Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
DANNY
I ’m barely in the door when I get a text from Frankie to say she’s at the hospital, and Shelby and Nate have news. So, I hop in her car again, and head on back to Martinburg. When I arrive, I see I’m not the only one who’s been summoned. When I said I’d see Mom soon, I didn’t think it would be later this afternoon, but here she is and so is Dad. Cool, great. This is turning out to be a super awesome day.
Shelby’s room is now as packed as a New York subway car in rush hour. Ava is clearing away the remains of a shared lunch, and there’s a general jostling as enough chairs are found for everyone. I can’t get a seat near Frankie, but I sure as heck make sure I’m not sitting close to Dad.
“Update for the newcomers,” says Nate, who looks a hundred times brighter. “Shelby’s going to have a planned cesarean on Friday. Baby will be on the cusp of being considered premature so we should prepare ourselves for the baby to spend time in the neonatal unit.”
He reaches out and squeezes Shelby’s hand, and they share a resigned smile.
“Not the birth we would have chosen, but honestly, as long as Shelby and the baby get through this without incident, we no longer give a fuck.”
“Nate!” protests Mom.
“Sorry, Mom,” says Nate. “It’s been a rough few days. Or weeks. I’ve lost track.”
“Let the boy swear, Ginny,” says Dad. “There’s scientific evidence to say it minimizes pain.”
Nate laughs. “Thanks, Dad.”
Damn it. Why can’t Dad be kind to me like that? I hate them both right now, and I don’t want to feel like that. It sucks.
I look over at Frankie, sitting next to her mom on the other side of the room. I manage to catch her eye, and she smiles. She looks both happy and tired. I want to rush to her and take her in my arms, but I have to settle for smiling back at her. I’ll catch her when we all leave, though I have such a need to be with her right now, I don’t know how I can stand to wait.
After an excruciatingly long half an hour or so of chat, Cam and Ava say their goodbyes, and then, thank god, so do Mom and Dad. There’s room for me now to sit next to Frankie. Her mom greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a warm smile. She also looks tired but happy. I can only assume things went better than expected this morning. Glad one of us had a successful parental experience.
“Ready to go?” I ask, trying my best not to sound overly eager.
“We should go pick up your car on the way back,” says Frankie. She frowns. “Oh, but mine only seats two, and both Mom and I need a ride.”
“I’ll take Lee,” says Nate, quickly. “I want to go home. Staying at Mom and Dad’s was great, but—” He makes a face.
“But you have nightmares about being smothered under a tsunami of small decorative pillows?” I suggest.
“I should not be ungrateful,” admits Nate. “But I miss our bed. I even miss the cats.”
“Of course you do,” says Shelby. “And the cats miss you!”
“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 little nibble…”
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!”
The parking lot is gravel and I’m left literally in the dust. I am this close to heading back into the craft beer place and drinking myself under a hand-adzed wooden table. But then I’d have to leave my car here yet again, and it’s already outstayed its welcome. I have no choice but to head back to my tiny, empty house, and be by my sad lonesome self for the rest of this shitty old day.