Francine & Earl

Woman

"Francine. . . I'm in love with you."

Jonathon waited for a reaction to his words, and got none. Groaning, he rolled his eyes at the mirror he had been attempting to confess to.

"You," he said while pointing an accusing finger at the glass, "are a terrible helper."

Like most inanimate objects, it did not respond.

Sighing again, Jonathon walked back into his room. It had only been a week since he told Francine about the "mystery girl" and she still hadn't figured out that it was her. Yet, based on the fact that he could not shut up about Francine when speaking to the woman in question, it wouldn't be long until she did.

She had been uncharacteristically positive about the whole discussion, which was a little bit discouraging, but he felt like she was using it as a distraction. Her father got served with divorce papers only a couple days before, and hadn't taken it well. From what he saw, the man was barely functioning. Her mother still hadn't come back to get her things, and he saw the pained look on Francine's face when she saw the stray traces of a person that only left bitter-sweet memories behind. It would explain why she was constantly at his home, staying until the last possible moment even if he was doing homework.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he shot the mirror one more glare before opening the bathroom door. Behind it stood his mother, an eyebrow raised along with an amused expression on her face. She had heard.

Jonathon felt his face heat up, and inwardly thanked his genetics for giving him a skin tone that didn't allow his embarrassment to be showcased. Yet, it still didn't stop him from awkwardly shifting on his feet and humming a random tune like he was innocent.

His mother rolled her eyes, shaking her head despite the growing smile on her face. Over the past few days, she had been hearing his attempts at confessing his feelings to household objects, and all of them were pitifully hilarious.

First, it was the broom when he was supposed to be sweeping. Next, it was his math book with his calculator as a wing-man. Even though it was entertaining to see her son stutter through a simple sentence while trying to sweep a mirror off of its metaphorical feet, it still didn't keep her from worrying about what was going to happen when he said those three words that would change his relationship with his best friend, forever.

She wanted to believe that he would come back home with a bright smile on his face and on cloud nine, but she knew that there was a bigger chance that he would return completely drawn in on himself with his shoulders slumped.

"Francine's downstairs. And be careful, okay," she said, watching as Jonathon quickly checked himself in the mirror before giving her a quick hug goodbye.

"I will, and we'll be back before dark. See you, Mom," he called as he ran down the steps, completely missing the meaning behind what she said. The only danger she was afraid he was in was of breaking his own heart.

* * *

"Johnny, are you okay?"

He tensed at Francine's voice. Tonight they had decided to go see a movie, thankfully able to use his father's truck instead of his mother's semi-rusted mini-van. He needed everything to go right tonight, and the stress was getting to him. He felt like an actor that couldn't remember his lines, and Jonathon had never been good at improvisation.

"Johnny?" Francine questioned again, but he was silent. He knew that she didn't like it when she was ignored, especially when it was so blatant, but he had to do it. The words he had been itching to say for years were at the tip of his tongue, and with one misplaced sentence, he wouldn't be the only one with their mouth shut.