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When he had said errands, the last place Karen expected to meet him was the zoo.
She’d gotten the text bright and early on the first rainless morning in a week, her first real day off in a month, reluctantly woken from a dream about Joe Mangianello and a new puppy by the irritatingly pleasant chime of her phone. The text had come from an unfamiliar number, meaning that Frank had gone through yet another burner phone. (He had literally burnt through the last one--and that made seven this month.)
Got some errands I need help with. Can you meet in an hour sending address
She had thought that it was a mistake when the GPS announced her arrival at the Central Park Zoo, but there he was, right out front. He stood outside the ticket booth adjacent to the front gates, wearing his darkest sunglasses and thick arms folded across his chest. It had to be a tailing job, reconnaissance on someone particularly dangerous, if he needed her help; but if it was, what Hell’s Kitchen criminal/murderer/whatever would show up there in broad daylight?
Frank, apparently .
“Need you to buy tickets. I’m not trying to get too close face-to-face with anybody.” He slipped her a couple of twenties--all business as usual. Under the ball cap and sunglasses, she could see yellow and purple blossoming across his face. Last night had undoubtedly been a rough night, but she’d bet the other guy wasn’t looking so good now either. “General admission,” he added, as she turned to enter the ticket line. “I don’t need any of that 4-D theater crap.”
“Hello to you, too,” she muttered, queueing up behind an average-looking family of four. A brief twang pulled in her chest; growing up, the nearest farm had been in Massachusetts. They’d only gone as a family once or twice, but Karen remembered all she’d needed to. The long, pluming tails on the peacocks. Kevin giggling at the orangutan with its nose pressed up to the glass, its mouth stretched wide in a playful grin. Her dad hugging her mom from behind, planting a kiss on her ear when he didn’t know Karen was looking.
Things had been simpler then.
“Who we after?” she sighed, joining him at the gates and handing him his change. The ticket takers stamped them each on the wrist, with their eyes down and their smiles plastered on.
“Just follow.” In the time she’d taken to buy their tickets, he’d grabbed a map with showtimes and was now clenching it in a hard fist. His other hand tucked itself under her elbow, ushering her into step with him; he had assumed the walk of your common hurried New Yorker, head bent forward as he navigated through the park.
She wanted to ask who it was they were supposed to be tailing, but the franticness in him, the way his lips traced each exhibit in the directions and then again in realtime, warned her to do as he said and just follow .
“Left,” he grunted, steering her past what looked like a fourth grade field trip. Cinnamon and sugar wafted to her nose, and she prepared herself to speed past the churro stand, only to find herself at the front of the line. “Two, please.”
Karen didn’t realize that he had thrust a churro into her hand, nor that she had been struck dumb by the sheer ridiculousness of it until Frank had to nearly yank her back into step beside him, biting shamelessly into his own churro. “C’mon,” he said gruffly, without a second glance, and tugged her along deeper into the zoo.
She followed his lead, frowning down at the glistening confection in her hand. Had he completely lost his mind? Were they actually tailing anyone, or was his summoning her here his strange way of asking her on a date?
She felt better equipped to deal with the first option than the second or third.
“Frank?” Karen said softly, glancing around at all the families, the field trips, the teenagers on double and triple dates laughing loudly as they snapped pictures of each other on their phones. He made some half-attentive sound, eyes forward and mouth full of fried dough. “Are you--is everything--?”
“There.” He strong-armed her toward a large group of people assembled haphazardly into a semi-circle. There seemed to be an attraction in the middle, one of the zookeepers’ voices magnified by the speakers around the penguin tank.
Karen caught her guard again, finally taking a bite of her churro as she tried her best to scope out whoever it was they were looking for. The tall brunette woman on the phone, thick sunglasses and business attire totally out of place at the twelve o’clock penguin feeding? The greasy, middle-aged Italian man with one arm around a much younger, much more attractive woman and the other clutching a messy-haired toddler? Perhaps the young father, tanned and muscular with a giggling little daughter perched on his shoulders, their smiles matching down to a--
Oh.
She stole a sideways glance at Frank, finally noticing him watching the show like it was the last thing he’d ever see. He took small bites of his churro, crumpling the map in his other hand. As the colorless zookeeper feigned her cheery commentary on the birds, Frank’s shoulders began to relax into place. He pushed his sunglasses up his nose a little higher, standing there in such a bizarrely comfortable way that Karen finally began to relax herself.
“What penguins lack in flight, they make up for in the water, swimming at speeds up to…”
Why was she there, then? If he were mourning his family, surely he’d want to be alone. And yet he had called Karen to meet him there, calling it an “errand,” pretending she wouldn’t understand its necessity. Pretending that he was doing something for himself, not for Maria, or Lisa, or Frank Jr. And yet here he was for them , with Karen by his side. It felt intrusive, out of her place, almost disrespectful. And yet he wanted her there .
All she knew for sure was that this was so much more important than a date.
She watched the show then, taking in every word the penguin handler said and doing her best to keep up with all the facts. She watched still as the children began to grow bored, and a few of the families dispersed. She stepped closer to the enclosure when the family in front of them went to buy lunch, reaching down for Frank’s wrist to keep him beside her. In that flash of skin touching skin, she was tempted to keep hold, to ground him with her--but let go. There had to be parts of this that he still had to experience on his own, parts of this that he had to face without her.
Karen clapped when the show drew to a close, pretending not to notice Frank swipe at his nose with the back of his hand before he began to clap too. The penguin handler took her bow, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, and tossed the last of her fish to the waiting birds. Frank didn’t miss a beat, and as soon as the remaining crowd proceeded on to the other attractions, had his map open and was searching for the next exhibit.
“Monkeys.” She nodded, and without protest or question followed him to the primate exhibit, then the elephants, the giraffes, the bears, the aviary, finally the rhinoceros. They didn’t spend nearly as much time at any of the other attractions as they did at the penguin feeding, but still they took their time at each, just standing there and observing the animals. Sometimes they’d make the odd comment--exchanging a quick laugh about the baboon’s ass or admiring the mother elephant bathing her baby--but for the most part they were silent.
“ Park closing in thirty minutes. Please account for your party as you move to the exit. ”
“Shit.” She checked her watch--half past four. They had spent four hours in the park, eating churros and walking around the exhibits. And it had felt like minutes. “What’s, um, the plan now, Frank?”
When she looked up, he was already a step and a half ahead of her, folding up his map and tucking it into his pocket. He led her out of the zoo, down the road a few blocks to a frozen yogurt shop. He was mild as they ate, asking her indifferently about how her work was going, whether she kept in contact with Murdock and Nelson, knowingly wondering if she knew Murdock’s dirty little secret by then.
“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes at a piece of Cap’n Crunch she’d piled on top of the strawberry swirl. “And I’m not in contact with him so much anymore, actually. Because of the dirty little secret.” Frank chuckled, scooping up a bite of mocha.
“Make you feel any better that you weren’t the only one he was lyin’ to?”
“Made me feel better that I didn’t fight as hard as you said I should have.” She remembered that night in the diner. The coffee and the bullets spraying over like rain. Frank telling her to use both hands and never let go. “Used both hands to push him far, far away for the time being.”
“And here you sit with me for frozen yogurt.” She couldn’t make herself look at him, but his smile wrapped itself audibly around his words. A heat filled her cheeks, and she busied herself with her cup of yogurt. “Can’t be you have a problem with the vigilante type then, can it?”
“I told you already...you don’t lie to me.” She paused, knowing better than to push him about today, or why exactly he’d chosen to ask her to come with him. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me everything--the last thing I want to hear is what would put me away for aiding and abetting, even though I’ve probably screwed the pooch on that one just by being here--but you don’t...you know, you don’t hide things from me.” Deciding she’d shoved her foot into her mouth enough as it was, she let herself go silent. He didn’t break the silence either, which she wasn’t sure she was thankful or embarrassed for.
After tossing their empty yogurt cups Frank took her to a florist a few streets away. She didn’t ask any questions when he slipped cash into her palm and sent her inside for a bouquet of calla lilies. Nor when he took the bouquet from her and led her up the street once more.
No more questions until they were standing at the Castle family’s headstone, he kneeling down to set the bouquet next to Lisa’s name. Karen didn’t miss the date beneath the “Beloved Daughter and Sister” bit.
“It’s her birthday,” she said aloud, softly. Frank grunted in confirmation and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Woulda been eleven today.”
They stood quietly in front of the headstones for a few moments longer, and he didn’t shed any tears that she could see. Finally he took her by the elbow with a gentle “c’mon” and walked her away from the cemetery.
“Frank?” Karen said as they neared her apartment, some twenty-five blocks later. He looked up at her. “I’m--I don’t know if I ever told you that I was sorry about what happened to your family.” She was met with his grim smile.
“Thanks.” She drew in a deep breath, nodding down at her shoes.
“Can I--I just…” She wet her lips, heart racing in her chest as she steeled herself to ask that dreadful question. “Why did--”
“Karen.” He rarely used her first name, but this time he did so softly, as if speaking any louder would shatter the gravity between them. “The first birthday she had when I got back, I asked Lisa what was her favorite place. She said the zoo. So we went. Said she was hungry, wanted a churro. Asked her what her favorite part of the zoo was, said the penguins. After the zoo I asked her what her favorite dinner was.” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head as his eyes fixed on a spot just behind her. “Said, ‘frozen yogurt, Daddy.’ After dinner, asked her what her favorite flower was. She said water lilies. Place didn’t have water lilies, so she said calla lilies were her next favorite.
“We got home, she tells me, ‘you know, Daddy, I tricked you.’” His voice cracked a little as he remembered, feeling his little girl’s voice in his ears and her arms around his neck. “Said, ‘I never liked water lilies so much.’ Said, ‘calla lilies were always my favorite. Because they were the first flower you ever got me.’” He shook his head, tilting it downward until his face was obscured by his cap.
“Frank…”
“I wanted to be alone today. Wanted to stay holed up in my safe house and pretend like it wasn’t today, pretend like I forgot, or pretend like it passed me by and I didn’t realize…” He inhaled deeply, then raised his eyes to the sky, chewing on his lip. “Couldn’t. You know? Tore myself up all morning, couldn’t get her out of my head. But thinkin’ about her...that birthday I wanted her to do all her favorite things, have all her favorite things. She were around today, I’m pretty sure you’d be one of her favorite people.” Finally he met her eyes, looking at her with a defiant honesty, as if challenging her to be otherwise. “You’d be one of her favorite people, Karen. So, I...I don’t know. Thought if I spent the day doing all her favorite things with her with you, she’d...y’know...”
“Frank,” she said again, even more quietly this time. Her hand ached to reach out for him, to touch his hand or his face or his arm. She couldn’t.
She wanted to tell him that he was Lisa’s favorite person. In all the world. She wanted to tell him that he was a wonderful father, and a great man. She wanted to tell him that if there were anyone in the world deserving of Lisa’s love, of anyone’s love, it was him. She wanted to tell him that this day, Lisa’s day, had been the best day she’d had in months.
She couldn’t.
Instead, she said, “Thank you for asking me to come with you.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets and pulling himself back together. He couldn’t afford a hug. Couldn’t afford to make a mess of himself in her arms like he was bound to. “Thank you for coming.” He looked around in silence again, nodding to himself. “I, uh, I should go.”
“Yeah.” She looked at him again, this time matching his defiant honesty. “I’ll...I’ll see you soon, Frank.”
So he left her on the street, head down as he retreated off into the night of New York City, ready to rid the alleyways of their human vermin, while she walked up four flights of stairs with a heaviness in her chest.
As Karen Page lay in bed that night, the smell of calla lilies lingered in her nose.