—35—
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Glen Waverley train line to Flinders Street Station
Seb: I’ve taken your advice.
Frankie: What advice?
Seb: Romantic grand gesture. I’m going to declare my undying love to Cel’ if it’s the last thing I do.
Frankie: Go get ’em, tiger!
Frankie was propped over the side of her bed, the light of her phone slowly drawing her awake. Her blanket was pulled up to her neck, trapping in body heat. Sunny moaned, eyes half-open, and wrapped his arms loosely around her. Frankie felt a tingle travel up her spine as she leaned back into his embrace.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, his voice gravelly.
‘Just messaging Seb,’ she said, clicking send on her last message.
‘Should I be jealous?’ He nuzzled into her neck. Frankie laughed and threw her phone back to the floor, flipping over to face him. She inhaled him, throwing her bare legs over his and planting a trail of kisses down his neck and over his collar bone.
‘So, what are we doing today?’ she murmured between kisses.
‘This?’ he replied huskily, pulling her swiftly on top of him. Frankie giggled into his chest. For the first time, she didn’t want to leave this bed or this man all day, until Paddy’s party later that night. Paddy was an old high school friend of Sunny’s. They liked to get together every few weeks for a Marvel movie marathon and to discuss their latest food obsessions, podcast recommendations and how much their favourite sports teams sucked. Their relationship was the epitome of a bromance, and Frankie found it exceptionally endearing. In fact, the handful of times Frankie had met Paddy, she had gravitated to him immediately. His cheeky grin and gangly way of walking made him instantly likeable. Sunny had been so animated chatting about the party over the last few days; he was looking forward to catching up with some overseas friends that he hadn’t seen for almost fifteen years, since his gap year trip to South America. Frankie grinned, thinking how handsome he was when he got excited.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sunny tilted Frankie’s face towards his.
‘That you’re cute.’ She smiled.
‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ he replied, and then he kissed her.
Frankie was draped lazily along her couch. After dragging herself out of Sunny’s arms so that he could focus on work, Frankie decided to spend the day on herself. A copy of Love and Friendship was open beside her, and she was simultaneously reading while painting her nails a cherry red, vigilantly turning the pages, careful not to smudge the fresh polish. Frankie already loved today. It wouldn’t be extravagant, but often the best days weren’t. Her day would be filled with not leaving the apartment, intermittently swapping between reading and watching episodes of The Handmaid’s Tale.
Just then, the intercom buzzed. Frankie groaned. If it’s my mother, again, I swear I’m moving. This would make it her third unannounced visit in the last week. Frankie sighed and mustered all her energy to stand up from her comfortable position on the couch.
‘Yes?’ she snapped into the intercom, bracing for her mum’s lyrical reply.
‘Frankie? It’s me, Claud.’
‘Claud?’ Frankie tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.
‘Sorry, sorry to bother you,’ he mumbled.
‘No, not at all. Come on up.’ She pressed the intercom button. Is something wrong with Cat? she worried, pacing in front of the door, waiting for Claud to appear. Is the baby okay?
‘Claud?’ She flung open the door as soon as she heard him arrive. She took in his dishevelled hair and bloodshot eyes. ‘Is Cat okay?’
‘Yes, yes, she’s fine,’ he muttered, walking into her apartment and taking a seat on her couch, pushing her book and nail polish to the side. Frankie sat beside him.
‘I’m sorry to barge in like this,’ Claud said. He ran a hand through his thick, shiny hair, which looked uncharacteristically wild and unkempt – a far cry from his usual neat and tidy appearance.
‘Claud, what’s happened?’ Frankie placed a hand on his. This level of affection felt foreign. Even though she had known Claud for over a decade, she had never really found common ground with him. He was always so serious, so nervous about little things, so content with knitting his way through life. But right now Claud looked the very opposite of content. His clenched fists were white, his usually glowing skin a pale yellow. Frankie’s heart suddenly ached for him, and she wanted desperately to help.
‘It’s Cat,’ he mumbled.
‘What about Cat?’ Frankie asked, shifting nervously on the couch.
‘I’m worried she’s not as invested, in the relationship. In our relationship.’ Claud fidgeted. ‘I just … I have to know. And it won’t change anything. I’ll support her through thick and thin. But Frankie, does Cat … does she still love me?’ Claud stared at Frankie in suspense.
‘Claud, that’s really something you should ask Cat.’
‘I’ve tried, God how I’ve tried. But you know how she is. Especially lately. If I ask her this, if I doubt her, well, I’m scared I’ll lose her forever.’ Claud shuddered.
‘Isn’t it better to know, though?’ Frankie asked.
Claud gulped.
‘Claud, can I ask: do you still love Cat?’ Frankie inquired cautiously.
Claud gaped back at her for what felt like forever. His perfectly chiselled face contorted, his startling blue eyes piercing through her. He looked like he was about to erupt into a pool of tears.
‘Of course! I love her more every single day,’ his voice cracked, ‘even after all these years, she still manages to surprise me.’ Frankie awkwardly placed her arms around Claud and hugged him. He buried his face in her shoulder and, she couldn’t believe it, cried.
Frankie assessed her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a black faux leather mini skirt paired with tights, ankle boots and a cream pullover. Her hair fell in loose curls around her face and she wore a stain of bright red lipstick to match her nails. Her bright green eyes sparkled beneath the slick of mascara she was wearing, and a faint splattering of freckles covered her nose. Who was this dazzling, carefree, happy woman standing before her? Frankie was filled with anticipation for tonight. She was looking forward to spending time with Sunny’s friends, to seeing a different side to the man she was growing so fond of. Tonight will be great, it will be wonderful, she told herself. And tomorrow she would tell Sunny about the blog. This was it. She exhaled, suddenly panicky at the thought.
‘Wow.’ Sunny leaned against the bedroom door frame, having just arrived. His eyes trailed up and down Frankie’s body.
‘Wow, yourself,’ Frankie gushed back. His hair was still a little damp from the shower and he smelled of freshly sprayed cologne. He wore an ironed blue shirt and tailored chinos. Frankie wanted to jump him, right then and there.
‘No time, babe. We’re already running an hour late,’ Sunny said. Am I that transparent? Frankie sulked and crept over to him, standing on her tippy toes to kiss him lightly on the jaw. He grabbed her hand.
‘Come on. Let’s go before I let you seduce me again.’
Frankie smiled, satisfied to know that she had ruffled his feathers.
‘So, do you think your friends will like me?’ Frankie asked. She had her hand on Sunny’s lap as he drove them to the party in Thornbury.
‘You’ve already met my friends and they love you,’ he said. Her heart bounced at the word love. They love me, but do you?
‘I haven’t met all of them. Just Paddy and Richie.’
‘They’re the hardest to impress. If they love you, trust me, they’ll all love you.’
‘So, who’s coming from overseas?’ Frankie rushed to say, feeling nervous.
‘Oh, just a handful of the guys we met on our travels when we were eighteen.’ He smiled. ‘They were all so wild back then. But then, so was I.’ Sunny smirked as he pulled up at a red light. Frankie gazed out the window, watching a group of rowdy teenagers in short skirts and heavy make-up sing down the street, drinking from paper bags.
‘I would have loved to have known eighteen-year-old you.’ Frankie grinned.
‘I would have rocked your fifteen-year-old world, Frankston.’
‘Gross.’ She laughed.
‘Tell me what you were like at fifteen,’ he pressed.
An image of Frankie’s gawky, blemished skin flashed before her eyes. She could practically hear her mum chanting mantras and admonishing her dad from the other room. Frankie felt her heart quicken. ‘There’s really nothing to tell,’ she blurted out.
‘Frank, when will you start letting me in?’ Sunny said, uncharacteristically annoyed.
Frankie tensed. ‘I, ah … I liked reading when I was fifteen,’ she uttered.
‘How interesting,’ Sunny responded, a little too sarcastically.
Nineties music pulsed from the quaint terrace house. Three men stood in the front garden, laughing and smoking. A beautiful brunette woman wearing a slinky red dress was passionately kissing a short blonde woman in the alcove by the front door.
‘I feel like I’m in high school again.’ Frankie looked dubious.
‘Welcome to Paddy’s house parties.’
Sunny led Frankie in through the front door, not letting go of her hand. The music was loud and a haze of smoke filled the rooms. Bottles of vodka and cans of beer were scattered across spare tables, alongside bowls of corn chips and lollies.
‘Day! Nice of you to show up.’ Paddy slapped Sunny hard on the back. He was wearing a T-shirt that said, This guy can party.
‘Mate, what a turnout. I didn’t expect there to be so many people here.’ Sunny brought him in for a hug, letting go of Frankie’s hand.
‘Nice to see you, Frankie.’ Paddy kissed her cheek.
‘You too, Paddy. Thanks for having me.’ She fidgeted with her skirt, all of a sudden feeling out of place. She had expected quiet music, cheese and wine, not public make-out sessions, red plastic cups and – was that weed she smelled?
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked.
‘That would be great,’ she replied, following Paddy into the living room. He cracked a beer for Sunny and poured a glass of white wine into a plastic cup for Frankie.
‘How have you been?’ he shouted over the music.
‘I’ve been good. What about you? Sunny tells me that your football team is doing terribly?’ Frankie laughed as Paddy immediately started to rattle on about why he thought his team was ‘in the shits’, and how they could improve. As she looked around the room she saw a game of beer pong playing out in the corner, and someone throwing up into a rubbish bin while a golden retriever walked aimlessly around eating discarded chips off the floor. Where am I?
Sunny tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Frankie, this is my very old and dear friend, Miguel.’
Frankie turned around, and froze.
‘Frankie? How very enjoyable to see you again.’ The tanned, curly-haired Brazilian kissed her hand. Frankie couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak. Shit, shit, shit.
‘Again? You two have met?’ Sunny looked at Frankie curiously.
‘Yes, indeed.’ Miguel smiled. ‘We meet on Monday. We went on date to nice cheese-and-wine restaurant. I had such good time, Frankie. So happy I get to see you again.’ Miguel stroked her arm. Frankie blanched.
‘Sorry. I must have heard you wrong. You two went on a date? On Monday night?’ Sunny said, confused. A young woman in a purple dress with a plunging neckline walked by Sunny and grabbed his arm, asking him if he remembered her. He nudged her away.
‘Yes, we went on date on Monday. Frankie, she very sexy. Very modern woman. I one of many men she goes on date with from her book experimentation. I hope she choose me though, I hope I special to her.’ He winked at Frankie, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Sunny stared at Frankie as if he had never met her before.
‘Sunny, I can explain,’ she said meekly. Sunny’s face was turning a deep red, a giant crease forming in the centre of his forehead.
‘You went on a date with Miguel?’ Paddy frowned, but Frankie couldn’t take her eyes off Sunny, who seemed to be slowly shattering before her. She reached out to touch his arm but he jerked back like she was poison.
‘Please, Sunny, I can explain. Just listen to me.’ Frankie’s voice was breaking.
‘I sorry.’ Miguel shrugged, confused. ‘I didn’t know you two in relationship. Why you go on date with me and other men if you in relationship with beloved Sunny?’ he asked, rubbing salt in the wound. Shut the fuck up, Miguel.
‘Mate, are you all right?’ Paddy rubbed Sunny’s shoulder, shooting daggers at Frankie. Sunny was as still as a statue, breathing deeply, staring straight into Frankie’s eyes. She reached for him again, but he just scowled, turned his back on her and walked away. Just like that, he was gone.