by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FRANKIE
Vince looked abhorrently at the bandage on his arm from his blood draw. He didn’t look forward to taking it off, as it would probably take dozens of hairs and a few tears with it. His name was called soon after he sat down in the chemotherapy center waiting room. A nurse led him to the much larger treatment room lined with overstuffed leather chairs, each separated from its neighbor by a few feet and a curtain that could be drawn for privacy. Some patients had visitors, most of them parents staying with younger patients. Others sat alone, doing anything to pass the time—reading, sleeping, watching television, knitting.
“I’m Maria and I’ll be one of the nurses floating around today. First time, I see…No port, correct?” his nurse asked him. Short in stature and probably close to his age, she seemed about as non-threatening as they came, even though she spoke sharply and walked with a purpose.
“For now. I’ll probably get one eventually,” Vince said, taking the chair Maria gestured to and setting a bag of things down next to him.
“I’ll start up an IV, then. We’ll give you something right away for the nausea. Let us know if it’s not working once we start up the chemo. We can always up your dosage.”
“Sounds good.” Vince looked around him as Maria started his IV line with ease.
“You got lucky. No one starts an IV like me,” she said with a wink of a cheery brown eye. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m good for now, thanks,” Vince said, wanting to get things moving.
“All right then, we’ll get you started, Mr. Glasser.”
“Vince, please.”
“You got it, hon.”
Vince continued to take in his surroundings while his nurse started his very first round of chemotherapy. It had only been a week since cancer was even mentioned. Now he sat alone, jobless and with a needle in his arm, wondering what the next six to eight months would be like, besides the fact that he would be spending quite a bit of time here. He planned on a lot of quiet days. He certainly wasn’t looking to make new friends here, not when they were known either to die or to go into remission, leaving him here alone no matter the outcome.
“What’s that?” a quiet, high-pitched voice said to his left.
Eyebrows raised in question, Vince turned to address a little girl who sat in the chair next to him, unaccompanied. She looked to be a couple of years older than Charlie and, judging from the scarf she wore over her bald head, she had been here before. He smiled softly. “What’s what?”
“That,” she said, pointing to Vince’s tote bag. Out of the top of it stuck the head of Charlie’s stuffed dog. Vince supposed it was really his own, now. “Is that supposed to be a dog?”
“Yeah, once upon a time it looked a little more recognizable. That’s Chip,” Vince said kindly, taking him out of the bag and showing him off. “My son gave him to me.”
The girl smiled, crossing her short legs across the footrest of her chair, which, up until now, Vince hadn’t noticed was a recliner. He deployed his own footrest and got comfortable.
“He’s cute,” the girl said.
“I think so, too.”
“I’m Frankie,” she said, giving Vince an expectant look.
He was pleasantly surprised. He had expected this place to be rather depressing, and although he supposed the idea of a child suffering an illness like his was indeed depressing, at least she was in good spirits. Even though he didn’t plan on getting close to anyone here, he couldn’t avoid the occasional conversation. Next time he would have to remember to put earbuds in before anyone could talk to him. “My name is Vince. Are your mom and dad here with you?”
Frankie shook her head. “I’ve been here enough to come alone. My mom drops me off and my dad picks me up. This is your first time here, isn’t it?” she asked perceptively.
“Yes, it is. What clued you in?” Vince asked with the same grin he would give Charlie.
“Maria said ‘First time, I see…’” Frankie said, impersonating their nurse’s lower voice.
Vince almost laughed. “I guess she did say that, didn’t she?”
Frankie giggled. “Whatcha in for?”
“Come again?”
“What kind of cancer?”
“Oh. Pancreatic,” Vince replied. “You?”
“Leukemia, stage two. What stage are you?”
Vince found Frankie’s directness to be slightly off-putting, but couldn’t fault her for her curiosity. She was young, cheerful, and it wasn’t like Vince hadn’t told the story half a dozen times already. After all, what more fitting icebreaker was there in a chemotherapy center? “Stage four,” he answered.
Frankie’s smile melted away. “Wow. Operable?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Vince said, figuring the girl had been through enough to be able to learn that a stranger was dying.
“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. “Pancreatic cancer is rough.”
“Kind of a conversation killer, isn’t it?” Vince quipped.
“Have to get it out of the way, I guess. How old is your son?”
“He’s six. How old are you?”
“Guess,” Frankie said with a toothy smile.
Vince wore an overly scrutinizing look. “Hmm. Eight.”
“Nope, nine. My mom says I look young for my age and that I should hope it stays that way.”
“Your mom sounds pretty smart. Most moms are. I’d listen to her,” Vince said, pulling on the recliner handle and lying back. He stifled a yawn.
“I’m back,” Maria said in a singsong voice. “Is Miss Frankie keeping you occupied?”
“She’s a great conversational partner,” Vince said while Maria punched a few buttons on the machine behind him.
“That she is. Remember, let us know if you start to feel nauseous. Other than that, sit back, relax, read a book, take a nap, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Vince watched as Maria strode away. When he looked over at Frankie, she wore earbuds and had a book open in front of her. Vince didn’t interrupt her. He tucked Chip under one arm and dug a new paperback out of his bag. He was only half a chapter in before his eyes drifted shut, informing him that he was more tired than he had thought.
Vince was awoken a while later by the vibrating of his phone in his pocket. He cleared his throat, his eyes squinting against the light, trying to figure out who was calling. “Hey,” he finally said to his brother.
“Hey, just calling to check in. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Vince said quietly. “I’m in chemo right now.”
“Oh, that’s right, you started today. What’s it like?”
Vince looked over and saw that Frankie was napping, as well. “Interesting. I think I made a friend. She’s pretty smart.”
“Oh yeah? How old?” Mitch asked with a hint of excitement that he failed to hide.
“Nine,” Vince said chidingly. “This is chemo, not speed dating,” he muttered.
“At least your choice is easier, then. No competition for Angela.”
“This again?” Vince asked.
“Oh, come on. At least tell me how that night went with her.”
“It went fine,” Vince said. “She and Charlie and I played Uno.”
“That’s it? She came all the way to your place twice in one day and all you did was play a kids’ card game?”
“She stuck around for a little while,” Vince admitted.
“And?”
“And what? That’s all.”
“Is ‘stuck around’ some sort of euphemism for something a little more exciting?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
Mitch sighed in disappointment. “Seriously? Nothing?”
Vince rolled his eyes but didn’t answer.
“I’ll ask questions, and you just answer yes or no,” Mitch said. “And be honest. We’re trying to be good brothers again, so you can’t lie to me.”
“Mitch.”
“Did you sleep with her?�
�
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
“No.”
“Right. Did you make a move, maybe? Kiss her? At least be honest with her?”
“It’s…ten in the morning. Aren’t you at work? What on earth are you doing talking about this there?”
“I’m on a break. Answer me. Did you kiss her?”
While Vince didn’t want to enter this territory again, his only brother, trying his hardest to remove the label of estranged, was calling him on his work break, interested in nothing but this. If Vince’s love life or lack thereof was entertaining for his brother, he supposed he could give him a little something. “Yes. But it was a mistake.”
“How so? Did you mean to kiss the invisible girl next to her?” Mitch asked.
“Funny. It was…awkward.”
“What first kiss isn’t? Especially since you guys worked together. But that’s past tense, right? Wasn’t your last day yesterday?”
“Yes, it was,” Vince said.
“Well then, that’s no longer an issue. What else has you all bent out of shape? Or is she the one who changed her mind?”
“It’s complicated, Mitch.”
“If you ask me, it’s pretty easy, Vince. Did she regret the kiss? Because if she didn’t, then this whole issue is in your head.”
“She didn’t.”
“Then if she wants to be with you, and you wanna be with her, then just do it. People say it all the time on their deathbeds, don’t they? You’ll regret not doing the things you didn’t do a lot more than you’ll regret the things you did do. No one wants to die alone, and I know that includes you, even though you can be one of the least loving people in the world. Outwardly, that is. You have a chance to make the most of this. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”
“I can’t just think about myself.”
“Let me get this straight. You kiss her, then you say it was a mistake, but she insists it wasn’t, but you insist it was, so you essentially reject her. She’s upset. You think that when she’s at your funeral, she’s gonna be saying to herself, ‘Phew. Glad we didn’t give that a chance. It wouldn’t have lasted.’ No, man. She knows that’s coming. She’s not an idiot. And she’s not a kid. She understands. You’re the only ignorant one here.”
“Ignorant is a little harsh. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“Yeah, well, your heart’s in the right place, but your head’s so far up your butt you have to fart to breathe.”
Despite the interrogation and the resulting tension, Vince couldn’t help but crack a laugh at his brother’s retort. He was as lewd as ever, only keeping his language clean because he was at work.
“Wow, he’s laughing. Call a medic. Good thing you’re in a hospital,” Mitch said.
“Does this mean you’re done with the questions now?” Vince asked hopefully.
“I will be if you can give me one good argument for your case. ‘It’s gonna hurt for her when I die’ is not a good argument and you know it. It’s gonna hurt for her when you die. It doesn’t matter whether you get together. She’s your partner. She saved your life. You’ve been a part of hers for years. But…put yourself in her shoes. Let’s say you really wanted her, and you knew she wanted you, but her days were numbered, and she thought it best to decide for you that you shouldn’t do the whole relationship thing because it would hurt you too much. That’s what you’re doing, man. You’re making a decision for her. I’m assuming she drove to your place, so I’m assuming she’s got a driver’s license…She’s got a grown-up job…So treat her like a grown-up.”
“She’s never lost anyone before,” Vince argued.
“Well, she’s lucky to have made it this far. I get it. You want to protect her. That’s what you do. But she’s allowed to refuse your protection. Let her.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“It is,” Mitch said tersely. “Shoot, my break’s over. Gotta run.” It sounded to Vince like Mitch was taking a fast drag of a cigarette before putting it out. “Now stop being crazy. Next time I call, I don’t wanna have to grill you again. I’d rather talk about your girlfriend.”
Vince put his phone away with an irritated sigh. He wished he could be upset with Angela for showing up that night, for cluing Mitch in.
“Who was that?” Frankie asked.
“Thought you were sleeping,” Vince said.
“I was trying,” Frankie replied, sticking out her tongue.
“Oh, I’m sor—”
“Just kidding,” she said. “Who was it?”
“That was my little brother,” Vince said with a slight tilt to his lips.
“How old is he?”
“Oh, I don’t know…Thirty-…four, I think. No, still thirty-three. Nope. He’s thirty-four.”
“You should know for sure how old your brother is. How old are you?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Vince noted.
“I know. How old are you?” she repeated.
“Forty-six.”
“That’s not too old to have a girlfriend. My uncle’s older than you and he’s had five girlfriends in the last year and two of them are having babies soon. My dad calls him the black sheep of the family. But still, you can have a girlfriend.”
“Who said anything about a girlfriend?” Vince asked, wondering just how much of the conversation Frankie had heard.
“You’re not very good at talking quiet.”
“Well, I appreciate your insight, but age has nothing to do with it.” Vince wasn’t sure why he was humoring a nine-year-old stranger’s curiosity about his personal life, but he guessed it would be tacky to tell her to mind her own business.
“What is it, then?”
Vince thought back on his talk with Mitch and realized how short on words he had been, while his brother had practically talked his ear off. Frankie probably hadn’t learned much at all. “It’s kind of a grown-up problem.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “You’re just like my parents. I heard you say you played Uno, though. I have a deck with me. Wanna play?”
“I’m not very good,” Vince warned.
—
“Hi, Daddy!” Charlie screeched as he tore through the front door of Jenna’s house, his backpack dragging behind him as he only held it by one strap. The school bus could be heard grumbling off down the street.
“Hey, buddy,” Vince said from the couch, groggy from a nap he couldn’t stop and opening up his arms for a hug that knocked the wind out of him. “Wow, you’re excited about something. What’s up?”
“I just missed you,” Charlie said with the simplicity and innocence that could only come from a child his age. “Did you get your medicine?”
“I did,” Vince replied. “Why don’t you go say hi to Auntie Jen, though? She’s cooking us dinner and you flew right by her.”
“How come you’re not helping?”
“Because I yawned and now she won’t let me,” Vince said loudly enough for Jenna to hear. Charlie hurried off to hug and kiss his aunt before rejoining his father.
“What are we doing tonight?” Charlie asked.
“What do you mean? It’s just like any other night. We’re gonna work on your homework, have dinner, go home, play a game or go to the park if you want, then get ready for bed.”
“Can Angela come over again and play Uno?”
Charlie’s question reminded Vince that he hadn’t called Angela after his chemotherapy as he had promised. In the back of his mind, he wondered whether he even should.
“Angela from work?” Jenna called from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Vince answered. “She’s very busy, Charlie, like I was when I worked with her. And she has things she likes to do in the evening, too, besides come over and play cards with us.”
Charlie pouted. “But she’s really nice.”
Vince was amused by how correct and irrelevant Charlie’s reply was. “Yeah, she is. But she’s got places to go, things to do.”
“Do you think if we call her ahead of time, she can come over when she’s not busy? You could call her right now and ask if she wants to come over tomorrow.”
Vince softened, opening up an arm and waiting for Charlie to hop up on the couch and cozy up to him. “Is that what you really want?” Vince asked, knowing that inviting Angela over could open up that dreaded can of worms all over again.
Charlie nodded ardently. “And I wanna say hi too.”
“How about you answer when she picks up?”
—
“You know, even if we just thought he was out with a cold, I think this place would still feel empty,” Marshall said, parked on the edge of his desk as they both gazed into Vince’s empty office.
Angela remained silent and checked her watch. If Vince was still in treatment, she had no reason to be worried. But if he was out, then he either wasn’t doing well enough to call, or he had forgotten or chosen not to call
“You okay?” Marshall asked, tilting his neck to catch her attention.
“Yeah,” Angela breathed. She wondered if she felt Vince’s absence more than anyone. Even though they weren’t on a case right now and there was no need to split off into pairs, the entire building felt foreign without her partner. “Have you gotten anything done today?” she asked him.
“Not really,” Marshall replied. “I don’t think anyone has. You?”
Angela shook her head. “I can’t focus at all.”
It was then that they saw Hanson approach Harry’s office door, knock, and walk inside. “Wonder if he’s being promoted to ASAC,” Marshall said.
Angela kept her mouth shut, not sharing the fact that Vince had recommended Harry for the position. It wasn’t her story to tell, and she didn’t know why Vince had made the recommendation anyway, so her knowledge served little purpose. When her phone rang, she picked it up mindlessly, having forgotten for a moment whose phone call she had been awaiting. “Hawkins.”
“Is this Angela?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, it is,” she cooed, getting a curious stare from Marshall and now Sophie, who joined them with a cup of coffee.
“Hi, Angela! It’s Charlie!”
“Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”
“Sweetie?” Sophie mouthed to Marshall, who shrugged.
“Can you come over?” Charlie asked. “Tomorrow, I mean. When you’re not busy doing other stuff.”
“Umm…” Angela panicked, knowing Sophie and Marshall were probably trying to listen in. She discreetly turned down the volume on her phone with her thumb.
“Hey,” Vince said cheerily enough once he wrought his phone free from Charlie’s hands.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Not bad. Tired, but other than that, okay. I know you wanted me to call. And Charlie wants to know if you can come play Uno again sometime.”
Angela’s cheeks burned something awful. “Uh, yeah. I’d love that. When?”
“Daddy, tell her tomorrow!” Angela could hear Charlie pleading.
“Would tomorrow work for you, assuming you’re in town?”
“Tomorrow would be great.”
“Ask her if she can bring ice cream again,” Charlie instructed.
“You can ignore him. We still have some left over, Charlie. Why don’t you go help Auntie Jen?” Angela couldn’t help but grin, even though she knew she would get the third degree for it from her friends when she hung up. As far as they knew, she had no one special in her life over whom to smile and blush. “Sorry, he’s a little excited,” Vince said.
“Just a little?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow after I get out of work. Is that all right?” Angela asked.
“Perfect. See you then.”
“Who was that?” Sophie demanded the second Angela put her phone away.
“Old friend,” Angela replied.
“Whom you happen to call ‘sweetie’? Sounded like you were talking to a little kid there,” Marshall observed.
“I was. She lets her kids answer the phone all the time.” Angela sneaked a glance toward Harry’s office again to see Hanson walking out of it. “That was fast,” she said, thankful for the diversion. For as much grief as she had given Vince for caring what other people thought of them, whether or not their relationship remained platonic, she was still trying to force her heart down out of her skull, where it currently threatened to pound its way free. Even before the kiss, her visiting Vince alone had meant something more. She wondered what it meant to him now that everything was out in the open, but she had no way of finding out easily.