Page 58 of Everything We Thought Was True
“Come in, come in,” Frank said, welcoming the kids and gesturing them inside.
They walked into the apartment, and Ricky looked at them sheepishly. He was leaning against the couch. Frank couldn’t help thinking it looked like the couch was holding him up.
“Hi, Anthony. Hi, Lena,” Ricky said, and it came out too eager—loud and forced.
“Hey,” Anthony said.
Lena pursed her lips and grumbled, “Hi,” sounding like she wished she were somewhere else.
Ricky took their backpacks, told them to make themselves comfortable at the kitchen table, and asked what they wanted to drink. He went to the fridge to get them sodas. Lena grimaced as she sat down at the table and looked around. She wore a nice sweater with a skirt, tights, and boots. Her hair was long and feathered back like theCharlie’s Angelsactresses all the kids adored. She had her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. She looked like a stranger in some ways. His little girl had grown up.
His mind wandered back to the time he’d taught her how to dance the Latin hustle. At eight years old, she already had rhythm, moving her slender hips to the beat. He remembered how her long dark hair had whipped around her diminutive frame as he drew her close and spun her away, and she’d broken into giggles every time she looked over at Teresa or Anthony, the makeshift audience, who were snapping their fingers to the music.
He peered into Lena’s dark-blue eyes now, trying to find her there. But he’d looked away too long, and his Cricket had vanished. In her place stood a teenager who wanted to be left alone. Frank could already feel her fighting to break away, like a puppy wriggling to get out of the too-tight grasp of an overeager child.
Ricky came over with the kids’ sodas and handed one to Lena. “Here you go,” he said, and Lena grabbed it, not saying thank you.
She wasn’t being friendly to Ricky, as if she wanted to either make him feel uncomfortable or start a fight. Her aloof—borderline rude—behavior continued throughout dinner and dessert. Frank didn’t like this at all. She had an outright attitude.
He decided to confront her. “Lena, hey, cut it out.”
“What?” she asked, looking at him defiantly. “Cut what out?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like your behavior. The way you’re treating Ricky.”
Ricky patted his hand, clearly embarrassed. “Frank, it’s fine. She’s fine. Don’t.” He looked at Frank pleadingly.
“It’s not fine. She knows what I’m talking about, and I want it to stop.” He looked at Lena. “When you’re here, I want you to treat Ricky with respect. You hear me? This is bullshit, Lena.” Frank was getting upset.
“Oh yeah?” Lena said, like it was a challenge. She stood up and backed away from the table. “Well, then, maybe I just won’t come here. How’s that?”
Frank didn’t know what to say. There were so many responses coming to his brain, but he couldn’t form the words. Ricky was oozing discomfort. Anthony was squirming in his seat, trying not to make eye contact. Frank wondered if he would side with his sister and turn his back on Frank. No—he knew Anthony wouldn’t do that. The boy wanted to be here—with Frank.
Frank turned back to Lena, afraid he’d say something he’d regret. So he said nothing. Instead, he slammed his hand down on the table. Anthony and Ricky jumped, startled. Not Lena. She was already sashaying down the hall toward the guest room.
Frank got up, but Ricky grabbed his arm. “No, Frank. Let her go. Give her some space, some time. Please.”
Frank sat back down. He heard the guest room door slam. “God dammit!” he screamed.
He wanted to run after her, fling open the door, and have it out with her. But he didn’t. He sat at the table, trying to calm down. Maybe Ricky was right. Lena needed space and time. He hoped he could give her that. He’d caused this mess, and she was angry and hurt. But he didn’t want to allow her to misbehave.Where do I draw the line?There was no rule book for this.
Later that night, Frank was in their bedroom, pacing at the foot of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair. “Man, I can’t believe this. That didn’t go at all how I wanted it to. I lost my cool.”
Ricky came over and put his arm around Frank’s shoulder. “Hey,querido,” he cooed, “it’s okay. She’ll come around. Talk to her in the morning.”
Frank sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to do. I really don’t.” He shook his head. “Teresa always knew how to act in these situations. She’d say the right thing.”
Ricky sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at him. “Oh my God. You miss Teresa. I’m so sorry, honey, but I'm never going to be her.”
Frank grabbed Ricky by the shoulders and pulled him toward him until their foreheads touched. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you—I do. But yes, I miss her.”
The next morning, he called Teresa. “Lena doesn’t want to be here.”
“She said that?” Teresa asked.
“No, but she was acting like it. She was being... she wasn’t very nice to Ricky. She left the table and slammed the door to the guest bedroom and didn’t come out for the rest of the night.”
“Aha...” Teresa said. “You’re surprised?”
