37
FRANK
Living a few hundred yards away in the adjacent street meant Frank didn't need an excuse to stand outside the studio, after work, late on a Friday afternoon. He wasn't so much loitering as passing by slowly: very, very slowly.
Having had no reply to the many messages he sent that day, he had no idea if Chris would even be inside. Bombarding someone with text messages may be antisocial and annoying for the recipient, but Frank took the risk. He had nothing to lose that he hadn't already lost. He was extremely unlikely to run into Chris by chance. It seemed the first time had been a fluke because they'd never come across each other since then.
As soon as his workday was over on site, Frank sent a few messages before driving the SHS truck back to the company HQ and parking it up for the weekend. He then nabbed a lift home with another scaffolder, who dropped him on the main street instead of outside Frank's house.
Frank sent a message from the SHS yard. Looking first in the large plate glass windows of the Dalby café when he arrived outside the studio, he then sent several texts in short succession. He thought he'd give it another try. There was always a chance that Chris may be local.
Although Frank hoped for a reply, the sensation of his phone buzzing in his hand still surprised him.
Just finishing at the studio, Chris agreed to meeting up.
Reading the message in delighted disbelief and without giving too much thought to his actions, Frank dashed back a text stating he'd wait outside.
The message barely had time to penetrate the aether before Chris appeared at the studio door, blinking at the dazzling bright light of the outside world.
Frank waved, sheepishly. "Hi, Chris."
Chris appeared as calm, confident, and cheerful as ever. "Hello, Frank. I know you live near, but I didn't expect to see you right here and now," he said as he approached, stopping dead still right in front of Frank.
"My ride drops me on this road when I get a lift home from work. Sometimes I get the bus." Now, face to face, Frank felt awkward, unsure of how to direct this fortuitous encounter.
They were close enough to kiss, but they didn't touch.
"I thought you drove a van?"
"I drive the SHS company vehicles, vans and trucks, but they're parked overnight on site or in the yard. I don't drive them home." Not wanting to linger on the lies and misdirection that led Chris to believe Frank worked as a carpenter with his own van, he was eager to change the subject. "You're looking well."
"Is there any reason I shouldn't?"
Damn it. No! Frank didn't intend to give the impression that he thought people living with HIV were ill and should look it. He knew better than that. Foot out of mouth! "No reason. I'm just making polite conversation." He felt his face heat up with embarrassment.
Frank glanced over his shoulder at the busy street traffic clogged up back-to-back with slow-moving traffic and people hurrying past on their way home from work or simply somewhere else to be.
"I need to apologize. Sincerely apologize. I was so wrong. The things I said, the way I treated you." His skin couldn't get any hotter or redder as Frank inwardly cringed, remembering more clearly than he'd like to. Most of all he wished for the ability to wipe memories and to perform that magic on Chris. "I hoped we could talk and you might forgive and forget. This busy street isn't the best place though. I'm on my way home from work. Would you like to come with me? I believe I owe you dinner as well as an apology."
Please say yes.
Frank obviously came off as bumbling rather than offensive, judging by Chris's expression. Chris looked amused, a wry smile on his face. "I'd be delighted to accompany you to your home. Please don't feel you owe me dinner. If anything, I'm more interested in seeing your wood, if you know what I mean."
The artist was still the same man with the crazy sense of humor, and Frank smiled at the innuendo. "This way." At least Frank could be in a with a chance of truly apologizing and building a relationship with Chris if they spent time together.
"So you've just finished work?" Chris said as they walked toward Frank's home.
"Yes." Frank thought about the conversation with Connor and Lee. "I hear you are having a scaffold at your exhibition next week. What do you need it for?"
"Hidden barriers is the theme of the show. The scaffold is to give people a different perspective. People can walk below stuff that's normally on the floor and look up and see things from below." Chris explained his vision with passion as they walked. "The whole show is about how important things are that we don't usually see. So, for example, there is a glass house, which is literally an empty house made out of glass. From the outside, we can see it's empty and we also see the electrical wiring and the plumbing."
"The things we don't usually see."
"Exactly, and from outside the house, so a strange perspective. The walls are usually an opaque barrier. At another point there is a glass table dining table, we're all familiar with those, I've nothing on the table but lots going on underneath it. Begging the question, if you were under the table what would you see?"
Frank stopped walking. "As a child, I used to play tents under the table with a big tablecloth draped over it and the chairs turned around the wrong way."
"Actually, I know it sounds like I'm babbling. I'm probably explaining things back to front."
"Not at all. I want to hear more about it, and where the scaffold comes in, but this is my house. Solid brick walls that you can't see through and all." A low wall and short path separated the front door from the people passing on the street just a few feet away. Frank unlocked and opened the door. "Welcome to my home."