Chapter 39 Mr. Fix-It
mr. fix-it
FRANKIE
ABI
Alright, I’ll pick Jay up and we’ll meet you at the bar. We’ve got at least five bottles of that Lysol spray I can bring if you need. Logan keeps stashing it under the sink and forgetting about it.
Before I got in the car, I gave Abi and Jay the lowdown on the break-in, and called a music shop in Lockwood to see if they could help restore Joe’s guitar to its former glory.
ME
Might not be a bad idea. The place is a fucking disaster.
I can’t get the image of Daphne picking up the broken pieces of Joe’s guitar out of my head. I could fucking kill Cole right now, but I have to compose myself. I can’t lose my shit in front of Violet.
Speaking of, I spot her barreling out of Nicole’s house, a big smile on her face and her red curls bouncing along behind her as she makes her way to the car.
“Hi Frankie!” She waves.
“Hey, kiddo!”
She skids to a halt in front of the passenger door, furrowing her brow.
“Where’s mom?”
Shit. I’ve gotta be the one to tell her.
“Well…” I clear my throat. “Something bad happened at your grandpa’s bar, and she needed to stay behind and take care of it.”
I think it should be illegal to have to give kids bad news. They look all sad, and it’s up to you to teach them a life lesson about disappointment. Who the fuck wants to do that?
“Is she okay? Was it the electricity? I read that 46,000 electrical fires occur every year.”
I blink.
“That’s an… interesting thing to look up.”
This kid would get along swimmingly with Logan. He’s the king of random ‘fun’ facts.
“Mom and I were watching a horror movie and some guy got electrocuted. It was super gross, so I wanted to see if it would actually happen like that.”
I smile at her.
“Well, no electrical fires, but I’m thinking we should take a little drive and get some stuff to help your mom feel better. Would you help me pick out some flowers? And then maybe we grab some lunch to take back.”
Violet nods, and I help her put her stuff in the back seat before starting the car and heading into town.
“How was your sleepover? Did you have fun?”
She beams at me.
“It was so good. Nicole’s mom made lasagna with this really fancy garlic bread, and we had hot fudge sundaes. Then we watched some movies, and I got to play with a Ouija board.”
“I was always afraid of those things. Your mom tried to convince me there was a ghost in my house once.”
“I’m pretty sure Nicole was moving it to scare us. It was pretty easy to tell, but the other girls got freaked out.” She turns to me, her brows knit together. “Frankie, is my mom okay? You never answered my question.”
I see so much of Daphne in her; she’s got that same kind of persistence. When my mom first got diagnosed, I tried to hide it from everyone, putting up walls I thought were totally impenetrable.
Daphne kicked that shit down in a heartbeat.
“She’s fine, but someone broke in and trashed the place.”
“Cole again?”
There’s some venom in her voice, and I decide to poke at it a little.
“You don’t like him?”
“Hell no.” She shakes her head. “He sucks. I mean, he was cool at first, but then he started being really mean to mom.”
“When was that?”
Sometimes we go back to the things that feel familiar because they’re familiar. Cole was a connection to a piece of her past that she never planned to come back to, and maybe he really did change for the better.
For a heartbeat.
“I dunno… I guess after he got fired from that show he was on. He started drinking a lot, and he was mad all the time. About everything.”
I started to see the cracks in my parent’s marriage when I was about Violet’s age. There’s only so many times your parents can lie to you about a heated argument behind closed doors.
“Did he yell?”
“Sometimes. Mostly he hit walls and stuff, and he really didn’t like dad being around.”
“Did he ever hit your mom?”
I grip the steering wheel a little harder, wishing it was Cole’s neck.
“No, but he broke her Grammy once. He always apologized and tried to make up for whatever he did but…”
“He’d do it again.”
“Yeah.”
I know what it looks like when someone is in the throes of addiction. It’s a hard cycle to break when you’re drowning in it. You feel hurt, you cause pain, you numb it all away, and then you start all over again.
At least, that’s how it was for me.
Back then I was haunted, hopeless, and desperate for someone to reach out their hand and rescue me…
even if I didn’t know it at the time. But just because I can empathize with Cole’s demons doesn’t mean I like the fucker.
You’ve gotta put in the work, and that guy’s just decided to drown himself in self-pity and hate.
After a long silence, Violet speaks up.
“You and mom get along a lot better.”
I smile at her.
“Your mom’s told you that we’re not really together, right? This is just for the bar.”
“I guess. But you guys still kiss and stuff.”
I click my jaw. This is getting into dangerous territory.
“We do... but it’s pretty much just for the cameras. Gotta keep up appearances, right?”
“There were no cameras in the kitchen yesterday.”
“No, I guess there weren’t.”
My laughter is a little shakier than I’d like it to be. I think children are a little too perceptive sometimes.
“Sooo… you’re in love?” Violet asks, her voice taking on a playful tone.
I turn on the air conditioning, grateful for the blast of cool air on my extremely warm face.
“Love isn’t just kissing, it’s more complicated than that.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been doing a bunch of really nice things for her since we got here, and you’re always staring at her.”
I pull up to the sidewalk and kill the engine in front of a little café called Lucy’s, and Violet and I sit in silence for a minute as I figure out exactly what I’m gonna say.
“I do things for your mom because I care about her, and she’s important to me.”
“Okay. So, you do love her.”
“I loved—” God, it just feels like I’m digging myself deeper and deeper. “I definitely did before, but things are different than they used to be.”
The beach.
The grains of sand in her hair.
My Saint Christopher medallion.
That’s the past.
That’s where I have to bury these feelings.
That’s where they have to live.
Because I can’t feel it all again.
“Come on, let’s grab some lunch, and then I wanna get your mom some flowers. This place has great donuts, you like donuts?”
Violet flashes me a knowing smirk.
“Sure.”
Thank God. Maybe if I buy her a pastry as big as her head, she’ll stop with the interrogation.
We make our way in, the place bustling with people leaning over the glass displays, practically drooling at the endless array of treats.
“What kind of sandwich you want?” I ask.
“Umm… turkey. But don’t forget the donuts!”
“Absolutely.”
I order a bunch of food for everyone at the bar, making sure to get a couple extra sandwiches for Jay. One time, I watched him eat two large pizzas by himself. It was honestly incredible.
Next, we head for the florist a few doors down, but I stop outside, my attention caught by the build-a-bouquet station.
“What’s your mom’s favorite flower?”
“Violets.” She grabs a small bundle from a big white bucket. “Obviously.”
“Okay, I deserved that,” I grin. “What else do you think she might like?”
“Umm… I guess sunflowers? She’s always got some in her garden, and I think they were on an album cover too.”
Sunflowers were always my mom’s favorite.
We end up adding lilies, peonies, and baby’s breath on top of our two sure-thing picks, and by the time we’re finished the bouquet is bright, bold, and even smells pretty damn good.
Finally, with everything wrapped and paid for, we head back to the car and start the trip back to the Hi-Dive.
“I kinda wish the two of you were actually together.”
The confession hits me like a ton of bricks, and I have no clue how to respond.
“You do?”
And to think, a couple of weeks ago, I was afraid this kid wouldn’t like me.
“She’s sad a lot, even though she pretends she’s fine… But she seems really happy when she’s with you.”
“How can you tell?”
Violet’s leg starts to bounce a little.
“Because her eyes get all crinkly when you make her laugh. and she laughs a lot now.”
I want to tell her she’s reading too much into this, but that would be lying. I feel the exact same way about Daphne. She still makes me as giddy as she did when we were teenagers.
“You know, a lot of kids in your position wouldn’t be in my corner. I know when my dad left my mom, I didn’t want some random dude I didn’t know hanging around the house.”
“Did you ever talk to him about it?” Violet asks.
“No. He decided he wanted to start a new family, and I didn’t get to be in it.”
It’s a simple truth, but one that still stings even decades later. Sometimes I look him up on Facebook. He’s got three kids, a beautiful wife, and a gorgeous waterfront home in Miami.
It’s like mom and I never existed.
“That’s messed up. Why would he do that?”
“I wish I knew,” I sigh. “To be honest, I have thought about asking him, but… I don’t know if I’d like the answer.”
“Do you hate him?”
It’s a brutally blunt question, and I take a breath, letting it wash over me. I’ve been trying not to see myself in him for half my life, but my non-committal relationship history’s started to leave a stain on my heart, in a painfully familiar shape.
“My dad and I weren’t really that close growing up, but sometimes he’d take me to baseball games and he’d be so excited to teach me every little thing. I don’t know if I really liked baseball, I just liked spending time with him.”
Any chance of a positive relationship went out the window when mom was first diagnosed, though.
He refused to go to doctor’s appointments because they were too dour.
He didn’t want to learn how to take care of her, how to manage the changes in her body, or her discomfort and exhaustion from trying to do the simplest tasks.
I say I hate him, because I think that’s easier than grieving something I wish that we had.
“I know my mom and dad aren’t ever getting back together. I used to want that when I was little, but I think they’re a lot happier with the way things are now.”
“That’s really grown up of you.”
“Well, I’m gonna be 13 in October, so…”
She shrugs, playing it off like no big deal, but I can tell she’s proud of her impending adulthood.
“That’s perfect, just the right age to help your mom clean the bar.”
Violet lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes.
“Fiiiiine. But I get to choose the music today. You and mom hog the Spotify playlist and it’s annoying.”
I chuckle as we take the turn off onto the winding road back up to campus.
“Alright, you’re in charge.” I hold out my pinky. “Promise.”
Violet links her finger with mine and we shake.
“That’s what I like to hear.”