—36—
The door slammed shut behind them. Sunny trudged into his apartment, unceremoniously dumping his jacket on a chair next to the kitchen table. Frankie placed her handbag on the coat stand in the narrow hall, and found him fiddling with his phone charger at the kitchen counter, his back to her.
‘Please, can we talk this through?’ Frankie dared to approach him, resting her head between his shoulder blades. He stiffened. ‘Please, Sunny. Let me explain.’
He twisted around, the force sending Frankie sailing two steps back. Sunny stared down at her and she felt herself retreat within. She couldn’t bear to see his eyes so dark, so full of disappointment and hurt. He didn’t say a word.
‘Sunny, let’s sit and talk. Please let me make this better.’ Frankie hung her head low. She heard Sunny exhale deeply and, begrudgingly it would seem, walk over to the couch. Frankie sat down after him and watched as he crept to the very edge of the sofa, moving as far away from her as possible, as if she were a contagious rash. She stared at the space between them, her heart screaming in her chest.
‘Sunny …’ Frankie started. ‘Yes, I went out with Miguel. But not because I liked him and definitely not because I don’t care deeply for you. Because I do. You have to know that. And as soon as I agreed to meet Miguel I instantly regretted it.’
Sunny continued to look at the floor, his chest rising and falling with large but quiet gulps of air.
‘The whole Miguel thing was just a ruse. The week I met you, Cat and I concocted a plan to use books to find me a boyfriend.’
That seemed to get Sunny’s attention. He looked up at her, confused.
‘It sounds ridiculous, I know. But I was in a rut. Personally and professionally. I hadn’t been on a decent date in months, I hadn’t written a word in God knows how long. I needed something to help shake things up.’ She tried to string words together to explain her plot, but saying it out loud made it all sound that much more insane. That much more unfair to Sunny. ‘You were barely on the scene back then. It was just supposed to be a silly experiment! An innocent ploy to meet some interesting people who loved to read. Fodder for my blog—’
‘Your blog?’ Sunny interrupted. ‘You’ve kept this from me for months, but have been telling the entire internet?’
Frankie looked away. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘How many were there?’
‘How many what?’
‘You know exactly what I’m asking here, Frankie,’ Sunny growled.
Frankie averted her eyes as she confessed.
‘Fourteen! You’ve been out with fourteen different men while we’ve been dating!’
‘Well, technically one of them was a woman, which hardly counts.’
‘I’m really not in the mood for cute, Frankie,’ Sunny said.
His tone was so unfamiliar to Frankie, so jarring to her senses. How did I let everything unravel like this?
‘Frankie, I just don’t know what to say to you. And right now, I can’t think of a way to repair this. We’ve been together four months – four months,’ he repeated, the magnitude of her mistake stirring furiously around them, ‘and you never said a word. And not only that, I’ve been pushing you to write again all this time and you lied to my face about not daring to pick up a pen.’
‘Sunny, I’m so sorry. The dates, they meant nothing. You have to know that!’
‘Nothing? Did anything ever happen with these guys?’ Sunny whispered.
Frankie paled. ‘No … Just a … kiss—.’
‘I can’t believe you!’ Sunny boomed, throwing his fist down on the arm of the couch.
‘Sunny, I’m so sorry. As soon as I started falling for you, really falling, everything else was just inspiration for the blog. And then the blog started getting some traction and I was finally writing fluidly again. I haven’t felt good about my writing since my first book. My publisher’s even interested in turning the blog into a book! I guess I started craving the content to fuel my writing. And I didn’t want to let it all go. I know it doesn’t justify any of this.’ She watched him fidget with the sleeve of his jumper. ‘I got carried away. I should have stopped as soon as you and I became more serious. I should have been honest with you.’ She moved towards him. ‘I’d been single for so long, I wasn’t used to thinking about anyone but myself. I’ve been self-involved and selfish. I can see that so clearly now. But please, Sunny, you have to know it was just for the blog. It doesn’t change anything for us.’ She paused. ‘You have had my true self all along.’
She regretted her last words as soon as they fell out of her mouth.
‘Your true self?’ Sunny walked to the armchair that stood diagonally across from the couch, widening the space between them further. He fell into it, leaning forward on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. The whites of his knuckles glared back at Frankie. ‘How can you expect me to believe that? You’ve spent our entire relationship hiding things from me. Hiding in your self-diagnosed “gap”, when all I’ve ever wanted was for you to open up to me. For you to give me a chance to know you. Really know you.’
Frankie stared at a piece of twine that had unlaced itself from the seam of the cushion leaning against her thigh. She tugged at it, feeling her own life begin to fray along with it.
‘The thing is, Frankie,’ Sunny murmured, ‘this is merely proof of what I’ve feared all along.’
Frankie’s head jolted up. She took in Sunny’s face, his eyes creased with concern.
‘You’ve never really let me in, have you? Despite what you say, you haven’t let yourself fall completely for me. A part of you has always remained unreachable, absent. You’ve doubted me – us – all the way along. You just can’t be satisfied.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘It’s completely fair. You push people away, Frankie! You can’t even answer a simple question about your childhood. You don’t believe in yourself and you don’t believe in other people! You can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m not just going to up and leave suddenly, or embarrass you, or ridicule you, or doubt you.’ His voice raised a decibel.
‘You’re wrong,’ she retorted unconvincingly. Is he?
‘Tell me you haven’t spent nights lying awake nitpicking my every move, my every trait? Tell me you haven’t doubted my sincerity or questioned my feelings? Tell me those dates or that blog weren’t a way to secretly make sure that there wasn’t somebody better suited for you out there. Tell me I’m enough.’ Sunny’s back curved as he rocked slowly back and forth. Frankie shook her head furiously, but couldn’t help but think, Is he right?
‘Frankie, I’ve tried to gain your trust. I’ve tried to make you see that I am exactly what I appear to be. I’ve given you all of me.’
‘I’ve given you all of me too.’
‘Bullshit!’ Sunny shot up again. ‘That’s bullshit, Frankie! You’ve been hiding this huge secret from me for months. You’ve been dating other people this whole time!’
‘I know, I’ve been so wrong about everything. But I’m scared, okay. I’m scared!’ The words tumbled out of her.
‘We’re all bloody scared, Frankie. You don’t think I’m terrified? Terrified of losing somebody I love again? It haunts me every day and every night. My fear follows me everywhere. But I force myself to look beyond it. To see the good in humans and the good in the world. The good in you. Because that’s life. Shit happens and you deal with it and you force yourself to believe that not everything and everybody is out to get you. I let myself love again because I saw how special you were. How special our connection was. But everything’s different now.’
‘You love me?’ Frankie’s voice quivered.
Sunny shook his head. ‘What do you think, Frankie? I love everything about you,’ Sunny said, his pain making him effusive. ‘I love the little crease in your forehead you get when you read the sad parts in books. I love it when you reach for my hand in your sleep. I love how your voice changes when you talk on the phone when you’re on the train. I love that you always say thank you twice when your food arrives. I love that you can’t pick favourites. I love your smile, your eyelashes, the tiny freckle on your hip bone that’s shaped like a heart. I love the way you cross your arms when you’re thinking. I love how much you cherish Cat and Seb, and how, even when reading a book for the millionth time, you still gasp when you get to the twist. I really loved you, Frankie.’
Frankie let out a small whimper. I am loved. I am loved by a man who really sees me for me. Who notices me and is endeared by me, warts and all. Have I ruined everything?
‘Please, Sunny! Please don’t let this change things,’ Frankie begged. ‘I’ll go home and delete the blog right now! Screw the publisher. Screw the book! You’re more important than any of that. I just want to go back to the way things were. Let this be a little blip that we’ll laugh about a few months down the track. Please, Sunny, this can’t be it. Because,’ Frankie mustered the courage to let herself admit, out loud, what she had been too afraid to tell him. She gave herself permission to be vulnerable. Sunny was worth the risk. ‘Because I love you too.’
‘You don’t get it Frankie. You’re too late,’ Sunny breathed. ‘You’ve lied to me throughout our entire relationship.’ He turned his back to her. ‘I want you to be happy. I truly do. I want you to succeed and realise your potential. But I won’t be able to move past this.’ The realisation hung precariously in the air between them. Plump tears tore down Frankie’s cheeks. She felt her breath quicken.
‘Sunny …’
With his back still facing her, Sunny quietly said, ‘I think you should go.’ And before she could utter another word, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Without even a glance in her direction, he left her teetering on the brink of the couch, calling out to him wordlessly.
A moment (or an eternity) later, Frankie heaved herself off the couch. She considered banging down Sunny’s bedroom door in one last effort to make him see how sorry she was, how committed she was to him. But what’s the point? His mind is made up. Frankie looked around, for what felt like the last time. She took in his beautiful graphics hanging from the walls and his creative words sliding off the kitchen table. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. God, what a cliché.
Frankie gathered her belongings and quietly padded out the front door, closing it behind her with a conclusive clunk. She allowed herself a moment to lean up against its firm wood, silently willing Sunny to come out, to catch her before she was gone. Before it was too late. She waited a moment, listening painfully for the familiar sound of his feet moving towards her. She pictured him wrapping her in his arms and kissing her furiously on the cheeks and neck, whispering to her that it was okay, that he forgave her, that they would make this work, that he loved her unconditionally. She waited. But he didn’t come.
As she dragged herself downstairs and through the evening foot traffic, her grief felt physical. Her skin prickled and her heart twisted. Is it really over? Just like that? Oh God, I’ve fucked it all up!
Frankie picked up her pace as she neared her tram stop. She couldn’t wait to get home and hide under the covers. In fact, she might never leave. She might just live there forever, surviving off chocolate bars and tins of corn and wine. Frankie pulled out her phone to check the departure timetable, welcoming the temporary distraction, and was so engrossed in her search she only looked up a split-second before she slammed headfirst into a passer-by, sending her phone skidding out of her palm and clattering to the ground, followed by loud expletives.
She looked up. ‘Tom!’ she gasped. Tom from the train date. Tom from the train date experiment that had just obliterated her relationship with the guy for whom she cared desperately. Sunny. Of course she was running into Tom now.
‘Frankie.’ Tom bent down to retrieve her phone. He kissed her on the cheek as he planted it in her palm. ‘Fancy running into you. Literally! How have you been?’
Frankie attempted to casually cover her bloodshot eyes with a handful of stray hair. ‘Ah, good, great,’ she stuttered. ‘You, how about you?’
‘I’m well, thanks. Just on my way home from a night out. I was actually thinking about you the other day. I finally got around to reading 1984, like you said I should. Now I totally get your exasperated “What are you waiting for?” That Orwell, hey? It’s just crazy how accurate his predictions were. And that line about being so loved that you’re understood, or something. It’s been ringing in my mind since I put the book down!’
Frankie nodded politely. A day ago, a literary remark like that would have had her running for her laptop (and perhaps a cold shower). But now, everything sounded different. The strain of holding herself together made it impossible to conjure up a simple response. She nodded again.
‘I better run, I have an early wake-up tomorrow morning.’ Tom checked his watch with a flick of his wrist. ‘But I’m so glad I bumped into you, Frankie. You know, reading that book made me think how much I wished we could have found another time to meet up.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you. It was a hectic month at work.’ Frankie trailed off, looking over his shoulder. Where the hell is the tram?
‘These things happen. Don’t sweat it.’ Tom waved her off. ‘Would you mind if I maybe tried again? Asking you out?’
Frankie’s body tightened. Do not say anything, she told herself. I repeat, do not say a word. ‘Um, ah,’ was all she mustered.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. How about I give you a few days to think about it?’ Tom gave her arm a light squeeze. ‘Let’s say I call you at the end of the week and see where you’re at?’
Frankie stared mutely back at Tom, offering a weak smile.
‘Have a great rest of your night,’ Tom said, and off he jogged.
Frankie let out a long breath, wondering if she had taken in any air at all during that conversation. She instantly regretted her exchange with Perfectly Lovely But Still No Spark Tom. He was probably just being polite, asking me out again, Frankie told herself as she stepped aboard the waiting tram.