Chapter Five
FRANKIE
We woke upat seven, both of us still in that strange mood from the unfinished discussion hovering between us when we went to sleep. Aaron had made coffee and showered by the time I joined him in the kitchen.
“I brushed my teeth, so gimme a kiss,” I said and leaned in. “How’d you sleep?” I knew the answer. Terribly. Since coming home, Aaron woke up several times a night. I didn’t think he’d had an uninterrupted sleep since we’d gotten back together.
“Not too bad.” The brush of his mouth over mine felt perfunctory, and he turned away to shove his wallet into his pants.
“Don’t lie. You slept like shit.”
The muscles across his back tightened. “I have to go to work now. Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m trying to have a conversation about what I’ve noticed.” I hated to think we were slipping back into the old habits of arguing and defensiveness. “I thought we’d agreed to talk more.”
Aaron expelled a noisy breath and faced me. “I…I don’t want to get into a big discussion now because I really do have to go to work. But I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.” He held out a hand. “Lemme make it up to you. C’mere.”
I allowed myself to be pulled into his chest, and Aaron kissed my head and held me tight. “You gotta believe me that I’m trying. It’s gonna take some time.”
He was right. Why was I pushing? We had all the time in the world. “I’m sorry too. Go to work and kick ass. I didn’t mean to do this so early in the morning. I got class today. Then I’ll probably see if Austin needs any help with the shelter project.”
“He really fell into it, huh?” Aaron slipped on his jacket. “Rhoades is nice, but it sure helps that he’s loaded.”
Defensive for my best friend, I shook my head. “Uh-uh. It’s not like that. You don’t know Austin, but he came from a rich family and left ’cause his father was a total bastard. He don’t care about shit like that. It took months for Rhoades to get Austin to trust him.”
“Rich or poor, it’s nice to have money.” Aaron kissed me, his lips soft and warm, and I quickly forgot about Austin and everything else. That was the effect Aaron had on me from the first. Complete and total abandonment of my free will at his touch. “See you for dinner.”
He walked out, and I touched my throbbing lips. “Yeah. See you.” Once again, Aaron had deftly turned the subject away from himself. Disturbing thoughts filled my head while I ate my cereal and continued as I got dressed. Why did he never want to talk about himself? I left my apartment, my mind spinning, no further along with any answers than before.
The train ride into the city did little to stop the parade of painful images running through my mind. Aaron claimed he’d spent most of his prison time reading in the library and working out. But I saw the shadows in his eyes and the smiles that didn’t last. And I wondered what he didn’t want to tell me. And why.
Don’t push.
That was my mom’s answer whenever I asked her what she thought I should do. I knew she still wasn’t happy Aaron and I were back together, but she understood my reasons and supported me. I texted her when the train pulled into Broadway Junction and I got service.
Aaron still don’t want to talk to me. What should I do?
Her response came immediately.It hasn’t been that long. Don’t nag. He’ll come around.
It’s been almost two months already.
It took you sixteen years to come out to me and Daddy.
Her perspective left me breathless. That answer was the light I needed in the darkness. Aaron would tell me when the time was right.
Thanks.
I sent her a row of multicolored heart emojis, and she responded with a smiley. Our conversation put me in a good mood for the rest of the train ride, so that when I walked into class, I had nothing but smiles for my friend Vivi.
“Hey, baby.” I gave her a kiss. “Lemme see what you’re wearing.”
She stood and twirled, her flowered skirt poofing around her. Vivi was obsessed with the 1950s and loved wearing poodle skirts and making her own varsity sweaters to wear with them. She always wore bright lipstick and her shiny, black hair in a high ponytail.
“Girl, you look like a cheerleader waiting for the quarterback after the game. And where’d you get those petticoats?” I fingered the stiff tulle. “They look authentic.”
“They are.” Her dark eyes glowed. “My grandmother had them when she was growing up. She saved everything and promised to send them to me.” She sat down at her worktable, and I took a seat at mine, waving to the others who were wandering in.
I’d seen pictures of Vivi’s diminutive Chinese grandmother. Vivi told me how hard she worked at the family’s business in California, vowing to give her four children an education and a better life. Vivi’s mom went to Stanford medical school and worked at UCLA Medical Center as a genetic researcher. She married a white man and had Vivi while in medical school and still came out at the top of her class. Aside from her stature, Vivi was the image of her mom.
