Page 114 of Summer Breakdown
She shakes her head. She can’t remember. All she can remember is how hard it is. How much energy is takes to wake up. How desperately she doesn’t want to be here anymore. Frankie wails as Ezra holds on to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Frankiehasbeenlyingin the same position for hours. Days, perhaps. The sheet underneath her is wet from tears, and she has no idea why she’s even crying. Ezra is here. She thinks. He’s quiet when she’s down. The blinds are closed, and she wants to tell him she misses the stars, but she can’t ask him for anything when he’s already put his life on hold.
Her entire body aches for Jasmine. She knew what Frankie was doing. She probably knew while Frankie walked over the pitch. Was likely waiting with anticipation to see if she’d actually break her heart or if she’d spare her. Frankie doesn’t deserve her, but her chest creaks with the want to ask Ezra how she is.
There’s a light knock at what sounds like the front door, but Frankie has no energy to even entertain who it might be. She hears Ezra patter to the door quietly. The light creaks in from the hallway. Frankie wishes she had the strength to tell Ezra she doesn’t like the darkness. It helped her when she had her breakdown before, because if she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hallucinate all that well. At least that’s what she told herself. Now, she wants the image of Jasmine to be here.
“Hey,” he says softly. It might be Cam.
“Hi.” Jasmine. Well, her brain did something she wanted, for once. Frankie’s eyes open. They mutter too quietly for Frankie to understand, but she wants to know what they’re talking about. Not to be nosy, but to hear if Jasmine sounds happy.
Frankie does something she doesn’t remember ever wanting to do. She creeps out of bed, her hips clicking as she moves. There’s a low light over by the worktop, probably a phone screen, but Frankie has adjusted to the darkness just fine.
Jasmine’s hair is straight, and Frankie almost doesn’t recognise her. Both her and Ezra turn to face her as Frankie hovers by the bookcase.
“Hi,” Ezra says. He clearly wasn’t anticipating her getting up any time soon. “I—out of ten?” he asks. Jasmine doesn’t say anything. Frankie shuffles in place, pulling the cuffs of her sweatshirt over her hands. She knows she’ll feel better after a shower, but the idea of it makes her want to crawl into a hole.
“Maybe seven,” Frankie mutters. Ezra frowns.
“Did something happen?” he asks. “Getting up is like a three.”
Frankie flicks her gaze over to Jasmine.
“Oh,” Jasmine whispers. “Sorry. I was just dropping some things off.” Frankie’s things. She’s removed her from her house already. “Food and stuff.”
“Oh.”
“I’m leaving,” she replies, with a small smile, but it’s not real. Frankie frowns. If it’s all in her mind, can’t she make Jasmine smile at her? “I just—I got you something. Can I show you?”
Frankie nods, and Jasmine smiles at her for real. Finally. It feels like the only reason Frankie’s made it so far in this life is to have Jasmine smile at her.
Jasmine grabs something out of the bag and plugs it in near the living room. It brings her closer, and Frankie wants to touch her, but she doesn’t know how the hallucinations work. Perhaps if she risks it, Jasmine will disappear in a cloud of smoke. Then Jasmine clicks a button, and the ceiling glows a deep, dark blue and lights up with stars.Thousands of stars. The image moves slightly, like Frankie is in the middle of the galaxy.
Jasmine moves closer as she speaks. “You’ll always be more important than the stars, but I thought you might like them.” Frankie does like them. But not as much as she likes Jasmine.
“Jasmine?” she whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Who has the kids?” Frankie lies on the floor on her back to look up at the stars.
“Mal and Zach are at the house,” she replies quietly. Frankie wants her to stay. “They’re going home in the morning.”
Frankie hums. “Can…” She taps her fingers against the floor. If it’s all in her mind, it wouldn’t be cruel to keep her here. Frankie wonders if she’d say no, even in her made-up world.
“You can have whatever you want,” Jasmine replies.
Frankie takes a deep breath, the tears falling into her ears.
“Can you stay?”
“Yeah,” Jasmine says, letting out a breath. “Yeah, my girl.”
Frankie wants Jasmine to touch her. It doesn’t have to be a hug. She doesn’t deserve that. Perhaps a finger against her wrist will see her through the evening.
Jasmine walks over and lies down next to her. “Can I touch you, or would you rather not?”
