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Frankie was listening and realized suddenly they were talking about him.Mary was saying how beautiful Frankie was and how she always suspected hewas a woman inside from the day they met back at the college five yearsago when he was a grad student and Helen was sharing the story of the barwhen he was in drag."He's gotten so much better at dressing, he's much more polished." Helenturned and smiled at him. She patted his hand like he was a pet. "Do you pick out his clothes?" Mary talked around him like he wasn'tthere."Oh no. He has a great sense of style and he accessorizes perfectly. I'mnot shopper. Me, I'd be happy in sweats and sneaks. Of course, he is agreat homemaker too. He does all the cooking and cleaning, too." Helen wassmiling at him as she told all.Frankie watched as the two women went on about him. He stirred his martiniand took a large swallow. He was going to stay drunk, after all it wasHappy Hour or the dinner hour, or something. Because he was done teachingfor six weeks. Eleanor knew Jessie had a young man she liked. She had talked about him frequently enough over the last few weeks. He was called Samuel she seemed to think. Or was it Michael? Her memory wasn’t what it used to be. Not that she could ever forget the night Aaron was killed. Her blood ran cold and she shivered at the painful memory. He seemed to sense the chill in her and he pulled her into the circle of his arms. ‘Don’t think about that now,’ he told her, his chin resting on the top of her head. That was easier said than done however. She tried to dispel the memory of the Police Officers standing on the porch, their faces grave and sad. They tried to be gentle but there was never an easy way to tell somebody that their loved one had been killed by a drunk driver. It was a senseless death, Aaron had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The irony was he should have been at home with her. Instead he had made the short journey to the shop for some milk — all because she had.
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