The Painting

#67 Vanity - Vanity

"I'm still pissed you wouldn't let me bring him home," Frankie pouted as he ripped off the paper end of his straw and blew it at Lyle and I. "May you need a pet in that cabin of yours, and you know what they say a frog is the perfect companion for a small house. Much better than this one." He gestured to the wavy haired girl sitting next to me.

Lyle laughed and batted away the straw wrapper. "Oh? And who says that?"

"People." Frankie gave us a insinuating sideways glance.

We sat in a corner booth of a retro diner straight out of the set of Grease. Red and white leather booths lined the wall creating a tiled aisle between the swivel stools at the lunch counter. From the kitchen I could hear the line cooks yell orders at one another as waitresses bustled In and out with crowded plates, all of which dripped with French fries.

I'd lost track of time hours ago after we left Mo Soileireacht, when the sun went down. We were only an hour and a half out from White Pine but the thought of listening to Frankie complain about his need for fries for even another second convinced Lyle to pull over.

Grabbing a handful of sugar packets Frankie proceeded to attempt to juggle them. The flimsy paper caught at odd angles in the air forcing him to make grand motions in an effort to keep the paper from falling to our table. Totally out of control Lyle jumped in grabbing one of the packets before it hit the table top.

"The table is hot lava!" Frankie screamed a little louder than he should've as a few customers close by looked over with concern. None of us cared as we used our hands like paddles to keep the sugar packets in the air.

Since we'd left the Country Club I felt lighter and more balanced. The sensation of walking in the dark lifted the moment I stepped foot onto the lush grass. The swelling in my gut I'd felt so unsure of I decided was closure.

"Ah!" Frankie hollered as he lunged across the table to swat a packet back on the top but instead managed to back hand it further away.

I couldn't help but laugh as he sank back into his seat dramatically with his hands covering his face as if he'd just bungled the winning goal. "I'll get it." I offered leaning out of my seat to scrounge around on the floor.

I found it a foot from the base of the table and gave a thumbs up to signal the game was not lost. As I straightened up careful to avoid knocking my head on the table a movement caught my eye.

Set up at the end of the row of booths hung a flat screen. No one in the diner seemed to be paying much attention as an interviewer leaned across her desk. She seemed interested in her guest and my eyes stayed glued to the screen until the camera panned to the suited man sitting across from her.

I lost my appetite.

Across from the perky looking cable news anchor sat Richard Monroe. As quickly as I felt lifted out of the darkness I sank bank into it, his smirking face a constant reminder that I would never have full closure.

My table mates noticed my sudden lack of words and followed my gaze. Lyle swore under her breath as she rose. "We don't need this shit today, there's got to be some channel without his face smeared across it."

In agitation she ran her hands through her hair as she waited for me to move out of the way. I stayed glued to my spot. How could I willingly decide to break into his office and then the Country Club but not be able to stomach his appearance on a nightly news show? I eyed the man I so despised. I couldn't keep running from him.

I took Lyle's arm and pulled her gently down to sit next to me. She shot me a look of worry but didn't argue.

"What is he saying?" I diverted my attention to Frankie who was closest to the TV. Speaking over his shoulder he twisted his body to scan the subtitles.