Chapter 8: Kansas.
“Y’know, not all men are like your dad.” I told him reassuringly. Frank pressed his lips together tightly frowning pathetically. He shook his head in denial.
“Prime example?” He wanted justification for my reasoning.
“You’re not like him.”
“Pfft, yes I am.” Frank protested ill minded. I stared at my friend for a long moment, actually realizing that he’s terrified of messing up a kid the way his dad messed him up. I shook my head at him.
“No,” I whimpered. “–You’re not.” Frank looked at me sullenly.
“Okay, give me a different example.” Frank flatly requested. I thought for a moment, there were too many possible examples to think of just one but the perfect one came to mind.
“My dad.” I replied carelessly.
“You’re dad didn’t even know he was your dad until a couple months ago.” Frank sneered at me coldly. It hurt when he said that.
“Sure, but he’s trying to fix it now.” I protested kindly.
“Exactly! He’s trying to fix it. I never want it to be broken in the first place.” Frank really was scared that if he ever has kids, he’ll break them like his dad broke him. He’s not thought. He knows exactly what he doesn’t want to do to them and he can prevent it. That’s what makes him different to his dad.
“I don’t care what you say; you’re not like your dad.” I reassured him strongly.
“Didn’t your dad have a wife and two kids and one on the way when he and your mom hooked up?” Frank threw the obvious out there. It hurt that he’d stoop that low to make a point. I felt my lips form a frown.
“Yeah, he did.”
“That’s just proof that all guys are slime.” Frank stated calmly. I shrugged my shoulders and sighed.
“I stick with what I say, not all men are like your dad.” I remarked coldly. Frank didn’t have a come back for me, he didn’t protest. We just stood there and stared at each other until our moment was interrupted by Rae and Gerard galloping to the van, nattering at each other about if they were genetically mutated what they would be genetically mutated into. I pulled the pump out and placed it back into the stand then strode into the gas station to pay for this gas.
I woke up in the passenger seat to the sound of Frank lowly singing to him, in the dead of night. I was surprised we haven’t pulled over to a motel yet; maybe Frank wants to drive throughout the night. Rae got car sick just before we hit Kansas so she’s been lying in the back with the guys and Frank’s been driving. Gerard will take over for him once morning breaks through.
I sat very still in the seat with one of Frank’s jackets blanketed over me generously. I relished in the soft sound of Frank singing Tubthumping by Chumawubma. I’ve always enjoyed when he sang, weather it’s in front of a crowd or to himself; I love it.
I couldn’t bring myself not to smile into the darkness that consumed the empty roads around us. Even with the moon shining brightly, high in the sky; the earth was still blackened. I could hear the sounds of soft snores in the back followed by sleeping bags moving.
“What time is it?” I asked after a moment of utter silence. Frank’s dark eyes moved over to me briefly before they consumed the road ahead. I stretched out on the seat and let his jacket drop from my bare arms.
“Just after two.” He replied, bringing the to-go mug of probably cold coffee to his lips and slurping at it.
“We’re gonna be crossing stateliness into Colorado by dawn.” Frank reassured me as he set the mug down in the cup holder. I nodded and pursed my lips. I’ve had something nagging my mind since West Virginia when Frank said he was just like his dad and all men were alike. I didn’t agree with that. Frank isn’t like his dad, he’s so much better. His dad walked out on his family, my dad didn’t. Yes, I’m apart of his family but he didn’t know I was his until a couple months ago. So in all fairness, he’s not like Frank’s dad.
