Another installment of Franky Benítez. For a full list of chapters, click here: Table of Contents
I have lost the power to love. I choose to love, but I cannot actively love any longer.
My son Mateo still sleeps as I let go of him and creak my way out of his room. I turn to my left and stop in front of Sofia’s room, the door closed, her name pasted in the magnetic letters we received as a gift when she turned two. I touch the knob with my hand and twist it. The darkness of the dawn still penetrates the room, covering the wrinkled posters of The Jonas Brothers, Taylor Swift, and Selena Gomez. My left shoulders glances against her bed’s metal post, causing a ping to run through my veins and all the way to the tip of my brain.
The quilt of her bed is filled with green, red, and blue butterflies flying about freely over the stitching. On the bed are some Build-a-Bear Workshop figures propped against the bedroom’s wall. Next to them is a Wally the Green Monster that sings “Sweet Caroline” when you press its chubby green index finger. Another bear wears a t-shirt congratulating Sofia on her performance in Annie a year ago. A few books (Roald Dahl, JK Rowling, Lois Lowry) are spread on the bed.
The rest of the bed is empty, motionless, no breath, no life. I place my hand on a Scooby Doo pillow and run it across the fabric, over Scooby’s face and Shaggy’s hair. I then uncover the butterfly quilt and get into the bed. There is no warmth anywhere I turn to, I press my head against the wall up against the bed and begin to bang it on the icy plaster. Seconds pass. My head throbs. A drop of red trickles down the wall towards the floor below.
Whatever love I had is now drifting away like a butterfly being tossed in a hurricane. I forge ahead? I keep my tiny wings fluttering? The gusts blow me aside, tumbling me down into a pit of black water. I heave for air as waves keep gushing into my mouth. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. I breathe again and settle my head onto the my daughter’s favorite pillow, which still smells like the mango shampoo she would use every night.
She is no longer here, no longer with us.
And it is all my fault.
Whoah! I see torment here. Is it based on something he’d done, didn’t do, or something he had no control over? This is beginning to open up the many dimensions of the character. I can’t wait to read more.
Thanks so much. I keep at it, weaving the plot as I go. Basically I have the pattern set: Franky’s memories and past, then Franky in the first person going through an entire 24 hours of his current state. I do want to make every installment for him be so down, but I needed to set up the conflict. No worries, it ends happily, I think…. LOL
Hope so! LOL!
Julio, this scene reminds me of Junot Diaz’s OSCAR WAO. The sudden shift in point of view to first person changes the emotional timbre of the story. It will be interesting to see where you go next. Looking forward to it.
Raul, I love Junot Diaz and everything he stands for. So that is good to hear. Some of this is influenced by that great book, but other parts will be different.
Maybe i should leave the page without a comment,but being a curious and naughty girl,and taking freedom which a writing gives,i will say few words./as you see//
First i love writing to lead from the end and the beginning,past and future,and present in the middle in some way.Very interesting, this part is special intimate and touching and i respect everyone’s private life-even to be a fiction character,for i really live with them in a book.
So,i wont say more than i suffer with him,having love is precious…don’t want to tell about living without it…terrible..the hardest to stand it is if it based on guilt..hope for him it is not the case
Part about children is touching,i think they feel all around but it is easier for them in young age to overcome what happened/at least by my memories/now it is more difficult being aware of everything..
Your hero should not worry too much-children have own way and imagination to go ahead …
I am afraid that i write a parallel novel with you ,and you might throw me out of the story..
Lovely writing and details are so true and visible,playing with emotions is honest and reader is able to feel them;main character is very sensitive ,it is favoured by female side
Whoa….that one hit hard…sucker punched. Oh, man.
I have the structure down. A day in the life of Franky interspersed with his past memories of his mother, dad and grandparents. Yes, Franky’s daughter is already dead in this scene. I have the outline 80% there, still a few key plot lines.
I’ve just finished reading the entire story to date. What wonderful characters you’ve created. I was pulled right into it from the beginning and my senses were treated to the sights, sounds and flavors of my life as I knew it decades ago. Thank you for that.
I am addicted now so you must continue this story. My heart feels heavy for Francisco and I felt saddened for the loss of his daughter. My interest in knowing why he blames himself is piqued so please, don’t keep me in suspense too long.
Love it, Julio and congratulations on some really terrific writing.
Rusty
Thanks so much! I finally figured out the reason why Franky feels for the loss of his daughter and I should have it up soon, in the next day or two. So happy you liked it.