2016, Belmore Ohio
"Good morning,"
The soft glow of morning sunlight cracks through the open curtain in the corner of a rustic bedroom. Shuffling under the covers, he grumbles,
"Good morning..."
"Breakfast is ready."
A woman's face lays next to him, the rest of her body kneeling on the floor, eyes reflecting the sun's rays. Her hair was tied up in a loose messy bun, black locks sweeping across her forehead.
"So that's what I smell. I thought the neighbor's pigpen had caught on fire again."
She snickers, grabbing his arm and pulling him to get up.
"You've been in bed for too long. The girls have even gotten up already!"
He gradually pulls the covers off and gets to his feet. Stroking his hair back, he starts to the tall oak closet in the west corner of his room. "The girls didn't spend all day raking leaves from a 62-acre yard."
"Just be down soon." She kisses his cheek and walks out the door. He stares into the dresser and grabs an old dark blue robe, tying the belt around himself.
Stumbling into the small bathroom that connects to his room, he shuts the door behind him and examines himself. Tracing his face, he realizes how worn out he's become. He has far too many aging lines for someone who was only 27. His hair had become a desaturated brown mess that lay upon his head. He hadn't remembered the last time he went to a hair salon. Slowly, he raises his hand to his face and begins to trace his jawline, feeling how the bone curved oh so slightly every centimeter.
"Francis, you coming down or what?" His wife's voice rings through the house, startling him during his trance.
"In a moment, dear!" He shouts, pushing his hair back and swiftly opening the door to exit the room.
Francis creaks down the stairs, on the way, hearing dishes drop against a table. Rounding the corner, he sees his daughters, Rosemarie Talley and Lilith Talley, with his wife, Lille. He sits at the opposing side of his wife, picking up the spoon to grab some of the potato and bacon egg casseroles that the rest of his family have already started eating.
"There was a letter dropped off at our door for you." Lille drops bluntly, taking a bite of the casserole onto her fork.
"Who's it from?"
"There's no return address. It was just sitting on our porch."
"Odd. Just throw it away for me. Did you check on Benson yet?"
"He's doing well today. Ate all his breakfast, and his antler looks to be healing."
"Good."
Their meal carries on with the usual conversation of dreams they had the previous night and what they'll get up to today.
Francis gets up and rinses their plates off, setting the dishes in the dishwasher.
"So, what are the ladies gonna get up to today?"
Lille takes a sip of her coffee, "I was going to take the girls and me into town for a bit. Get some lunch there, maybe see the town carnival later tonight?"
Lilith and Rosiemaries face light up while Francis looks at his wife with a bit of concern.
"Are you sure? What about the last time we went?"
"I don't think any clowns with a roscoe is gonna be there again."
"Whats a rosc-" Rosemarie starts, only to get cut off by her father's voice.
"Im just don't want the girls to get hurt."
"I think we'll be okay. Besides, we got two big dogs now. Who do you know that wants to mess with a well-trained Doberman and Malamute?" She remarks, picking up her coffee to take another swig.
He starts again but has nothing to say. Lille looks to him with a sly grin and asks, "So I take it we're going?"
. . .
The distant sound of music, roars of cheerful shouts, and screaming children emit from the gates of Franks Fantastic Festival. Lilith and Rosemarie run ahead of their parents and into one of the nearby games.
"Try not to be so tense the entire night. It was five years ago. You'll be okay." Lille comforts, giving a small smile to Francis before jogging up to the girls. He tensely walks into the fair, the atmosphere around him changing from cool fresh air; to hot and condensed air that smells of popcorn. He walks behind one of the games close to his family, pulling out a box of cigarettes. He lights one up, putting it to his mouth. He never liked the feel of nicotine. He just enjoyed the feeling of inhaling something.
"Pretty cold for summer, eh?" A voice from the shadows croaks.
"Yeah."
"Got any to spare?" A man around his age steps closer wearing shorts and a sweatshirt.
"Yeah, man, sure."
As the man lights the cigarette, he asks, "Did you go to Stautzenberger? You look familiar."
"Yeah, I majored in Agriculture. Why?"
"Talley? It's me! Jesse!" He swings his arm around Francis, leaning into him. "How've you been, man?"
Francis smiles, "Not too bad. How about you?"
"Amazing now that I got to see you! Still, never hit the growth spurt, eh? And you look so old!" Jesse states.
"Fuck you," Francis chuckles, shoving Jesse away. "You look old too." He says, beaming.
"You look older! Besides, I aged handsomely." Jesse says, striking a pose.
Francis heaves over and starts howling with laughter. "You? Handsome? No, no, no, no."
Jesse laughs before looking at him somberly. "For real though, How have you been since Michael...passed."
Francis looks up at him, surprised at how quickly he changed the mood. He straightens up, head slightly down. He drops the cigarette and crushes it below his foot. "I still miss him. It's been six years, but I still miss him a lot."
"I miss him too. He was a good guy."
"It's different for you. It was my fault. You don't have to carry that burden." Francis starts to tear up, looking at the ground in self-pity.
Jesse puts his arms around his friend as he begins to cry.
"It's not your fault Francis. It wasn't anyone's fault."
Francis shoves his face into Jesse's chest. As he sobs, Jesse combs his fingers through his hair, the sounds of the distant carnival surrounding them.
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