Tronnor One-Shots

Big Black Lies (i)

"Hello, this is the Franta household, Phoebe speaking. Oh hi, Mr. Mellet! How are you?"

My wife had a loud voice. People said that is what made us compatible: an introvert like myself levels an extrovert, they said. Though I didn't know how to go about proving that, because she didn't really listen to me enough for any type of levelling to take place. She just talked, stridently, so it was easy to hear her answer the phone from the other room. I heard her normal greeting, the name of the person on the other line, and I tried to keep a straight face. An unknowing face, when I knew exactly what was up.

It wasn't a mystery what the phone call was about, it happened once every other week, but I still eavesdropped for the hell of it. Surfing the internet aimlessly, I listened to her talk as she ran around with the phone between her ear and shoulder, getting ready for work. She was always one to multi-task.

"What? Again?" She double-checked her briefcase. "Hmm, yes." She put on her heels and fixed her hair. "Okay, so, now? Oh my, you always catch me on my way to work, I'll have to send my husband over again." She ran over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Have a good day, Mr. Mellet. Bye."

"Who was that?" I asked once she hung up. The thing about being the part of a couple that's practically silenced is that you know all the other's secrets, whilst they don't even notice you having any of your own. In layman's terms, she thought I didn't already know, and that I would never know more than she did.

She was about to run out the door without saying anything about it, but I tried to keep her back, to prove I'm not just a passive househusband. I was used to doing that, because she was an always-working woman, always in a rush to leave.

"I really have to go, babe." She said, already half out the door. "I'll call you and tell you while I'm driving."

And that she did. About two minutes after she left, my phone rang and I, rolling my eyes at her antics, picked up. "Now can you tell me?" I sighed.

"So, that was Evan's principal again." Phoebe told me in the foreground to her car radio, like nothing was weird about our speaking arrangements. "He said that he was throwing rocks at kids in the playground and then screamed at the teacher's when they tried to stop him. Connor, this is the fourth time this month! What are we going to do with him?"

What Phoebe really meant is: what are you going to do with him. She was never really around to do anything with Evan herself. "I'll go talk to Mr. Mellet again, then I'll find a way to punish him. I've already taken away his toys..." Lie. "...and he's not allowed any sweets..." Also a lie. "...do you think he's old enough for a grounding?"

Phoebe sighed. "Connor, he's five. He probably won't even know what that means."

"Well, what else do you want me to do? There's nothing I haven't tried that wouldn't have Child Protective Services after me, Phoebs." Lie, lie, lie.

"Just deal with it, Connor. You're his dad, it's your job. I have to go do my job now, so I have to let you go. Love you."

I rolled my eyes, grateful she couldn't hear it in my voice. "Love you too, Phoebe."

Little white lie? No, I tended to tell big black ones.

~~~

When I walked into my son's elementary school, it took me no time to find my way. The office was the first door when you enter, to the left, and I didn't even need a secretary to lead me to the principal's office. I had my eyes set on it before it even came into view.

It's a place I'd been to many a time.

She showed me inside anyway, and Mr. Mellet stood from his desk as soon as he saw me. He smiled, pushing his birthmark up towards his eye. "Thank you, Daphne. If you don't mind closing the door, I'd like to speak to Mr. Franta alone."