Frank & Menno

Frank & Menno

It was a man's world. They weren't just carpenters; they were construction workers. Their job was demolishing interiors, and replacing the standard kitchens, walls and stairs with new, more suitable ones. Frank worked between rough men. It wasn't difficult. He just had to act a bit more masculine, be a bit more rude, and had to talk about soccer and chicks. He fitted in nicely. No one ever questioned anything about him. No one seemed to care why he was still single, or why he didn't take women to the numerous parties held by the company. With his muscles, tattoos, and his shaven head, he looked like any handsome, virile heterosexual man.

Frank's coworkers, all male, were of all ages and races. Most were married, some were divorced, others had girlfriends. Even if they were handsome, Frank never really looked at them. Until the day that new guy arrived, of course. Frank had a hard time not to stare, when the boss introduced Menno. He quietly hoped, wished and even prayed he would be coupled to him, but it didn't work. Menno would work with one of the older men. Every day after a short meeting at the office, the carpenters would leave in couples to return at the end of the afternoon. Frank was looking forward to the mornings and afternoons, ever since Menno arrived. He would secretively observe him, from a save distance, without drawing attention.

Menno was cute. Not just handsome, as every man had something attractive in Frank's opinion, but cute. His sleek hair was mixed blond with red and brown, like a tortoise cat, his eyes were bright and gray, his lips full and luscious. And his body... Frank couldn't help but stare at the gorgeous muscles, the long legs with firm thighs, and that delicious round and firm butt. He was just too good to be true. Frank dreamed about Menno, the whole time, but he knew it was idle wishing. Menno was straight. There was no gay bone in his body, even with such a cute appearance.

“Hey! Frank, right?”

Frank turned around. He tensed his hand around the tools when he saw Menno close behind him, as he would drop them if he didn't. “Yea,” he managed, hoarsely. “How can I help you?”

“The boss told me to get my own toolbox. He said you would help me. Will you?” Menno grinned a bit, shrugging. “I have no idea where to find a box, let alone the tools... I'm glad I don't have to buy my own stuff, though. You're one of the chiefs, right? I mean, you drive, and you have an assistant, don't you? Tim is okay,” he added with another shrug. Tim was the old carpenter. “But he is lazy. I don't mind to work hard, but... I think I'd rather assist you, to be honest.”

Frank blinked at so many words. He didn't talk much, and was usually left in peace. “We could talk to the boss, when you're settled in,” he finally replied. “Tools. Right. I think we have a box over there... Excuse me.”
Quickly walking to a shelf, Frank tried to ignore the fact he was alone with Menno in the dark, crammed stockroom. He could kiss him right there, and no one would ever know. Frank's imagination went wild as he collected tools.

“I had to escape,” said Menno, from close by. “One of the guys just had a baby, apparently. I never knew new fathers would carry so many photos... I pretended to be interested, but damn, they all look the same to me. Do you have children?”

“No. I don't.” Frank closed the lid, and stood up. “This will do, I reckon. Can I do anything else for you?”

Menno shrugged, folding his hands behind his back. He looked all innocent and young in the dim light, his large eyes looking straight at Frank's. “I can't think of anything,” he said.

It almost sounded disappointed, thought Frank, but he decided it was his own imagination. “Maybe we should go back to the baby photos, then.”

“Oh bleh, do we have to?”

Frank laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah. We have to.” He lifted the box, and threw it at Menno. The boy staggered under the sudden weight. “Good reflex,” mocked Frank. “Move, handsome...” Oh gods, did he just say that?

Menno grinned. “If you say so...”

For the first time since Menno arrived, Frank was glad to leave the office. He'd been hiding himself for so many years, without problems. He never had the slightest urge to tell anyone he was gay. But now, with that cute guy around, he really felt the need to come out of the closet. At the same time, he wanted to act even more normal. It didn't make sense...

It was summer. A heatwave had struck the country for days on end, with nothing but blue sky and burning hot sun. The carpenters were in bad need of refreshment at the end of the day. The bosses provided them with beer, soda, ice cream and a water hose.

Frank's shirt and pants were already soaked, when he arrived at the office. His assistant immediately ran to the beer, leaving the van in the capable hands of his chief. It would take a bit longer before he could take a sip. Frank was dying for a drink, but he had to clear the van first.
He cried out when cold water hit his back.

“Feeling hot, Frankie?”

“Menno! Dammit, stop it!” Frank tried to avoid the water, but not too hard. It was refreshing. With a growl, he tried to grab the hose from Menno's hands, hearing the happy laughter from the blonde and the chuckles from his coworkers. Eventually, he could conquer the hose. Menno ran away when he turned the head towards him, and he followed across the street. They were both soaking wet when they ended up behind the skips, out of view, and out of reach of the hose. Menno squealed when Frank grabbed him between his ribs.

“No tickling! Please!” The blonde fell against the hot metal, squiring between the groping hands. “Oh please, stop! I'll pee in my pants...”

Frank stopped. He didn't want to embarrass him. With a pleased smile, knowing he'd won, he retracted. “Better think twice before you decide to play with the big guys, hm, handsome?”

“I just...” Menno gasped for air, straightening his clothes. “I just wanted to cool you off...”

“You did. Thank you.” Frank smiled at him, and bent to the hose to close it. “Want a beer?”

“Yeah. Sounds lovely.” Menno was still a bit breathless. “It's too warm,” he complained. “I want rain.”

“The forecasts say it will rain tomorrow. It'll be over soon.” As Menno passed by, Frank wrapped an arm around his neck. Dragging the hose behind him, he guided him to the chairs outside. “I won,” he announced pleased.

Menno struggled, pushing Frank's arm away. “You're bigger,” he said with a pout. “It wasn't fair anyway.”

“Told you to think twice...” With a slap on the wet pants, Frank left Menno behind to get two bottles of ice cold beer.
By the time they went home, they were dry again.

The next day, it rained. No playing with the hose that day, but still Frank was soaking wet by the time the van was cleared and he could sit down with a drink. It was still warm outside. The weather seemed as confused as Frank was...

Menno arrived much later. His hair sticking to his pretty face, wet by rain and perspiration, he grunted a greeting and walked straight to the fridge. He took a soda. The bottle emptied with a few large sips. “What a day,” he sighed, mostly to himself.
Tim, his chief, followed shortly. He looked fresh as a daisy. Frank looked from one to the other, just like the bosses. Not much later, Menno was asked to go up to the head office.

Even though most of the men had gone home already, Frank stalled a bit longer. He pretended to be busy in the stockroom, but in fact he was waiting. When he heard Menno's voice, talking to the boss, he gave it a few more minutes, and left.

He drove slowly. Menno walked on the sidewalk, head bowed against the rain, hands stuck in his pockets. Frank stopped next to him, and opened the passenger door. “Need a ride?”

Menno looked up. “I'm wet,” he said after a brief hesitation.

“Get in, and dry up,” replied Frank. He tapped the passenger seat.

Menno stepped in, and closed the door. He didn't buckle up yet. “You don't know where I live...”

“You'll tell me, won't you?” Frank didn't wait, and began to drive. “Buckle up, will you?”

“Nice car...” The blonde looked around, nodding in appreciation. “Are you one of those guys who pimp their own cars?”

“Actually, no.” Frank didn't really know why he was so honest. He had told the others he pimped the car himself, because they expected it of him. “I bought it like it is. So tell me, left or right?”

“Left. I don't live that close by, you know... Why did you buy this car?”

Frank shrugged. “It's reliable,” he mumbled. “Where do you live?”

“So is a Volvo...” Menno seemed to drop the subject, much to Frank's relief, and told him where he lived. “You can drop me at the train station...”

“It's not that far from my place, so I'll take you all the way. Do you feel better, after that talk with the boss?”

“Ah. So you're just curious.” Menno stared out of the window, looking at the wet streets. He acted a lot cooler. “Yes, I feel better, thank you.”

“I'm not curious... I only wanted to make conversation.” Frank frowned, feeling a little insulted. “Tim is old, he's lazy, and he probably took advantage of you. I'm glad you spoke up, if you did. But if you rather not talk about yourself...”

“I do. I'm sorry.” With a soft sigh, Menno turned towards Frank, and smiled bravely. “Tim just sat on a chair, the whole day. I worked my ass off. I finished the job, all by myself, but I told the boss I would quit if nothing would change. They promised to have a talk with him.”

“They should team you up with me. I certainly wouldn't sit on a chair all day.” As Frank focused on the road, he couldn't really look at Menno. He could feel how the other looked at him, though. “Enough about work. How about you really tell me about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

Again, Frank noticed the hostility in the tone of voice. “Listen,” he tried to sound as friendly as possible, “if you don't want to talk to me, it's fine... Just say so, alright? I'm afraid to ask the wrong questions, if you snap at me like that.”

“Damn...” Menno rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Sorry, Frank. I'm not used to become friendly with my coworkers. I mean...”

Frank waited, but there was no explanation. “Sorry if I got the wrong idea,” he said. “You spoke to me first, and you were playful with that hose and all. I got the impression you wanted to get to know me. It's okay if you want to stay at a distance, of course...”

“My name is Menno, I moved here a few months ago, I live alone and I'm single.” For a moment, the blonde stared outside again. “My parents were born here, and I wanted to know what the fuss was all about. I have no friends here, or at home for that matter. I'm a loner.”

“You said 'home',” noticed Frank. “Do you miss your old place?”

“Yes. But don't ask me why, because I can't explain. So talk about you, before we're there.”

“Traffic's a bitch,” mumbled Frank. “There's enough time. I'm single, I live with my two cats, I was born and raised here. If you think that means I love this city, think again.” He never said it to his colleagues, of course. People who lived here, died here. It was a well-known fact. Saying you didn't like the city was the same as insulting someone's mother. “I like working out, but I hate the gym, I like to ride my car but I don't like to pimp it. I'm complicated.”

“Hm... Is it complication, or interesting? I wonder.” Menno seemed to relax a bit, and he turned to take a better look at Frank. “What are your cats called?”

“Gijs and Bart... They're big and lazy. Here, we're in your neighborhood now... Where exactly do you live?”

Menno glanced outside. “At the end of this long road... Those old flats. Do you know them? They have flowery names. I live in Daffodil or something...”

Frank laughed a bit surprised as he steered through the street. “Yeah, I know them.” He was quiet until they reached the building, but he turned to the building at the other side of a narrow side street. He drove up to the gate, closing off the parking garage. It slowly opened.

“What...” Menno straightened up. “This is the wrong one, I'm afraid...”

“No, it's the right one.” Frank grinned rather pleased. “You live in that one behind us, but I have to park here, so I figured you wouldn't mind walking a bit further.”

“Wait,” the blonde furrowed his brows at him. “You mean you live here? You're my neighbor?”

Frank steered deeper into the garage, turning into his parking space. “Yes, handsome, we're neighbors. So I see you outside at six tomorrow morning, I guess. How would you like that?”

“More talking about myself? Hm...” Menno actually seemed to think it over. “Okay. At six? I'll be there.” He opened the door, and stepped out.

Frank followed quickly. “You don't have to talk about yourself, Menno. You seem to freeze up every time you feel like you have to do so...” They were men, he told himself. Men didn't talk about themselves. Menno was straight, definitely. He really had to remember that. “So... Soccer, then?”

Smirking, Menno hoisted his bag on his shoulder. “Yeah. Soccer. Or chicks. Whatever, I guess.”

“Fine.” Frank really wanted to say more, but he was afraid it would be wrong again. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Thank you... For the ride, I mean. Have a nice evening.” He already walked towards the exit.

“You too,” said Frank just in time.

Upstairs, as he fed the cats and got ready to take a refreshing shower, Frank ran the whole conversation through his mind. Menno froze up all the time, but thawed at seemingly random moments. Frank tried to figure out what caused those moments, but he couldn't find out. Menno was strange. Handsome, cute, but strange. Something wasn't right about him. He was too tense, as if he convulsively tried to keep control over something. Over himself, maybe.

Frank opened his eyes under the cold water of his shower, and snorted. No... He was wrong, wasn't he? Surely Menno wouldn't have the same secret as him...