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I tore that stupid paper up the second Anna left. Why didn’t I actually throw it away? Or better yet, why didn’t I just tell her everything from the beginning? I didn’t want to upset her by even bringing up the pledge, let alone the fact that Glenn is trying to blackmail me into it.
The fact that I proposed to help me isn’t going to win me any favors, but I would have proposed anyway. Maybe not yesterday, but I would have. I know that as deep in my bones as I can know anything in my life. But clearly, I don’t learn because if I had, then I would have seen that her finding out like this wouldn’t go over well. That I would have lost her again.
I drank everything that I found in the fairly extensive minibar, and I can feel it in my head. God, what do I do? I can’t call her. She’s not going to answer, and I’m not going to her house. I don’t want to humiliate her and I don’t want to stand on her porch begging her to just listen. There’s only a couple people that I think might be able to help me, and thankfully, they’re some of the people that I came here to see.
Showering quickly, I get dressed and jump in the car, arriving at my parents’ house in record time. My mom is surprised when she opens the door, but she’s happy too. Until she sees my face. “Wow,” she says as I walk past her. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
My grandmother is sitting in the living room by the window, and I sit down near her. It’s Tuesday, so my dad isn’t home. Probably for the best. He’d smack me over the head if he knew what I did. But there’s also no way in hell that I’m going to tell my mother about that pledge. At least not in detail.
Coming back from the kitchen, she pushes a coffee mug into my hand. “What happened?”
“I fu—I screwed up,” I say.
There’s a sassy smile on her face. “Well that’s nothing new.”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a sip of coffee, “but it’s bad this time. I hurt someone I care about, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“So, how’s Annabelle?” My grandmother asks out of the blue, not even looking up from the number puzzle she was absently working on. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I was here.
“I don’t know.” I sigh, and look at my mom. “Some days I wish I could be stuck in the past the way she is.”
I see the glint in my mom’s eye a split second before I’m hit over the head with that same puzzle. Hard. “I’m not stuck in the past, young man. Some days I am, but not today, and I know that you’ve been seeing Annabelle again. Everyone is talking about it.”
I make a mental note that Anna was absolutely right, and that this town is full of busybodies. My grandmother continues. “I’m assuming that when you say that you hurt someone, you mean her.”
“She thinks that I lied to her. I didn’t. Or I didn’t mean to. I was trying to shield her from something that I thought would have hurt her more. But this…it’s what broke us up in the first place.”
“She’ll come around,” my mother says softly.
I shake my head. “I’m not so sure that she will.”
“Of course she will,” Grandma says. “You’re not perfect, and neither is she, but you both have been in love with each other since you met. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
I smirk, even though it’s not funny. “Even all the years I wasn’t around?”
“I hear things. I saw Annabelle. No one is broken that way unless the love is real. And you’re going to mess up more. Life is long, Frankie. Go see her, tell her how you feel, and be ready to fuck up a lot.”
“Grandma,” my jaw falls open.
She raises one eyebrow. “I’ve lived a lot longer than you and I was swearing before you were born. Now get out of here and go see her, and don’t come back until you’ve made a good attempt. I’m still strong enough to kick your ass.”
I’m laughing now, and I lean over to kiss her cheek. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“And don’t buy her shit,” my grandmother says. “Just because you’re a very rich young man doesn’t mean that money can buy what you need, and she doesn’t need you trying to buy her love.”
My mom pats me on the shoulder, and she’s smiling too. “Good luck,” she whispers as I pass on my way out the door.
“I’m going to need it.”
But first I have to find her. It doesn’t take that long, because she’s at the first place I go to look—the bookstore. But this time she isn’t stacking books. She’s setting up her guitar on the little stage, and a whole bunch of chairs are set up in front of it. There’s obviously going to be a little gig and she’s going to play. God, I want to hear her play again. Almost as much as I want to hear her moaning my name. I haven’t heard back from the recording execs at the label yet, but I don’t care anymore. I’ll sign her here and now if that would get me back in her good graces.
