“If she did, Flo didn’t tell me.”
I should have asked her. Made sure she had a place to go. I could have paid for a hotel. I still could. All I have to do is call or text. But I don’t know if that’s okay. I told her to go because I was afraid of getting my heart broken. Do I have the right to reach out to her? Or do I wait for her to get in touch with me?
I stab more noodles on to my fork, even though I’ve lost my appetite. “Did Junie go to bed okay?” I ask, then remember where I’d found her when I got home.
Mom doesn’t answer, just stares me down between hard, slow blinks, waiting for something from me. I’ve got an idea what it is, but she’s going to have to drag it out of me. I’m a man who appreciates directness, but if I can avoid talking to Momabout what went down today with Frankie, I’ll do it. I don’t think I’m ready to hear what I did wrong. And I’m sure she’ll find something.
“You want to tell me what happened between Frankie leaving here and you coming back without her?” She asks.
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“I’m sorry, Son,” she says sweetly, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “I should have phrased that differently,” she continues, all sweetness and sympathy gone. “Tell me what happened with Frankie.”
She leans on her elbows across the counter, resting her chin in her hand. This may be the most attention she’s given me since I was a kid, and I’m deeply uncomfortable with it.
But I can’t escape it either, so I wipe my mouth on the napkin and sit back, creating a little distance between us. “Her ex-husband showed up. Said her dad needed to see her. So, she left.”
Mom bolts up. “With him?”
I shake my head. “In her own car.”
“And you saw her leave? You’re sure she was safe? I thought he was why she was staying with us.”
“He is…was. But not because he’s dangerous.” I don’t know how to explain anything else.
Mom’s questions bring up new worries to add to all the ones I’ve been trying to quash all day. Because, the thing is, telling Frankie she should go because I was worried about getting my heart broken didn’t work. My chest feels hollowed out.
But I quickly walk back from the guilt. I did what I had to for Junie. She’ll be sad tomorrow, yeah, but she’d be inconsolable if she was anymore attached to Frankie.
“Frankie made the choice, Mom.” I push the bowl away, in case she’s thinking of filling it again. “I couldn’t bringher back out here. Her whole life’s in upheaval. I couldn’t let Junie get attached to her and then have her heart broken when Frankie left.”
Mom’s mouth tightens. “You thought it’d be easier for Junie not to say goodbye at all?”
I stare at the blue flowers dotting the bowl. This isn’t the first conversation I’ve had with Mom about a girl over mac and cheese served in that same bowl, but this is the most uncomfortable one.
Mom stretches across the counter to rest her hand on mine. “I’m not saying you didn’t do the right thing, but Junie’s fallen as hard for Frankie as you have, Cal. She’s hurting the same way you are, but she didn’t get a goodbye.”
“She’s three, Ma. Give her a week and she’ll forget.” I swallow hard to push back my growing doubts.
“Almost four, and she’s sharper than you're giving her credit for.”
I sigh and sit back, pulling my hand out from under hers. “When Frankie’s ex showed up, I worried things would get really messy. She did too. We said goodbye not just for Junie, but for all of us.”
I circle my finger in the air to indicate everyone under the Holloway roof, including Mom.
She tips her head, her misgivings drawn in the tight line of her lips pressed together. “I don’t doubt you both had good reasons for breaking up?—”
“—It’s not a breakup if we were never together, Ma.”
She raises her hand, and I stop. “I just want to make sure you’re not walking away from happiness because you’re afraid of getting hurt again.”
I wince at her words—at how wrong she is. “If you mean I don’t want Junie going through another loss like she did with her mom?—”
“—I mean you don’t want to go through that kind of pain again either…right?”
When I don’t answer, she does. “Kayla hurt you long before she died.”
I shift in my seat, but the more I try to avoid Mom’s eyes, the more she stares at me, right through all of my excuses, all the way to my fears.
