Round Thirty-Five #3
“Yes, I did!” Franky shoves away from Chris, moving half a dozen steps into the living room to stare down his rival.
“Did you know studies show that surgeons who play video games perform twenty-seven percent faster and with thirty-seven percent fewer errors during surgery?” He swings his green stare my way.
“I don’t see you playing video games, Doctor D.
Don’t you even care about your patients? ”
“How did I get dragged into this? I’m not the one arguing with you.”
“You’re holding her up. Means you’re taking her side.
And yes,” he nods, firm and final. “I do think you’re as pretty as Dara.
I think you’re prettier. Your face is in proportion to your body, and even though I didn’t get my measuring tape, I think you fit within the appropriate golden ratio of 1:6. ”
“Aww!” Rose slaps my hands away and topples off the couch, catching herself on the table and half-crawling toward Franky.
“That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Except Ollie.” She burps, surprising herself and clapping a hand to her mouth.
She takes a moment to assess—vomit, or air?
—then she drops her hand again and grins.
“He says romantic stuff all the time. I think he reads your mom’s books in secret, just so he can know how to speak to women.
Did you know Doctor Darrrrrling has the coolest abandoned greenhouse in his yard, and he doesn’t even use it?
Which is crazy, right? Anyone with half a brain would put it back to its former glory and fill it up with a billion species of plants, so even in the winter, he can frolic in the jungle of good energy. ”
“Did you know I don’t care about frolicking? Plants make me itchy. And how does it feel not to have your memories? I always wanted to ask, but my mom told me not to.”
“Franklin!” Alana giggles. “I’m right here, baby.”
“Yeah, but you’re an alcoholic now.” He brings his eyes back to Rose. “If you try really, really hard, maybe close your eyes and hold your breath. If you search and search inside your brain… what do you see?”
“I dunno. Lemme try.” She plops her wine on the table and flops to her ass. Crossing her legs and laying her hands palm side up on her knees, she closes her eyes and hums. Hums. Hums. “I see this room. But it’s swaying.” She snickers. “Making me kinda sick.”
“Open your eyes.” Franky pokes her eyelids for her, jamming them open. “I’ll ask you a question and you answer real quick.”
She huffs. “Ollie already tried this. It didn’t work.”
“Yes, it did!” I scowl. “I’ve helped you make significant progress, Rosaline. Don’t get mean now just ‘cos you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” She burps and stares up at Franky. “Go, Doctor Page. I’m ready for ya.”
“Alright.” He folds one arm across his chest, cupping his chin with the other hand. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“Oh, easy! Oatmeal. And I flirted with Ollie a little bit. He’s super handsome and cute and easy to flirt with.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan, lifting one leg over the back of the couch, then the second, before sliding into the space Rose deserted.
The woman has no fucking filter when she’s drinking.
“What did you have for dinner last night?”
“Pizza! We made the bases ourselves and chopped up all the ingredients. And sometimes, we stood really close to each other and pretended it was an accident when it totally wasn’t.”
“We’re gonna keep this G-rated,” Tommy chuckles. “We all know what comes next. Franky doesn’t need it explained.”
“What did you get for Christmas two months ago?”
“Err…” Rose’s smile falters. “I-I don’t know. I don’t think I celebrated Christmas that time.”
“That’s okay.” Franky walks six feet to the left, pacing, then turning and walking six feet the other way. “What did you do after Doctor Darling left for work this morning?”
“I had a shower and got dressed, and then I snuck into his room and sat on the bed for a little bit.” Giggling, she scoops her wine off the table and chugs.
“He doesn’t know I did that though. It’s kinda weird.
I turned on the TV for a while, but that was boring, and then I went out the back because I thought I could finish the deck, but I don’t know how to use the tools to cut the wood, and I knew Doctor Darrrrling would be mad if I chopped my hands off by accident. So I didn’t.”
“That was the correct choice,” I grumble. Fuck.
“After that, I went for a walk. That’s when things got kinda blurry.”
“Cos of your memory loss?”
“Naw. Because there were a lot of people and a lot of wine.” She twists and points my way.
“Now Ollie’s here and he’s still cute as ever, huh?
‘Cept when he broke Dara’s heart and didn’t even tell me.
She drives the ambulance bus, right? She’s an important friend to have!
But now I heard you totally stood her up on Valentine’s Day, which is a douchebag move, so next time her grandma hits me with her car, Dara probably won’t even peel my sorry butt off the road. ”
Firming my lips, I rotate my head and glower at my sisters. “The hell is wrong with you two?”
“It’s a conspiracy!” Raquel howls. “Barbara’s been wanting you and Dara to marry since your fifth birthday. Remember that? It’s no coincidence that old bitch ran Rose down before she could sweep you off the market.”
“Sucks to be her!” Eliza hoots. “I never wanted Dara to be my sister-in-law anyway.”
“What’s your real first name?” Franky asks.
Eager to keep playing, Rose swings back around and chirps, “Rosaline. After my grandma.”
Stunned, I freeze and stare at the back of her head. Then I bound up off the couch and slam my knee against the corner of the coffee table. Yelping in pain, I hop-skip and skid around to crouch in front of her. “You were named for your grandma?”
“What?”
“You just said so! You said Rosaline, after your grandma.”
“Oh.” Her mouth falls open. Then she closes it again. Guppy style, she frowns and considers. Then she flashes a wild, wonky grin. “I guess so! That’s kinda sweet, huh? I guess that means I have a grandma somewhere, and my parents liked her enough to name me after her.”
Franky nods in my peripheral. “Bodes well.”
“What’s your surname?” I press. “Do you remember that?”
“Dawson!” Raquel giggles. “Née DeWitt Bukater. Duh!”
“Why’d you toss the diamond overboard, Rose?” Fox noisily climbs forward, swiping the wine bottle from the table and shakily refilling her glass. “That fucker was worth oodles.”
“Fox!” Alana growls. “Cussing.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Her shoulders bounce with a giggle, liquid sloshing and spilling over the lip of her glass.
She drags her tongue along her wrist, cleaning the mess she made, then she casts a taunting, devious grin over her shoulder at Chris.
“You look handsome tonight, honey. If I had the diamond, I would give it to you so you could be a cachillionaire. You deserve that kinda bling, baby.”
“Rose?” I pluck the wineglass from between her fingers and set it on the table, then I take her hands in mine and draw her focus around. “You were named Rosaline to honor your grandma. What’s your last name?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes turn glassy, wetting her lashes, and her lips drop into a devastating pout. “It doesn’t feel good not knowing these things. And it doesn’t feel good when Billy calls because some weirdo creepo thinks if he says he knows me, he’ll get money.”
“I know.” I inch forward on my knees and tuck her against my chest, wrapping my arms around and holding her extra tight when she sniffles. “It feels awful. I know.”
“I don’t know if I’m running away from someone who wants to hurt me. Or if I’m hiding away because I hurt Liam. And maybe I’m just a crappy person who doesn’t want to deal with what I did, and that’s why my brain isn’t remembering. I’m not trying hard enough.”
“You’re giving it all you’ve got.” I press my lips to her temple. Her forehead. Her hair. “And no matter what happened before, you’re a good person. I have no doubt about it.”
“I have doubts.” She pulls back and sobs.
“Maybe Darcy was my boyfriend, and maybe I cheated on Darcy with Liam, and maybe I hurt Liam to avoid admitting I’m a bad person to Darcy.
And maybe Darcy is my dog, so none of it matters anyway.
And oh God, I think I’m one of those ugly cry drunks.
” She puffs her cheeks wide and looks to Franky.
“Autistic children have a knack for knowing who is good and who is bad, right?”
“Er…” Panicked, he looks around. “Mom?”
“Am I good, Franklin?” She pops her lips forward into an exaggerated pout. “You’d tell me if I was evil, wouldn’t you?”
“You need to give her more wine.” Eliza stumbles to her feet, piggy snorting and giggly as she sweeps up a full bottle of white wine, then leaning across the table with one hand propped on the wood for balance, she fills Rose’s glass to the very lip and clicks her tongue.
“Drink up, lady. Drunk is fun. Sobering is depressing. And yes, I’m absolutely aware of how toxic and gross this sounds.
” She straightens out and drinks straight from the bottle.
“I’m gonna puke all this up tomorrow, right on Tommy’s gym floor. ”
“You’re gonna mop it up, too,” Tommy rumbles. “Sweat the alcohol out, then get back on track before your fight.”
“I can’t even believe you fight!” Re-energized, Rose spins away and jumps to her feet, lifting her hands like she’s ready to throw them. “You fight! Like, you looked at allllll the other jobs in the world and thought, ya know what? I wanna get punched in the face for money.”
“Oh, but you’re mistaken.” Eliza sways, slow-blinking so fucking slowly, I suspect she takes a micro-nap before she brings her eyes open again. “I don’t ever get punched in the face, Rosaline. Not ever.”
“Not ever?” Bubbles slide along her throat. “Ever ever?”