“Get up,” Chloe said. She sat carefully on the side of Frankie’s bed.
“No.” Chloe lay down beside her, wrapping an arm around the bundle of blankets Frankie had crawled under. There was one tiny strand of light poking through the crack in the curtains. Frankie watched dust dance, tumbling freely in and out of the strand. Light. Dark. Here. Gone.
“Honey, it’s been four days.”
She felt Chloe’s hand smooth her hair back from her forehead, her breath against Frankie’s neck.
“Two and a half.”
“Frankie, it’s Saturday.”
“But I didn’t crawl into bed until Wednesday night.”
“Because you got pie-eyed drunk and stayed on the couch.”
Frankie shrugged Chloe’s arm off of her and cocooned herself deeper into the blankets. She avoided putting the blankets over her face because she hadn’t brushed her teeth and really, she should have.
“Go away, Chloe.”
Chloe nestled in and Frankie fell asleep, tears soaking her pillow. When she awoke a little while later, Chloe was gone and so was the shard of light. Unable to stand, she gingerly sat up, tested her ability to stay upright without wavering, and padded to her shower. As she watched the water and soap swirl down the drain, she wished life were like that; she wished she could wash the ache away like the dirt. She’d watch it circle the drain and think, Wow, that was bad. Then she’d feel clean and whole again. Her tears merged with the water, making their own splash on the porcelain. When she came into the kitchen, Chloe was making a pot of soup. It smelled like garlic and tomatoes, which Frankie’s stomach clearly approved of, as it rumbled loudly.
“Hungry?”
Frankie nodded. She sat at the counter, her limbs heavy. The emptiness of her belly trumped the emptiness of her chest so she resisted going back to bed.
“Thanks, Chloe.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” She set a bowl of soup in front of Frankie and passed her a spoon.
“It’s a little late for that.” Frankie swallowed the soup, grateful it could slide past the constant lump in her throat.
“Are you at the ice-cream stage yet? I really want you to be at that stage,” Chloe said, leaning against the counter, blowing on her own soup.
“Maybe. If I’m not, we can always do it twice.”
They finished their soup in silence but Frankie congratulated herself on at least eating. And being clean.
“I’ll get that,” Frankie said when Chloe began squirting soap in the sink.
Chloe gave her a weak smile and said she’d go get every flavor of ice cream available. Frankie tried not to mix tears with the dishwater but her efforts were futile. She didn’t know that her entire body could feel heavy, but it did, which made it easier to crawl back into bed. She was staring at nothing when the doorbell rang a short while later.
“I gave you a key, Chloe.” The words came out rough and raw but she got up and shuffled to the door. Yanking it open, reminding herself she couldn’t be irritated when Chloe was the only sure thing in her life right now, she came face to face with Leslie.
“Hi. I tried to call. I left a couple of messages. Is now a bad time?” Leslie frowned, taking in Frankie’s disheveled appearance. Good thing she hadn’t come an hour ago, Frankie thought.
“Uh. I’m just under the weather. It’s been a rough week,” Frankie said, her post-crying voice working to her advantage. She moved aside so Leslie could come in and barely resisted the urge to smooth her hair or run back and throw on something that wasn’t pajamas.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s definitely the time of year for it though. If you’re going to have kids around, you’ll need to build up that immune system,” Leslie said. Frankie’s heart bounced, testing itself out to see if she could still feel hope.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. Do you mind if we sit down?”
They moved into the living room, Frankie hanging onto Leslie’s words like a rope. She sat across from her, keeping her hands and feet still. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Frankie said, tucking her hair behind her ears. At least it was washed.
“Don’t be. Honestly, we all get sick. Frankie, I wanted to be the one to come by because I feel like...I hope we’re friends and I thought it would be easier,” Leslie said, settling her purse on the floor by her feet. Her gaze was direct and Frankie could see the regret in it. The hope that had filled her chest fizzled, deflated like a popped balloon.
“The boys aren’t coming back.” The words hurt to say, like each one had little razors attached as they came out of her mouth.
Leslie sat up straighter and gave Frankie a moment. “Sue and Nelson would like to transition out of being an emergency care home. Their own son is Miles’s age and they’d like more consistency. They’ve been caring for children for several years, Frankie, and the boys are a very good fit for their family.”
Frankie nodded too fast, her eyes wide to ward off tears. It was painful to hold them open. She bit her lip to counteract the pressure building in her chest. Leslie sighed and continued.
“The good news is that you have been approved to provide care. In fact, we think you’ll be an excellent caregiver. I’m saying this as your friend, not a government employee, but this is just a case of bad timing, Frankie. I really believe that the boys would have been put in your care if Sue and Nel hadn’t decided this.”
When Frankie kept nodding, breathing through her nose with her eyes fixed on the wall, Leslie came to sit next to Frankie. She hesitated only a second and then wrapped her arms around her and even though she didn’t want to, Frankie accepted the comfort.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. But this is part of it. You’ll get attached and then they leave. It’s a lousy initiation but this is what it’s like.”
Frankie patted Leslie’s arm and sat back. “Thank you for coming to tell me. Will I…do you think…can I see the boys?” The last word cracked into two syllables.
“I thought you might ask that. Sue said she would love if you stayed part of their lives. She’d be a great person for you to get to know, kind of like a mentor. She’s been doing this a long time. She was worried about this hurting you.”
“Do the boys know?”
“Sue and Nelson are telling them tonight. You have their number. Take a few days and then call and make arrangements to see them.”
There was nothing more to say and Frankie couldn’t find the energy to fill the space with idle chitchat. Leslie put her hand on Frankie’s and squeezed before letting herself out. She sat on her couch, unmoving, afraid that if she moved, she would feel, and if she felt anything, it would hurt and it might not stop. When Chloe came in twenty minutes later, Frankie’s back was beginning to ache, but still, she didn’t move, except to breathe, which was a chore in itself.
“Okay, for a small town, I have to commend the ice cream selection,” Chloe called as she slammed the door behind her, heading straight for the kitchen.
Frankie listened to the freezer open, items being jostled around as her friend tried to find space. “Seven kinds. That’s more than—oh shit. What happened?” Chloe was at her side instantly, her arms holding Frankie tight. The movement sent a pulse up Frankie’s spine, spreading the ache throughout her back.
“The boys are staying where they are.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“I got approved to be a foster parent, but not for them.”
Chloe rocked back and forth and Frankie let her body sway. Frankie told Chloe what Leslie had said, adding that as long as the boys were happy, that was what mattered. And it was. Frankie wanted them to be happy. Chloe sat back and brushed Frankie’s hair out of her eyes.
“What are you going to do?”
“About what?” Frankie turned her head to meet Chloe’s soft gaze.
“Are you going to say yes if they ask you to have another foster child here?”
“I don’t know. I started this because I accidently fell in love with the boys.”
“I’m so sorry. This has been an entirely lousy week for you.”
Frankie continued to sit even after Chloe stood up.
“How about some ice cream?”
She heard Chloe’s false cheer and wanted to take it, jump all over it, and pretend everything was okay. “No. Thanks anyway.”
Chloe kneeled down so they were eye level and rested her hands on Frankie’s lap. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I’m just going to sit here until it stops hurting.”
Chloe’s lips firmed into a hard line and she took a seat beside Frankie again. Neither of them asked the unspoken question on Frankie’s mind: What it if never stopped?