The Frog King

Chapter 1: “I think my needs will be the death of me,” Bill whispered, placing his coffee cup slowly back on the table. He turned away from his friend and looked out the diner’s window. It was a typical sunlit June morning in East Los Angeles: hot, with the smell of smog and heavy traffic, and lots of people busying the streets. The jukebox played “I Saw Her Standing There,” barely heard over the arguments about the escalation in Vietnam from a booth across the isle. “Why?” Debbie asked, her left hand posed as if begging for more information. “Because I can’t do anything right!” Bill exclaimed as he looked back at Debbie, his face showing considerable agony. Debbie put her fork down and looked hard into Bill’s dark blue eyes. She placed her hand on his forearm and said, “Billy, you know that’s not true; it never has been.” “Oh, but it is true, Deb,” Bill continued. “Here I am with all these feelings, things I want to do with my life, places I want to go. I dream of excitement and adventure, but everywhere I turn, I get stopped short!” “It’s her again, isn’t it?” Debbie said with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Katarina? Yes, that’s a big part of it,” Bill confessed, “but there’s more. Do you remember that scholarship my parents wouldn’t let me accept two years ago?” “How could I forget? You were so devastated that I thought you were going to kill yourself,” Debbie said with deadly seriousness. Bill looked away. Then he looked back at Debbie and continued, “I still want to go to the University of Colorado, even if I don’t have a scholarship. They have an excellent school of music there.” “Billy, you’re already going to an excellent school of music right here in Los Angeles. We’ve been through all this before,” Debbie added. “Yes, but I’m having real problems and my grades have been falling over this past year. My parents’ home is simply an awful place to live. I can’t take it anymore!” “So, what is it this time?” Debbie asked. “You mean besides being a slave to Her Majesty the queen?” Debbie laughed. She always thought Bill was a bit melodramatic. But, secretly, she liked drama, and Bill often filled her need for the ridiculous “Just like always,” Bill continued, “our household is in constant chaos. My mother can’t say anything in a normal tone of voice. My parents are always at each other’s throats, and it takes so little to set them off these days. But now, in addition to all the usual crap, my mother began babysitting the neighbor’s daughter. That child cries constantly, and I find myself angered beyond belief from all the noise. I can’t think. I can’t study. I can’t sleep! Two days ago, I slammed the back door so hard that the window broke. Boy was my dad pissed!” “So why don’t you move out?” Debbie asked, chuckling to herself. In her mind’s eye, she could easily see Bill’s drama. “I’m going to move out; I’ve got to. So, I’ve decided to take the risk and go to Colorado for the fall semester.” Bill said with a little uncertainty in his voice. “So you can be with Katarina, no doubt,” Debbie said, now with a hint of resentment in her voice. She really liked Bill and couldn’t understand why he couldn’t reciprocate her feelings. “Why must you put yourself through all this again? You had a summer’s romance followed by a pen-pal love affair, and ever since Katarina started dating other guys, you’ve lived in absolute misery. Why, Billy? Why?” “Because I love her.” “I’m not so certain you really know what love is,” Debbie said. “I think you live in a fantasy land.” “Deb, I know in my heart that that’s not true!” “How do you know that?” Debbie asked. “Because of my dreams,” Bill answered. “Dreams?” Debbie questioned. Bill looked briefly away and out the dinner’s front window while the morning’s Metro belched blue smoke as it pulled noisily from the curb. Then he continued, “Perhaps the word dream is incorrect. Sometimes when my body’s asleep, I go to a place in my consciousness that doesn’t sleep. In that special place, Katarina and I come together and share our consciousness. Once in a great while, we even make love.” Debbie said nothing. She simply looked at Bill while shaking her head in disbelief. “Deb, I’ve never told this to anyone.” Bill lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. “I know Katarina from before.” “Huh? Before what?” Debbie asked, totally confused. “You know, like, past life stuff. I need to …” “Wait a minute!” Debbie pushed both hands in front of her, commanding Bill to stop. “Past what?” “Past lives,” Bill replied in a quiet voice, the left side of his face twitching slightly. “Whew! Billy, I think you’ve really gone over the edge this time! We all have our quirks. But, this—really!” Bill looked at Debbie’s closed posture, remembering that her Catholic upbringing had well defined limits. “I’m sorry. Maybe I do live a fantasy,” Bill apologized in hurried retreat. His habit was to avoid confrontation, even if it meant lying, and suddenly he couldn’t believe he was telling Debbie his inner most secrets. What was he thinking? “I’ll say,” Debbie said in disgust. Bill looked away as a cloud of sizzling bacon grease erupted from the kitchen and crawled its way across the discolored ceiling. The waitress walked hurriedly past while looking for coffee cups that might need warming. “Billy, what does someone have to do, hit you upside the head? Wake up!” Debbie responded. She lit a cigarette and then exhaled into an already stinky room. Bill sat in silence, considering whether to change the conversation or just leave. Debbie was a dear friend, and the last thing he wanted was to alienate her. He pushed his empty coffee cup away and then reached for his music case, stopping short of actually picking it up. His thoughts then flashed across six years of memories: Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico, where he and Katarina met; hundreds of letters exchanged; a few telephone conversations that he could barely afford; a ham radio conversation that broke his heart; and all the shit his mother gave him over a pen-pal love affair. But how could he explain his psychic connection? At some deep level, he was so certain, even though his father thought he was deranged. “Billy, you have family here, family that cares about you. I care about you,” Debbie uttered softly, pulling Bill from his reverie. “Come on, Deb. You always say that. You and I both know …” “Don’t you get it? She doesn’t care!” Debbie exclaimed, cutting Bill short. “No! I can’t believe that!” Bill retorted while staring into Debbie’s solemn brown eyes. “Can’t or won’t? Honestly! Sometimes you’re as crazy as your mother!” Debbie crushed her cigarette into the ashtray in frustration. She saw she’d touched a nerve and turned her attention to finishing her cold scrambled eggs. “Anyway,” Debbie continued after several minutes of silence, “there’s the practical side of things: your parents. They didn’t let you accept that Colorado scholarship two years ago. I’m betting they haven’t changed their minds a bit. Have they?” Bill didn’t answer the question. The frown on his sun-tanned face said it all. “Why don’t you wait another year? In November, you’ll be twenty-one. Then, if you’re still this intent, things will be a whole lot easier; you can legally sign contracts and won’t have to answer to them any longer,” Debbie continued. “Deb, you know as well as I, if I’m going to have any chance with her, I need to be there.” “Jeez, I wish someone could save you from yourself!” “That’s not fair, Deb. You know I’ve got to do this. You’ve been with me the whole way.”