Page 28 of Supernova

"The rent is about seventy dollars a month, and I think I can easily make that by teaching dance classes to children, Ed," she says in a rush. "And dancing again feels like something I need to do. I need to get that back. I just--" She cuts herself off, letting the unfinished sentence hang there.

"You just what?" Ed probes. "You're not happy?"

Frankie bites her lip. "No, I am happy, Ed. I've really grown to love the weather here--Florida is beautiful. The beach, the sun...and I'm making friends. Real friends." Her eyes well up at the mention of the women she's grown close to, and this surprises Frankie. "But there's a part of me that I want to reclaim, Ed, and I think I can do that if I start dancing again."

There's a long silence and then Ed speaks: "This phone call is probably costing a fortune," he says. "Look, Frankie, I'm not saying you shouldn't do that, but you're essentially talking about opening a business. There's overhead involved in that, and also a permanence to it. I feel like we need to talk about this face-to-face, and I'd like to see the space myself. If this is something you really want to do, then I want to support it, but I also want to crunch some numbers with you and make sure it will work for us."

"That makes sense," Frankie says. A feeling of relief floods through her; she's not sure why, but she'd kind of expected Ed to scoff at the idea. The fact that he's willing to sit down with her and talk about it seriously is validating. "What day are you going to be back?"

"One week from today, my love. I'll be back, and maybe we can take a long weekend and go to Key West or something? Just you and me--what do you say?"

"I'd love that," Frankie says. Her parents are leaving the day before Ed returns, and it will be a nice way to hit the refresh button; a trip to the Keys sounds incredible. "I'll look for a hotel and see if I can book something before you get back."

"Good thinking." Ed pauses. "Frank...I love you, okay? We're in this together. You and me."

Frankie's eyes sting but she doesn't cry. She wants to ask him which part of things they're in together, but she knows that he means all of it. Every last bit. When she'd said no to his marriageproposal that cold December day in New York she'd whispered her truth to him--most of her truth--and it hadn't scared him away.

"You and me," Frankie says softly as she slides off the stool in the darkened kitchen. Her parents are still chattering in the front room, though they've grown a bit quieter.

"You and me," Ed says one more time before they hang up.

The thunder that night wakes Frankie from a deep sleep. It's rumbling in the distance, a low, angry growl that rattles her bones and fills her with a static energy.

She climbs from bed as a bolt of lightning illuminates the sky outside her bedroom window, and then wraps herself in a robe that she belts over her thin nightgown.

Outside on her back patio she sits in the darkness, listening to the night sounds all around her. Insects in the grass, living things slithering and chittering in the trees and bushes. In the distance she swears she can hear the ocean rolling onto the shore and retreating, its waves undoubtedly lit by the moon and the occasional lightning bolt.

Frankie pulls her bare feet up beneath her and wraps her arms around her upper body. Normally she wouldn't go out in a storm, but the time between the thunder and lightning tells her that the storm is far off, and that there is no imminent danger.

She'd gone to sleep just two hours earlier, but the second glass of wine had roused her, and now she can't sleep for thinking about Ed potentially going into space and encountering dangerous things. Maybe he should take a job in Seattle, keep his feet firmly planted on Earth. She tossed and turned for a bit, picturing herself dancing on stage, but all that had done wasto poke at the memories that she prefers to keep dormant and tucked away.

Another bit of lightning pierces the sky, and in a darkened corner of her backyard, Frankie swears she sees the image of Whit Evans, standing near the fence with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. She startles, but the lightning vanishes and the yard is black again. Frankie shivers, though the night is muggy from the storm and not cold at all.

It would be just like Whit Evans to haunt her for the rest of her life. She wants nothing more than to delete him from her mind and her heart, but he got into her head and crashed around, breaking things as he went that she has no way of repairing. Ed helps; just his presence helps. His love, his acceptance, and his patience. Her parents help--the way they love her and believe in her, and the way Frankie watches them and it fills her with hope to know that it's possible to create a lifetime of love and partnership. Her friendship with Jo has helped too, though she hasn't yet been able to peel back all the layers of the onion and to truly tell Jo what she'd gone through in New York.

In fact, no one but Frankie and Whit truly know what happened there, and maybe it's for the best that she keeps it that way.

Another crack of lightning splits the sky and Frankie's eyes dart to the fence to see if Whit appears there again, but instead, he is sitting in the chair next to hers, watching her with his dark, knowing eyes. When the light dies down, she is alone again.

“Did you think I’d forget you?” Whit asked when she opened the door of the car that was idling outside of Radio City Music Hall. The red taillights were reflected on the wet pavement, and drops of water ran down the windows of the car and landed in Frankie’s hair. “Get in.”

Frankie took one look up and down the street, but there was no one to save her. There was nothing to do but climb in, so she did.

“How’s tricks, kid?” Whit asked as the car pulled out onto the street. The driver, who wore a black cap, did not meet Frankie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, though she prayed that he might look at her and realize that she was in danger. Instead, Whit slid closer to her on the bench seat, putting one hand on her leg. He pushed her long coat aside roughly, stroking her inner thigh through the thick pair of tights she still wore with her leotard. “I’ve missed you.”

Frankie fought off what she knew would be a visible shudder, forcing herself to sit still and not reach for the door handle. At that point, she might have jumped right into moving traffic just to get away from Whit Evans.

“Things have been fine,” she said in a measure tone. Her eyes stayed on the street ahead, and on the way that people bent their heads against the rain.I haven’t missed you at all, she thought, but didn’t say.

“We’re going to have some fun tonight,” Whit said, his fingertips moving even further up her inner thigh. Finally, Frankie flinched. Whit laughed. “Oh, don’t be afraid, Francesca. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

But he would. He had. She tried to swallow the urge to scream for help. After all, she’d gotten a call to audition for a small part in a Broadway production after the last time he’d picked her up, and while she hadn’t even gotten a callback, it still felt like a step in the right direction—one that she knew she’d only been able to take because Whit had pulled strings. Maybe if she just stayed the course, if she played along with him—maybe then she’d get an audition and then win a part on her own merit. And once things started to take off, she’d be getting jobs because of her talent, and not because Whit Evanshad any sway over her. All she had to do was stick with it; grit her teeth and deal with his demands.

“We’re going to the party of a friend,” Whit explained as he leaned forward to give the driver an address. He sat back in the seat and eyed Frankie’s outfit. “But this won’t do. Here,” he said, leaning forward and pulling a shopping bag from the floor of the car. “Put this on.”

Frankie looked at the bag dumbly. Where was she supposed to change out of tights and a leotard and into whatever was in the bag?

“Just change here,” Whit said. “Bobby isn’t paying any attention, are you Bob?” He patted the back of the driver’s seat and the driver shook his head.

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