“Can you get Frankie or not?”
“Can we talk about this? Want to grab a drink Friday?”
“No,” I tell him, because I’m never leaving Frankie with anyone else ever again. Until she goes to college. And that might have to be at Columbia or NYU.
“Well, my parents always have that big family dinner after the Fall Festival. So I’ll see you Saturday,” he says, politely ignoring my rudeness.
I sit down on the top step. “I’ll wait here.”
He shakes his head at me and walks in.
Five minutes later, he walks back out. “Lina looks even worse than you do,” he tells me quietly, just before Frankie walks out behind him and climbs into my lap.
It takes an ocean’s worth of self-control to resist the immediate urge that I have to jump up and run to her office to make sure she’s okay.
“Thanks,” I mumble at Oliver. “See you Saturday.”
Frankie drags her feet on the way home, triggering all sorts of alarm bells. “How was school today?” I try.
“Good.”
I peer at her face. “It doesn’t look good.”
“Lina said I don’t have to talk about anything if I’m not ready,” she shoots back.
“Talk about what?” I try.
“Nothing.” She doesn’t fall for it.
I’m going to have to talk to Lina about this. And then I’m going to have to stab myself in the eye.
* * *
A few days later, I’ve never walked slower moving to Lina’s office. I pretend to be very interested in the student art hanging in the lobby. I stop and have a ten-minute conversation with Agent Ethel Anderson. And Frankie’s Pre-K teacher from last year. And four parents I find on the way. I make sure, for the seventeenth and most unnecessary time, that the parents are all set with their roles and responsibilities for Saturday.
I take a deep breath when I finally reach Lina’s door, then swing it open.
“Hey, Daddy!” Frankie pipes up from her little book nest in the corner. She seems to be in a better mood.
“Hey,anak,” I tell her, but I’m looking at Lina.
Who’s smiling at me.
But it’s forced, strained, fake. I know this, because I’m normally knocked the fuck over by the power of her smile and this is a very cheap imitation. I can’t prevent my eyes from dragging across her face, zeroing in on the dark circles under her eyes, her pale, chapped lips. I don’t ask her when the last time she ate was, or if she’s properly hydrating or sleeping. “Hi, Dom!” Even the timbre of her voice is a touch too high.
“Hey.”
I stand there and shuffle my feet like a ten-year-old while Frankie assaults us with her daily Titanic facts. Both Lina and I stare at her as if she’s divulging the secrets of the world, nodding our heads enthusiastically. This is the absolute worst, especially because throughout this, the two of us keep sneaking peeks at one another.
“Frankie, Lina and I have to talk about some Fall Festival stuff,” I finally say, when it’s gone on for a bit too long and the skin crawling feeling gets to be a little too much.
“It’s okay, Dom,” Lina responds quietly. “I trust you. I approve of anything you have planned.”
I look at her, which is a mistake, because she is looking at me like she does in fact trust me and like I am her entire world. I busy myself with looking in my bag. “I just have a few things you need to sign, then. Rental agreements, insurance things.” I thrust a handful of papers into her hand.
“Aren’t you coming home with us Lina?” Frankie asks. “Can’t we just do this there? Daddy promised us Sassy Shrimp.”
I’m surprised that the crack that snaps through my chest isn’t audible.
