Frank knew, knew there was only one person in that shitty world who could help him; although he wasn't sure if she would accept it. That guy, Micro; he was too close and if he knew him that much at some point he would discover the connection he had with Karen, if not, he already knew.
Frank couldn't risk someone dangerous finding out that this woman was a great weakness, not after he nearly lost her to Schoonover. He was sure that what little heart he had could not bear it. Frank Castle wanted to lock what he felt deep in his chest, close to his decomposed soul, because Karen Page brought him back to life, because she kept him sane ... kept him human.
She was good, cleansing his soul with every look and disarming him with every smile. She could see it, she knew it, but it just couldn't be; he couldn't stay and Frank had to go ... He couldn't bear the disappointment in his look; because when he came back it broke her heart a little more and more and she knew it ... hell, it did.
Frank took the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number, after two tries they finally answered. "Who? " they asked from the other side in the middle of a yawn, could imagine that life; the chance to sleep in late, the sheets stick to your skin. I could remember it.
Frank checked the time on the phone, Curt used to get up early; it had become a habit because of the war, but he was happy, because Curtis seemed to forget one by one his marine habits. "I need your help," Frank had replied calmly. He heard Curtis snort on the other end of the line, after a few minutes Frank only heard muffled sounds, surely his friend was putting on the prosthesis "it's simple Curtis, I promise you". Frank had added. It was true, Frank was honest. Just like Karen had said a long time ago, and shit ... Frank wanted to be everything she thought he was.
"Brother, don't be offended, but with you nothing is simple," Cut had said with a mocking tone that made him laugh, but Frank knew he was serious. Curt was always serious.
"Are you going to help me or not?" Frank was direct, he always had been. Frank didn't like hiding things, but he had a need ... yes, a need. Frank had concealed the way his body shook when he protected Karen, the way his chest had completely latched onto her back, and the delicacy with which his destructive hands had protected her head. Karen's body seemed to fit perfectly in his arms and Frank tried to convince himself that it was just her restless mind, wandering like any other night; looking for something to focus on and not his broken heart, finding and holding on to a reason to keep beating.
Curtis sighed. "Frank, you know I do" Curt had responded with resignation, because that's what being friends with Frank Castle was all about; resign. "What do you need?" Curtis had asked something concerned.
Frank stared at the floor for a few minutes, his insides crackled like a hammer handle between his tingling fingers, then he looked around, there were green bouquets in the shop windows; green like life and not gray like the atmosphere of New York. "Choose ... choose flowers" Karen's apartment lacked green and the city lacked white.
At first, Frank was concerned about Curtis's silence, but the long, loud laugh he heard made him deny a couple of times "Really, Frank? Flowers?" asked his friend, but Frank knew he just wanted to annoy him.
"Yes ... well I ... there is a woman" he wandered absent, carefully observing the neglected sign of the florist, these were the places that made him lose sleep. This is what wars looked like. Neglected peoples; rusty buildings, old and falling apart. That signal was no different, but it felt that way. Miserable and gray. Neither green nor white.
He had never wondered why talking about Karen it made his nerves surface, he never asked himself that question because he wasn't stupid; Frank knew about that shit, he knew what it was like to be in love. He knew when something deserved to take his breath away.
Karen.
Frank heard another laugh on the phone, surely Curt was enjoying himself. "A woman? Huh?" That confirmed that his friend was very happy. Frank snorted loudly "Okay, easy," he said laughing "What's the name of this woman?" He asked curiously.
He hesitated for a few seconds, because saying his name so pure and clean made him feel as if he were committing sacrilege. "It's Karen" Frank lowered his face in embarrassment, as if Curt was in front of him, watching their reactions; as if feeling something so intensely is a problem that Frank doesn't want to deal with, but he loves to deal with it. He loves to feel miserable to be away, he loves to remember the softness and heady scent of her golden hair ... and it destroys him to be aware that he misses something he hardly knew.
And he never thought he could feel like something was breaking him to pieces again, not when there was nothing left for him; but Karen she was good, she was so good at collecting her masacrated soul. She was so good with silence, with looks and with words ... and speaking her name ... Frank; like a sigh ... like a life, like the waiting. As if Karen knew ... as if she understood.
"The Journalist?" Curtis asked as if she was joking and Frank didn't reply "Dude, are you serious?" She could almost see Curt nervous denying and Frank knew why. "Where are you?" Curtis put on his shoes and left the house.
Frank observe his reflection in the clean window and he was so dirty, because the soap in his little bathroom didn't erased all the dirt out of his soul and Frank knew it. He was so tired, tired because memories haunted him at night and his eyes were so heavy from memorizing the pages of book that he eats up in months ... sometimes in days. "Rose's Greenhouse," she admitted, finally taking her eyes off the glass and looking at her clean boots, but unable to keep them away from the garbage and shit of the city muddy on her soles.
He didn't know how long he stood like an idiot in front of that business, of smell of flowers and family life mixed with the stench of the sewers.
Frank couldn't help but make the connection, how the dirt of that city could ruin good people. "Here I am, are you ready?" Curt walked over and took him firmly by the shoulder. Frank looked at his friend and hid the intrigue that felt of his eyes and repeated to himself that choosing flowers couldn't be an impossible mission, not when he had done worse and terrible things; not when he knew what Karen meant in his life. It was the hope that Frank no longer had. He nodded and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
"How much do you know Karen?" Curt asked, following closely, looking at the flowers with mild interest.
Frank looked at him calmly. "That matters?" He answered.
"I should ... yes," Curtis said wryly.
Frank snorted in defeat." Enough " He admitted, concentrating on the flowers so as not to look at Curtis, but failed in the attempt.
Curtis gave him that look, suspicion and concern. I knew him. "What's between you and her?" He tried to find out.
That was a good question, one he couldn't answer; but he had that desire to be able to answer "Nothing ..." the truth had a bitter taste in his mouth that he did not like. It hurt, and it was a pain that he couldn't get used to, that he could live with ... but never adjust. He had to go, escape; because more than anything, feel it, because it was worth every damn second, but I didn't want to live it. He couldn't endanger Karen, not her.
That look, the one Curt had right now. Silent, annoying, and to some extent ... understanding. That look beat Frank, made him feel uncomfortable, because Curt knew it, that man who was his friend knew the truth ... with Frank Castle nothing was that simple. "Any color you prefer?" Curtis asked, ignoring what was really happening to Frank and he thanked him silently.
"White," Frank answered immediately, which drew a distracted smile on his friend's face as he stroked the leaves of a flower with his fingers. "She ... is very good," he continued as he squeezed the cap he was holding with his rough hands..
Curtis looked at him with that smile, it almost looked like he wasn't upset that Frank wasn't entirely honest with him; because that she journalist was transforming him ... a little, but Curt could see it. "I think I already know what you're looking for," he reported anxiously, "wait for me here." Curtis said as he approached walking the sheemployee, who was watching carefully. Frank watched them interact in confusion and after a few minutes Curtis came back with a plant. "Rose says these are perfect" said Curtis offering the flowers "I'll pay, you have to go He said pleased and happy.
"Thank you Curt" said Frank extending his hands taking the flowers and the sweet and intoxicating fragrance was etched in his memory; it was such a familiar scent ... so suitable for Karen ... so pure. Frank didn't ask the name of the flowers, he didn't know what the gardenias meant. He just put the flowers in the suitcase and left.
Flowers so white, so beautiful ...
Maybe Frank could call them "Karen".