Page 117 of Summer Breakdown
Jasmine runs her fingers along her thigh. She wants to get on the bed and hold her close and tell her she’s safe, but that’s not what Frankie needs. Jasmine has to wait for her. The other day, Frankie asked for her girlfriend from college, and Jasmine almost broke in half, but she held her hand anyway. Sometimes it’s terrifying and long and Jasmine’s heart barely makes it, but Frankie always wants her in the end.
“Jasmine?” she asks, a few minutes later. Like she knew Jasmine needed her tonight.
“Hey,” she replies quietly. “Hi, my girl.”
Frankie shuffles, and Jasmine moves closer. She runs her finger along Frankie’s hairline. It’s grown a little.
“How are you feeling?” Jasmine asks. Frankie blinks. Her eyes won’t focus on anything.
“Can you get Jasmine?” she asks. Jasmine chews on her lip and looks over at Ezra. His head is rested on the back of the couch, looking at them. He’s supposed to be asleep, but he’ll make sure Frankie is okay first.
“I’m here,” Jasmine whispers, reaching for Frankie’s hand. “I’m right here.”
Frankie runs her thumb over her knuckles as her eyes close. She pulls her closer, and Jasmine lies down next to her.
“You can sleep,” Jasmine whispers. “You’re safe. You can sleep.”
“Jasmine,” she mutters. “You’re –”
“I’m what?”
Frankie doesn’t open her eyes. “You’re the best thing I ever did.”
“I love you,” Jasmine says quietly, then, “You are so easy to love, Frank.”
Jasmine presses her lips to Frankie’s temple. “Get out of your head, pretty girl. Let me take care of it tonight. I’ve got you, I promise.”
Frankie’s lips brush her collarbone and it gives her everything she needs. “Did you know the brain reinvents itself? Every seven or so years, every cell in your body is replaced. Soon, this won’t have happened. Being this sad won’t even be in your body anymore.”
Frankie cries softly, but Jasmine holds her tighter. She tells her facts that aren’t quite facts—Jasmine made them up—but, so? In seven years, she can pretend she never said it at all. In seven years, she’ll be better at this. In seven years, Frankie will still be here.
“I’m going to talk until you fall asleep, because you’re obsessed with me and you like my voice,” Jasmine says quietly. Frankie hums like a cat, and Jasmine pulls her closer, until her head rests under her chin.
“Even if nothing changes,” Jasmine whispers, “you are good and kind and just about my favourite person in the world, and I’ll love you until the stars burn from the sky.”
“Love me,” Frankie mumbles against her collarbone.
“I love you,” Jasmine repeats. “I want to know what back pain feels like when I haven’t even done anything with you. I want my bones to knock together as I breathe because I’m so old with you. I want lines on my face, blurry vision and to eat pudding for every meal as long as it’s with you. I want to sit on a porch swing you forced me to buy, and I pretended to hate. I want to frown at the phone becausethe kids haven’t called that day. I want to be old with you. Only with you. Always with you.”
Frankie’s breathing settles a little while later, her fingers no longer tapping against Jasmine’s spine.
“I love you,” Jasmine repeats, as Frankie falls asleep. “I’ll always love you. When you wake up, you can love whoever you want. I won’t be mad. Just wake up.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Frankieissosureshe’s never had an episode like this. There’s never anything to soothe her during an episode, but this time, Jasmine comes into her mind when she calls for her. Her hands smooth the dip of her spine. She lies down, lets Frankie lie on top of her, and tells her she loves her until the end of time. She reads her books that she can’t comprehend, and she tells her about the dinners she wants to make with her.
When Frankie stares at the wall, when she can’t see through the tears, when she throws up for the fourth time, Jasmine is there. She presses a cold flannel to the back of her neck, and she gets in the shower with her, and she’s there, telling her it’ll be okay.
Frankie wants to believe her. Anywhere Jasmine is is better than anything else.
Perhaps Frankie will stay here, with the version of Jasmine that still likes her, and that will be enough.
Frankie’s not sure how long it is before her sobs stop hurting her chest and she can breathe normally again. She might have fallen asleep. There’s nothing about opening her eyes that helps her determine how long has passed. The sun might be rising. It might be setting. She’s in her bed, still fully clothed but with no shoes on. Her entire body feels like lead.
Her ribs were cracked when she used to be on the pitch, and it’s worse than that. Where’s Jasmine? She sits up, and for a terrifying moment, she thinks there’s a demon in herhouse. Frankie doesn’t get sleep paralysis, and she just sat up so that wouldn’t work anyway, but still, the fear is there.
“I’m a real person,” Ezra replies. His voice is thick with the lack of sleep.
