Page 12 of Kiss Me Softly

“How so?”

“Dramatic and always hungry.”

“Ha ha.” Frankie pulled out her credit card and put it on top of the check. “Tonight’s on me.”

“Oh no, let’s split it,” I protested.

“This is your ‘welcome to Chicago’ dinner,” she explained. “Fortunately you’re a cheap date.”

“I guess I should have ordered that third beer then,” I joked. “Thanks for dinner though, and the conversation. I appreciate both. Let’s keep in touch, okay? I meant it when I said I could use a friend.”

Frankie reached across the table and squeezed my hand in hers. We both paused as that lightning sensation traveled between us. I had the sudden urge to kiss her, but then I remembered that I wasn’t single, and neither was she. It had to be muscle memory from that night we spent together, right?

“You’ve got a friend in me,” Frankie finally said, her voice husky. “I’m here for you, Aurora.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my throat feeling tight all the sudden.

She dropped my hand, and I immediately felt sad.

“You’re taking the El right?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s walk together then.”

Frankie

The next month passed quickly. Aurora and I fell into the habit of texting each other a few times a day, chatting about our lives or sharing memes, which I enjoyed more than I would have expected. I was never one for texting more than I had to.

Aurora and I met for dinner twice, both times hanging out way past the time we needed to eat a simple meal. The third time we had dinner Aurora shared that her partner Chris was irritated at how much time she was spending with me.

“This is only the third time we’ve hung out,” I protested.

“I know, but they’ve been really jealous since we moved here,” Aurora told me. “I saw this some when we lived in St. Louis, but it’s gotten worse lately. I think that Chris’s mother is really riling them up now.”

“How so?” I asked.

“She’s always making little digs about why we aren’t married, and why do I hang out with other women, as if there are twenty women I’m spending time with. You know how a few days ago my new friends from work invited me for happy hour?”

I nodded. Aurora had recently gotten a job at a public relations firm in the Loop, as we called a particular part of downtown Chicago. She’d been excited when two of her coworkers invited her to join them for a ‘get to know you’ happy hour at the end of her first week.

“I got home, not even that late, like maybe seven-thirty, and Chris’s mom is waiting in the living room like I’m a kid who stayed out past curfew,” Aurora explained, her voice rising with her agitation.

“She’s like, ‘Are you cheating on my baby?’. Then Chris came downstairs and started ragging on me about how come I want to spend time with other people even though I’ve literally been home with them every night since we got here other than that happy hour and the couple of times you and I met for dinner. They freaked out when I told them I was meeting you again tonight, making a bunch of accusations about me cheating with you.”

Aurora really looked upset. Pure anger flowed through my body. I was dying to leave the bar, head up to Roger’s Park, and punch Chris in the face. Of course they were like a foot taller than me and probably had a hundred pounds on me. That didn’t mean I couldn’t cause some damage. I was wiry and I’d been trained to take down a grown man in our teacher classroom safety training.

“I’m sorry, Aurora, that really sucks. What are you going to do?” I asked, striving to keep an even tone.

“My first paycheck is next Friday. As soon as it hits my bank, I’m going to start looking for an apartment,” she said. “I have to get out of that house.”

“Oh! That reminds me, I think there’s a studio opening up in my building,” I shared. “Mrs. Matthews – she’s this little old lady on the first floor who keeps track of everyone in the neighborhood – she told me today that the guy who lives in the unit over mine is moving out. Do you want me to ask the super?”

“Oh yeah,” she gushed, “That would be wonderful.”

“You haven’t even seen the building,” I reminded her.

I’d never asked her to come over, partly because I couldn’t imagine sitting on the couch knowing that my bed was just on the other side of the half wall that made a quasi-bedroom in my apartment. Of course, having her living just upstairs from me probably wasn’t my best idea either. Although it would be fun to be neighbors.

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