Tales From Heller

Melon Fields And Plum Trees

Juliet had no reason not to take up Frank's offer of lunch after that interesting Career Day presentation. He was presumably paying, and he was so funny when he had an idea stuck in his head, as he clearly did with this election thing: he was most agreeable when he knew he was getting something in return so valuable that anything he offered was worth pennies in comparison. Juliet had never fancied herself a political consultant, but clearly Frank trusted her for a reason.

Outdoor seating was abundant that day, and they picked a nice Italian place—perhaps a bit above Juliet's usual budget, but clearly of no object to Frank—where they could people-watch and talk strategy. This latter pursuit took second priority once the food arrived, both seemingly realizing that their talk would have no consequence on their campaign and that the two glasses of lavender lemonade, the very attractive kale salad replete with golden raisins and shaved Parmesan, and the individual boutique pizzas for the each of them were far more alluring.

"Let me take a photo of you and the food, Frank, for my Instagram story. Yes, I know, good people don't use social media and all that, but this is politics: we want to portray a humanistic image. You're just like the common man: you too eat food and smile. Take one of me too while you're at it for your parents, maybe—they know you need to eat more."

This was an attractive enough proposition to Frank, who calculated that a small bit of hypocrisy was outweighed by a spirit of good humor. So he put his best show on for the camera, and Juliet did the same—the thought struck him that as relatively inactive his personal Instagram was, being used more for resharing official Heller business and the rare bits of his life where the club did not intrude—friends from other schools and hobbies he saved for weekends—it was still a good venue for personal sharing. And so Frank posted the picture of Juliet, and they reshared each other's stories as per the usual custom.

At the tail end of their second glasses of lemonade (it was a hot day and Frank deemed the sugary indulgence permissible), the thought occurred to Juliet to check her Instagram story's analytics numbers. To her surprise, she had many unread DMs, a fact she had to share with Frank immediately.

"Would you look at that! Four people have responded to my story!" Juliet exclaimed. "You should check yours too—it's a miracle what good food, cutely framed, will do."

"I'll check when I get home. What do your messages say?"

"Let's see, from a middle school classmate who goes to St. Sebastian: well, this is funny. 'Looks like a keeper,' heart-eyes emoji. That's adorable." Juliet chuckled, not noticing Frank's consternation. "Next one, from one of my cheer buddies freshman year: 'ooh a date?,' eyes emoji. These people are so hilarious."

"You know, the thought occurred to me that out-of-context, for anyone who doesn't know what we're up to with the club, especially people who don't know we're obviously long-time friends with no funny business going on, this would look like a date," Frank observed. "Let's see what I've gotten... 'my man grabbing that...'" How about I save these for later?"

"They're just teasing, Frank. As long as they don't actually think we're dating—or even if they did, it's not like we're violating item 19."

"I have an image to maintain. I'm running for office! Imagine what my opponents would say: 'Franklin Barnes seems like an upstanding guy, but I heard he went on a date with his vice president. I thought he was above corruption.' I'm the family candidate, the everyman."

"What's the big deal? Behrooz is dating Beth. Alan has no hopes of attracting the opposite sex, so we don't have to worry about him. Is it really that out of line? I'm not saying we should date, I'm just saying that a bit of gossip won't kill you. People will forget about this in a day."

The heat was starting to get to Frank a bit, so he called over the waiter and paid the bill. He and Juliet kept chatting as they walked, and parted ways at the bus stop.

"You know, Frank, if you treated your actual dates like this, they would be very happy. If you choose, then again, to do something that violates your image as a paragon of good behavior. It's not like taking a girl out to a fancy lunch and walking her to her transport is a seedy act—if anything, it's very gentlemanly."

"And how would you know? Have you ever been on a date?"

"I haven't, but I know. I just know. Well, aren't you going to give your date a hug?" Juliet asked, reaching her arms out.

"It's not a date."

"I'm teasing. Your friend, then. Nothing more."

"Fine," Frank said, and he reciprocated her gesture. Walking back to his house, he thought about damage control, the most delicate ways to convince his friends that despite his good fortune to have had such a nice lunch, there was nothing more to it than that. Or perhaps an appeal to their social progressiveness, saying that unlike what might have been the norm in their grandparents' era, a guy and girl could do whatever they pleased together without an expectation of romance, and who says they're attracted to each other anyway? Or in the case that they were dating, that an errant post on Instagram was not an invitation to pry into their social lives, just as he would extend anyone else the same courtesy if they too made posts that could be taken a certain way.

A simpler alternative dawned on Frank when he came back home and checked his phone to see a solid handful of DMs directed to him plus all the ones Juliet forwarded to him with laughing emojis: let them wonder. Take the compliments as they came, take pride in the amount of people who told Juliet he was a 10/10. They'd move onto a more interesting story eventually, leaving nothing except a lingering impression that this Frank guy must be a charismatic one if he were capable of landing himself such a hot date.

On the other end of town, Juliet was showing her grandma the pictures from lunch, with none of the reservations Frank had.

"He looks so handsome! I know him—he was at your birthday party. Is he single?" Juliet's grandma asked.

"Yes, but we're just friends. He's really nice though, smart too."

"He doesn't like you back. That's a shame. You can win him over, I believe in you."

"That's not true, Grandma!" Juliet shouted, but her grandma walked away with a cheeky grin. She pulled out her phone, and was about to start typing out responses to her many inquirers, but stopped. If she were to be mysterious and silent, she could only imagine what wild rumors would spread among her non-Heller peers. And if some of those rumors took a rose-colored view of reality, well, she couldn't do anything about that.

Discussion Questions:

The title of this chapter comes from a Chinese proverb that says "avoid tying your shoes in a melon field, or adjusting your cap under a plum tree," meaning to avoid the appearance of impropriety. Why is Frank so concerned about this here?

In what ways have we seen Juliet challenge Frank and assert her own agency?

Has your opinion of Frank and/or Juliet improved so far in this sequel?