Francine & Earl

Fall: Pt. II

Francine stood in the kitchen for a moment, the minutes bleeding together so much that she didn't know that she had been staring at the door for over an hour. The only thing that woke her up from her reverie was two arms that wrapped around her waist from behind, tightening fleetingly before a chin rested on her shoulder. Words didn't need to be spoken; Francine had already spilled out her most embarrassing thoughts under the cover of night, and the rising sun was taking away any sense of anonymity she had left.

She wrapped her hands around Jonathon's, tugging them gently away before turning to bury her face in his neck. Her gangly arms looped around him in a hug that he returned while she breathed him in, smelling the faint hint of her soap on his skin. He didn't say a word and just let her squeeze the life out of him, because he knew that's what she needed. She didn't want words and promises because she knew better that anyone else that they could easily be broken. She just needed someone to actually show her she was cared for.

"Jonathon," she said, flexing her toes on the freezing floor. "Why did my family fall apart? Why?"

She didn't say it hysterically, the tears that one may expect not dripping from her eyes. Instead, she had an exhausted look on her face, as if her emotions had stolen the steely strength that kept herself together. He hated it so much.

Sliding a hand down her back, Jonathon shook his head. He honestly didn't know how to answer.

"Maybe," he began, "things have to fall apart to be built back stronger."

Curiosity filtered into her expression.

"Maybe."

* * *

After hours of begging and pleading on Jonathon's end, Francine agreed to leave the house. She had to admit that she didn't want to stay in a place that seemed to be a mausoleum that showed the place where a family once resided. Now, there were three separate entities moving through it, never settling because they were afraid that if they did, they would be able to see the cracks more clearly. Not even having the energy to argue, Francine reluctantly agreed, dragging herself into the passenger's seat of Jonathon's car and convincing herself it wouldn't be too bad.

She loved his family, sure, and she was sure that they liked her well enough, but Jonathon's mother was a sore spot. For years, it seemed as if she had tried to make them drift apart, doing everything in her power to get him to avoid Francine. Yet, none of it worked, and she was still as present in her best-friend's life as she was when they were children.

"Hey, mom. I'm home," Jonathon yelled when they entered the home, and she automatically tugged off her shoes at the door mat. He did the same, giving her a smile.

"Hey, hon. How was the slumber party?," his mother called, presumably from her office. "Catch anything more than feelings?"

"Mom!" Jonathon shouted, looking panicked while he avoided Francine's eyes. "Francine is here."

It was silent, and then she could hear the clacking of Mrs. Fuller's heels down the hall. She passed right by her gaping son to give her a hug, and even though she was a lot smaller than Francine, it knocked the wind out of her. The woman pulled back to give Francine a smile, then tugged on her hand to drag her into the living room.

Jonathon stood by the door, stupefied.

His mother was overly protective and wanted him to be happy. Sure, she constantly lectured him on the importance of college and investing in his future, and how being worried about Francine would hold him back, but that wasn't the true reason she wanted him to stay away from his friend.

The true reason was the look in his eyes when Francine entered the room, of how they lit up while a smile unconsciously curved his lips. It was in the dejected look he got when Francine labelled them as "best-friends" because he wanted more. And, it was in the way that her tough and blunt son treated the girl adoringly.

It was how he was falling in love with her.

* * *

"Thanks for taking me out, Johnny. Really," Francine said as they walked up to her door. 

She had spent the evening with his family, joking with them at the dinner table and laughing at the embarrassing stories about Jonathon she had heard so many times before, but still couldn't get enough of. The lively home was a great distraction, and kept her from thinking of hers. Her street was silent, which was shocking for the neighborhood of loud families and teenagers. It was as if they knew as well that the Waters's home was now a house, and didn't want to disturb the spirit of a now dead family. Frowning at her thought process, Francine glanced up at Jonathon.

He was shifting on his feet and not meeting her eyes, a habit he had picked up lately when it came to looking at her.

"It's no problem," he mumbled, kicking the sidewalk awkwardly. Stopping the search for her keys, she turned face him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What's wrong?"

He ignored her question and turned his eyes skyward, preferring to stare at something that wouldn't talk to him. The stars were blocked out by the glow of the street lamps, and he squinted a bit just to see one. He didn't know why, but he wanted to tell her. He just wanted to lay out everything he was feeling, tonight, and felt horrible because Francine really didn't need this now. The last thing she should be worrying about was a boy that couldn't control the words that came from his frazzled thoughts and out of his mouth with no filter.

He felt a tug on his hand, and saw Francine sitting on the stoop of the steps, patting the space next to her. Her brow was creased as she looked up at him, and he knew she wasn't going to drop it.

Get ready to find yourself a new best friend.

Sighing, he plopped down onto the concrete, entwining his fingers with hers. Tonight may be the last time he would be able to hold her hand. With that thought in mind, he turned his attention to her face. Her concerned eyes were on him, and the wind ruffled a few strands of her shortened hair.

"What's wrong, Johnny?" she repeated, and he it felt like his throat had closed up. He was choking on the words he wanted to say, but he was more willing to die with this secret than live with ruining his friendship.

So, he lied. Sort of.

"I. . . have feelings for someone," he finally drawled out, holding his breath while he waited for her reaction.

Her eyes widened, shocked, but she quickly plastered a smile to her face and gave him a hug.

"That's great," she exclaimed, voice muffled by his sweatshirt. Pulling away, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Who's the lucky girl or guy?"

Laughing a bit, Jonathon thought of how he could use this to his advantage. He only felt comfortable talking to Francine about his feelings, and if he let her think they were talking about someone else, he could continue with that. She wouldn't have to know, unless he finally gained the confidence to tell her.

Leaning back against the steps, he swung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. "She's someone you don't know."

"Really?" she asked, tapping her fingers against his thigh, glad that she didn't have to go into her empty house anytime soon. "She's not from Dempsey then."

She's closer than you think.

"Tell me about her," Francine asked, and tried to ignore the disappointment she felt. She thought-- Actually, it didn't matter what she thought. Jonathon was happy, and that was all she needed to know.

With a smile on his face, he told Francine about a girl with a gruff voice and a stubborn streak, with her not knowing they were one and the same.