Dear Frankie...

Letter 10

Dear Frankie,
Happy birthday.
I hope you have a really nice day and get as drunk as your body will be able and maybe hook up with someone and don’t get her knocked up.
I’m sorry. It’s not me, it’s the hormones.
I really do hope you have a good birthday and dunno… get lots of candy.
Hannah got lots of candy, mainly because to explain her nun costume she sang The Beatles wildly at every doorstep we went to. She even had a yellow plastic gun she painted herself and shook around mainly along every chorus of “mother superior hold the gun” and hugged near chest along “happiness is a warm gun”. People seemed to love that. Some dude gave her ten dollars. I made her give then back because he looked like a creep.
See? I’m already a natural mother. Protecting children from creeps and other dangers. Alice came along to tape Hannah, she even dressed up as a doll. She certainly looked the part. Honestly she only dressed like that because there's a party latter on and she likes to see “hot dads”.
Whatever.
I dressed up as a bitter teenager. Or maybe that’s just me. Hannah got upset with the bitter teenager costume so I was forced into wearing a cat in the hat-hat.
It’s alright, I figured I’d wear that to the party as well.
I ended leaving the party early because it was really bringing me down. There’s a thing about drunks when you are not one of them, somehow they all seem full of bullshit. “Drink this, drink that! Shove these up you ass!”
All I could think about was how Finn and I were the most screwed up of the bunch, even before all this happened. That maybe such a shallow bunch had encouraged us to go and fuck ourselves, only it didn’t make us feel better.
So we tried harder and now there was no way back.
Pirate patch and one in the oven. What a pair.
I wonder where you would have fitted in the picture.
College dropout with dirty hair.
Eventually I got so disgusted thinking this, I went outside, puked in a potted plant and then ran through half the city to Finn’s place.
Only when I got there it was way worse. Finn was sitting in front of the T.V. crying madly with his unknown blue eye. I had never seen him cry so hard in my life.
Not ever. Even when he woke up and the doctors told him what happened, he just laughed. Like it was no big deal. I cried hard enough for both of us and kept saying “but Finney… that’s my brown eye”. Finn just kept grinning and said he’d get a glass one and make sure it was brown.
He never stopped grinning in the hospital and only asked for me to stay during the night. I knew he’s eventually stop smiling but never expected this, seeing him falling apart into pieces while some stupid 90’s sitcom played in the background.
Maybe if I saw you, I’d fall apart like this and you’d freeze there, just like me.
I don’t know how I slid into the house and turned the T.V off.
Finn just wiped his nose and looked at me puzzled.
And then it happened. I was wiping his tears of his single eye and Finn looked at me as when he first told me of his little sister who died long time ago when he was seven. She tripped and hit her head. I don’t know why but I felt like he had his both his eyes when he whispered desperately: “Is it really all true?”
Something inside me broke. I had no answer to give. I still don’t.
“Don’t make this harder…”
His hands held on to me, his blue eye gazed at me, pleading.
“Ava, is really all true?”
Finn was probably talking about his eye and everything that had spiraled down and collapsed to fuck us.
“I’m three months pregnant.”
I let it slip. It was barely audible but it was out.
Finn just laughed and said we should go to sleep.
We crawled into bed, in the darkness Finn curled up next to me.
I don’t know why but I imaged it was you and not Finn. And maybe this would be you if you hadn’t left. Or maybe I should stop imagining bullocks.
Or am I just making it harder, Frankie?
Harder to breath, harder to heal, harder to live, harder to let go?
It was like time stopped inside that bed. I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Everything seemed to smell like cigarettes. Just like everything seems to be gray.
You smell like cigarettes and your face is just becoming a gray spot in my memory.
And I was losing it, I really was. I thought I’d break down just like I did in Newark.
But then Finn placed his hand on my belly and whispered “We’re in this shit together”.

Is it really all true, Frankie?
Ava.

*****************
YEY! we got to ten! Special thanks to mizzy Batgirl! And I'm sorry to be such a cunt but no comments= no updates. I'm sorry but there's like 15 people subscribed and 96 readers and only 3 comments per letter. That's just mean. Please comment.
*****************