Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say.
“What?”
“I just appreciate how you’ve been about all this. You never make me feel like you’re judging me…or like it’s weird. And that means a lot to me, Frankie.”
He stops in his tracks, and I turn to him. “What?” I ask. “Did I make that weird?”
“No. I’m just sorry that Peter was such an ass to you. That he made you feel like this was something you would get teased about.”
I glance around, waiting for some passersby to get a few feet away from us before I say, “Frankie, you know what we’re doing is weird. People wouldn’t get it.”
He pinches my chin with his thumb and forefinger, smirking as he says, “You and me, Ev? People will never get us, but we get us. That’s all that matters.”
The way he says that, it’s like he’s pleased that we have this secret…not just with the puppy play, but with our whole relationship, especially since we started doing…whatever we’re doing, BJs included.
People wouldn’t understand, and we don’t really need them to.
I love that about us.
“Hey, mijo!” I hear come from beside us. Frankie releases my chin and we turn together to see a woman approaching us. I recognize her from Frankie’s pictures on Facebook.
With dark hair that falls to her shoulders, Frankie’s mom, Andrea, has golden-brown skin, a few shades darker than Frankie’s.
She immediately gives Frankie a hug before darting over to me and offering one to me as well.
She gives good hugs. They’re very different from the ones my mother would give. Those were cold and insincere—as though she was always trying to keep her distance. Makes sense, considering how easy it was for her to get rid of me.
“Oh, Evan, I’ve heard so much about you,” she says as she pulls away. “I feel like I already know you. It’s a crime that my son hasn’t already brought you over to meet me.”
His stepdad, Randall, approaches and says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Evan.” Randall and I shake hands before we all continue into the park together, Frankie’s mom entertaining us with the epic adventure she and Randall had in finding street parking today.
We meet a crowd of people on the other side of the park, many wearing their official event shirts.
We’re all put to work. Frankie and Randall unload bags of pine chips from the back of a truck in the parking lot and transport them to various locations while Andrea and I are put on planting duty with a sixteen-year-old kid named Freddie, who we chat with as we plant a variety of flowers and herbs around the perimeter of the pond.
Andrea chats away with Freddie. She’s obviously very social and easy to get along with. She makes him feel at ease, and he opens up to us a little about his life as trans female-to-male—something she seems so cool about—something I know my own parents wouldn’t have understood.
We’re on our knees beside the pond. I dig holes as Frankie’s mom places plants in them. While we do that, Freddie collects litter from the spot beside where we’re working, so that when we’re finished, we can move into the new, clean area to plant some more flowers.
As I finish digging a hole, Frankie’s mom removes a couple of flowers from the green tray they’re on and starts to break up the roots before setting them into the ground.
After Freddie tells us a little about his work at a clothing store in the mall, Frankie’s mom turns to me. “What about you, Evan? Frankie tells me you’re a barista.”
“I work at the Feisty Fox not far from Metropolis. I just started a few months ago, but I really like it.”
“I used to be a barista in college. It was a fun job. It’s kind of nice getting to interact with people every day, except when they complain.”
“Oh, right?” I say. “Yeah, I have some bad ones occasionally, but on the whole, my regulars know me, and they are always really nice and friendly. I enjoy that part of it, getting to see people every day. Sometimes, you’ll have a grumpy customer, but if I’m real friendly, sometimes I’ll get a smile out of them, and that makes me feel better.”
“That’s an adorable way of looking at it.”
“Yeah, that’s so optimistic,” Freddie adds. “I work at Target and always get so annoyed if customers start barking at me about returns.”
I shrug. “We all have days where we get a little sad.”
I know the reality of that all too well from my past with depression. I know what it’s like to have a difficult time, to struggle to crack that smile, so I guess in a way, even when I meet someone who’s not having a good day, it’s easier for me to empathize with them because I’ve been there.