Chapter Text
San Francisco, September 22, 8:08 AM
Pretending to be asleep used to easier when I was a kid. When you're light enough to be carried out of the backseat of the car, avoiding the horrors waiting inside. When the doorknob to the bedroom door jiggles and your mom is outside, unsure if you're dead or not. I tell her I was asleep. But now, I'm facing the horrors of growing up, and I can't fake childishness for any longer.
My mom barges in, tossing a pile of filthy laundry on my face as my slumber is interrupted. "Get up," She says and snatches the curtains open. "Your father will be here any minute. Pack your shit. Get up, let's go. I know you're not asleep. What are you? Fucking dead?"
"I'm alive." I grunt, sitting up and glaring at the morning sun.
"Great." She leaves my room, slamming the door behind her.
The barely holding on wooden bed frame cries and moans under my weight as I shift to the edge, my legs dangling off before my feet meet the floor. Nothing in this room that will be missed, no need to leave sad lingering looks on any corners or windows. Nearly everything is rotting. The walls chipping, the floors sinking in, the ceiling decaying, the windowsill peeling. Even the doorknob is broken.
This room has stopped being young for some time now. The walls wear their age openly, raw, the paint dulled uncertainly. Not like anything in here is old enough to be tossed away. Everything in here is simply tired. My bed sags, mattress growing mold from eighteen years of rotting in one spot. My blankets lay almost in a confused manner, always wrinkled and bent onto themselves.
With every step the wooden floor complains even at the tiniest shift of weight. I even learned its language of groans when it announced any movement.
While fitting the very little bit of things I own into a suitcase I can overhear my mom and step dad participating in conversation about my mutually celebrated leave. Is that little bitch leaving? Finally. Now it'll be just us two without the burden of your offspring.
With my one and only suitcase I trudge lazily into the living room, avoiding eye contact with either of them. Yet without even looking I can sense their excitement as an RV is seen pulling into the driveway.
"He's here." Mom opens the door, pulling me by my arm as if Im some kind of exchange. For all I know this man can be anyone, a sex trafficker even. I have no say either way, any form of protest will earn me a slap in the mouth.
There he is. Standing there. Tall, rough in the face, glare in the eyes. Could be my father if I squint hard enough. I examine tattoos on his neck, the knife in his pocket, the smell of something not unfamiliar. I tense, but I bite my tongue.
He adjusts to the sight me too, his body language also on guard.
"So," He says. "Shes mine?"
My mom rolls her eyes. "You're the only man I'd been with, Frank. Take a good look at her." She tosses me towards him. "I sure as hell don't want her anymore. If you don't take her now she's going out in the streets."
"Now, is that really necessary, Maria?" The man called Frank folds his arms across his chest and a long pause fills the room before he sighs and walks out the door. "C'mon, kid."
I hesitate, my body shaking, tears brimming at my eyes. I'm being casted out, forced to leave with a stranger who could possibly be even worse than my mom and step dad, or I can be homeless.
My step dad smacks the back of my head. "Are you retarded? Go, bye, scram."
My mom laughs. "Good luck with her! If she's anything like you you'll surely find out what a pain she is."
Frank ignores her and opens the door to his RV, letting me inside first before taking my suit case. A large dog lays in the corner, lifting its head to look at me. Frank gets in the drivers seat and begins driving off.
"Thats Pompidou. He ain't barkin' at you, so I guess thats a good sign. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."
I stand awkwardly still for a moment, the shake of the vehicle forcing me to take a seat. Looking out of the windows are no use, they're dirty beyond belief.
Frank clears his throat, his voice deep and rusk. "What's your name, girl?" I say nothing. "Do you speak? Look, I don't expect us to chit chat and mingle like a couple of old timers for the whole ride, but at least answer some of my questions."
I swallow old tears. "You're not my dad. Blood don't mean nothing to me."
He frowns. "Fair. But don't be angry at me. I had no clue you even existed until Maria called me a week or so ago, saying all kinds of shit about what a bad seed you are." Frank plays the radio at a low volume, probably hoping some music will ease the uncomfortable tension between us. "So, how old are you? When's your birthday?"
"I'm 18. Well, I turn 18 October 3rd."
"October, huh?" Frank nods slowly, doing some mental math in his head. "Shit." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I remember your mom and I and some shitty love making in Portland on a random day in January. She was a wild mustang."
The RV is obviously run down and lacking common cleanliness department. No place to raise a kid, but a place for a man like Frank who wasn't aware of his own conception.
"You don't have any questions for me?" He asks.
I think. "Where are we going?"
Frank gestures towards a pack of beer and I hand him one, thinking of my stepdad. "Oregon." He cracks it open.
"So, why did you come all of this way if there was no way of knowing if I was really your daughter or not?"
Taking a swig of the beer he places it on the floor. "Are you religious, girl?"
I shake my head.
"I haven't believed in a higher power for some time now. But the week your mom called, I had been attending church. I tell the pastor I was battling an excruciating cycle of mindless searching. He asked me what I was searching for, I told him I don't know. The pastor tells me life is mundane and often repetitive, but never not expect the unexpected, and that when unexpected changes come to not reject them, but to seek them out. That same night-"
"You got the call." I sigh. "Sounds like bullshit coincidence to me."
Frank smiles. "I don't believe in coincidences."
. . .
Arcadia Bay, September 22, 4:37 PM
Oregon announces itself long before we even reach it.
As Frank drives the highway curves through forests of towering trees whilst branches knit themselves together above us to filter the pale Oregon light into the prettiest greens. I can imagine that the farther the road descends towards the coast the cooler the air becomes, salt carrying through the breath of the breeze.
Dog breath invades my nostrils, then the warm rough tongue of Pompidou glides across my face. I can imagine if he could talk, he'd be saying, we're here! we're here! look! And when I sit up, stretching my limbs wide, I see that we have in fact arrived in the small town of Arcadia Bay.
From the looks of it, everything seems normal and quiet, not exactly what I'm used to of course. Everyone is outside but not everyone looks friendly. Not like in San Francisco, Arcadia Bay seems like a walkable place, barely anyone driving cars. I notice its tranquil scenery and atmosphere, the majority of my surroundings consisting of tall sycamore trees and small buildings. I always heard Oregon is famous for its greenery.
"Welcome home, I guess." I look down where multiple empty cans of beer roll around beside Frank's foot. I feel sick.
I stand up, approaching him cautiously. "Can you drive?"
"Can you drive?" Frank glares. "Great, I'll teach you. We can have some daddy daughter bonding time. Anyway, now that we're here, I guess it's time to tell you that unfortunately I live in this shit hole, so you'll be living here too."
Great. Of course he lives here. Explains everything.
"But, don't worry. Not for long. Now that you're my responsibility I guess I can find some place for us to stay. In the mean time-"
In front of us is a motel, a few loitering bums standing weakly outside sharing half a cigarette they scavenged off of the sidewalk. Frank's phone begins to ring and he groans, fishing it out of his pocket.
"This girl," He growls, hanging up. "Always fucking calling me. Here," He hands me some money. "You go get a room, I'll stay out here with Pompidou. Dogs aren't allowed, unfortunately for him."
I blink. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah," He waves me off. "I've got some work to take care of. Buy a few snacks or something. Don't worry, I won't abandon you here."
I watch Frank get into his RV, thinking about what I would do if he abandoned me at this shitty motel. Guessing that now I'm in a strange new town I have to start thinking about the ultimatums— selling myself on the streets, pickpocketing perhaps. I laugh to myself, imagining how tragic it all would be if it ever has to come to that.
Upon entering the main building I catch the eye of a hefty snoozer, meaty rolls melting out of his spinning chair with his head tilted back and mouth agape. People who sleep with their eyes open give me the creeps.
I tap the bell on the desk a few times, startling the man out of his sleep. He snorts, gaze darting around before even noticing me. "Hello, young lady. Er, what can I help you with?"
I slide the money across the surface. "I'd like a room please. Uh- Two beds."
"Sure." He spins around to look through the assortment of keys. "You and a boyfriend?"
"No. Just me and my-" I choke, scratching the back of my neck. "My dad."
Once given the keys I quickly leave and find the room number, letting myself inside. There are two small twin beds sitting side by side with a nightstand and a lamp between them, a tiny box television in front of them standing on top of an old wooden dresser, and a noisy vent whirring throughout the room.
I toss aside my suitcase and flay myself on top of the bed. As I stare at the plain ceiling, fingers fiddling with the waistband of my jeans, my eyes flutter shut and I try to ease my mind. Yet all I can think of is what I'd just escaped. It was a shitty life but it was mine, and it was the only life I'd known since my brain could process memories. My mother, blowing cigarette smoke in my face. My step dad and his peeling leather belt that made a noise which causes me to flinch. His beat up bruised knuckles turning white whenever he gripped too hard on the belt while pulling it off, feeding off of my fear and inching towards me like a predator. The two of them, verbal and physical, left a mark on me.
"Where's the little brat when you need her to be useful for once?" He sneered. "Hey, you! Bring me a cold beer from the fridge now, would ya."
Bare feet quickly padded towards the fridge, opening it. "There's no more in here." I said.
He sat up suddenly. "Did I or did I not tell you yesterday to put more in there? Huh?"
Mom opened the drawer, pulling out a fresh pack of Old Golds. "You know shes stupid. You gotta tell her everything twice."
"Whatever," He faces the TV again. "Just bring me one from the box then."
Each step closer to him, room temperature glass trembling in my hands, I wanted to smash it against his head and watch his blood mix with the beer. I could hear my mother screaming now.
His hand sat on top of mine longer than I'd be comfortable with, his eyes piercing through mine. "Next time," Tongue darted out to lick his cracked lips. "be a good girl and don't forget. You know what happens."
My eyes shoot open and I jump out of the bed, grabbing the remote and switching on the TV.
Don't think about him. You'll never see him again.
A show called Hawt Dawg Man appears on the screen and I calm down, laughing at how stupid it is. Frank enters through the door and I suppose I'm relieved to see him, though he looks a bit agitated. He doesn't acknowledge me and just sits on the other bed, head in his hands.
Hours go by, and we sit in silence watching the television. I'd never been able to just sit and watch TV with my mom or step dad ever, and even Frank laughs a few times. And for the first time since I was a child, I can see a man who wasn't always angry.
"So, what'd my mom tell you on the phone?"
"That you're troublesome, bothersome, lazy, incorrigible, stupid." Frank sighs. "She called you a lot of not nice things that I don't think any mother should call their child, especially if they're not true."
Looking away from the show I face him. "You don't think they are?"
He shrugs. "Hell, I don't even know you. But I know Maria. She's a hypocrite and a liar, and she shouldn't have been a mother. I can tell you were mistreated in that house."
I scoff. "That's putting it mildly."
"Well, I won't ask you to get into detail." He yawns, scratching his eye. "Hey, I was thinking um- maybe we get something to eat tomorrow morning. Theres this diner Two Whales I'm sure you'll like. I bet you're hungry too."
Frank definitely isn't wrong. I can't remember the last decent meal I've had. So, with that I agree and we call it a night.
. . .
9:27 AM
Frank and I sit in a booth across from one another, and I guess to the both of us it's like staring into a fucked up mirror.
The diner has a vintage vibe to it, people of all types and diverse tastes. The smell of breakfast takes over my entire body, engulfing me in an insatiable hunger. Each clack and scrape of silverware against plates, the slow mindless stir of coffee, and the malfunctioning jukebox— I can almost get lost in the simplicity of it all, whereas the simple life has never been accustomed to me before until now.
I still scan over the menu while Frank already knows exactly what he wants— beans. I don't bother questioning it and decide to make small talk.
"What do you do for work, Frank?" I ask.
He stills. "Well, you're not a little girl, so I'll tell you. I won't sugarcoat it."
"Oh gosh, you don't sell drugs do you?" I say, halfheartedly chuckling. My expression falls when he doesn't say anything and I laugh. "Shit. Really?"
"Listen," Frank's entire demeanor changes. "You're my daughter. And I don't know how life was for you with your mom and step dad, but I just wanna protect you as long as you're with me. So don't meddle with my shit, especially my clients. Understood?"
I nod, although the rest of my body feels frozen in time.
"You might see people come and go by my RV. Just leave it be. Don't talk to them, at all."
Before I can comment anything else a blonde curvy woman approaches our table, sassy and sweet looking.
"Will it be the usual for you Frank?" She smiles and turns to me. "Who's this pretty young lady?"
He forces a smile and says, "This is my daughter."
Shocked, the woman's eyes widen. "Why, I didn't know you had a daughter. That's definitely news that'll get around town quick. What would you like to eat, honey?"
"Some pancakes and a side of bacon and eggs will be fine, thank you."
She pens it down on her note pad. "It was nice meetin' you." When she walks away I notice her hips swaying from left to right, Frank staring as well.
"That was Joyce," he tells me. "Been working at this old diner for as long as anyone who grew up in this shit hole can remember. Nice woman."
"I like her. Do you?" I sip my coffee.
Frank narrows his eyes. "A man like me has no time for romance. Shes right though, nobody in this town has secrets, and word about you will get around. People are gonna wanna snoop, ask questions."
I take a look outside. The waves crash into each other, wind picking up heavy all around and gracing the trees and sand dust. The mystery of Arcadia Bay continues to intrigue me, intensifying my interest. A town where everyone knows everyone's secrets, it's not unusual theres always something hidden beneath. Where I came from, nobody knew me. I was an obscured figure buried below the ground, as if I was deceased by trauma. I can't tell if it was because I enjoyed it that way, for no one to know me, or if that's just how my mother always made me feel— forgotten. Even now, I still can't fathom why Frank would give two shits about me at all after missing out on eighteen years of my life. Looking at him, I wonder if maybe he wish he'd known me, if a daughter is what he needs. Every man i'd ever known is a broken man, but I can't fix them all.
I decide to break the silence. "So, do you expect me to go to school or what?"
Joyce arrives with our food. Frank thanks her and she hands him the bill.
"It's your choice, kid. Not like I have any say."
Joyce butts in. "Blackwell is really good school. Expensive, but highly respected here in Arcadia Bay. Too bad my daughter flunked out of there."
"Yeah, teenagers, am I right?" Frank huffs, digging into his beans.
I bite into a slice of bacon smiling like a dumbass. His choice of breakfast is definitely interesting, but it gives me better insight on his character. From what I've gathered, Frank looks scary, but he's just your typical old grumpy guy. Perhaps capable of harm, but I won't know just yet.
We enjoy the rest of our breakfast in mostly silence, a few things said here and there. I ask questions, he asks questions. Not all of them are answered completely, but we try to work with each other. He tells me that he's lived in Arcadia all his life and his trip to Portland was short, the fling he had with my mother something he didn't see going beyond anything other than what it was. A good fuck. Followed by that story he advises me to never make her or his mistakes, that love making should be cautious and even sacred. I never thought about being intimate with anyone ever. The thought of it makes me grimace in my seat. I can tell that answer gladdened him.
I say that my step dad was the only father I grew up with, that he has never been nice, that he's like the monster under my bed or the creep in my closet. Frank asks if he's ever hurt me, but I don't answer, and we leave it at that. My mom's never defended me, always took his side and I was the blame for everything. If there were no more cold beers, that they couldn't afford to feed me even though I barely ate. Even my clothes had holes and tears in them. Frank says he noticed and that he'll take me to get new clothes if I like. That earns a smile out of him and I.
After our meal we head back to his RV together then he turns to me. "Why don't you go out, explore the town. Me and my RV will be waiting here. And Pompidou."
"What is there to do?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. Just don't get into any trouble. Or you can stay here like a lump on a log."
"Okay, okay. I guess I'll uh, catch you later."
Frank smiles. "Catch you later."
So, my first instinct was to catch the bus, see where it takes me, try to blend in with these newfound people. I don't think I've been on a school bus in what feels like forever, the driver didn't even question me, figuring I'm a student myself.
I assume I won’t be a distraction until I hear a male voice behind me.
"Are you a new student?" I turn my neck and it's a boy, buff, brunette, not sure why he's even speaking to me.
"Not exactly."
He smiles, snickering to his friends next to him. "I'm Zachary."
I can already see where this is heading. Wouldn't be the first time I'm the butt of every jocks joke. Reminds me why I don't miss high school. "And I'm not interested."
The rest of the boneheads laugh, punch each other around, and Zachary glares. Luckily I can enjoy the rest of my ride with no serious issues.
Leaving the bus I realize it's taken me to none other than Blackwell Academy, the infamous prestigious school. No way I'd fit in here. Zachary and the rest of his friends linger behind me.
"Watch yourself, newbie." He whispers in my ear. I watch them approach the school and I decide to explore.
The courtyard is full of kids, all within their own proclaimed groups and cliques; The pretentious geeks, the popular assholes, and the stoners. I've always been a floater, a free roamer, kept to myself. I'm not smart or popular or an addict, so that leaves me with the option of loneliness.
I can feel everyone staring at me as I step further and further onto their sacred grounds. Instead of hanging my head low I don't let my guard down. And of course, a skater runs straight into me.
Losing my balance I fall flat on my ass. He quickly jumps off of his skateboard and runs to my side, offering a helping hand. I take it gratefully and he lifts me up with ease.
"Dang girl, sorry about that," He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. "Totally didn't see you there. You good?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Sorry for being in the way and all." I laugh and we exchange smiles.
His eyes squint and the skater peers closer. "Wait a minute. You don't go here do you?"
Geez, is it that obvious?
"No, I don't. Just uh, hanging around."
"Hang around with us then. You seem chill enough. My names Justin. You smoke?"
I shake my head and follow him to his group of friends who all welcome me. These guys seem friendly enough.
"We were actually about to head to the park later in the evening if you wanna tag along?" Justin says, pulling out his phone. "Man, we gotta get Chloe out. Haven't heard from that girl in a minute."
Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement.
Justin puts his phone to his ear. "Finally, you fucking answer, man. We're getting you out of that house. Pull up to the skate park around five, hit a couple of joints with us. Yes. I'm not taking no for an answer this time." His voice lowers. "We're all worried about you, Chloe."
Once the phone call ends Justin confirms with me that they're all meeting up later and I decide that it won't hurt to make some friends.
. . .
Frank is still at the RV and I can hear him dealing with someone inside, so I kneel beside Pompidou and scratch the top of his head.
"You're a good boy, aren't you? Yeah?" I smile, patting him on the back.
The door opens and a client leaves, Frank stepping out behind them. "Hey, back already?"
"Yeah, I uh, I wanted to ask if that offer to get some new clothes is still up? I saw a thrift store a few minutes away. Looks promising."
"Thrift store? You don't wanna hit up a mall or something?"
"Mall? Isn't that like expensive?"
Frank grins. "Well, considering I just made a successful business transaction, today we're rich."
Navigating the mall overwhelmed me just from being in it for less than a minute. The gallimaufry of busy people, snotty teenagers, and tiny children, maybe I haven't been missing out after all. Neither Frank nor I know where to start, and I'm not even sure what my style is.
"Here." He leads me to what seems to be a trendy store for teenagers— Forever 21. "Have a look around, pick whatever you'd like."
"Um," I pause, searching for the right words. "Thank you, Frank."
His lips crack a faint smile and I begin flipping through the clothes. "What made you wanna get some clothes today anyways?"
I shrug. "I uh, ran into some kids my age and they invited me to a skate park later. I just- well I guess I don't wanna look stupid." The real reason is I just wanna feel pretty for once and not feel like a raging loser.
"That makes sense. So there isn't a boy you're tryna impress?"
I choke. "Boy? No, no- not at all. No boy." I lay a few pieces on my forearm as I inspect other isles.
Frank stands by with his head nodding slowly. I wonder if he believes me or not. As if it matters, I guess I just don't want anything to ruin our good streak already.
He examines the things I picked out and clears his throat. "These seem a little out there, don't you think?"
"Yeah well, I'm pushing the limits of my comfort zone."
"And no boy?"
"Why does it matter?" I feel heat rising beneath my flesh. "My mother said something didn't she?"
Frank doesn't confirm whether she did or not so I just avoid conversation any further and continue with my shopping away from him. I definitely need new bras and underwear so he doesn't need to be around for that.
Once I figure that I have everything I need Frank and I head to the counter, the silence uncomfortable and heavy like a stench. And yet again we’re back to square one, barely speaking to each other during the ride back in the RV.
I watch clients come and go like Frank said they would while I stay out of the way, patiently awaiting the evening. I decide that I can figure out what to wear instead of sitting around. It's most likely gonna be chilly so I land on wearing denim jean shorts and an off the shoulder tight sweater, then a corduroy jacket to wear over it. My old boots will do fine.
As I'm heading out Frank stops me, the smell of beer radiating off of him. Don't hurt me, don't touch me.
He raises his hand to place on my shoulder but decides against it, his arm dropping to his side and then saying, "Don't be out too late."
I nod, then he hands me his pocket knife followed by silence.
The park is a bit of a walk but the fresh air soothes my nerves. Only problem is that these are the times I ponder too much. I think about where my life can possibly be heading, and how moving here with Frank may be the opportunity I needed to start over fresh, finally enjoy the life I missed out on for years and learn to be happy. But while that seems easy enough, how can I just forget about everything else and behave like this is normal? This isn't normal, and angry feelings rise in me like a boiling pot of water. Unfortunately for me I can't move on, and I can't forget. If only I was oblivious.
Far ahead I see Justin and his friends to which they wave me over.
"You made it!" Justin exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "We almost thought you weren't coming. I told Chloe here there'd finally be another female joining us tonight."
I smile. "You're high."
Justin furrows his brows. "Really? I haven't noticed. Now, don't be shy and get blazed with us."
He tries to hand a rolled joint towards me and frowns. "C'mon. This your first time?"
I avert my gaze towards the blue haired girl who is silent, cigarette dangling between her lips. Chloe, I presume.
"Alright," Justin hands it to Chloe who stomps out her cigarette and accepts it. "No pressure here, newbie. Word has it is that your Franks daughter, so I assumed you're not new to weed."
Chloe speaks. "Shit, forreal? I thought everyone was pulling my leg. I said theres no way Frank has a daughter and I wouldn't know."
"I only met him yesterday. He had no clue about me, but now I guess we're making up for lost time."
She nods and Justin finally takes his arm off of my shoulder to join the rest of his buddies on their skateboards. They laugh, they fall, they act stupid. Chloe and I watch in amusement.
"Is he nice?" She asks.
I shrug. "I mean, as I know he's been pretty nice to me. Took me shopping today and we ate breakfast together this morning. Why is he not nice?"
Chloe inhales and coughs. "No one would call Frank Bowers nice. And I've known him for a long while. He's my dealer."
"Fuck. Thats- I mean-"
"Yo!" Justin shouts, arms waving in the air. "Watch this!"
Justin stands on the edge of a ramp, clumsily skating down and eating straight shit when he hits the bottom. The rest of the guys laugh and Chloe is deadpan.
"Is he alright?"
She doesn't bother to react. "He's fine. Here, hit this."
I take the joint. "No pressure, right?"
"It's not gonna kill you."
I put the joint to my lips and inhale gently.
"Hold it, hold it," Chloe advises. "Now exhale."
I cough loudly, hunching over with my palm pressed to my chest. "It's not gonna kill me, huh?"
She snickers, patting my back. "You'll get used to it."
I have never been high before. My head feels heavy, my feet melting into the concrete, Chloe's face more prominent under the street light. I notice her hair is almost the same shade as her eyes.
Her lips frown. "Why are you staring at me?" I just smile. "Hey, you alright?"
I giggle and my body decides it needs to sit. So I stumble towards the ground and Justin catches me, his lap becoming my seat.
"I think she should head home." Chloe says.
Justin leans back. "Home? Nah, we're having fun."
"Sure, dude, but this is her first time and it might be better if someone takes her home." Chloe takes my hand and pulls me off of Justin. "Hey, you ready to go home? Can you walk?"
"Duh." I put one foot in front of the other. "It's a basic human function."
She raises an eyebrow. "So?"
"So yeah, I better head home. Frank said not to be out too late anyways. I don't think I wanna see his not nice side."
Chloe sighs. "Can I drive you?"
I giggle again, for some reason, everything made me wanna laugh endlessly. "You're nice, Chloe. Sure, I'd like a ride."
"K. C'mon."
I hop into Chloe's truck and relax into the seat. She starts up the vehicle, pops another cigarette and drives.
"Lemme see." I snatch the cigarette out of her mouth and put it in mine.
She looks at me, visibly surprised. "Wrong end."
"Oh." I smile, flipping it around. "You think I'd know which end is the right one. My mother could never quit these."
Chloe sparks a lighter and ignites it for me, one firm hand on the steering wheel. I smoke it lightly, blowing uneven smoke out of the window and then giving it back to her.
"RVs near the diner, right?"
"Correct."
She helps me out of the truck and lets out a long breath of air. "See ya around."
"Thanks for the ride, Chloe." I say and watch her hop back into the vehicle, then recede away.
I knock loudly on the door to the vehicle, the door swinging open and Frank pulling me inside.
"Jesus fuck, what are you, the feds?" Frank shakes his head.
"What? That's silly." I kick off my boots and let my jacket fall off of my shoulders.
He takes in the air and groans. "Are you high?"
"I'm in one piece, right?" I sit down on the little makeshift bed Frank made for me. "Besides, Chloe drove me home so I didn't have to walk."
That seems to catch his attention. "Chloe? Chloe who?"
"Chloe with the blue hair and blue eyes." Frank kneels down to my level. We meet eyes, and I inch closer. "What, are you gonna hit me?"
He opens his mouth but digresses, then leaves to the back of his room, shutting the door.
Pompidou crawls next to me, resting his head in my lap. I lie back, try to contemplate, reevaluate, but my mind can only focus on one thing.
The color blue.