll take me twenty minutes to repair it if you want me to go ahead now?"
Frank nodded. "That would be excellent."
They agreed on a sum of money and Frank unsuccessfully tried to not constantly watch the man at work.