SECRETS OF THE PAST
Chapter Three
Everything had gone from bad to
worse. At least, Frank thought so. Angelina pregnant with his baby, and his
son, whom he had known nothing about. He had promised to take him to
Disneyland, but with Angie sick, he didn't really want to go. A promise was a promise,
nonetheless. Junior had fallen asleep with Angelina, and Frank fell asleep on
the couch. He sat near the two. They looked as comfortable as two peas in a
pod.
"Frankie, wake up." He
opened his blue eyes, identical to his father's.
"Dad?" He rubbed his
eyes.
"Hey, you said you wanted to
go to Disneyland, so let's go." Frank was already dressed.
"But Dad, I haven't got any
clothes to wear." He was wearing the only things he had brought with him
since the flight to New York.
"Then let's go shopping,
son." He didn't even know what size he wore.
He woke up Angelina and told her
they were going shopping.
Frank and his son went to Le
Petite Monsieur, an expensive clothing shop for boys and men.
"Son, pick anything you
want." He looked around for a new tie while his son looked around.
"All right, Dad." Frank
looked around, but he didn't know what size he wore.
"Ah…Mr. Abagnale. Anything I
can help you with?" the salesman asked.
"Yeah. My son needs some
clothes," Frank said.
"What size?" the
salesman wondered.
"Frank, what size are
you?" Frank called out.
"How should I know? Mom
always bought me clothes," little Frank replied.
"Point taken, Frank,"
he said, smiling at him.
"Don't know what size,"
Frank replied to the salesman.
"Well, sir, it looks like
he's a size ten. He's a big boy," the salesman said, looking at Frank Jr.
"Takes after his dad,"
Frank said proudly.
"Right, sir." The
salesman noticed Frank's nice suit.
"All right. Here are the
size tens." Frank looked through the stuff and picked out a few shirts and
pants for the boy.
"Nice, Dad. I never had
anything nice like this before." Frank Jr. loved his clothes.
"Frank, you deserve only the
best," he told little Frankie. He had always heard that from his father,
and he had always appreciated everything his father had ever given him.
When both father and son came
out, they were nothing but identical. Frankie had chosen something similar to
what his dad was wearing, and they looked adorable together.
"Frank?" He looked at
him.
"Yes, Dad?" Frank
looked up.
"Is there anything I can
call you besides Frank? Not that I don't like the name your mother chose, but
it gets kind of confusing," Frank told him.
"Sure, Dad. I have always
loved Jack. You know, after Jack London," Frank told his father.
"Yes, son. I know."
Frank knew about Jack London. He liked him himself.
"All right, then. We will
call you Jack." Frank smiled at him. "Nice to meet you, Jack."
He pretended to meet him for the first time, and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Frank."
Jack did the same.
They went into the local malt
shop to get something to drink.
"What will you have,
Jack?" Frank asked.
"Um…a root beer float,"
he picked from the menu.
"Nice choice." The boy
had his taste.
"What'll you have,
sir?" The waitress batted her eyes at Frank. He still had all his charm.
"We'll have two root beer
floats." He paid for them, and they sat at the table.
"So, Jack, how old are
you?" Frank had no idea how old he was, but guessed at six or seven.
"I am nine, Dad," Jack
answered. "How old are you, Dad?" Jack asked him.
"Twenty-five," Frank
replied.
"Gosh, you're old." He
made a face.
"Thanks a lot, Jack."
"You're welcome." Jack
smiled. "Hey, after this, can we go somewhere else?" Jack asked.
"Where do you want to
go?" He wondered what was on his son's mind.
"Um…how about Paris?"
He had seen a poster with Paris on it.
"How do you know about
Paris?" Frank wondered.
"I don't, Dad. See right
there?" He pointed to a picture in the malt shop window. It had the Eiffel
Tower on it.
"You want to go to Paris,
France?" Frank was wondering what exactly his child actually knew, because
he was a smart guy like him.
"Sure, Dad. I’ve heard it's
a lovely vacation spot," he said like a TV commercial.
"What about school,
Jack?" Frank asked him.
"I hate school, Dad. It's so
boring." He hated school so much.
"You are my son. You're just
like me," Frank commented.
"Of course I am, Dad."
He smiled back at him. "Mommy didn't tell me much about you, only that she
loved you when you left her. Did you love her?" Jack wondered.
"Of course I did, Jack, more
than life itself." That was the truth.
When they got home, Angelina was
in a happier mood.
"Angelina, how are you
today?" Frank walked in with the boxes.
"Better, Frank. How was your
day, you two?" She patted little Frank on the head.
"We had a good day, Madame,
and we sure had a nice time chatting with the chicks," Frankie told her.
"Well, aren't you a
comedian, Frank." She laughed.
"My name is Jack,
ma‘am." Frankie bowed.
"He has your charm,
Frank," she commented.
"Thanks, ma'am," Jack
said.
"Please, Jack, call me
Angie." She decided that he was her son now, not Rosalie's.
They settled in for dinner and
chatted around the table. It was a happy day at the Abagnale house.