Gone

“I’m going to be sick. Like, I can feel the vomit creeping up my throat, and I know it’s only seconds before it spews out of my mouth.”

I cringed at the graphic image before laughing. “Hello works, too, usually.”

He sighed loudly into the phone receiver, which sent over a spattering of static crackling that made me wince away from my cell. “Hi. But I’m panicking about meeting your parents. What if they don’t see my charm?”

“They’ll see your charm,” I assured him. “It’s really deep and hidden behind all your obnoxious, but they’ll see it, I think.”

“You’re not helping. What you’re doing is the exact opposite of helping.”

“Sorry.”

I heard him shuffling around in the background, muttering under his breath. “So what do you think,” he started finally, “do I look better in gray or green?”

I thought about it for a second. “I have no idea.”

“FRANKIE. THIS IS NOT HELPING!”

In spite of myself, I burst out laughing, throwing my hand over my mouth to try to contain my hysterics a little bit. “I’m sorry! But you’re not trying to make my parents fall in love with you, right? You’re just trying to get through a dinner and, by the end of it, make them like you enough so they don’t demand that I break up with you on the spot. Okay?”

“But what if they really hate the color green I’m wearing, and so they tell you that you’re too good for me, and then you break up with me anyway?”

“I’m sorry, but where did you get the idea that my parents were heartless, cold dictators who control my every move?” My voice shook as I struggled to hold back more laughter, and although Liam had ignored it the first time, he couldn’t ignore the second wave.

“My anxiety is not funny.”

“It is a little bit.” I bit my lip as hard as I could to control myself, and once I was satisfied that my voice would be even, I spoke again. “Really, you’re going to be fine. Unless it comes out during dinner that you’re an HIV-positive drug dealer who prostitutes himself and strips at a dive bar for money and has the bad habit of slitting children’s throats for sexual gratification, you’re going to be fine.”

There was a long silence before Liam finally snapped, “Okay, how the fuck did you come up with that? Like, was that just off the top of your head, or…?”

“Don’t underestimate me. Make sure you’re not late!”

He clearly looked at the clock, since he immediately swore and hung up on me without saying goodbye.

I sighed and threw myself back on my bed, smoothing down the hem of my floral summer dress to cover up the panties that were dangerously close to being exposed. Maybe the fact that I found Liam’s nervousness over meeting my parents made me a bad girlfriend, but I just couldn’t help it. All it took for the cocky, no-nonsense soccer player to crack was to enter adults into the situation, and he crumbled faster than a stale cookie.

I just really hoped that he wouldn’t embarrass me by doing something ridiculous because he was too panicked to pay attention to what he was doing.



Liam cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks filled with a blush so vibrant that it looked like he’d been running laps for hours. “I’m really sorry about your gravy boat, Mrs. Waters. It was a little heavier than I’d been expecting.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mom expressed with a wave of her hand. “It was an old thing, anyway. We can always get a new one.”

I let out an inaudible sigh, trying to quit replaying the accident over and over again in my head.

“So, Liam, you’re on the soccer team with Frankie?” my dad asked conversationally, clearly trying to steer topics toward something more comfortable for everyone. “What position do you play?”

“I am,” Liam agreed. “And I used to play center forward, but since your daughter seems most comfortable with that position, I’m more than happy to play either of the wings.”

“Are you any good?” Dad asked.

“I’m alright,” Liam mumbled, flushing again, making intense eye contact with his mashed potatoes.

“He’s great,” I reiterated. “Almost good enough to give me a run for my money.”

Dad’s eyes widened considerably with mock surprise. “Well, will you look at that! My cocky daughter just actually admitted that someone else in the world might possibly be close to her talent level. There is hope, after all.”

Liam laughed a little too loudly to be okay, while I lashed out my foot to try to kick my dad, only to connect with the leg of the table instead. Everything shook for a second, my parents acting like my mistake was the most hysterical thing on the planet, while Liam rushed to grab anything he could to keep any other glass pieces from shattering on the floor.

“Frankie, please,” Mom sighed, trying to get her control back, though an occasional burst of laughter tried to escape every few seconds. “At least pretend to be mature in front of your boyfriend.”

I blushed fiercely at my mother’s use of the b-word, since we hadn’t exactly made things official, but Liam didn’t seem to mind as he snuck his hand onto my thigh under the table, patting supportively. “It’s perfectly okay,” he told my mother with a grin. “I already know your daughter is nowhere near mature.”

“I’m perfectly mature,” I protested as I glared at the two of them. “Really!”

My father cleared his throat and shot me a look as a signal that he didn’t believe a word I said, before speaking to Liam again. “So you’re from England, is that right?”

“Yes, I am.” He swallowed his piece of turkey noisily, feeling the pressure of being put on the spot again. “Wolverhampton, to be more specific.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Dad laughed with a shrug. “But I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“It’s alright. I do like it here quite a lot, though, and I’m less excited about the idea of going back home than I thought I would be.”

I shifted uncomfortably, just like I always did when the subject of Liam going back to England was brought up, and Dad quickly caught onto the cue. “So what’s your favorite subject in school?”

“Gym.” Liam chuckled shortly, while my parents tried to look amused. “Um, academic-wise, I think I like science the best. I’m taking AP Chemistry this year, and even though it’s more of a math class, I really enjoy it.”

“Oh, AP?” my mother repeated, giving me an impressed look that also communicated that she wished I would apply myself more so I could be bragging to his parents about how I was in all AP classes. When I wasn’t even in one. “That’s wonderful.”

There was more small talk, where my parents basically interrogated Liam on how intelligent he was and whether or not he knew his IQ score and all kinds of other ridiculous questions. But when it was done, and after two slices of Waters Family Apple Pie, Liam was free to go home.

I walked him to the door, a sheepish look on my face. “Sorry about the end of that. I didn’t know they’d get so excited about how smart you are.”

He shrugged, shaking his head to dismiss my apology. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t that bad. Or, um, it wasn’t that bad after I humiliated myself by breaking your mother’s gravy boat.”

“It’s easily replaced,” I assured him. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”

He nodded before leaning down and pecking me on the mouth. “Goodnight, Frankie.”

“Goodnight.”