Do I Want To Know?

Chapter 22- Boy in the Photograph

   Nancy stood in the hotel lobby, waiting for Frank and Joe to arrive. As she stared into her phone camera wiping away stray tears, she simultaneously wished they'd hurry up, and never show up. There'd be no way to hide from Frank that she'd been crying, not even if she splashed her face with water. He'd know, and it killed her to think his doubts would triple if he found out she'd been crying over Ned Nickerson.

   It wasn't so much because they were officially over, or the fact that she'd most likely never talk to him again, but because she knew she had caused Ned so much pain, and nothing she could do would ever fix it. She was frustrated with herself all over again, even if she had vowed never to do the same thing to Frank.

   The consequences of her actions were trapped in Ned's eyes, the way he looked at her before he turned and walked out of her life.

   Thousands of 'I'm sorrys' swirled around her head, and it didn't matter if she said them. In fact, it'd probably be better if she didn't say them. Ned wouldn't forgive her now, and why should he?

   A few pop-up texts bombarded Nancy's screen and halfway blocked her view of her reddened eyes that would be puffy in a matter of hours.

   It was Bess, and then it was George, and then Bess again.

   George was worried about her, and she had evidently told Bess, who was ten times more worried. Nancy swiped the texts away. It made her feel guilty, but she really didn't want to go back to the room, or have them come find her and beg for details that she didn't want to give.

   Nancy turned her phone off, keeping it held tightly in her hand while her knee bounced wildly up and down. She tried to remind herself of her excitement for the case to break, fill her head with that instead of self-deprecating thoughts or the disappointed face she knew Frank would make when he saw hers.

   No more tears, either. Nancy chided herself. Easier said than done when someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind, and she spun around to see Frank standing there. His hair was combed neat this time, like it always was. He wore a black shirt, its collar adorned with white accents, and these gray slacks that screamed anything but casual. He gave her a smile at first, tugging his sleeves up to his elbows, and for some reason Nancy felt her eyes water again.

   She wanted to pull him in tight and give him a few hundred of the 'sorrys' she held in her head.

   Frank's smile fell almost immediately,

   "What happened?" He asked, nervous, and when tears just spilled over her waterline, he granted her wish for a hug.

   "I'm the worst, Frank." She mumbled against his chest. Frank tried to sooth her, rubbing her back while his forehead creased with worry. Twice now he had to see her cry, and twice he had heard her say some semblance of those words. It hurt him to see someone so strong fall apart, to see someone he admired think that way about herself.

   "You're not."

   "You're lying."

   Frank felt a pang in his chest, taken aback by her words. Not once had he ever thought of her as a bad person, or said anything of the sort. Where was this coming from?

   He moved his hands from her back, and pulled her face from his shirt. He held it between his hands firmly, so she could look nowhere but up at him.

   "We all make mistakes. Me too. I told you that yesterday, remember?" Frank stared down at her, talking like he meant business. He did. Nancy gazed back up at him, her eyes glistening with tears, and she nodded as best she could with Frank holding her head in place.