Frankly in Love (Frankly in Love, #1)(69)

Miss you too Frankie





chapter 25


the best fart




It’s late. The freeway is a blank ribbon for us to travel upon. Orange streetlamps zip overhead like the sun rising and setting in looping time lapse.

We’re both quiet. Just processing the evening.

When we near Playa Mesa, Joy touches my hand.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” she says.

“Okay,” I instantly say. It’s eleven thirty. I want to watch the sun rise with Joy. Then I want to watch the sun set with Joy. Over and over.

She takes my phone and engages the parental management protocols, and once we receive the Have a fun confirmation, I guide the recalcitrant Consta to the one place I know we can be alone and free and private.

Westchester Mall, the biggest mall in Orange County, Southern California.

The parking lot is dead as a lava flow. I drive straight across acres of painted white herringbone and park right up front. We walk up the grand entrance ramp and enter.

It’s empty inside. All the luxury stores, shuttered. The notes of the world’s tiniest sonata drift down like dust from the top of the track-lit cavern. I love coming here because it makes me feel like I’m the last person on the planet, and ever since I was little, I’ve had a fantasy of being the last person on the planet.

I murmur this quietly to Joy, because this space around us feels holy and deserving of a soft voice.

Joy holds my hand and matches my step. “That sounds like it would be terrifying.”

“Oh, it would only be for like a year,” I say. “Like a temporary pause.”

“And then what?”

“And then one morning I would wake up and unpause, and everything would pick up right where it left off.”

“I guess that might be fun for a year,” says Joy, biting a dry spot on her lip. “A planet-pause. Although I’d be afraid of going insane.”

We pass by a great funnel carved from wood with two slots to accept coins, with the sign DONATE FOR SCHOOL SUPPLIES IN OUR DISTRICT: WATCH YOUR COINS SPIN AND SPIN!

“I think tonight I realized why I’ve always had that fantasy,” I say.

Joy does this move I like, where she releases my hand, slides her hand up my arm, squeezes once, then drops her hand back into mine again: catch.

“Okay, little boy Frankie, why?” says Joy.

I think about that mean old grandma, and Roy, and the food trucks.

“Because then I could just be whoever I wanted, and no one would be around to judge me.”

Joy smiles to our strolling feet. “That old woman was psycho, wasn’t she.”

We pass the food court. There’s Pretzel Wrestle, still wafting yeast and butter. There’s the shitty Italian place, shitty Asian fusion place, shitty Tex-Mex place, then three hamburger joints. A one-stop microcosm of mainstream white American cuisine.

“I feel really myself when I’m with you,” I say. “I think that’s why I wanted to come here.”

“To see us totally out of context?” says Joy.

I smile. Joy gets it. She gets all of it. “Come here.”

We kiss. To my surprise, she grabs my ass with both hands.

“I can’t believe I get to do this with you out in the open,” she says. “Great idea to come here, Frank Li.”

In the distance I hear a short radio squawk. Joy’s head bolts up.

“What was that?” she says.

“Probably Camille or Oscar,” I say, meaning the security guards.

“Should we go?” says Joy.

“No, they walk super slow and chitchat nonstop. Let’s stay as long as we can—come on.”

I lead Joy around a corner and head down a long dogleg toward the Nordstrom anchor store. Once we’re out of any possible line of sight, I slow down to our usual stroll.

We kiss and kiss. We kiss each other while walking. There’s no one around but us. We’re on planet-pause in our little abandoned paradise.

I lead Joy to a fountain in the Crystal Atrium. It is a low polished structure formed from simple modernist angles, surrounded by a stone ledge the color of chocolate.

“So much for Lake Girlfriend,” I mutter.

“What’s Lake Girlfriend?” says Joy.


FOUNTAIN CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE:

DO NOT CLIMB


The fountain is drained of water, revealing a dusty calcified lake bed full of mesh and hoses and stained light fixtures.

It’s also full of coins.

Joy’s eyes are still twinkling. “Dude, there’s like a hundred bucks in there.”

“Dude,” I say.

Then I get an idea.

I jump into the fountain and begin collecting coins, using the front of my tee shirt like a basket as I squat.

“Come help me,” I say.

“You’re insane,” says Joy.

But she jumps into the fountain, too, and begins collecting coins alongside me. I bump her, almost spilling her take. She bumps me back. In a few minutes, we stand with our tee shirt bellies full of hundreds of coins, like grinning mutant marsupials.

There’s a radio squawk in the distance, followed by a shout.

“Hey!” says a voice.

“This way,” I say. Me and Joy step out of the fountain and run like hobbits with legs akimbo back up the length of the dogleg.