Invisible String
FRANKIE
Daphne’s been a little quieter this last week.
More shut down.
I remember when she came back after her call with Damien, right away she put on that showbiz smile and insisted that everything was okay, but I saw that little flash of something else.
But maybe I’m wrong, maybe their talk just sparked something in her. More than once over the last few nights I've woken up to the sound of her singing, and strumming her guitar on the back porch. I even recorded one to listen to… when she inevitably leaves.
I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I just wanted something to hold on to when this is all over.
The plastic tarp beneath our feet crinkles as we each shift our weight, gliding our rollers up and down the walls. This afternoon’s job is to redo the Hi-Dive’s bathrooms with a fresh coat of paint, bright teal to go along with the brand new black we’re both making a good effort to keep the volume down, but speaking for myself… It's a losing battle.
And then she’s grasping and clawing, her nails stabbing into my back as she shudders and quakes. After a few more rough thrusts of my hips I decide to finally release her throat, leaving behind a patchy, teal hand print.
But I don’t stop.
I keep fucking her, watching as one of her quivering climaxes rolls into the next, soaking up all of the bliss radiating off of her until I’m coming right along with her.
I pump my hips until I’ve got nothing left.
And then I collapse on top of her.
My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it’s going to burst.
But then I hear something I’m not expecting, barely audible, but impossible to ignore.
Sniffles.
I lift my head from her chest, suddenly heartbroken as I watch the tears roll down her cheeks.
And then I’m in panic-mode, brushing my fingers against her warm cheek, struggling to my feet so I can throw my arms around her. I fucked up somewhere along the line. I must have done something. Said something. Or maybe I was just too rough.
Guilt smacks me in the face, practically smothering me.
“Hey, tell me what’s wrong.”
Daphne shakes her head, and I wonder if it’s just some really intense drop.
But even if that’s the case, I can’t help her through it if she doesn’t talk to me.
“Daph, please don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not!”
She buries her face in my shoulder and I can feel the sobs she’s trying to crush, rippling through her in waves, vibrating straight into my fragile heart. I hold her tight, matching her breathing as best I can, and willing myself to just… melt into her. To become whatever comfort she needs.
But she only cries harder, and guilt’s fingers wrap around the back of my neck, sending a rough prickle of anxiety tearing through me as its grasp tightens.
“We’re not supposed to have feelings,” she rasps after a long silence.
She’s shivering like she’s freezing cold, but I don’t know if I can hang on any tighter.
“Daph, I— I don’t understand.”
“This whole thing we’re doing, it was just supposed to be for fun. We both said it, right? So I can’t… I mean, I’m not supposed to—” Suddenly her voice is sturdier, like she’s found some sort of bedrock to stand on. “It’ll ruin you, Frankie. I can’t do that again. I won’t.”
I let out a long, shaky breath. Last time, she left me without anything, with no real pomp or circumstance.
She was just gone, and she stayed that way for so, so long.
And then, she came back into my life like a hurricane, and upended everything I thought I had re-learned about love, or family. About devotion, or …
“Firecracker… you’ve taught me more about myself in a few weeks than I’d managed to scrabble together in a whole lifetime, and if that’s the cost to be with you, then… I’m happy to pay it.”