Page 22 of Kiss Me Softly

Later that night I lay in my bed alone, the weekend’s events running on a continuous loop in my mind. I felt almost giddy about the change in my relationship status with Frankie, but also somehow content. There was a sense of rightness about it that I hadn’t had with anyone else I’d been with.

I wondered what would have happened if we’d been in the same city back when we met at the conference. Would we had gotten together more than once? Or gone our separate ways and hoped to not run into each other again because it would be too awkward?

I was glad we were getting a second chance. Or maybe it was a third chance? I just hoped we hadn’t made a mistake crossing the line. Surely we could stay best friends even while we were lovers?

The next few months went well. Just like before, we spent most evenings together, although now we had frequent sleepovers. The passion burned brightly between us, but we still just loved to hang out, exploring the city or staying in.

We visited with Frankie’s parents once or twice a month, generally for dinner. Frankie said she could only take her mother in small doses, although she went to a Cubs game with her dad twice during her summer break. Her father wasn’t much of a talker – Frankie said it was because he couldn’t get a word in around her mother – but even though she looked a lot like her mother, her father was the one she was closest with. Their personalities were the most similar too.

I took a few days off at the end of August and Frankie and I went on a road trip, heading up to the Wisconsin Dells for a long weekend, stopping to see the sites along the way.

We soon learned that we were very different travelers. I was the kind of person who wanted to plan everything and make the most of our vacation time, where Frankie liked to just go with the flow and see what she felt like doing each day.

Frankie and I worked it out and we were both able to enjoy our trip, but it highlighted one of the many differences between us. Differences that started to make little cracks in our relationship the longer we were together.

Things that I laughed off when we were just friends became annoying once Frankie became my girlfriend. Like her fear of conflict. She could never articulate when things were bothering her, so she withdrew. There were times I could see that she was upset or annoyed about something, but it was almost impossible to drag it out of her. Meanwhile, I was a verbal processor who liked to talk about my feelings ad nauseum.

There was also the significant difference in our incomes. As a public school teacher, Frankie’s income was shockingly low. Because of this, she ‘lived poor’ as my mother would say. She did everything she could to avoid spending money. She never wanted to buy anything at full price, and would spend hours, days sometimes, searching for the best price on anything she purchased.

I made good money – enough to live someplace much nicer than our building full of studios – and I was admittedly a clothes horse. Frankie couldn’t understand my excitement about getting a designer dress or a new handbag when she wore the same clothes that she’d worn for years. Clothes that she’d bought from thrift shops.

The stark differences between us boiled over in early October, leading to our first full-blown fight.

“My boss bought a table at the annual Chicago Marketing Professionals Gala,” I told Frankie one night over dinner. “It’s two weeks from Saturday.”

She looked up from her food. “What’s that?”

“It’s a big event to celebrate successful marketing campaigns. Everyone in marketing attends, as well as CEOs and officers from the largest corporations in the city.”

“What happens at the gala?” she asked.

“There’s a fancy dinner, then a few boring speeches, and a presentation of the top marketing campaigns of the year,” I explained. “They give an award to the best one, then there’s dancing. Oh, and alcohol. Lots of alcohol.”

Frankie shuddered. “That sounds like a terrible way to spend a Saturday night.”

“Really? Because I was hoping that you’d be my date. I’ve been telling my coworkers about you and they’re all eager to meet you.”

My girlfriend looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Aurora. I hate shit like that. I suck at small talk.”

“You don’t have to talk,” I teased her. “You just have to look pretty.”

Her expression didn’t lighten. “Would I have to dress up?”

I nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s fancy so the guys will be in tuxes or nice suits and the women will wear dresses, either cocktail or formal wear.”

“I don’t even own a dress,” Frankie reminded me. “Formal or otherwise.”

“That’s okay. I figured we’d go shopping for dresses and shoes, then we can make an appointment at the salon the morning of the banquet to get our hair and nails done.”

Frankie was staring at me like I’d suggested that she walk naked down Michigan Avenue.

“Can you take someone else?” she asked. “One of your other friends? I really don’t want to do something like that.”

“Don’t you want to support me?” I asked, feeling hurt by the immediate shut down.

“It’s not that I don’t want to support you Aurora,” she said stubbornly. “It’s about you asking me to do things that you know will make me uncomfortable.”

“That’s part of being in a relationship,” I reminded her. “You do things for the other person, things that you probably wouldn’t do otherwise. Like I go to dinner with you and your parents. Plus it’s good to challenge yourself sometimes. It’s how you grow.”

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