F rank Goodman was average. Hopelessly average. He always had been; he had always known. Not that it was something he wanted to be—oh no. As long as he could remember, Frank had dreamed of surmounting his mediocrity. In his fantasies, it was never a gradual change. Not a new haircut, then the new exciting job, followed by the richly-appointed vintage sportscar. Not at all. In Frank's dreams, it was always one defining moment; one isolated event which would catapult him from the depths of his ordinariness to the heady thrill of the distinctive...the interesting.

Frank thought of his unfulfilled dreams a lot lately. The just-discovered, now inoperable tumour gave him lots to think about. And only a couple of months in which to do it.

Like the predictable, practical man he had always been, Frank arranged his affairs in an emotionally-detached, efficient manner. In all honesty, there was little to arrange. Since the divorce two years ago, he had been living in a modest bachelor apartment and had been putting whatever he could into an equally modest stock portfolio. It would soon be Alicia's, as everything he had of value would be. At fourteen, she was quickly heading to adulthood, and he could at least comfort himself with the knowledge that her education would be paid for.

Small comfort that was. The thought of leaving his daughter consumed him with a ferocity surpassing anything the tumour was capable of. He had left her once already. It was a pain he re-visited on a daily basis. His ex-wife, Linda, had decided she needed her freedom; decided that life as Mrs. Goodman was just not stimulating enough anymore. She took everything.

Leaving Frank with only a tan-line on his ring finger, no knowledge of the fundamentals of cooking, a "visitation schedule" and a time-bomb in his brain.

And dreams.

One of which he had nurtured longer than any of the others. It was big. As large, perhaps, as his life was small.

Frank Goodman wanted to break the world record for juggling. Specifically, he wanted to juggle three balls for as long as he could. Longer than anyone else ever has. He wanted to break the record for his daughter. So if, years from now, someone asked Alicia what her Dad was like, she could say: "He was sooo cool. Once, he actually broke a world record for juggling...isn't that wild? Yeah, my Dad was pretty neat." Frank thought the fantasy rather pathetic when it first developed, shortly after the divorce. But with the arrival of the cancer, everything of his seemed to have become imbued with a monumental relevance. He no longer had the luxury of dreaming of 'someday'. All opportunities were about to end. So it was an easy decision to make. Frank was going to break the record. Or die trying.

One little known fact of Frank's unassuming life was that he had always juggled. Which may seem strange for such a natural introvert. However Frank had never juggled for an audience. Not even once. Frank juggled for himself. It all started when he was a kid. He was a quiet, only child; unathletic and lonely. It was by chance that he found himself going through some of his grandfather's old books in the attic one day, and happened upon a book on juggling. It looked so fun, so frivolous...he couldn't resist trying. Turned out he was pretty good. It became the one thing Frank could do uncommonly well.

Over the years, especially when stressed with a new account or just feeling out-of-sorts in general, Frank would confine himself to his den with three tennis balls and enter another realm entirely. He became Fun Frank. Frivolous Frank. And his cares would dissolve with each successive catch. Linda had caught him at it a few times and had little to say about it. Some men had their dirty magazines, some their rye. Frank just happened to have tennis balls. As long as he didn't do it in view of the neighbors, she couldn't care less. Alicia knew of her father's quiet hobby, but she hadn't actually seen him juggle since she was very small. What would she think now?

Frank was scared. Frank harnessed his fear and let his new-found determination lead the way. He called the largest mall in the city and got approval to set up beside the north entrance escalators, right where Santa's North Pole Village appears every November. The local radio station, newspaper and cable news channel had all been told that the world juggling record would be broken by one of Whitefalls' own residents next Saturday. He called the Guiness Records people; notified them of his intentions, gave all necessary information: date, time, place. A local representative would be present to verify his attempt for posterity.

The toughest call was to Linda: Will you bring Alicia to the mall next Saturday? I know it isn't my weekend, he had said, but could you make an exception? It is very important. Please don't ask me any questions...just do this for me this once, could you please? Linda was shockingly aggreable. What Frank didn't know was that his voice was somehow different; his tone stronger than Linda had ever before heard it. It carried a sort of command that she had not noticed in all their years together. She found herself unable to say no.

Frank hadn't yet told her about the cancer. Didn't know if he would at all. He certainly didn't want her to tell Alicia. Frank would do that himself. But that was something he could think about after.

Saturday morning arrived. Frank awoke with a smile on his face. He made a note of it since he wasn't able to recall the last time that had happened. Certainly not since the divorce.

Getting ready was easy. With care, Frank had picked out new jeans...not too trendy, not too fuddy-duddy. Jeans he thought Alicia would approve of. A loose red t-shirt and his over-priced sneakers that Alicia had helped him buy last year, and he was ready. There was nothing he could do about his bald spot. Nothing he could do about his glasses. That didn't matter anyway. What mattered was the moment. The record-breaking moment. Just as long as he looked good enough for his daughter and her friends, and the local news.

Frank arrived at the mall right at opening time and was astonished to see what his few phone calls had wrought. A short distance from the escalators, mall staff had erected a carpeted platform with velvet-tasseled ropes encircling it. The local radio station had their live remote booth set up close by, and the mall manager was there, as was a motley assortment of security guards. A banner had been erected above a long table, set up, it seemed, for the Guiness representative. A large imposing clock sat atop the cloth-draped table. Frank decided the less he looked at it, the better.

The next hour was a blur for Frank. Being the center of attention was an alien experience for the mild accountant. More than once, the question: What have I done? ran through his mind.

With the preliminaries over, including a couple of live radio spots and a lengthy briefing by the Guiness fellow, it was time to begin. Already a small crowd of curious shoppers were milling around. No sign yet of Alicia. It was early, he told himself. He had nine hours of juggling ahead of him.

With a minimum of fanfare and some sporadic applause, Frank drew three tennis balls from his duffle bag. He straightened up, glanced over at the clipboard-clasping Guiness representative, and tossed the first ball in the air...

...and all tensions eased. His mild panic evaporated. Frank was having fun. Frivolous, distinctive fun.

It soon became harder than he thought. The hours ticked by. Still no sign of Alicia and her mother. A persistent pounding had begun behind Frank's left temple. Yes, he thought, I know you are there. Go away. These few hours are mine. You can have my last hour. Until then, they belong to me.

Frank was thirsty. Bradley, his Guiness man, had given him occasional sips of water, though for obvious reasons, Frank didn't want to drink too much. A furniture store in the mall had provided Frank with a chair, accompanied by an overly-bright "sponsored by..." sign taped to the back of it. Frank spent little time sitting. He had a better view of the north entrance while standing. It was a surprise to him how many young girls looked like Alicia at first glance. Thoughts of Linda changing her mind tormented him. Or even worse- the nagging fear that Alicia had decided not to come.

The pain at his temple returned. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his brow. The radio D.J. wanted another soundbite and Frank forced himself to say the right things without dropping a ball. His arms were stiff.
It was at a particularly low moment when Bradley stepped onto the platform to tell Frank he had only one hour left. One hour. He had almost done it. It would be a hollow victory without Alicia to witness it.

And then he saw her. She flew through the mall doors with a gaggle of giggling friends in tow, and Linda following sedately behind. Alicia was flushed, her blond hair high in a pony tail, swinging from side to side as she ran up to the platform. Frank's heart swelled. She was here. She was excited. She hadn't slunk in behind her mother, with rolled eyes and that half-achieved air of nonchalance so common amongst teenagers.

Alicia proudly announced, "That's my Dad!" to the growing crowd of onlookers. Whatever she said to Frank next, barely registered. That's my Dad....That's my Dad! That simple phrase replaced the throbbing rythm of pain in his head and became Frank's life-affirming mantra as he continued juggling.

Through his haze of exhaustion and euphoria, Frank made note of Linda's look of bewilderment. It was the greatest compliment she had ever inadvertently paid him. Saturday evening, at the Whitefalls County Mall, Frank Goodman was without question, definately not your average guy.

Alicia started chanting the last sixty-second countdown; the whole crowd joined in. Frank studied his daughter's animated face, eyes locked with his. A wave of emotion washed over him.

Frank Goodman was swept away in an epiphany...with such sudden clarity he realized how blind he had been. Only a complete fool would think himself ordinary when he had been blessed so profoundly in this lifetime.

Frank Goodman was Alicia's Dad.

The clock struck the last second of the final hour, and Alicia threw herself into his arms, balls flying into the crowd, and Frank's defining moment chrystalized. For fourteen years, he had been a part of something extraordinary...something beautifully unique in all the vast world. Something miles from average and more satisfying than any dream.