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roina_arwen“Yeah, I’ve had a few regrets… I just don’t want to talk about it right now,” Vic said, as he slouched down and pushed his wavy shoulder length hair away from his face.
Spotting a loose thread on the hem of his Dr. Strange T-shirt, Vic slowly and deliberately pulled at it, brow furrowed in concentration.
Glenda nodded, and scribbled a few sentences on her notepad. “We’ll come back to you,” she said, then glanced to her left. “Frank? Would you like to share something?”
Frankie ignored her and stared at his hands, trying to remove particles of imaginary dirt from beneath his pristine fingernails.
“Frank?”
He startled, and finally glanced up. “What?”
“Would you like to share any regrets you’ve been holding on to?” Glenda asked.
“Oh… uh… sure,” Frankie said, and slowly wiped the palms of his hands up and down the thighs of his freshly washed blue jeans, deep in thought. “Well, I suppose one regret is how long I hold onto grudges against people who have wronged me. I’m not one to just forgive and forget, you know?”
Glenda jotted down a few notes, including Victor’s not-so-surreptitious eye roll. “That’s a very good insight,” she replied. “Anything else?”
Frankie shook his head. “Not yet.”
Glenda swiveled her chair slightly to the right. “Victor? It’s your turn now.”
Vic sighed dramatically, and straightened up. “Fine. I regret my impulse to meddle in affairs that are beyond the ken of mortal men.”
He glanced almost sheepishly at Frank, then down at the carpeted floor. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Frank’s watery blue eyes widened. “Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Victor looked Frank directly in the face. His angular chin and squared-off forehead gave him a perpetually stern look. “I’m sorry,” Vic repeated. “I’m sorry I tried to create life, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you the man that I envisioned. I’m sorry you’ve been treated like a monster,” he cried. He rose abruptly and strode to the window, where he stood, head down, shoulders slumped and shaking.
Frankie could see Vic’s reflection in the window. There were tears streaming down Victor’s smooth, youthful cheeks. Frank felt a few sympathetic droplets flowing down his own weather-worn face.
“It’s all my fault and I’M SORRY!” Victor stated, turning back around. He glanced at Glenda. She had happy tears in her eyes, and smiled at him, pleased with his breakthrough.
Frank stood, unfolding his burly form from the chair, and rose to his full eight feet of height. He enveloped the smaller man in a hug. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and thumped him on the back. “Truly, Victor Frankenstein, I do.”
Spotting a loose thread on the hem of his Dr. Strange T-shirt, Vic slowly and deliberately pulled at it, brow furrowed in concentration.
Glenda nodded, and scribbled a few sentences on her notepad. “We’ll come back to you,” she said, then glanced to her left. “Frank? Would you like to share something?”
Frankie ignored her and stared at his hands, trying to remove particles of imaginary dirt from beneath his pristine fingernails.
“Frank?”
He startled, and finally glanced up. “What?”
“Would you like to share any regrets you’ve been holding on to?” Glenda asked.
“Oh… uh… sure,” Frankie said, and slowly wiped the palms of his hands up and down the thighs of his freshly washed blue jeans, deep in thought. “Well, I suppose one regret is how long I hold onto grudges against people who have wronged me. I’m not one to just forgive and forget, you know?”
Glenda jotted down a few notes, including Victor’s not-so-surreptitious eye roll. “That’s a very good insight,” she replied. “Anything else?”
Frankie shook his head. “Not yet.”
Glenda swiveled her chair slightly to the right. “Victor? It’s your turn now.”
Vic sighed dramatically, and straightened up. “Fine. I regret my impulse to meddle in affairs that are beyond the ken of mortal men.”
He glanced almost sheepishly at Frank, then down at the carpeted floor. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Frank’s watery blue eyes widened. “Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Victor looked Frank directly in the face. His angular chin and squared-off forehead gave him a perpetually stern look. “I’m sorry,” Vic repeated. “I’m sorry I tried to create life, I’m sorry I couldn’t make you the man that I envisioned. I’m sorry you’ve been treated like a monster,” he cried. He rose abruptly and strode to the window, where he stood, head down, shoulders slumped and shaking.
Frankie could see Vic’s reflection in the window. There were tears streaming down Victor’s smooth, youthful cheeks. Frank felt a few sympathetic droplets flowing down his own weather-worn face.
“It’s all my fault and I’M SORRY!” Victor stated, turning back around. He glanced at Glenda. She had happy tears in her eyes, and smiled at him, pleased with his breakthrough.
Frank stood, unfolding his burly form from the chair, and rose to his full eight feet of height. He enveloped the smaller man in a hug. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and thumped him on the back. “Truly, Victor Frankenstein, I do.”
