"An AOL Love Story"

by

"Frankie and Johnny were lovers,                  Oh Lordy how they could love. 

They swore they'd be true to each other,         as true as the stars above,

He was her man,                                                  but he was doing her  wrong."

    The sweet fragrance of fresh cut roses and lilacs hung heavy in every corner of the packed church.  Like the mixture of a thousand separate brands of perfume, the smell of the flowers was intoxicating, it permeated everything in the room, the clothes the pew cushions, the draperies, it floated on every draft like a strong sea fog along the docks.   Frankie inhaled deeply, she had waiting her whole short sweet life to be here and now she wanted to absorb every sight and sound and sensation that went along with the "happiest day of her life".      In only moments, she would glide down the decorated aisle of the church, her father lovingly escorting her, her strong and handsome "Mr. Wonderful" standing at the end of the rose petal lined runway. 

   The giant pipe organ, at the rear of the church,  came alive with the introduction to the Wedding March.   The crowd quickly shuffled to their feet, every eye turned and focused on the rear of the Sanctuary, on Frankie.  She was so very excited, a thousand times she had dreamed of this moment, and it was a thousand times better than she ever could have hoped for.   She was indeed, the queen of the world, for this one brief moment in time.   As they floated down the aisle, she was barely aware of the faces, turning and smiling and speaking in the most hushed of tones,   " She looks so beautiful", "Oh my goodness, what a breathtaking dress", "She is so gorgeous in that dress", they whispered as she passed.  Her head was swimming with sensation, expectation and excitement.  At last she was there, at the end of the aisle, the end of her innocence, the absolute  beginning of her new life.  Her father gently took her hand and placed it upon the grooms, and softly kissed her check as he moved to sit down with her mother.

The tall slender priest, in his flowing white robes, slowly began to speak, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this day, in the presence of God and........   She heard all the words, but was not listening.  It was as if she was standing with her back to a television.   She remained totally  preoccupied with all the wonderfully unique sensations bombarding her senses.   The priest rambled on, " the institution of marriage is a sacred endeavor, not  to be entered into lightly or without deep commitment........."       The beautiful colors of the round stained glass window, overlooking the enormous wood grain pulpit.   She had seen this window a million times before but had never really noticed the colors until now.   The bold blues,  bright and brilliant,   beautiful and beckoning as a deep Cayman lagoon.   The rich ruby reds, remarkably receptive to the rays of the sun.  When they combined,  they turned a curious crimson color with the sun dancing through them.

   "I do",  said the groom,  smiling broadly  as he gazed into Frankie's eyes.   She looked over at him as she heard the priest recite her name,  "Do you Frances Renee Gajan, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?  To have and to hold, in sickness or in health, in richer or in poorer, forsaking all others, to this man only be true, till death do you part?"  There was silence.   She trembled, she had practiced this part all night.  Her only damn speaking line in the whole show and she was a mute.  She fought to open her dry dusty mouth, she labored to lift her limp and lazy lips to form a single  word, two words.  Two little words that would change her life forever.  Two little words she knew well , she had said them before, she used them often.  But now, nothing, she could not must a sound, not a single simple syllable.  The priest shook his head and patiently whispered, "Ahem,  Frances?"  She turned from the groom to the priest, her eyes screamed, "I do, I do", but her mouth made no sound.   She had managed to pry her tongue between her lips and force them open.  Her tongue, dry and swollen ground against the inside lining of her parched and cracked cheeks.  She tried to swallow,  BIG mistake.  Now her tongue was caught in the back of her throat.   OH GOD, water, I need a glass of water, was all she could think now.  Forget the whole damn "I do" crap, now she was almost in a panic.    "Frances, " the priest reiterated.   "Frances",  her groom joined in with the priest.  " Frances," from the left, she turned.  "Frances," from the right, she turned.    They were alternating now, successively louder with each chant, live action stereo at seventy decibels,  "Frances,  FRANCES,  FRANCES!"

   She popped her head up from behind the computer monitor,    shook it head quickly and turned to look at Tony.  "What, what , WHAT?",  she yelled,  mounting a good offensive to cover her own inattention.    Tony sighed as he looked down, shook his head and said, " I said that I would not be home until late.   After dinner we have to show the client the property, it's about twenty miles south of Ft. Worth."   "OK, I heard you",  she responded, as she turned back to the computer,  pretending to log off.   He was behind her now and starting the old "I hate AOL" speech again, "You know Frankie, you spend more time on that computer than you do with me."   He hated her AOL time, her Chat Room buddies, her Buddy List.  He had no time for it, did not understand it, and wished it had never came into his house.   Tony continued his anti-AOL sermon,   "You have to get a grip on that thing, Baby,  Your  on-line almost four hours a day now."   She hit the off button for the monitor, the screen zapped to black.  Tony was computer illiterate, he had never wanted to even touch the computer, so when the screen went black, he thought it was off.  She snickered at her shrewdness as she pushed herself away from the computer desk and rose to walk him to the car.   She remembered that she had been on for thirty minutes and would be getting the old AOL forty-seven minute reminder in seventeen minutes.  She did not want to get "timed out", it was next to  impossible to get back into the right chat room at this time of night.

   It had been raining all evening in New York.  The cold fall rain fell in sheets and washed the sooty grime from the buildings, the  streets and even the people.    After it had gone, everything seemed to be shiny and new, rinsed clean and reflecting the light of a thousand street lamps, neon signs and billboards.  Even the air smelled clean, washed of the daily dirt and stink that is so typical of the city.    The wet trees and bushes sparkled,   as if decorated for Christmas,  even the asphalt pavement glistened and small irregularly shaped puddles of water became mirrors.

   The rain had finally stopped as John  exited the cab in front of his building.   He stopped for a moment, on the sidewalk and looked around him.  Immediately following a rain, that was his favorite time in the city.  He had lived in Manhattan for fifteen years and this was the only time he really stand to look at the city and his surroundings.  He was a cop, a detective third grade in the  Homicide Division of the 17 th Precinct.  His job took him to the very dirtiest and most horrible parts of the city until finally there was nothing else in the city for him but death and despair and the savagery that man does to his fellow man.   The job alienates you, it makes you skeptical, irreverent, callous.  John had become all of that, but inside he was still the same old John, the one that loved classical music. Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, Chuck Berry, he loved them all.   The very same John that admired the great art works of the masters, even though he may not be able to identify them by name.  He marveled at science and felt honored to be alive in the most dynamic times of our civilization.   The great age of space exploration, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the collapse of Communism, all these  things marked our generation, he felt lucky to be here.  But he kept all his feeling and his love and his passions hidden deep inside himself, secure behind his wall of the tough talking homicide cop.   It was too dangerous, he had learned, to let your true feeling stray too far outside the walls.      

   John was an ex everything.  Ex-Marine, ex-Ranger, ex-FBI, ex-alcoholic with and nasty ex-wife and her ex-con attorney.  For the first thirty years of his life John lived hard, partied hard and drank hard.  The drinking had destroyed his career path, his marriage and most of his life until finally he could stand to lose no more and decide to lose the drinking.  He had been clean for three years now and never even thought about it anymore.  Even when times got tough, cases were confusing, divorce attorneys annoying and life in general sucked, he still did not want a drink.  He relied on the sanctuary he had made of his apartment, his Fortress of Solitude, where his great stereo blocked out the noise and bustle of the city, his giant screen projection television carried him away to fabulous sporting events and African Safaris and a thousand other wonderful destinations.   And of course, his computer, his window to the fantasy world, his electronic attaché, his spaceship to a million distant galaxies.  But mostly he liked to go to the AOL Chat Rooms.  

   Laughing and joking and flirting with the beautiful, bewitching, buxom babes of AOL.   The Chat Room was the greatest escape he had ever found, he would suddenly find himself sitting there for hours at a time, some times he would find himself waking up, sitting in his chair at the computer.  John could be himself on line, nobody knew him, nobody cared about his daily problems, his past indiscretions, his previous failures.   In the Chat Room he was just "JohnBgood", a likable type guy with great jokes and lightning fast wit.  The ladies called him "charming", the guys called him "ole buddy" everyone loved him and was sincerely happy to see him every time he came.  That was the biggest addiction to the Chat Rooms, complete and total acceptance, unqualified, unlimited, unequaled in any other form of human  interaction.  Well, it was the biggest attraction, that was until she came along.  

   Her name was "FranklyMe".   A bold, brash beautiful red head from Texas, with a smile as big as the prairie, and a disposition so sweet,   just taking to her gave you cavities.   He had met her innocently enough, and their torrid relationship had ignited from there.  First a few polite conversations in the Chat Room, then a little IM here and an E-mail there, here a .jpeg,  there a   .wav,  everywhere a love affair.   Neither of them had intended to fall in love, both knew better, but like the failing core wall of a nuclear reactor, there was no stopping the inevitable fusion.  Stars have collided in the cosmos and not released as much raw energy as the accidental meeting of Frankie & Johnny.   And like the collision of massive stars, their meeting also created a Black Hole, small at first, but soon to grow so large that it would eventually devour both their worlds, their entire universe.

    It was so very wonderful for him, to be able to speak to a lovely woman again, to discuss crazy things,  to simply banter away the hours.  He was in love again, after five years of dodging relationships and being alone, he was enjoying the company of a woman.  He was unsure if he was in love with her, or simply the feeling of being in love.   Whichever turned out to be true, he knew he adored her, he thought of her constantly.  He raced home from work each day to log on and speak to her for hours.  Many nights he would forget to even have dinner, he was so engrossed in his new love.  And the best part, or the worst part, she was four thousand miles away.  He did not even need to keep his apartment clean, never had to worry about running into her unexpectedly, never even a thought of an unannounced visit.  It was almost the best of both worlds.   The down side, well, that was easy to figure.  No sex, no kissing, no holding, no actual physical contact at all.  Their love was truly intellectual at this point.   But both were fantasizing more and more about meeting in person, more dangerous yet, they were beginning to joke about it back and forth, each testing the waters.  John opened his Chinese food containers  and fixed himself a glass of iced tea.   He sat down in front of his computer and clicked the tiny AOL icon.  He ate while he listened to the horrible introduction to the AOL experience.  Dial tone, dialing, screech, squawk, screech screech, squawk, "Welcome, YOU HAVE MAIL!" 

  Frankie grabbed the keys and called to the girls, "Come on girls, you know we are late!"  the three of them raced to a car to begin the morning ritual.  First the Middle school, then the High School, with each departing passenger a special instruction from the pilot.   "Be home right after cheerleader practice, and don't go over to Becky's, come straight home.  Dinner will be ready"  Frankie yelled to Christi, as she hoped from the car.  She never really knew if Christi ever heard her, she always pretended that she did not.  Frankie pulled back onto the street and headed for her second stop, she looked across the seat at her middle daughter Beverly, making last minute checks on her homework.   "Will you be eating dinner with us tonight?', Frankie asked.  Beverly answered without looking up, "Not sure, maybe, I will call you after school and let you know, OK?"  Frankie knew that meant no, and the best she could hope for was that Beverly would be home early, it was a school night.   Frankie tried to be authoritative,  "Well you be sure to call, I don't want to be worrying about you all evening, especially now that David has a a car."     Beverly looked up, cocked her head slightly sideways and sighed, "Mom, I am seventeen now, you don't have to treat me like a baby anymore, please"  Luckily, they were at the school, another potential fight averted.   She pulled into the drive and stopped next to the curb, "Bye darling, have a good day at school" she said as Beverly stepped from the car and closed the door without acknowledgment.   Teenagers, she thought, God's little test for the patience of parents.

   As she drove toward the dry cleaners, she thought about Johnny.   She was racked with conflict over John.  She felt as if she loved him, she thought of him constantly, she glowed inside when she saw his name on the screen.   But, was it love?  She had always believed that what walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, was in fact a duck.  Now it was different, eerily strange and utterly confusing, she wrestled emotionally with the insane  contradictions.  Frankie had been married to Tony for twenty-five years, twenty-five good years.  They had three beautiful daughters and now even a grandbaby, a lovely home in the suburbs of Dallas, a dog, a cat and all the things she had grown up thinking would make her happy.   And yet, after all those years, something was missing.  She could not put her finger on it, but could feel it's absence and the gigantic void that it left.  She thought, romance?     Tony was a loving husband, no more preoccupied with his work than most husbands.  he did not drink excessively, he never gambled, and, all things considered, he had done a very respectable job of being a husband, father, a lover.  But still the void existed.  Perhaps it way her own unfulfilled dreams that taunted her, her abandoned aspirations, her disregarded dreams, her forgotten goals.  She had traded her dream to be a famous Fashion Designer or Interior Decorator for the life of a wife, mom and car pool pilot.  She had been a text book mother, wife and companion, she had never cheated on Tony or missed a PTA meeting.  And until very recently, never really had any regrets about her decisions.   She weighed the pros and cons of her decisions as she dropped off the cleaning and headed home.

   John walked through the lobby and past the front desk, nodding at the Desk Sergeant in the old style that was a tradition with New York cops as they entered the Precinct House.  Up the stairs to the squad room.   "Morning Sal", he said,  grabbing his phone messages from the slot and flashing his casual smile as he passed the receptionist.  Sally was a lovely blonde lady in her mid thirties, nice enough gal,   but just a little too young to take seriously.  John sat at his desk and leafed through his messages.  Two from the Coroner's Office and one from the Deputy DA, John hated talking to the coroner, medical jargon, size and shape of wounds, direction.  But talking to the lawyer was worst.  He knew any minute Lt. Partin would notice he was in and call him into his office.  John tried to call the Coroner, but it was too late.

   "LASSITER,  Get your ass in here and bring Mongo with ya!" Lt. Partin yelled. Even with the damn blinds closed he had seen him somehow, Lt. Partin had a sixth sense or maybe just smelled him.  John hung up the phone and rose slowly, he knew Lt. Partin would ask if there were any new developments in the hooker slashings, the case John had been working for almost three months now.   He reached the door, "Mongo's not in yet, and I haven't had a chance to call the Coroner yet",   John advised as he passed the threshold.   Lt.  Partin, a tall slender native New Yorker, looked up at him, then stood up.  John knew what that meant.  "Lassiter, this shit has gone on too long, I am getting heavy static from every bastard up the line over these hookers, you hear me?", Partin screamed.   "From the Captain right up to the friggin Chief, everyone wants to know when this case is gonna clear, I need some progress and I need it NOW.  You got that Lassiter?  Now, get that sheepdog partner of yours and get back out there, call in your snitches, get your favors back from any of the street girls, Hell go back and canvass the last crime scene again, I don't care, get something !"  Lt. Partin was not only screaming now but pounding his desk also.  John ignored it, but he knew why Mongo had laid out of the squad.  He was probably down stairs, drinking coffee and shooting the breeze with the uniform cops.  They were more his age and he had a lot more in common with them then any of the detectives. 

   Mongo, was short for Mongollo, Louis Mongollo, fresh up from uniform division, bright and new and shiny, big as an ox and almost as smart.   Mongo was a rookie detective, and that's a hard job, no matter what you do, somebody is pissed off at you.  John grabbed his coat and headed out of the squad, he would pick up Mongo on his way out.  Where, well he and Mongo would talk about that over coffee, try one more time to find a clue in these homicides.  Eight hookers in the last three months had turned up dead, all in his  precinct.   Some strangled, others stabbed, a few shot up with so much dope it killed them.  The one common thread was that they all had their right areolas removed from their breasts.  John thought, what kind of sick bastard would slice off a piece of his victim as a trademark.  Was it a message, or just another step in man's evolution into an animal?  Similar to the practice of scalping from the old west, or a shrunken head from the Amazon, the most vicious of human predators had taken trophies of flesh to display their prowess.  John had seen murders come and go, but this guy was really a whacko and John wanted to see him go down, and go down soon.  John found Mongo, drinking coffee and telling dirty jokes to the uniforms, he was a celebrity to them now.  A detective that they knew from the Academy, a detective that treated them as equals, old friends.  Mongo was a popular guy, John admired that about him, at least.

   They walked to the parking lot and to the car.  "What's the plan, Stan?" asked Mongo has they loaded up,  "Was Partin pissed off this morning?" he continued.  John looked over at him and snapped, "Yes, you chicken bastard, you should have been up there to help take the heat."  They drove from the lot and headed south, John knew a quiet coffee shop where he could both call the Coroner and sit down