Chapter Text
I didn’t realize I was in love with my best friend until it was too late.
I am flying down a dark highway, choking down sobs, when it hits me. Friends don’t fall apart when they learn the other is going to have a baby. Friends don’t shape years of their lives around the deployment schedules of the other. Friends don’t keep shoeboxes of handwritten letters spanning decades. Friends don’t do any of the things that I have done, only lovesick fools do.
The bike has barely come to a complete stop before I am on the shoulder puking my guts out. He had been so excited to tell me, and why wouldn’t he be; he was going to be a father.
My Frankie was going to be a dad. My Frankie. Not my Frankie. Her Frankie.
Of all the reasons I have to hate Jessica, being in love with the soon- to- be father of her child was the least of them. Yet here on my knees on the side of the road, dark and drenched at 3am, it is the straw that broke the camel’s back.
* I was relieved when Frankie had told me the Army was retiring the team. There was a part of him that had never come home after the last tour. The nightmares were worse and he carried a perpetually haunted look wherever he went. For months and months he practically lived on my couch. I figured it was easier than having the retirees in the apartment next to his putting in complaints about the way he screamed in his sleep. There wasn’t anybody out here in the boonies to complain, I certainly wouldn’t. He never had to wait in line to use my washer, my fridge was always full, and the water pressure was great. I felt safer with him here, not that I’d ever admit it, and it was a relief being able to keep an eye on him. Especially in those early days.
I was the one to push him to go to therapy. All the good intentions and unconditional love in the world wasn’t going to be enough to get him through this. He needed professional help. Our compromise was that he wouldn’t go through the VA. There was a practice in the city that had a new patient opening one month out.
He hated it at first. He wanted to quit. I pushed him. I insisted.
He met Jessica four months in, sitting in the lobby. They ditched therapy and went back to his place. The conspiratorial tone in his voice and the joy on his face when he recounted it to me eclipsed the gnawing feeling in my gut.
Something about the way he described her made me uneasy. If I’d been self aware at the time, I might have blamed it on jealousy. Instead, I blamed it on hormones. Aunt Flo is a bitch and who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth when his eyes were wrinkled and his sweet dimple made its first appearance in what felt like a lifetime?
So instead I sat in the couch and listened to him hush about the spontaneous redhead that had spent all evening rocking his world. *
I get back to my feet and shakily kick my Triumph back to life. Frankie had offered to drive me home in the Chevy and I had (maybe too forcefully) declined. There was no way my crumbling facade would have held up in the cab of the truck is watched him rebuild, surrounded by the smell of him as he word vomited all over my broken heart.
The roar of the engine is soothing as I continue cutting through the dark towards home. I think about the first time he’d stumbled through my door high out of his mind.
* He’d been distant, spending more time in her bed than on my couch. I’d stupidly considered it a net positive. She rubbed me the wrong way and I had a sneaking suspicion that she really didn’t care for me, either.
A sickly sense of dread had settled into the pit of my stomach as he DT’d on my couch that weekend. He’d told me everything once he’d sobered up. Frankie had always been the type to bottle things up and then release it all torrentially to the people he trusted. To me.
This was different. I felt less like a best friend and more like a priest taking confession.
He’d had a nightmare at her place one night and she offered him a bump to take the edge off. Coke and then sex.
He said he couldn’t face me fucked up but it was getting harder and harder to stay down.
He had woke up in his bed that night, still high, and realized they weren’t alone. Another man, a dealer named Emerson, had her bent over the dresser. She had spent her rent money on coke again and ended up evicted. She was only staying with him because her family wouldn’t spare a couch. Now there was another man in his space, fucking her in exchange for drugs.
I thought that had to be it. He told me that was it. *
I nearly whiskey throttle as I remember his excuse for going back.
* He’d gone by the apartment to get more of his things. He’d been slowly moving into my guest room, bit by bit, while Jessica wasn’t there. His luck had finally run out. She was “home” and coming down hard. He stayed to take care of her, afraid to leave her alone. My Frankie with a heart of gold. He’d learned all the best tricks from me.
Less than a month later I picked the new lock on his apartment and found him alone on the living room floor. She’d panicked when he started seizing and left.
I was the only one in the room when he woke up and started trying to pull at the IV. It was there under dim fluorescent lighting that I gave him my ultimatum. I never gave him the chance to answer. Maybe if I had known, maybe if I had told him, maybe if he had loved me back he would have chosen differently. But I left him alone in that hospital room the same way she had, only she came back.
I held his hand in the ambulance but she held his hand as he walked out the door, and he only really remembered one of them.
He never called me. Months went by and the man who had been the star my world revolves around was just gone. Evidence of his warmth was left in every corner of my home. The door to the guest room may as well have been nailed shut. Day by day the sadness seeped into my bones like cold. *
His text last night was like being struck by lightening. He wanted to talk, he needed to tell me something.
I almost didn’t recognize him when he slid into the booth across from me. He was nothing short of gaunt but his eyes were clear and shining with tears as he slid the positive test across the table to me.
The floor fell out and my blood rushed loudly in my ears. Frankie, my Frankie, was going to be a dad. But the shadow of a man sitting in front of me right then wasn’t my Frankie and he hadn’t been for months.
I had come to terms with the fact that he might never be my Frankie again. He was her Frankie now and it was time for an ultimatum of my own. Either I make room in my heart for her Frankie, or I walk away and finally grieve my own.
He was two weeks clean. He was getting clean for the last time. Jessica was getting clean, too. They were going to be parents and he wanted me to be part of the baby’s life. He couldn’t imagine being a dad without me by his side.
I don’t realize that I’ve passed my house until I come up to the sign for the next town over; nearly an hour further than I’d intended to go. I glance down at my gas tank and realize that I’m not going to make it. I do some mental math and decide to turn around rather than trying to make it to the gas station in town. I’ll get as far as I can on the bike and push it the rest of the way. That’s what I get for not paying attention.
How long have I been in love with my best friend?
The question rattles around in my head like a Folger’s can full of marbles as I push the Triumph back into the shed. My thighs are chafed in my wet jeans and I can feel blisters rubbing in my boots. I need a shower and a long sleep.
I toss and turn until Frankie’s message tone rings out. He’s going to the book store tomorrow for parenting books and wants me to go. Do I really want to tour one of our favorite spots with his girlfriend while I grapple with being in love so they can prepare for a life he put inside her?
I love him more than I hate myself. I choose. In my own ultimatum I choose loving Jesssica’s Frankie over burying mine.
I send my reply before rummaging around in the closet until I find one of his shirts. It smells like him. It still smells like my Frankie.
I slip it over my head and sniffle my way back between the sheets. This time when the phone rings it’s an old school smiley face.
I feel worse in the morning. I’m bone tired and everything hurts, inside and out. Frankie messages when he’s here and I step out onto the porch to realize he’s down at the end of the drive. I glance at the shed where bare tracks of dirt in the grass reserve his old parking spot.
Shoukders back, I ignore the burning chafe of my thighs under my sundress and avoid puddles down the dirt path to the Chevy idling for me.
Frankie jumps out as I approach and flashes me a smile before opening the door for me.
”No Jessica?” I pause and look up at him. A flicker of something in his eyes precedes his casual shrug and I climb in, suddenly more aware of my modesty than I ever have been with him. Frankie skips around to his side and I can’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. The truck barely shifts as he clambers in and I’m reminded of the way his clothes hang off his thin frame. He meets my eyes and his are just as clear as the night before. He wiggles his eyebrows and started her up.
I missed him. I missed us.
Frankie parks in front of my favorite coffee shop and winks at me. We argue over him paying for our drinks and I relent. His hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it and it takes everything in my being to keep myself from reaching up and tugging at a curl as he smirks his victory.
Back outside he throws a long arm around my shoulder as we walk down the road to our favorite secondhand book store. I wince as I wrap my arm around his waist, missing his softness. He’s chattering on about baby names and nursery themes. He still hasn’t mentioned Jessica but I bite my tongue. He talks about his team as we meander through shelves of books, stopping at the parenting section where he falls silent.
For the first time since he slid his bony ass into the diner booth he looks scared. I nudge him gently with my elbow and give him an encouraging smile. I start pulling familiar titles, making sure I grab a few for Jessica, too. I pass a title on post- partum recovery to Frankie and he pulls me roughly to his chest. He mumbles his thanks into my hair and I rub his back, soothing him as the broken pieces of my heart clink like a wind chime. Frankie pulls back and I yank the bill of his cap down over his eyes, earning a watery chuckle.
”I think this is a decent start, huh?” I watch in amusement as another woman’s Frankie fixes his hat the way mine always had.
”Hmmmm... if you say so.” He plays it off with sarcasm, but doubt wis heavy on his steadily tensing shoulders. I study him in mock suspicion for a moment before whipping the cart around and beelining for the children’s section. I can feel him beaming at me as I pile the cart full of an absolute library. Frankie grabs one or two but mostly watches as I let loose. My Frankie and I had always been big readers and I want to make sure the child of her Frankie has every resource in case they were, too.
A loud gurgling sound from Frankie’s stomach halts me in my tracks. He looks embarrassed.
”Sorry... recovery has weird uh... symptoms.” I smile and shrug. Frankie shrugs sheepishly before turning and power walking to the bathroom. I see my chance and book it to the cash register, the wheels on the cart rattling and screeching the whole way.
I am signing the receipt when Frankie finds me. I thank the cashier and tug at the end of the basket. He looks from the bags back up to me with an odd countenance, but follows me out. Back at the truck he stands dumbly at the tailgate as I lord the bags.
”Hey, dingus, will you hand me those last two?” I call playfully behind me. He tugs on his cap before handing them up where I am tugging the bungee net across the bed to hold them in place. I am already in the cab when he gets back from the cart return.
Frankie climbs into the cab and is sat silently with his hands on the wheel. With his head hung low I can’t see his eyes under the bill of the cap. I sit and wait, knowing what is coming next. His hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles turning white as he draws a deep, shaky breath.
”I lost my license,” his voice is thick.
”I know.” I say quietly.
”They tested and of course I fuckinf failed, and I- I- I-...” He is really shaking now. I reach over and put my hand over one of his, squeezing gently.
”I know.” I say more firmly.
”How?” He chokes.
”Some of your calls still get routed to the landline. I’ve got a machine full of Frankie messages.” My thumb rubs gently over the back of his hand as he fights for composure.
”I’m-“
”Frankie,” He looks up at me and I remind myself that he isn’t my Frankie. “I know.” It’s a gentle reassurance. I’m here. I’ve always been here. I will always be here.
He swallows hard and takes my hand before looking back out the windshield. An all- American dad is walking across the parking lot with a giggling toddler on his shoulders.
”Jessica doesn’t believe in abortion, but she doesn’t want kids. She doesn’t want the party to end.” I can feel something ugly rising in my gut as I listen. “I didn’t know I wanted to be a dad until insane the stick. I was just trying to stop. To make it all stop. I just wanted everything to be okay again.” I realize that he’s been holding everything in since the relapse. “I was going to tell her the same thing you told me in the hospital.” I wince. “But she handed me the test and everything changed. We fight all the time and it can’t be good for the baby but I won’t let her hurt them. Last night she told me they aren’t even mine. She said she let Emerson cum in her because she knew I was going to leave for real this time.” My head falls back against the seat and my eyes close against the anguish on her Frankie’s face. “I don’t care. I don’t care what she did or what she says, that is my child. No matter what anything or anyone says, that was my child the moment I saw the stick and I won’t let her hurt them or send them away. I am going to be a father.”
His voice breaks and I lace my fingers with his, tugging gently.
”Frankie, everything you’ve done since you found out has been the actions of a father. You are a father, a damn good father, and that child is so lucky to have you fighting for them. I see you. I see you fighting and I am so damn proud of you.” His resolve is faltering and I hesitate knowing that if he starts crying I’m done for. My voice falls to a whisper and I see tears tracking down his face. “You aren’t alone, Frankie. You have never been alone. You will never be alone.” A broken sob tears from his throat and he falls into me.
Frankie is gasping and whimpering into the crook of my neck. I pull his hat off and lay it on the dashboard so I can card my fingers through his hair. The wind chime that is my shattered heart clamors in the hurricane winds of his anguish. I hold him as tight as I can and curse myself inwardly. Of course I love him. I have always loved him.
The drive back to my house is comfortably quiet, both of us humming along to the radio until he stops again at the end of my drive.
”Your spot is still open, you know. You could pull up.” This time I see the guilt and sadness on his face for what it is.
”Not yet.” He smiles at me and that shadow lingers. I grab his cap off the dash and fix it to his head before flicking my finger down the bridge of his nose.
”It will always be there, whenever you are ready.” Frankie pulls me in and tucks me under his chin. It isn’t soft and warm like it used to be, but it is still safe. It is still home. I’m so close to falling apart, I really can’t take much more.
”Thank you, Cariño.” He whispers and I squeeze him tight. I pull back and poke his cheek until the mirth of his smile forms his dimple around it.
”Text me if you need anything. It doesn’t matter what time it is.” He nods and there’s an unspoken contract rewritten. He tuts me as I pull at the lock before hopping out and opening my door, ever the gentlemen. He hugs me one more time and I poke him in the ribs before ducking out of his reach and starting the trek up the drive to my house.
Frankie, not my Frankie, watches me until I wave from my open front door.
I look around my house and see reminders of my Frankie everywhere. He isn’t my Frankie anymore but, I realize, he isn’t her Frankie, either. If I can’t like her, then I will compromise; OUR Frankie.