Page 123 of Summer Breakdown
“Better?” she asks, and Jasmine’s face falls. Frankie takes her trousers off, because Jasmine may be crying, but it’ll be worse if Frankie wears outdoor clothes on her bed.
“I might be smelly,” Jasmine whispers, but she lets Frankie manoeuvre her until she’s resting on her chest.
“I don’t give a fuck.” Her hand winds its way into Jasmine’s hair, and Frankie lets herself breathe for the first time in so long. She kisses the top of her head. Jasmine is here, andshe’s thought about talking to her every second of the day. She has hundreds of notes in her phone, but it’s not enough.
“Frankie,” she whispers. But Frankie sees straight through to what it is. A beg. A plea.Love me, please, tell me you love me.
“I love you,” Frankie says quietly. “I will always love you.”
Jasmine’s hands grip her waist, and Frankie’s voice shakes. “I wrote it down, but now I—now you’re right here, it doesn’t seem right. I—“
“Why haven’t you called me?” Jasmine asks. “It broke days ago. You’ve been to work, and you’ve seen people. I had to see you on Mali’s Instagram story, and you didn’t even text me.”
“I promise I just saw her on the way to pick up my prescription, I didn’t go to work.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be, I still hurt you,” Frankie whispers, her jaw tight for a moment. “I wanted to fix whatever it is inside me that came up with that decision. I hurt you, and I needed someone to talk to about it, and the only person I want to talk to is you. I hurt you,” she says again, with a sniff, “and I can’t deal with it. I don’t know how to deal with it, but I do want to because I love you, and I miss you, and the thought of not spending my life with you sends me into a blind panic, but that’s not why. I’m worried that I’m crazier than the pills fight.”
“Why?”
Frankie takes a deep breath. “The first time I had an episode, I hallucinated a little. I think. I tried to write it down after, but my memory is a little off with it. The doctors said it was okay if it was a bit, and if it got worse, then I’d need stronger pills, or maybe I’d get sectioned.”
Jasmine runs her fingers against Frankie’s waist. “Are you cold?” she asks. There are goosebumps on her skin, but it’s not due to the temperature.
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
Shoving the books out of the way, Jasmine pulls the duvet over them anyway. “Sorry,” she mutters, looking up at her. She smiles a little, and Frankie rubs her thumb against her cheek. “Carry on, sorry.”
They look at each other for a moment as Frankie lets the duvet consume them both. She takes a breath as she moves her foot, and Jasmine’s shin slips between her legs.
“This time was worse,” Frankie says. Jasmine holds on to her wrist. “I was so sure you were there. I was in blind panic, could not see a way out, and then I imagined your voice, and everything settled. It still took me days, but you were in every thought I had. I could see you. I’m—I need to tell my doctor. My therapist knows, and she told me not to talk to you yet, and she’s going to be so mad I’m here, but I’ve done nothing for the past few days bar update her on it, and the way I miss you is engrained into my soul. But what if I get sectioned? It would be what’s best, but I am beyond terrified.”
“Frank,” Jasmine whispers, leaning up from her chest. “My girl, I was there.”
She tries not to sob at her use ofmy girl. Hope blooms in her chest so hard she feels illuminated. “What?”
Jasmine tilts her head, her hand against her jaw. “I was there.”
“How?”
“Ezra called me.”
“But that—“ It doesn’t make any sense. Frankie had already hurt her, days before. She has the kids to think about. Jasmine rubs her thumb over her jaw. She looks at her like she did when Frankie was screaming at the wall, when she was muttering to herself, when she was the worst version of herself.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
Frankie sobs, closing her eyes. “I love you,” Frankie says. It will be true until her dying breath, but she’ll never say itagain if Jasmine doesn’t want her to. “I’m so sorry, and if you ever want to give me another chance, if you want to be friends for real, call me, okay? It can be five months from now, or ten years. I will be eighty-five, on a rocking chair on the front porch, waiting, and I will have loved you every second of every day. Call me, okay? If you think about me at all. Even if it’s because you saw someone bald.”
Jasmine smiles softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
Frankie huffs out a laugh. She owes her everything. “After that, I—it wasn’t because I didn’t want to call you. I wasn’t scared you’d think I was a fuck-up for it. I didn’t want to be Mike.”
Jasmine’s brow furrows. “What?”
“I know you’ve spent so long in a relationship you didn’t want to be in because he begged you to, and if you wanted, I would have been here on my knees the moment I knew what way was up. But I have one chance to make anything right with you, and I am fucking terrified. I will lose you and Marcel and Lani, and I can’t even comprehend life without you. All because I hurt you—I know that I did—and I hate it. I hate that you have ever been sad because of me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. The pain of knowing I hurt you lingers. God, I wish I could have met you when I was better.”
