Frankly in Love (Frankly in Love, #1)(85)
—Shut up.
—I figured if I placed a telephone call, you would pick up because you’re old.
—Isn’t hearing my voice nicer than texting?
—So how’s Boston?
—This way we get to actually be present with each other, unlike these two Bradys here not even fucking watching where they’re going? Heads up, bros, there’s a whole world around you?
—Your voice sounds different. Are you getting sick?
—Are you Frank or Mom right now?
—How’s Miles?
—He’s the best, he says hey, and oh shit, he wants to meet up in SF when you go to Stanford, what what, congrats, homie!
—Hey! That was my big news.
—Mom emailed me already.
—That makes like two whole times this year.
—It’s like I’m her daughter or something, right?
—Jeez.
—Sorry.
—So, uh, did you and Mom, you know, get to talking about stuff or anything?
—Oh, Frankenstein, can we just celebrate you right now? You’re a total rock star.
—Thanks.
—Rock star. You.
—Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
—So, uh, Mom emailed me about the other stuff. With Dad.
—I was gonna tell you.
—
—Hello? You there?
—Dad’s really sick, huh.
—I mean it’s, basically, um . . .
—I know.
—It’s so fucked up.
—My doctor friend’s been helping me look up a bunch of shit about small-cell and she thinks the prognosis is right.
—It’s so fucked up.
—I just don’t know what to think.
—I know. I don’t know. I wanna say I wish you were back home in Cali.
—I wanna say that too.
—Your room’s the same.
—
—Hello?
—Change of subject. How’s Q? He got in too, right?
—Dude. Stanford rejected him.
—No! Is he okay?
—He got into MIT.
—Pthpthphtpt, whatever then. Tell him to come hang out with me and Miles when he gets here. What about Joy?
—CMU.
—So, summer of love and then that’s it, huh.
—Change of subject.
—Joy’s dad didn’t pull any shit with you, did he?
—No.
—It wouldn’t surprise me.
—It wouldn’t?
—He’s been driving Dad crazy for years.
—Huh?
—The guy’s a rich prick!
—You knew about that this whole time?
—Kyung Hee told me forever ago! It’s a bunch of city mouse, country mouse bullshit!
—Why didn’t you tell me?
—Oh, you know what else that peg-legged pirate whore said?
—Hanna!
—Kyung Hee’s all, You’ve chosen a difficult path to love outside your race and You need to be prepared to deal with how that affects all parties around you and Don’t just think about yourself and blablabla! She’s such a fucking super-Korean!
—Hanna!
—What?
—We need to talk more!
—I know, I know, I know.
—I like talking with you.
—I like talking with you too.
—And you’re my sister. You know how rare that combo is?
—Oh, Frank.
—Because with Dad and all . . .
—Stop.
—I just think about when we’re older and stuff.
—Don’t make me cry.
—Okayokay. Wanna hear a joke?
—You’re my favorite person in this whole shitty world, and I love you.
—
—Frank?
—I mean, I love you too. You know?
—
—Hey, are you crying?
—No.
—What did one nut say to the other nut it was chasing?
—I’m pregnant.
—That makes no sense.
—I said I’m pregnant.
—Wait.
—
—Are you serious?
—It’s only a month in, so you’re not really supposed to tell anyone because anything can happen and you never know, but I really needed to tell someone, and besides, anything has already been happening for a super-long time now and it’s been nothing but you never know forever. So I’m telling you.
—Oh my god, Hanna!
—We find out the sex around month three. I really want a girl.
—What the fuck, congrats!
—You’re gonna be an uncle, Frank Sinatra.
—Do Mom-n-Dad know?
—Hell no.
—Want me to say something?
—Hell no.
—But don’t you . . . ?
—I’ll handle it. Just gotta work up to it.
—You are?
—Wull, I have to, don’t I? It’s six to twelve, right?
—Fuck.
—I know.
—Your room’s the same.
—You already said that.
—Maybe you could come home with Miles and like stay in a hotel or something, I don’t know.