That week, we talked a lot on the phone. But after a couple of days, Frank said, we should take some time to think things over. If there was an emergency, I could call him, but now I should leave him alone for a week or so. I was mad at him, but didn't let him know.

If he kept avoiding me, pushing me away, how could we ever get closer to each other, I thought? My anger boiled in me, and I went to the gym to try to get it out of my system. It didn't help much.

One week later, Frank agreed to meet me in Antione's, a big, busy French restaurant in the city's centre. I was early and had already smoked half of my package of cigarettes when Frank came in. His smile was half heartedly, and I could see his aversion with me as he sat down.

“Hi.” he mumbled. Was this the man I shared my bed with? He obviously didn't want to be here, and I didn't know if I could change his mind.
“Hey Frank.” I said, as I oppressed my anger. “How've you been.”
“O, okay.” He grabbed his napkin and started to curl it up, and pull it out. Then he took a deep breath, and stared me in the eyes. “Listen Mandy, I want this over with. When you order diner, you can just order for yourself. I'll leave in a minute. I've thought things over, but I don't want to see you again. Ever.” His face turned red, but he kept looking at me. I hesitated, felt my heart being ripped out my chest, pinched and squeezed and chewed upon.
“What? But... but you said we could try it again, you know, living apart for a while.”
“But why would I, Mandy?” He shouted, and some people turned their heads towards us. “Why? I've got nothing to gain with this, and my life to loose. I don't want that.” he whispered. He threw down his napkin and got up. “Goodbye. And don't call me, visit me or otherwise bother me!” With brisk steps he searched his way to the door and left. He didn't even look back once.

My appetite was gone, but I could use some wine and drank a couple of glasses before I turned home. I felt like I was dreaming, and felt like the air was holding me back. Every movement was difficult, and once at home I let myself fall onto the couch. This could've been the end of the story, the end of Maniac Mandy. But I couldn't let that happen. My mind thought furiously of ways to trick Frank into coming back at me, but no normal man would voluntarily be with me.

Maybe I should let Frank go. Look for someone else to be with. And start killing that person? But that man would actually die if I hurt him. I didn't want that. But maybe I could threaten Frank with that? I'd tell him that if he didn't come back to me, I'd pick up random guys from the street whenever I felt like it and try my stuff on them! Frank would probably not like that idea at all, being the righteous man that he was. A smile came upon my tired face and a little hope warmed my chest.