The Point

A long detour spurs a conversation with an unexpected stranger.

Part I: The Name

            His name was Howard. He is not Howard, but instead was Howard. That word ‘was’ always carries with it the weight of death. He is still alive, Howard had his name changed, instead, to Frank, but by saying his name was Howard may lead some to believe he must have died, which would have been a misreading of the situation.

            There once was another Howard. In fact I am sure there has been many Howards; Howard Hughes, Howard the Duck, I for one would even count Dwight Howard in that list of notable Howards, but there once was a specific other Howard. This Howard was the father of Frank, who was formally Howard. Howard and Howard were once inseparable, not in the positive sense, but they were inseparable because the older Howard relied on his namesake to return safely home and in bed every night. Howard was a drunk. He drank nearly every night and Howard, nearly every night, had to carry him to bed. When Howard was younger this proved to be difficult, he would use the help of a refrigerator dolly, rolling his father onto the dolly, strapping him in then dragging him home or more specifically just dragging him to his bed. As Howard grew older and stronger he could just carry Howard to his desired resting place.  

            Luckily there was never any physical abuse. Howard was a happy drunk, laughing and sharing jokes until he would eventually pass out. The abuse was that young Howard grew up without a father, worse grew up with an unconscious father. That is why Howard is now Frank. Frank abandoned the name Howard as a way to abandon his Father. After the death of Howard Senior, Frank killed off the remnants of his father by killing off the last thing his father left him, the name. So in a sense I guess “was” does signify death, the death of an Identity.

            His name was Howard and now it is Frank. Frank was your standard good citizen, always doing his best to be a nice guy. On Tuesday Frank woke up to a broken air conditioner, sweating. He rose from his bed leaving a salty stain on his sheets. “Perfect,” he thought. 

            With the peaked temperature Frank grumbled, “Well hell.” Because that is the first place that he was reminded of this Tuesday morning. He picked up his phone and dialed.

            “Bill’s a/c service, where we make being cool a profession, how may I assist you today?” Said the young voice in the receiver.

            “Hi Bill, I wo”

            “Sorry sir, I am not Bill,” he interrupted. “I’m Rasheed.”

            “Okay, Hi Rasheed, I woke up this morning to a dead a/c unit. I need someone to come fix it for me.”

            “Great. And what, may I ask, has lead you to believe the unit is dead?” Rasheed asked, with a joyous tone, for that is what gave Bill’s Air Conditioning Service the friendly reputation it now has.

            “Uh…well, it is hot. My house is hot this morning and I cannot seem to turn on the air conditioning.”

            “Well sir that does sound like a dead unit. We will send someone to your home between 9 a.m. and 7p.m. today does that work for you?” Rasheed asked.

            “Well it is Tuesday, I do have work, but I can be home in the afternoon if you can narrow the time frame.”

            “Unfortunately no, we cannot sir. What we can do for you is set up an appointment for Saturday between 7 a.m. and 3 p.m.” He petitioned.

            “Yeah, yeah fine. Saturday between the morning and night, I will be here.”

            “Perfect. We just need your address and phone number and a technician will be to your house on Saturday.”

            After providing the necessary information the call ended and Frank began his routine. He turned on the shower, cold. The clock was looming in the back of his room, warning Frank that he would soon be late for work. Thirty years ago the time would have been accompanied with a sounding ‘Tick’ which would assuredly be followed by ‘Tock,’ but Frank proudly live in the digital age and the time is accompanied only with mere silence.

            Frank tightened his belt, faced the mirror and adjusted his tie. Perfect. All that there was left was to slip into his suit coat, but that could wait, wait for the cool air of the office. Frank walked into the garage, gently laid his coat on the passenger seat of his car and slid into the leather interior. The car was warm, but the shade of the garage kept the temperature bearable, at least long enough for the cool air to start circulating. Even with the reasonable temperature Frank was sweating. He started the car and turned on the air conditioning. Cool air. Perfect.  

Part II: The Man

            “You are listening to Krazy 91.7. Here is your morning traffic.” Bleated the radio.

            After the helicopter sound effects began the voice rumbled through the speakers, “Thanks John.” It announced, “Looking down at the 95 we’ve got some stopped traffic. Seems like a tipped diesel truck left its liquid shipment all over the road. The trucks down right after the Summerlin Parkway exit, so if you are heading this way, I’d recommend taking surface streets.”

            “Perfect!” Frank shouted, slamming his hands onto the steering wheel. That was Frank’s exit. The new directions would be fairly simple. From Pebble to Pecos, Pecos to Sunset, Sunset to Eastern, Eastern to Tropicana, Tropicana to Swenson, Swenson to Harmon, Harmon to Paradise, Paradise to Flamingo, Flamingo to Rainbow, Rainbow to Washington, Washington to Tenaya and straight on to work.  22 miles, 52 minutes. From the sound of the directions it would be a pretty blissful drive, but names are often deceiving. This scenic route passes by the airport, through the busiest and dirtiest sides of town. Crosses the strip and even touches Chinatown. Dirty gas stations, superstores, tourists, traffic and the homeless spotting the street corners. Some of these problems would just have to be taken in stride, but the homeless, Frank knew how to deal with the homeless. These beggars, with their sob stories and addictions. Frank never had any form of cash on hand, in case of an encounter, and while driving he maintained a steady, deathly gaze on the back window of the car ahead of him. His eyes remained fixed, always, on the car in front.

            Today was different. Waiting at a stoplight, only five minutes into his trip, Frank’s gaze drifted to the right and he focused on one man. Sitting in the shade of a cement wall was a man, early twenties, with long, unkempt hair and a trimmed beard. The man looked clean except for the stained and tattered clothing he wore. If it were not for the clothes and the cardboard slogan he had at his side he would easily be mistaken for your standard working man, taking a quick break from the summer heat. Maybe one of the many who just lost a job.

            There was something different about him, something obvious and, to Frank, something obnoxious. The sign at his side contained the essentialist saying “What’s the point?” But there was nothing odd about that, what left Frank annoyed, yet intrigued, was the cheerful demeanor on this seemingly uninviting man. Frank quickly turned into the nearest parking lot, moving slowly into sight of this man, rolling down his window Frank shouted toward the stranger, “Hey! Hey, you!”

            “Uh, hey?” This man responded, looking curiously around him.

            “Yeah, hey, I want to talk to you, got some questions, are you willing to take a little ride with a stranger?” Frank inquired.

            “You got any weapons in there? Ha, yeah let me grab my things.”He turned, picked up a black backpack and his cardboard message. He opened the door and made the first real comment saying, “Thanks for the company. I wonder if you will introduce yourself.”

            “The name is Frank. I’ve got about 45 minutes to kill and you peaked my interest. I thought maybe I could have a nice conversation with you. So what’s your name?”

            “Howard.” Noticing the immediate discomfort in Frank’s expression Howard quickly responded, “Huh, you don’t care much for my name I see. You know there are some great Howards out there; Howard Hughes, Howard the Duck, hell I’d even say Dwight Howard is a great Howard. So what do you have against Howard’s my friend?”

            “No, nothing. I used to be Howard. I was named after my dad but he drank his life away. I was always picking up his messes and so I changed my name to forget about him and my lost childhood.”

            “That’s a shame. Sad how one man can ruin a name. Why Frank though? Any good reason?”

            “Old blue eyes. I just love Frank Sinatra.” The car was filled with laughter, the loud, uninhibited kind of laughter you hear from dead audiences on television. “Wh, what’s so funny?” Frank stammered.

            “Really? You don’t get it?” He chuckled some more, “It’s kind of funny, you changed your name from Howard because you didn’t like that you were named after a drunk, but you changed it to Frank, after Sinatra who was, famously, a drunk. You just went from one alcoholic to another.”

            Frank looked upset and began to question his judgment.  Was riding in his car with this stranger a good idea? Yet, the combination of Frank’s boredom, and interest in Howard kept him involved in the conversation, but he was done talking of his past.

Part III: The Beginning:

            “The sign” Frank changed the subject, “you seem like a happy guy,”           

            “I am quite happy, thank you for noticing.” Howard interjected.

            “Yeah, like I was saying, you seem like a happy guy, why such a depressing sign? ‘What’s the point?’ isn’t much of a selling point for someone in your situation.”

            “My situation being homeless? See that is the problem with you tie guys. You tighten up your ties every morning and the lack of oxygen must kill the optimism in your brain. I had a different sign a few weeks ago; I was in Redlands when I made this one. The last one was a little more obviously positive, it said “Smile and have a great day!” But this one is not sad or depressing; it was just a question that I thought was worth answering.”

            Shocked by the comment Frank asked, “You were in Redlands a few weeks ago, that’s a four hour drive, why would you be travelling so much? Isn’t it better if you stick to one spot?”

            “Well Frank, you assumed a little too much. You assumed I was homeless by inconvenience instead of choice. Here, get comfortable, let me tell you a story Frank.” Frank shifted in his seat, obeying Howard’s request. “I am only twenty years old. I come from a successful home, upper middle-class I would say, in Cleveland Ohio. My dad was like you, a tie guy and my mom taught middle school.”

            Worried by the start of this story Frank pried, “did they pass?”

            “Ha, no they are both healthy and happy. I know I say my dad was and my mom taught and it is easy to think they died, sorry, my dad is and my mom teaches, how’s that? It was four years ago, I was sixteen, just got my driver’s license and all was going according to plan. You know the plan, school, license, graduation, college, marriage, career, kids, and then death. That’s the expectation my parents had at least. You do that than life will move along perfectly.” The tone of that word, perfectly caused Frank to sit up a little straighter.

            “So,” Howard continued, “I was sixteen and unhappy. I wasn’t depressed, just unhappy with where I was and where everyone’s expectations were taking me, so I asked myself that question that brought me here, ‘what’s the point?’ Well it took a few months, but it was the week after I turned seventeen that I came up with the answer, my answer, to that question. The point and purpose of my life was to have fun and be happy. Sounds vain and it is vain, but for me, that is the point.”

            “That night I sat down and wrote down three things that would make me happy.”

1.)    See the world. Travel.

2.)    Make friends. Lots of friends.

3.)    Be happy.

“Then I made a second list, the list of things that would get in the way of me living this life.”

1.)    Money. Making money requires a job, which restricts travel, and lack of money restricts travel. Solution: no material needs, all money goes first to necessities then towards travelling.

2.)    Don’t talk to strangers. The infamous words that everyone is raised on. To be successful I was going to have to rely on the kindness of strangers. Solution: Trust everyone, have good judgment, but trust everyone.

3.)    Government restrictions. I needed a passport. That’s easy. Solution: Get a passport.

Frank had a look of confusion. “So you just up and left? Your parents were okay with that?”

“Well, no. I waited for my passport to arrive in the mail then made my parents a nice dinner. They were obviously wondering what I wanted from them so I started with a small request, $100, enough to get me on the road. I then broke the news, ‘Mom’ I told them, ‘Dad, tonight, with that money and a backpack of supplies, I am going to run away.’ They didn’t like that one bit. Not much of our dinner was eaten that night but after two and a half hours of pleading and explanation my parents conceded. They gave me double my asking price and promised to not report me as a runaway as long as I agreed to two terms, that I return home to visit once a year and that I call once a month, which was easy, I love my parents, I just need a different life than the one they were offering.

“With three pairs of clothes, my parents phone number, passport, birth certificate and some hygiene products I left. Spent a year in Europe, just hitchhiking wherever anyone would take me, then returned to Cleveland for a month. Left to China for 6 months, then got a job on a fishing boat, which took me to Japan for 5 months than a month in Cleveland. Finally this year. I flew up to Alaska, and I made my way south through Washington, Oregon, California and I just got into Nevada. It is my America year. That’s what I am doing here, no real place to go and no hurry to get there. The perfect life.  I am just going to be happy, make some friends and see the world. So Frank, tell me, what’s the point?” Howard concluded.

Part IV: The Idea:

            Frank just thought. He was not necessarily thinking of an answer to the question, but he was, instead, processing Howard’s story. Filled with questions Frank began to ponder the validity of the story. It couldn’t be possible that someone, with three pairs of clothes, some identification and $200 could see as much as he has. “How, with as little as you have, could you afford to do all that?”

            “Remember the second solution; I had to trust in the kindness of strangers. I have had at least two meals a day every day, showered and washed my clothes three times a week every week and it is all because I trusted in the kindness of strangers and those strangers quickly became friends.” Howard explained. “The trick is to speak up, and verbally ask. You see, I have this sign, but I would never ask for help on a cardboard sign, I like to talk to people and it doesn’t take long for people to enjoy my company either. With that being said Frank, I am not afraid to ask and that has been my ticket to Paris, London, Tokyo, L.A., and all the places in between. Frank I cannot” He continued, “answer another one of your questions, until you answer mine. It is your turn.”

            “Ok, the point, that’s what we are talking about, right?” Howard nodded. “The point, of life I am assuming, is to be as close to perfect as possible.”

            “Perfection is relative, my friend.” Howard interjected.

            “Fine, so it is to be as close to your perfect as you can. Your perfection is to find your own, selfish, happiness, while mine is to provide for myself, to earn a living and to be a good guy who doesn’t ever have to rely on some-stranger to drag you back home.” Frank was getting upset and clearly emotional, rubbing his eyes more frequently to clear his vision.

            “I think you got me wrong Frank, I don’t rely on anyone’s good nature any more than the next guy. We all need help, even help from strangers. Some abuse others kindness, yes, but I, I only take what I need. Some for food, some for travel. If someone gives me twenty dollars then I eat for five and save fifteen. Frank, no one needs to drag me home. I am making my way there, all on my own, just like you.”

            “No, you think it is enough to ask, but all you are doing is letting people work and pay for your dreams, what about their dreams, those people who are financing your mindless travels.”

            “I never said that my purpose is the purpose. I got another story for you Frank. Hundreds of years ago a tribe of Indians described how they found their home in a legend. These Indians lived in the west and their land was not fruitful enough to provide nourishment for everyone, so they left and they relied on one man and a mystical pole he carried around for guidance. Every night they would stop and camp and this man would stick his pole firmly in the ground. When the people would wake in the mornings they would look at the pole, whichever direction the pole was leaning would be the direction they travelled that day. One morning, the sun arose and this tribe looked out to the pole and saw it, standing straight. That morning they knew they arrived home. A tribe that was following closely missed the direction the pole had given that morning and continued onward, never to return to their tribe. I woke up one morning and saw that pole pointing me away from Cleveland. I don’t know if I just haven’t gotten their yet, or if I already walked past my destined homeland, but I will keep searching until I see that pole, standing straight up, until I find something more rewarded that wandering.”

            “Frank, you, your neighbor and all these friends I have made these past three years have found it. Some have already found that place, that is why I can rely on their good graces, and some have given up on their search and drink or smoke their pains away. That is what the real point is, I guess, to find that place, and not stop until you do.”

            “Well, guy, this is where I drop you. Thanks for the time and your thoughts, it was certainly enlightening. You keep looking.” Frank sighed, facing forward, finding it difficult to face the man at his side.

            “Yeah, thanks Frank, or Howard or whatever you call yourself these days. It is always good to make a friend. Anything I can do to repay your kindness? Maybe clean your car, or maybe I could take you to lunch, I still have about thirty bucks in my bag.” Howard asked while leaving the car.

            “No, thanks though.”

            Howard began to walk away, facing Frank, waving.

            “Wait, Howard!” Frank yelled, leaning nearly half his body out the window. “There is something you could give me. “

            “Anything my friend.”

            “You still need that sign of yours?”

Reviews

[A.L. Brown]

I liked what you tried to do in the first four paragraphs, but I think it could be better if it was condensed. I feel it could be brought down to two smaller paragraphs by removing some unneeded details. For example, the bit about the "many Howards" - it was funny, and informed something about the narrator, but it ultimately didn't add much to the story at this point, especially since it's repeated later on by the other Howard. Are you maybe suggesting that the narrator and the Other Howard are the same person? I am uncertain.

Similarly, the initial paragraph could be made much more clear if you simplified it a bit; in fact, you've already done this at the beginning of your fourth paragraph: "His name was Howard and now it is Frank." That single line is your entire first paragraph, in one sentence, and perfectly clear. Unless you were deliberately trying to make my brain wrap around itself following the logic of the explanation, in which case, well done.

So, "Frank was your standard good citizen, always doing his best to be a nice guy." I need some examples here, otherwise I'm just taking the narrator's word for it. And, frankly, at this point I, as the reader, don't have a realtionship with the narrator, and I have no reason to trust somebody I have no relationship with. If the entirety of the story is to establish the fact of Frank's "goodness", then you don't need to state it here. The story itself will be evidence enough. If you're just trying to establish this fact to introduce us to the character, then I need some examples.

"On Tuesday, Frank woke up..." My comments about the rest of your story aside, I feel that the story doesn't really begin until here, and one should always try to begin their story at the beginning.

Some of your dialogue tags are unnecessary to my eyes. For example, you have written, "Sorry sir, I am not Bill," he interrupted. "I'm Rasheed." We can see he's interrupting. It's right there in the text. You don't need to tell us as much. Similarly, later, you have "...What we can do for you is set up an appointment for Saturday between 7 a.m. and 3 p.m." he petitioned. Petitioned is a good word, unusual to see it in a verb form. But also unnecessary. Again, we can see in his dialogue that he's petitioning. It's largely a stylistic thing that I've adapted to, feel free to ignore it, but I usually avoid giving dialogue tags unless it's absolutely necessary to clarify who's talking. And even then, I try to stick to "said".

"After providing the necessary information" - why is the reader exempted from the necessary information? Never summarize dialogue. If it's not important enough to tell the reader, it's not important enough to mention it at all. And details like a character's address and phone number are always important; details make something seem more real, even if it's a complete fabrication on the part of the writer. Don't hold back. Give Frank an address. This gives that building a location, an identity. It might be in the bad part of town, it might be in the good part of town, it might be above a bowling alley or an adult bookstore. Give Frank a phone number. It might be one digit off from a pizza restaurant and he's always getting calls for people wanting that pizza restaurant. He doesn't even get mad at them anymore, he just gives them the correct number and hangs up. Details lead to reality.

I liked the description of the clock "looming" in the back of the room; it gives the impression that time is constantly hovering over Frank. I hope this concept continues throughout the story.

Another quick note on dialogue: if you're going to, I don't know the right word, "annotate" a piece of dialogue, then the quoted dialogue should end with a comma, and go right into the "annotation" as though it's the rest of the sentence. An example:
“You are listening to Krazy 91.7. Here is your morning traffic,” bleated the radio.
Conversely, if you're not annotating it but just describing character verbage, then the dialogue just ends as its own sentence. Another example:
“Old blue eyes. I just love Frank Sinatra.” The car was filled with laughter, the loud, uninhibited kind of laughter you hear from dead audiences on television. “Wh, what’s so funny?”
Done perfectly correct here, good job.

I liked Frank constantly describing things as "Perfect," especially when he's frustrated. It's consistency of character that shows that, even unconsciously, you really know this character.

When we meet The Man, you mention his sign, but it's not until the next paragraph that you say what his sign says. My immediate thought was, "What does the sign say?" and I didn't get the impression you were just building up to it, I got the impression that you forgot to mention. Might want to get what that sign says in there earlier.

Frank inviting the Other Howard into his car seemed rather abrupt. I realize he did it on a whim, but even still, there's a thought process involved in inviting a stranger into your car that I'm not fully seeing here. The impression I'm getting from Frank is that he's recklessly destructive - is that the conclusion you wanted me to draw?

Echoing the distinction between tenses once again makes me think you're trying to indicate that the narrator and the Other Howard are one and the same.

In Part III and IV, Frank and the Other Howard are ostensibly driving down the road (or are they parked? I'm not clear on that). In either case, the world is getting lost in the dialogue. Things are happening around them while they're having this conversation. Even if they're not directly related to the plot, it gives the impression that the world is alive. As it exists right now, Frank and the Other Howard seem to slip into this kind of white space while they talk. The world seems to disappear. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, if that was what you were aiming for, I just need some indication in the text that, as far as the characters are concerned, the world basically has disappeared while they talk.

The formatting of the Other Howard's lists distracted me. It made me very aware that I'm reading a story. You're not writing a financial journal or an essay here. It's okay to just have his lists as part of his dialogue. Maybe this is just me, though.

#2: Trust everyone. After my previous comment about how I can't believe the narrator because I have no reason to trust him... I have to wonder if you were aware of your readers when you did that. Excellently well done, if so.

Another note on dialogue grammar: if the dialogue ends on a paragraph, and the next paragraph is just another paragraph of the same character's dialogue, than the first paragraph shouldn't have a quotation at the end of it, and the next paragraph should. An example:
"...I don’t know if I just haven’t gotten their yet, or if I already walked past my destined homeland, but I will keep searching until I see that pole, standing straight up, until I find something more rewarded that wandering.
“Frank, you, your neighbor and all these friends I have made these past three years have found it..."

Overall, I liked the ideas in your story, but, to me, the entire thing just seemed to be an excuse for the Other Howard to give Frank an extended lecture. The seeds you planted at the beginning of the story (Frank's relationship with his father, his appointment with the air conditioning company) just kind of disappeared and weren't really followed up on. Once the Other Howard shows up, he dominates the story, driving out even the descriptions of the world. There's nothing wrong with having a story that consists largely of one character lecturing another the entire time. Most of the best two-character plays are basically this. But there needs to be a believable context for that, and for me, the context here just wasn't believable.

You showed a good grasp on characterization and world building, however, so now that you know where your story is going, you can go back to the beginning and make the road getting there a little easier for the reader to follow.