Page 87 of Kiss My Glass
“Shel, if I died during the night,” says Nate, “they’d have my corpse half-eaten by morning.”
“That’s not true!” says Shelby. “Well, maybe just a littlenibble…”
This is all very domestic and charming, but I’m itching to leave and be with Frankie. Her mom must sense my impatience because she gives me a smile.
“I’m content to wait here until Nate’s ready to go,” she says to me and Frankie. “You two should scoot.”
But Frankie seems reluctant, and I’m not sure how to take that.
Her mom says to her, “How about I cook us all dinner tonight? I could make macaroni and cheese, your favorite?”
“No peas in it, right?” says Frankie. “Or disgusting slimy tomato slices?”
“Plain and simple,” her mom assures her.
They’re still holding hands. Lee gives Frankie’s hand a squeeze and lets it go.
“Have a fun afternoon, sweetheart,” she says. “I’ll see you back home at six.”
The two of them hug, tightly, and I experience a sudden stab of jealousy. Frankie’s obviously made up with her mom, and I’m glad for her. But at the same time, having a difficult relationship with a parent was something we had in common. Now we don’t, and I feel the gap. And I don’t want any more gaps to appear in our relationship.
Yeah, I know, I’m being selfish. I should not make this about me. But for the first time, I realize exactly how important it is for me to be with Frankie. It’s no exaggeration to say that I really don’t think I can live without her.
I hold the door open for Frankie, and as she walks through, I instinctively and somewhat possessively put my arm around her. She gives me a surprised, amused look but doesn’t object. We walk out of the hospital without speaking, and when we arrive at her car, I hand her the keys.
“I didn’t break it,” I say.
“Good to hear,” she replies.
We get into the car and she re-adjusts the driver’s seat and rear-view mirror. She seems only partially present, and my anxiety starts my heart pounding. My brain knows I’m being a huge baby, but these feelings are strong. I’ve been sensitive to rejection all my life and that’s not something you get over in a day.
“Good breakfast with your Mom, then?”
I didn’t mean to sound snippy but that’s how it comes out.
As it happens, Frankie doesn’t seem to notice.
“Breakfast was terrible,” she says, then smiles fondly. “But after that, things definitely improved.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Just smiles at the road. I know that if I speak again, I’ll sound like a sulky boy, so I do myself a favor and keep quiet. Put my poker face on and sulk inwardly for the whole half hour drive to the craft beer place.
There’s a free spot next to my car, so Frankie pulls into it. Keeps her engine running while I get out. I wait for her to say something, until it becomes obvious that I’ll have to speak first.
“Meet you back at mine?” I ask.
“Actually, I might go home,” she says. “Hang out with Mom a bit more, if that’s okay?”
Fuck. But I can hardly complain without sounding like a selfish asshole. I compromise with a small guilt trip instead.
“There’s a six-pack of beer in the trunk,” I tell her. “To say thanks for lending me your car.”
Frankie’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” she says. “I forgot all about Iris’s pie!”
Not a clue what she’s talking about, Though, come to think about it, there was a takeout box in the trunk already when I loaded up the beer.
“Ugh,” she says. “That pie is going to be rank.” She shrugs. “Oh, well. Ham and Luke will eat it. They love Iris’s scraps.”
She puts the car in gear. “Bye,” she says, with a wave. “See you at dinner!”
