EVERYTHING I HAVE.

CHAPTER THREE.

FRANKLYN’S POV

As far back as I could remember, I’ve always considered myself to be a failure. Failed son, student, partner, honestly, I could go on about the shitty, half lived life I’ve had. One of poor decisions and the outcome, my current sorry excuse for a life. I’m poor, mostly unemployed with a degree in philosophy. Most people in my current situation would’ve jumped of a building but for me, that’s the easy way out, besides hell isn’t an option, no need to have another shitty life in the afterlife, so, I wouldn’t particularly consider myself suicidal. I want to die but not of my own accord and I’m not a joy kill or a depressing person either.

Is my mentality justified? probably not. I have a really typical life by most standards, Shitty dad who wasn’t around for most of my life and my mother, well let’s just say I’ve let her down one too many times. Seeing her now like this would just remind me even more of the screw up I’ve become. I haven’t seen her in a long time, even if I was a pain in her ass for a long time. I caused her a lot of trouble when I was a brat.

I’m a pretty average dude with a pretty average life, sure I’ve had a difficult childhood but I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. I wasn’t going to sulk or feel bad or blame anyone for the things I’ve gone through, those things we’re mostly my fault and no one needed to know that. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter, I had wasted the important years of my life and there was nothing I could exactly do about it, except keep living

It was a Saturday morning and like every other morning, I stared into the ceiling, had my usual morning cigarette, my mind drifted into nothingness. I really didn’t want to get off the bed but staring at the books which Elaine left behind at the books store yesterday, I had a reason to. I had made up my mind the night before, I was going to give her a hundred percent, for the first time in a while I was willing to give something a hundred percent of my time and effort.

So, I got up feeling excited which was something that didn’t happen often. I took a bath and got ready. I took the books and left home felling positive about the day. Eventually, I got to the address she sent me. It was a huge gate, I walked up to the gate where the security asked my name. I told him and he said she was expecting me, he opened the gates and let me in.

The compound was really big. After walking on the path to the house for a bit, I didn’t see a house, I saw a mansion. The house was enormous. The building confirmed it, she was rich, someone out of my caliber. I was sure she just wanted me to return her books and get going. I stood in awe for a bit and eventually, I snapped out of it and kept walking towards the building. I got to the door and rang the doorbell.

She opened the door, not too long after. She was casually dressed, with a T-shirt and sweat pants and her hair was tied up. “Oh, Franklyn. Thank you very much. I didn’t expect you to be this early”, she said. She took the books from me and went in. I was mostly confused, torn between thoughts I turned and attempted to leave. “Were you leaving?”, she said. I turned to see her in a sundress and a sun hat. Words weren’t even enough to express how beautiful she was.

“I read your book which means you owe me a coffee date”

“That whole book, in one night?”

“I’m a fast reader and it was a good book”

“Well, thank you”, I replied with a smirk.

She then grabs my hand and begins to pull me along. In that moment, that very moment, I knew, I was certain that I was in love. I wasn’t particularly sure she felt the same way, heck, I didn’t particularly care I just knew at that very moment, I wanted to be with her. I wasn’t someone who believed in love at first sight, I wasn’t big on love but if this was it, I stand corrected. But of course, I wasn’t going to tell her how I felt immediately, if she didn’t feel the same way I would’ve been devasted so I didn’t bother, I just wanted to enjoy that moment.

As we walked to the coffee shop, she walked in front of me and I followed. The silence was loud, really loud. I didn’t have anything in particular to say, staring at her was enough. Eventually, she asked, “Are you depressed, Franklyn?”. Wondering where the question came from, I replied, “I wouldn’t say that. Why?”.

“Well, your book, it’s … “

“Depressing?”

“Relatable, too real”

“Really? The book is an expressive. I wrote it so I could be heard and I’m honestly glad that someone listened”, I replied with a smile while scratching my head.

ELAINE’S POV

Of course, I knew the book was an expressive, what threw me of was the fact that someone who seemed mostly happy and had a jovial soul thought that way. It was somewhat uncanny and I couldn’t particularly tell what kind of person he really was, it was off putting. It made him more intriguing and interesting. I wanted to know how such a person saw the world. I needed to know if there was somebody that relatable at heart. I wondered how a person who seemed so content with life could see it from this perspective. I was contemplating on whether I should ask what was going through his mind when he wrote it but I decided not to considering it must have been something personal and he might have not been willing to answer.

Eventually, we got to the coffee shop and we sat at a table at the extreme end of the café. We ordered our coffees. “So, Franklyn …”

“You know you could just call me Frank, that’s if calling Franklyn is becoming a drag”

“No, I don’t mind. I actually kind of prefer Franklyn”

“Oh, okay it’s fine then, Franklyn it is”

“So, Franklyn, any hobbies”

“Well, apart from writing, drawing and playing the guitar, nah not really”

“Oh, that’s cool, I play the piano”

“We could collab sometime”

“Yeah, I’d love that”

Not too long after that, the waiter came with our orders and it was kind of concerning that he too his coffee black. “So, what do you do Elaine?”, he asked curiously. “Well, I am a financial executive at Billman enterprises”, I replied.

“That would explain a lot, maybe you haven’t noticed but you’re rich”

“Well, I am a Billman”, I replied following a light chuckle.

“You make that sound like it’s not a big deal”

“Well, it’s not”

“Ohk, but to me it is, unlike you when I say my surname, Adams, I don’t instantly impress a lady across the room”, he replies. The conversation didn’t exactly sit well with me, he may not have realized it but I had a slight issue trusting people who knew I had money or saw me as rich. In the past, I had several people feel I just had opportunities handed to me and I was hated for it, some just made friends with me just because I had money. It made trusting people hard and it made me weary of people I had around me, maybe even paranoid. It’s also the cause of my anxiety but I wasn’t going to let him know that. I was going to find out for myself who Frankly really was, his real intentions.