Page 38 of Give Me What You Will

Frankie typed and then stopped. He waited, heart pounding.

Do you need me?

Something welled inside of him. Frankie knew it was hard for him to visit his mother alone. Usually, Papi or he would come with him, and a part of him wanted to accept his offer, but after last night…

I’m okay. I’ll see you later.

He tucked his phone into his back pocket and scrubbed two hands over his face, a sudden nervous anticipation gripping his guts like a tourniquet. Even though they weren’t friends, it was hard to stop acting like it. Frankie cared, and so did he, except Sam cared too much. Too deeply. In ways that could never be matched or received…

Or so he thought.

Last night, something had shifted. Something opened. And he wasn’t confident anymore about whether he should race to it or run from it. Was this the talk Frankie wanted to have to tell him it was a mistake? That he regretted crossing the line?

Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to have that conversation, if that was the case.

Impatiently, he knocked hard on the front door to his mom’s house. He just wanted to get this over with—with Frankie. Because deep down, he knew what it would be: rejection. Again. And Sam, left with nothing but his bleeding, stupid heart, would shove it away into his suitcase, fly back to LA and hope to God—to the universe—to the Elysium—to the alien space friends—that he would one day get over Frankie.

No one answered.

He grunted out an exasperated sigh and rang the doorbell. Finally, he heard footsteps and chains rattling as she unlocked the door.

The door swung open as though the person opening it was already offended by his presence. Her wild, bright green eyes were frantic. Her gray hair had only faint hints of her once chestnut-brown coloring. Its oily, thinning locks hung around her face like fraying curtains. Her face was bare and heavily wrinkled from years of her paranoia and anxiety.

He slipped his sunglasses off. “Hello, Mom.”

Her eyes twitched and she huffed, leaving the doorway empty as she shuffle-stomped back into her den. Sam stared at the threshold for a moment, wondering if he was better off just going to Frankie’s. Or maybe a bar.

“Don’t leave the door open like that, Sammy! Jesus Christ.” She croaked in her smoker's dry tone. “Flies and fuckin’ insects comin’ in. Can’t stand it. Don’t want my nosy damned neighbors to see inside, either. Always lookin’ where they shouldn’t.”

He released the breath in his chest and entered, closing it shut behind him, and was immediately pitched into darkness except for the blue light of the TV that never turned off. Thick blackout curtains hung over her front room windows, with a TV in the corner and books and newspapers littering the space. Her only chair in the living room was ancient with its cracked, beaten brown leather. Her walls were bare, and yet he noticed that the hallway was clear of debris and no stacked books, boxes, or mess. He frowned, expecting the entire house to be more like the living room.

But even the living room seemed more put together.

“What? No, ‘how are you? How’ve you been, Ma?’” she growled, her tone scratchy and rough as she plopped down on her leather armchair, already reaching for her pack of cigarettes.

He was so accustomed to the smell of tobacco that he barely registered it anymore.

“How are you? How’ve you been, Ma?” He mimicked dully.

She pinched her lighter with skilled ease and lit the tip of her cigarette. “I’m fuckin’ dyin’. Throat’s closin’ up. Can barely catch my breath these days.”

“Probably because you smoked a pack a day since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, whatever. I ain’t stoppin’ now. Might as well bury me with them.”

“Your grave, your choice.”

“Knock that shit off.”

“What? You started it.”

“Jesus, you haven’t changed. Poppin’ that mouth off thinkin’ ya won’t get popped for it. You’re too cocky now that you’ve become a doctor. Stupid, is what you are.”

Irritation crackled down his spine. “Thanks, I’ll take that under advisement.”

She snorted, then coughed before asking, “Where’s your better half?”

He frowned at her.