“No, I was coming out to get a drink.” I pause for a moment. “Would you like something?” I’ve given him unlimited access to the kitchen, but he hasn’t taken advantage of it. A quick scan of the fridge always reveals he helps himself to nothing more than the plate I prepare for him and tap water. After a little bit of investigation, I’ve mostly figured out what I think he can eat. I always make something, leaving a full ingredient list on the counter so he can double-check.
“Um… what are you having?”
“How about a glass of wine?” Is that the best choice on a weeknight? Maybe not, but I’m hoping it’s enough to entice him to spend a few minutes with me.
“If you’re having some, too.” He pauses the TV and watches me carefully.
“I’ve got a bottle of La Crosse open in the fridge.” I motion for him to join me. I grab the bottle, thankful I opened it earlier in the week. This way, it’s much more natural. I grab two glasses, filling them halfway. We both work tomorrow, and Frank needs to drive home, so it’s not going to be a wild night. But hopefully, this helps us both relax a little bit.
“Here.” It’s one of my favorites, crisp and light. I usually switch to red wine in the winter, but I almost always have a bottle of this somewhere in the house. I’ve been obsessed with it ever since I visited the vineyard in Maine on a vacation.
He sniffs it carefully beforetaking a tentative sip. I barely manage to hold back a smirk. I wonder if he’s ever had wine that didn’t come from a box. “This is good.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. My taste for wine grew over many years of stuffy business and family dinners, but at his age, I barely tolerated it. He takes a few more sips, this time bigger, so hopefully, he’s not horrified at the offering.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Um, fine. We’re almost done with the deck.” I hum my approval. I’ve seen the work, and it looks pretty good. I’m less interested in hearing about my backyard and more concerned about what he’s been up to.
“What’d you do after work?” He’s been cagey about telling me. Wine doesn’t work that fast, but I’m hoping maybe it’ll lower his inhibitions.
He bites his bottom lip, and I’m tempted to reach over and stop him before he draws blood. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I swear.” I stick my hand up in the air. I’m pretty good at schooling my facial reactions. It comes with a job where people tell me all sorts of things about how they get and spend money. I hope that’s enough practice for whatever he’s about to admit.
“I’m taking night classes at the community college.” His tone is so ashamed that I run the words back through my head again to ensure I heard him correctly.
“Why would I laugh about that?”
“Cause I’m probably going to fuck it up.Again.” He gulps down what’s left of his wine, face scrunching up as he swallows it.
“I highly doubt that.” I’m trying to unpack the various statements he’s making. It’s obvious there’s a lot of baggage around the topic. “Why would I think you’ll fu—mess it up?”
“I failed out the first time.” I wait to see if he’s going to continue the story. “It was a couple of years ago, back when I was at a university in Alabama. Once I got sick, I couldn’t hold things together, and I had to drop out and come home.”
“That’s not the same as failing out.” I knew many people who failed out in the first few years of school. Most came from business families and thought their name would be enough to get them through the rigorous work. Too much partying and not enough time in the library eventually caught up to them. I might not know the whole story, but I know enough about Frank to know that there was more to it. “You were ill and struggling. That’s a totally different situation.” Hell, one time, the flu knocked me down for a week, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever catch up.
“Yeah, my family didn’t see it that way.” The pain of the experience is clear on his face. I wish I could reach out and pull him into a hug. He needs it, but I’m not sure what the rules are here. “Either way, this time is going to be different.” He sticks his jaw out in a move that’s adorable.
FRANK
“This time I’m in school because I really want to be. Not because it’s what people do after high school.” Two years off was enough to convince me that I really wanted a degree. One that would let me pursue the career I wanted. That might have changed a few times, but now that I’d had time to really look around and see a range of options, it was also easier to pick something. “I think I can do it.”
I’m not sure why I’m spilling my guts to Matthias. No one knows I’m going to school except Sam and Benji. Not even the other members of the crew.
He’s been ridiculously generous, letting me use hishouse. It’s more comfortable than the diner and cheaper. I feel bad eating his food and now drinking his wine. Not enough to stop, but still bad. I’m not sure he can comprehend how much it means to me. For the first time in maybe ever, I have a place to go where I can be myself for a few hours each night. Relax and tackle my list without being completely on guard.
Though, admittedly. I’ve been a little… lax on the studying. In my defense, I don’t remember the last time I got a real TV to myself. At home, the only TV is in the living room. That one comes with helpful commentary from my parents and a lot of oversight. In my room, I’m stuck watching on either my shitty laptop or my phone. No matter what people say, it’s not the same on a tiny screen.
“I know you can.” His words warm my heart—and my face—but he doesn’t mean them. He can’t. He doesn’t know me well enough or know all the ways I’ve fucked up over the years. It’s a long list. Trust me.
This is the first night Matthias has said more than two sentences to me. Sure, I’ve imagined a lot of conversations with him, but those don’t count. Not really.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I start to add that I don’t have to answer it, but between the way my tongue loosens around him and the wine, I’m sure I’ll answer whatever he asks.
Matthias stares at me, mouth open, like he can’t remember what he was going to say. “Can I watch an episode of your show with you?”
