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“Definitely the meadow,” I whispered with raw honesty, splitting my chest cavity open for Franky to have a peek inside. I never tried for anything more than what I had, because there was safety in the predictability of my mundane life. I’d rather die in the meadow not knowing that something better waited for me, than to reach for the stars only to come crashing down. No one else could hurt me in my meadow. I’d made it that way. I’d made it so nothing good lived there because everything good would eventually leave.
Franky and I were so close that I could feel the heat pouring from his gaze, and my heart crashed against my sternum like rough waves. Did he think I was weak? Had my answer reflected my age?
All my internal angst melted away when he smiled at me softly. “Me too,” he whispered back. “But maybe one day we can both be daisies.”
Warm and delicate,I added to my mental vault of his eyes.Warm and delicate means he understands me.
***
I worked until the sunlight faded and the night sky turned the ocean black. Until darkness cloaked the trees and the mountains beyond with its shadow. And then I chewed nervously at my thumbnail as I looked from the outline I’d completed on the wall, to the photos I’d snapped earlier of the view outside.
Franky’s litany of curses from out on the patio cut into my overthinking. He’d dropped his hammer again. It stopped being funny hours ago, though, and now I just felt bad for him. At least he hadn’t made any life-threatening mistakes while working the table saw.
His phone rang, and he fumbled through the copious pieces of scrap wood and tools scattered around to find it.
“Cole?” he asked, as if he was the last person he expected his kid to call.
I zipped into the hoodie I never left home without as a gust of ocean breeze blew inside. The air smelled of impending rain. I began straightening up my work area, preparing to call it a night and do the long drive back to the city. Within minutes I had everything situated, and I’d been about to send a goodnight text to Franky when his call ended.
He fell onto the edge of the unlit fire pit, his shoulders slumped like the world had fallen onto them. Before I could ask if everything was okay, he shot to his feet, grumbling about needing at least one thing to go right tonight. Franky hammered in the final nail on the table he’d been working on all day, thenflipped it right side up onto all four legs, only to have it tilt to one side.
As if he couldn’t trust his eyes, Franky rested his phone in the center of the table, and it slid to the left before nose diving to the ground. He lowered onto one of the Adirondack chairs this time, cradling his head with his palms.
Not wanting to leave him alone with his misery, I went to the fridge and grabbed the six-pack I’d brought in earlier when I’d gone to the car for my paint supplies.
I placed the beer in the empty seat next to Franky’s, then picked through the scrap wood littered about until I found a piece that would fit perfectly under the defective leg of the table.
“Voila,” I said, after setting the case of beer on the now leveled table. Franky didn’t find me funny at all.
Sawdust caked his t-shirt and jeans, and his hair had been matted down by sweat. He looked exhausted, but I had a feeling it had more to do with his phone conversation than the slip ‘n slide table.
The string lights running overhead provided enough lighting to hang out on the patio, but I needed heat if I planned to keep his bad mood company out there. I worked out how to get the fire pit going and then fell onto the seat next to him.
Using my keys, I popped the cap off a cold bottle of Stella before gesturing for him to take it. Franky stared at it, debating whether or not to accept. He ended up reaching for it with a resigned sigh and a nod of thanks. I opened my own and took a healthy swig.
If talking was what Franky wanted to do, he’d have to make the first move. I was content to simply be there. To be whatever he needed from me at that moment.
“How’d you know this was my favorite?” he eventually asked, picking at the bottle’s label.
“That night on the roof you used an empty bottle to prop the door open.” I shrugged. “It could’ve been roof litter, especially since we were only serving the good stuff that night, but I took a gamble that it wasn’t.”
He grunted, his sour mood still lingering. “I keep the small fridge in my office stocked with it.”
Stella was my favorite as well, and it felt damn good—in a way it shouldn’t have—to know we had that in common too.
“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” he said defeatedly, glaring at his botch job.
“It’s not so bad,” I said.
“It’s unusable,” he countered with a huff, wrapping his full lips around the mouth of the bottle before angling his head back.
“It’s eclectic,” I challenged, then winced when the leg gave out completely, breaking and taking the others down with it. Luckily it had tilted my way, and with cat-like reflexes, I swooped up the beer pack by its cardboard handle before it hit the ground. I whipped my head toward Franky, holding my breath, the beers clutched to my chest.
He cracked first, doubling over, shoulders shaking, and I sat unsure if he was laughing or crying.
“Are you… Are you laughing? Please tell me you’re laughing.” Because I needed to be certain before releasing the howl of laughter caged in my throat. And because his laugh from earlier didn’t hold a candle to this.Thislaugh was a building roll of thunder chocked full of perfect white teeth.Thislaugh invaded his whole body.
“Yes,” he managed to get out, body trembling, tears peppering the corners of his weary eyes.
