Cafe At The End Of Time 17.0

                                             End of Part 1

Masunte on the coast of Oaxaca during the off season…

the perfect beach. Frank rented a room over a restaurant

that was right on the beach.  What Shela had told him

would play itself out…there was nothing he could do to

change what was going to happen…but he could still live

in the time he had left.

Funny, we all could say that about our lives…whether we

have two days left or twenty years, we always have the 

opportunity to live it now rather than wait for some golden

time in the future that never seems to arrive.

Frank wondered if he’d have time to make any progress

on the book he was working on…he didn’t care anymore 

if he finished it.  He wondered if he could even write material

anymore that had a plot: direction. Why do novels have plots?

Because readers like to read stories….ones that have a beginning

and an end and stuff in the middle that ties it all together so that

it makes sense. Like Mark Twain said: “It’s no wonder truth

is stranger than fiction….fiction has to make sense.”

Frank’s life, at this point, was true….but that didn’t mean

it was making much sense.

                                          ****

Frank took a beach chair and went down to the sand and shore.

He had a joint and a water bottle filled with tequila… he

was planning to do some heavy contemplating while he looked

out at the ocean.  Frank preferred the mountains, but sitting

on the beach he felt a vastness that he experienced nowhere

else.  He was starting to relax…he felt himself drifting off…

Frank woke up, but not quite….it was like one of those bad

naps you sometimes have where you wake up groggy and stay

that way for some time.

He was still at the beach, but it was not the same beach. There

were a lot more people…some swimming, some sunning…

somehow the shore looked different….and the palm trees behind 

him.  Maybe it was the same beach….but there hadn’t been

this many people on it since he arrived. Where did they come 

from?  Frank closed his eyes again….

This time, when he woke up, he thought he was still dreaming.

He was wearing blue clothes again, a uniform.  And he had a

clipboard in his hands. He looked at the writing at the top of

the paper:  FRANK 264499.  Somehow, reading that, made him

feel suddenly dizzy, and he fell to the floor.

                                            ****

Frank woke up and got out of his sleepingsac.  He had been

sleeping in sand, but somehow he knew he wasn’t at the beach

He had on a blue tunic and red pantaloons. A fez like hat next

him on a rock. Next to that, a rifle. He realized he was a Zouave.

A bugle blew, and Frank did what he knew instinctively to

do…he got up, straightened his uniform, shouldered his rifle,

and went to formation.  His body felt different: younger, leaner, 

stronger. He seemed to have new memories….a whole new

life. As the minutes ticked by,  Frank began to think that his

memories of the beach were a dream,  and  that this was, in

fact,  his life.

He fought that day.  His commanding officer fell into a trap

and they were ambushed.  Frank was a good fighter, and one

of the main reasons they got out of that fix.  But Frank got a

bullet in the left side and was bleeding heavily.  His body was

getting heavy and he sat down. He thought of his mother and

Suzette, the girl he loved…and he realized his name was Francois.

                                              ****

The sun was going down on the left side of the beach. Frank

woke up in his chair and stretched his body. He went up to the

restaurant and had fresh fish and rice for dinner. He still had half 

a bottle of tequila sitting on the table in front of him.  That would 

be gone soon.  Frank remembered what he had experienced

sitting on the beach.  This was part of what Shila told him

would happen to him.