So that left me exactly one person to talk to and they really were the last person I expected to find myself reaching out to, but there I was, calling Dad. He paid for the rideshare to bring me to his apartment, a place I generally avoided like the plague.
It always smelled like dirty dishes, sweat, and bad calls. He answered the door in that half-smile way he did, like he was still surprised I existed every single time whether there were plans or not.
“Hey, Coop,” he said, waving me in.
We sat at the kitchen island. He pulled a beer out for himself, didn’t offer me one—excellent plan—but hey, he had soda so he gave me a can of Coke and that worked.
When he asked what was up and why I called, I told him. Not everything, but most of it. The worst of it. I didn’t really give a fuck what he thought about me at this point. So, how would I possibly disappoint him? That said, he listened without interruption, then drained his beer when I finished.
Silent, he rose, discarded the bottle then got himself another before he sat back down and stared at me.
“You have to own it.”
That hit harder than I expected. Because coming fromhim? The guy who probably slept with Frankie's mom and detonatedour whole family because no way in hell could Mom forgive himorMaddy? She never blamed Frankie, but yeah, Maddy was a bitch and Dad was an idiot. Still.
Still, thatwas his advice.
As gut sick as that made me, I had a hard time identifying where he was wrong.
“When you don’t,” he continued, “you end up where I am. With kids who would prefer you were a ghost and want nothing to do with you, and marriage in the shitter.”
He wasn’t trying to be poetic. My dad didn’tdopoetic. But that line burned, because he was right. I’d spent the last few weeks struggling with Frankie dating someone else, choosing someone else, and trying to pretend the summer didn’t matter if I pretended it never happened. Whether I liked it or not, the person in those videos was me. It was all of us.
Just the worst versions of us.
So, I sat there and asked how, and he said, “I don’t know. You let who needs to yell at you, yell. You don’t pretend like it didn’t matter. You say you’re sorry, you say you’ll do your best to never do it again. You listen.”
“That’s it?” Somehow that seemed way too easy.
“No, then you let them decide what they’re going to do and accept that you aren’t going to win this one. In fact… you may lose everything you wanted.”
My stomach sank.
I could lose Frankie.
For real this time.
“I really wish you had better advice,” I admitted.
Dad actually smiled, almost crookedly. “Me too. I wish I had been a better example too.”
I ended up staying there for a couple of hours, watched some tv with him and it was probably the most reasonable interaction we’d had in over a year. When I went home, I didn’t have anybetter answers and didn’t feel in any better place, but maybe I had something of a plan.
Yeah. I could still lie to myself. The rideshare got me back to our apartments faster than I expected. I checked my phone a half-dozen times. Still no response. Right now, I wasn’t sure whether I should be glad for that because I didn’t know what I’d say to her at this point. I needed to see her to talk to her, even if I had nothing I could say because doing nothing felt like I was just dying inch by inch.
And then I saw it. Her car. The black gold, dark gray Toyota sedan she was so proud of. I couldn’t blame her, she was paying off her mom for the car, but it washers. I swear, my pulse hit warp speed. I didn’t even think. I just ran.
By the time I got to her door, I was out of breath. My knuckles hit wood before I could second-guess it.
The door opened—and I swear, the universe has a sick sense of humor.
Rachel.
Rachel, with her perpetual scowl and that “you’re human garbage” face she reserved just for me. Her expression was as welcoming as a traffic accident.
“What doyouwant?” she said.
I wanted Frankie.
