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)
“Well, I don’t know that she’ll exactly want me coming to barbecues in puppy gear,” I tease.
Z chuckles. “No, I imagine not. But really, I think this is just a conversation that needs to happen between you guys, and I’m sure, even if Frankie is a little freaked out or upset that his mom knows, I don’t think he wants to throw away your relationship any more than you do. Do you think that?”
I reflect on all the fun times we’ve shared—all the TV shows we’ve watched on Netflix together…the Chinese food we’ve devoured, despite lengthy debates about having Mongolian chicken versus Mongolian beef. I think about Frankie’s warm smile and the effect it can have on me when I’m having a bad day.
I have to admit that maybe I’ve gotten a little too worked up about all of this because of the fears and insecurities it’s activated within me.
“No, I don’t think he’ll throw it all away. It’s just…you know, I have this issue…sometimes I get a little sad.”
“Do you have issues with depression, Evan?”
“Yeah. And I guess I’m always feeling like, good as things can get, that one day I’m going to wake up and I’ll be back to how I was before I started getting help. Feeling afraid and worried and hardly able to get up out of bed. That I’ll go back to being someone who I really don’t want to be. And I’ll lose all those good things that I have in my life. That’s what I think really scared me tonight. Like…maybe I fucked it all up.”
“I don’t think you fucked anything up, Evan. And do you really feel like that person you were back before you got help? Like you wouldn’t be able to get better if you had another episode?”
“Not as much as I used to feel like that. It’s just…now that I have Frankie…I guess I feel like I have more to lose than I did before, and it’s scary.”
“Ooh, sounds like you’ve got it bad. I feel like maybe an L-word is on the horizon.”
There’s that warm smile again.
“I think I’ve been feeling that way for a while now, I just didn’t know what it was…because I’ve never had anyone like Frankie in my life before, and it’s scary as fuck, Z.”
“Yes, it is, pup. Yes, it is. So are you feeling any better?”
“A lot better. And, it’s Pup Runt, by the way.”
Z snickers, then lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Pup Runt seems a little feisty now, doesn’t he?”
“Pup Runt’s pretty feisty,” I admit.
I can’t help but grin. It reminds me of how much joy the puppy play has brought into my life, and really, into Frankie’s life as well.
“Life isn’t always easy, Pup Runt,” Z says. “But if it were, what fun would it be?”
“For sure.”
“I think I might close the shop a little early, if you want to head out for a drink.”
I like the idea of chatting with him some more, but I’m not particularly interested in getting a drink right now. “Do you mind if we get some frozen yogurt instead?”
“Pup Runt, you’re ridiculous if you thought Frankie was going to give up anyone as adorable as you.”
He rubs my head playfully as he rises from his chair. “It’s on me, unless you go crazy with the toppings, because I’m not a millionaire over here.”
I feel a lot better already.
32
Frankie
Mom and I sit in my car, parked in her driveway. We’ve hardly said a word the whole drive, thoughts of the sperm donor—my father…I don’t know how I really think of him—and Evan still a powerful hurricane in my brain that I don’t know how to deal with. “He wrote me,” I tell her. “Dad…he wrote me, and I ignored it. I ripped it up and now all I can think about is the fact that he likely told me he was sick, that he was dying. And I don’t want to care. I hate him. I don’t know how not to hate him…but there’s a part of me that cares too and that feels guilty for not reading the letter. Then I feel even more guilty for thinking that way, because he hurt the person I love most in this world. I don’t know how to make sense of all these conflicting emotions.”
“Oh, mijo.” Mom unclicks her seat belt, reaches over, and pulls me into a hug. “You don’t have to make sense of it. What in the world ever made you believe emotions made a damn bit of sense? They don’t. Most feelings aren’t logical, and that’s okay. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”
Then why doesn’t it feel that way? “You would have read it,” I say when we part.
“Yes, I would have…but so? That doesn’t make me right and you wrong. People spend too much time trying to make their beliefs someone else’s or believing what they do is always right. How one person reacts to a situation doesn’t mean that’s how everyone should or would react to it. There are no rule books to being human.”