Mack Daddy

“You’re here for Jonah. You think I would be a good fit for him. You already said that.”

  “No, Frankie. It’s not just that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  I let out a slow breath to gear myself up and vowed not to be a pussy.

  “I’ve never stopped thinking about you. All of these years, they feel like a blur. I look at you sitting in front of me right now, and I’m feeling all of the same things I did when we were together.”

  “We were never together.”

  Hearing her say that caused me to snap a little, because there was no way she could deny what we had.

  “The hell we weren’t together. We never fucked, maybe, but we were connected in every other way that two people could be. You can’t deny that. I hurt you. I know that. But deep down, I know you understand why I did it.”

  “That didn’t make it hurt any less when you left.”

  “God, don’t you think I know that?” I had raised my voice a little too much and made a conscious effort to lighten my tone when I asked, “This guy you’re with…what’s his name?”

  “Victor.”

  “He takes good care of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really love him, or is it that you feel safe with him, because he’s older and kind of like a—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Well, I have to say it. You have a daddy complex, Frankie. You’re living with a man old enough to be your father because you have abandonment issues.”

  “I don’t remember my father abandoning me.” She raised her voice. “I do, however, remember the day you left very clearly.”

  Her words felt like a slice to my throat. She was right, though. For the first time since reconnecting with her, she had managed to silence me. It was also the first time I realized just how badly my leaving hurt her.

  She must have sensed what I was thinking when she said, “I’m sorry, Mack. That was unfair. I shouldn’t have said it like that. This is just really hard for me.”

  “I know it is. That’s why I’m trying to talk to you. I don’t want things to be weird between us. I miss you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I wasn’t wondering what you were doing, what you were thinking about, whether you were hating me for leaving. When most people say stuff like that, it’s an exaggeration. In my case, it’s not. Every single day, Frankie.”

  “I assumed we would never see each other again. You being back here has turned my world upside down.”

  Hearing the pain in her voice made me take a deep breath before attempting to explain things to her.

  “When Torrie got the job in Boston…knowing that I could move closer to you again—to have you meet my son—it seemed like a gift. Everything just fell into place. It felt like oxygen had returned to my body for the first time in years. This was an opportunity I couldn’t let pass me by. I know what I did by getting him into your class was extreme.”

  “You think?” she said sarcastically.

  “I just want to know you again, Frankie. I want him to know you. I swear to God, I didn’t mean to turn your world upside down. If you’re happy, I swear on my son’s life, that makes me happy. I just don’t want you to spend another day hating me for leaving.”

  “I don’t hate you, Mack. I may have been very upset for a long time, but I never hated you.”

  It was such a relief to hear her say that, because I’d often wondered.

  I reached over and took her hand in mine. I didn’t care if it was a bold move. I needed to touch her. Then, I moved her hand and placed it over my heart. “You feel that?” I asked. “Feel how it’s beating for you right now. Every time I even allow myself to think about you, it beats like this. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

  She kept her hand over it for at least a full minute. My heart continued to beat even faster into her palm the longer she kept it on me.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” she whispered.

  There was only one answer.

  “Just believe what it’s telling you.”

  She stayed silent and eventually pulled her hand away. I knew I was having an effect on her. I knew she still had feelings for me, but I also knew that I wasn’t going to be able to convince her with words to give me a second chance. It would have to be done through actions. And it was going to take time. But nothing was guaranteed.

  “I didn’t come to mess up your life, but you asked why I’m here. Here’s the honest answer: I’m here for you, Frankie. I’m here to finish what I started years ago. If you honestly love him, then I promise I will accept that. I’ll try to move on. But until you look me in the eyes and tell me there’s no chance, I’m gonna hold out hope.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just have this coffee with me. Talk to me. Be my friend again, even if it’s nothing more. We’ll just take this one moment at a time.”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay.”

  It felt like a massive weight lifted when she agreed.

  Despite the tense start to our coffee date, the rest of the time spent at the café was pretty stress free. Frankie updated me on Jonah’s progress in class, and I filled her in on my job. She and I even managed to laugh a little and reminisce. We also made plans to have me come in and volunteer in the classroom again soon, since the last time seemed to be a big hit. The coffee date that had started out as an emotional mess ended on a fairly calm note.

  She eventually left to go home to her boyfriend, taking an even bigger chunk of my heart with her this time.

  The following Sunday, I was driving Jonah back to his mother’s after the weekend at my place. As usual, he’d been pretty quiet during his stay with me, wanting mostly to stay home and play with some new apps I’d put on his tablet.

  I’d forced him to go out to eat and to read with me at night, but he never seemed fully happy with anything. He didn’t want friends over, and that made it even harder to occupy his time.

  I found myself giving into him more and more lately to compensate for my not being there every day. Between my moving out and then our moving out of state, it was a lot for him to handle.

  It seemed that no matter how confident of a person I’d always thought I was, when it came to my son, I often felt helpless, like I didn’t know shit and couldn’t do anything right.

  We were driving down Route Nine when I noticed him looking pretty sullen as he gazed out the window of the backseat.

  “Jonah…everything okay? Aren’t you looking forward to seeing your mother?”

  As was typical, when I asked him anything about his feelings, he just shrugged his shoulders.

  Looking at him through the rearview mirror, I said, “Well, I know she missed you. She always does.”

  My chest felt tight during the rest of the ride. My son was a way more sensitive kid than I ever was. Even though my parents didn’t have the best marriage and were rarely around my sister and me, I somehow just accepted it. Jonah knew better, and more than that, he deserved better. I wanted to give him a better childhood than I’d had. Lately, it seemed like I’d failed miserably at that, even though I was trying my ass off to make him happy.

  When we pulled up to Torrie’s brick-faced house, I happened to notice a second car parked in her driveway.

  After she opened the door, I could smell a hint of wine on her breath as she said, “You weren’t supposed to be here for another half-hour.”

  “Well, Jonah left his Kindle charger here. He asked me if we could leave a little early. Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not. Why would it be a problem?”

  As Jonah ran up the stairs to his room, I glanced over at a tall dude with a beard. He was standing in the corner holding a beer.

  “Who’s this?” I asked as I continued to stare him down.

  He approached me, offering his hand, which I didn’t take. “I’m Gerard Lo
ckhart. Nice to meet you.”

  “Gerard works with me.”

  “I see.” I nudged my head back toward the front door. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

  She followed me and asked, “What is it?”

  “What are you doing bringing strange men around my son?”

  “You don’t have a say in whom I invite over to my house.”

  “He’s not emotionally ready to have other men around. He’s still getting over my not living with him.”

  “Whose fault is that? Someday when he asks why we aren’t together, I’ll tell him the truth, that you told me you didn’t love me, that you never loved me. Don’t blame me for all of this. Don’t blame me for trying to find someone to give me what you never did. It’s your fault we’re in this place, and you need to accept it. You’re the one who left.”

  Fuck. To be honest, it was the truth. Not wanting my son to overhear anything, I simply lowered my voice and said, “In the future, you really need to discuss these things with me first.”

  “Whatever, Mack,” Torrie said before shutting the door.

  Getting back in my car, I was too exhausted to start the engine. I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes before eventually garnering the energy to drive away.

  Once I arrived home, I stayed in the car for a bit, staring at my phone. My finger hovered over Frankie’s name. I wanted to text her so badly but decided against it. In my current mood, I might have gone overboard and said something I would’ve regretted, like how badly at the café I’d wanted to lick a line from her chest up to her neck to her bottom lip before sucking on it. We’d ended that meeting on a good note, and I needed to continue to take it slow.

  Mrs. Migillicutty opened her window when she caught me walking into my house.

  “Evening, Mack.”

  “Evening, Mrs. M.”

  “You look like shit.”

  I started to laugh. “Well, thank you. Tell me how you really feel.”

  “You know what the great thing about having me for a neighbor is?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I double as a bartender.”

  “Is that so? I like that idea. We can call it Migillicutty’s Pub.”

  “How about some of that rum I promised you? I make a mean rum and Coke.”

  God, I could use a drink tonight.

  I threw my keys up in the air and caught them. “Serve me up!”

  Once inside, she prepared my drink at the table. The Coke fizzed as she poured it over the liquor. She slid the glass over to me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m totally living vicariously through you, Mack.” She crossed her arms and leaned in. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s right would be a more appropriate question.”

  “Talk.”

  “Let’s see. Where to start? I’m angry at my ex for bringing a new man around my son without checking with me first. Speaking of my son, I’m pretty sure he hates me and blames me for his unhappiness. God knows what kind of false information his mother’s feeding him.”

  “Anyone who sees you in action with that boy would never doubt the kind of father you are. The fact that you’re not with his mother doesn’t change that. As for this new man, be happy someone’s filling her love tank so that you don’t have to anymore.”

  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

  “Speaking of which, didn’t you have a date with Miss Frankie?”

  “It was hardly a date, but yeah. It started out a little rocky, but it ended up okay. We just talked.”

  “You never told me the story of how you met her. I know she was your roommate.”

  “You really want to hear it?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  I couldn’t help but crack up any time she said something I didn’t expect to come out of her mouth.

  She looked confused. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So, tell me the story!”

  “Okay…well, the thing with Frankie didn’t start out romantic or anything. She was—for lack of a better word—odd, even a little geeky. At least, that was my impression of her when she first moved in. But there was something really endearing about her at the same time. I guess I liked the fact that she wasn’t egotistical or intimidating like most of the other people I’d been associating with up until that point.”

  “I bet a lot of people find you intimidating, Mack.”

  “Maybe.” I grinned. “Anyway, I’d been surrounded by people my whole life who I felt like I had to compete with. I was brought up to find value in shallow and unimportant things. Frankie, on the other hand, never made me feel anything but comfortable in my own skin. I never felt like she was judging me. She used to have this terrible social anxiety. I used to tell her she shouldn’t give a fuck what people thought of her. Meanwhile, that was a little hypocritical because deep down, I definitely struggled with that a little, too, particularly when it came to my father. Anyway, those months of getting to know her as a friend were like a breath of fresh air that I didn’t know I needed. It was like I’d been suffocating and didn’t realize it. Frankie was sweet and caring. She’d cook for me—no one had ever cooked for me in my life unless they were getting paid to do it. But more than anything, being around her just…felt good.”

  “She made you happy. It’s not always easy to understand why that happens with certain people. It’s cosmic or something.”

  “Right. It’s not always logical, either. It was definitely unexpected with her.”

  “So, what was the problem?”

  “I was with Torrie when I met Frankie.”

  Mrs. Migillicutty smacked the table. “Ah. See, now this story is getting fucking good.”

  I laughed. “Frankie had basically been like one of the guys at first. But later, I began to realize that I was going out less. I’d be in work or class and thinking about how I couldn’t wait to get home. I’d think of something funny and have to stop everything I was doing to text her. Or the worst part, I’d be visiting Torrie in D.C. and counting the minutes until I could catch my Sunday night flight back to Boston. But even still, I was in denial for a very long time. I’d never had feelings for someone that didn’t start out as pure physical attraction. With Frankie, it was the opposite. I was extremely attracted to her brain, to her heart, to just being with her, to how she made me feel. Then over time, I’d started to look at her differently. I’m not even sure exactly when it changed, but my admiration for her definitely extended to the physical. I’d notice the way she bit her lip, and I’d find myself wishing I could be the one biting it. I’d count the tiny freckles over her nose and wish I could trace a line over them with my tongue. I’d notice when her nipples were peeking through her shirt…”

  She grabbed a napkin and began fanning herself. “This is better than my online porn.”

  Taken aback, I chuckled. “Ohhhh-kay.”

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway, the physical part took a long time to develop, but once it did, it was so strong that I almost couldn’t handle it. And basically, I knew I was in trouble because I’d been knee-deep in this relationship with Torrie for years.”

  “How young were you when you started dating Torrie?”

  “Torrie is the daughter of my father’s closest aide, Burton Hightower. She worked in public relations for my father for a long time. It was why she stayed behind in D.C. when I moved to Boston for grad school. She’d just started working for Dad at that time. From a very young age, my parents had been pushing me to date her. Torrie is very driven. She was always pursuing me from the time we were in middle school. My father had it all planned out. I’d follow in his footsteps career-wise and marry Torrie. It seemed like a done deal. Don’t get me wrong…she was beautiful and smart—what many would think was the whole package. I was attracted to her for a long time and finally gave in and started dating her exclusively in college after playing the field in high school. I really t
hought maybe I could grow to love her someday, that things would work out.”

  “That didn’t happen.”

  “No, it never really did.”

  She poured me another drink as she said, “Then along came Frankie.”

  “Yup. I didn’t see that coming at all. I guess you don’t really understand what it feels like to truly connect with someone until it happens. You think what you’ve experienced up until a certain point is all there is. Then, someone comes along and rocks your world, and you realize you didn’t know shit about shit.”

  PAST

  It was my Sunday night ritual. The D.C. to Boston shuttle would land at eight. Then, I’d hop the train and be back at the apartment by nine, just in time to catch Frankie doing laundry in the basement of our building.

  She was always afraid to leave her stuff, so she’d lean against the washer and read until I inevitably joined her to keep her company. I’d always bring my own laundry down to throw into the other machine if it was empty. We’d stay there late into the night until we finished washing and folding all of our clothes.

  It seemed crazy, but the laundry ritual was the one thing I looked forward to most after a hectic weekend. Something about the smell of the detergent, the soothing sounds of the machines, the mellow lighting in that room and—most of all—Frankie’s company calmed me down after the stress of D.C. A part of me also worried about her being alone down in that dingy basement without me.

  “Hey,” I said, standing in the doorway.

  Frankie, who’d been deep into reading, put her book down and smiled. “Hi.”

  “Any freaks come bother you?”

  “Not until you showed up, Morrison.” She winked.

  “You’re hysterical,” I threw one of my shirts at her and watched as she proceeded to smell it. “Did you just smell my dirty shirt? I worked out in that.”

  “It’s morbid curiosity.”

  “You like to smell things that might not emit a favorable outcome? Like that old Saturday Night Live character who loved to sniff her own armpits. What was her name?”

  Frankie smiled. “Mary Katherine Gallagher.”

  “Yup. I’m gonna start calling you Mary Katherine.”