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“Why not?”
Franky stared at me with disappointment laced with terror, like the answer to my question should’ve been obvious. “Because what if they tell me the truth?” And to him there was only one version of the truth.His.The reality of Cole and Jasper hating him was much scarier than the thought of it.
“I’m amazed at how well you juggle being both utterly selfish and self-sacrificing,” I said. “You think if you’re unhappy, then that means you’re paying for everything you’ve ever done wrong, but really, you’re just compounding your sins. Your suffering isn’t a gift, Franky. What you’re doing isn’t okay just because you’re not happy while doing it.”
Once again I found myself reflecting on our conversations from the past, on some of the obscure things he’d said, most of them making sense now.
“You’re definitely a tortured soul, Franky, but you aren’t that bad,”I’d said after he apologized for waking me up with rough sex, penalizing me for some unwanted emotion he woke up feeling.
“You haven’t had to suffer through one of my dark hours,”he’d replied grimly.
I’d waved it off, thinking it was just Franky being broody as always, thinking I had seen how dark it could get with him. This was different. Tonight was more. It went deeper than wanting to live a simple life, deeper than wanting to be a more present father, deeper than realizing he was in love with me.
Franky’s problem with his kids was only a small slice of what haunted him. Beneath his bed resided the ghosts of Gloria, Theo, Paul, his mother, his father, and Selene. They completed the fucking torture cake he loved to lick the icing off of.
I couldn’t help him, though, and he wouldn’t let me even if I could. Finally, the voice in my head screamed for me to exercise some self-preservation, and I swallowed, my next words spoken through a voice filled with resignation. “Give him the company.”
“Will you stay if I do? Will you convince him to stay?”
“No,” I said. “We’re both getting as far away from you as possible.”
“Then I won’t do it,” he said, brazenly moving toward me.
“Stop.” I raised a palm, warning him not to say another word or to take another step closer. He listened, but his stance spoke volumes. His halt was nothing more than a pause of what he believed was the inevitable.
“Don’t leave, Leland.”
“Why not? So we can spend the next however many years pining in silence? So we can stay stagnant, dwelling on what can’t be? I waited for you. God, I’mstillwaiting for you.” I shook my head, a sudden wave of grief threatening to do me in. “You once asked me where I saw myself in five years. Do you remember that?” I asked.
Franky dropped his stare to his shoes, but not before nodding once.
“My answer is sadly still the same.” I closed my eyes, going back to that night.
“Where do you see yourself in five years, Leland?”he’d asked.
“Somewhere still wanting you,”I’d answered.
I opened my eyes, the memory of that night floating away from me. “After tonight, my answer won’t be the same. It can’t be. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Leaving you was the right decision,” he said, “no matter how much it hurt me to do it.” Franky stalked forward, his strides conveying that he had nothing to lose. “How I left you is another matter—”
“Stop it, damnit—”
“I’ll never forgive myself for it,” he pressed on, his words a jumbled snarl. This wasn’t a profession of love or regret, it was an accusation, it was Franky exercising his fury the only way he knew how, it was him arrogantly thinking that after all of this time, he could punish me for how he felt, for his inability to control it.
“Not another fucking step, Franky,” I warned with rising apprehension. He was so close I could count the gray hairs scaling his jawline.
“I’ve never stopped wanting you,” he sneered. “Why can’t I stop wanting you?”
“Don’t you lay a fucking hand on me.” My hiss clashed with his scream as my back met the wall. His hands, ready to lacerate anything in their way, froze near the buttons of my shirt. “This isn’t our summer of love, Franky. Those days are over. You touching me now without my explicit consent will not be the turn on it once used to be. I won’t beyieldingto you this time.”
I couldn’t imagine what him fucking me right then would’ve been like. From the look of crippling desperation on his face it would’ve taken a stretcher to wheel me out of there afterward or a search party to find my scattered remains after he was done tearing me apart.
“I won’t be the thing you release your self-hate on. Not anymore. I’ve already endured you rage-fucking me and then leaving me in a heap to recover alone. Once was more than enough. And more importantly,” I said, driving him back with my intensity, “you don’t want me. Not if it means hurting Cole in the process, even though no one hurts him quite like you do. And isn’t that some tragic, fucking irony.”
His eyes widened at my venomous outburst, but he kept his hands to himself and kept backing away long after I’d stopped moving.
“Give him the company or I’ll tell himeverything,” I threatened before walking away from him for the last time.
