Mack Daddy(18)

“You’re lying.”

I threw another shirt at her. “I am.”

Although, I’d definitely fantasized about that—among other things.

She sniffed the second shirt, too.

“What does that one smell like?”

“Like your cologne mixed with tacos.”

Shaking my head, I said, “You never cease to puzzle me, Frankie Jane.”

“Why do you call me that? My middle name isn’t even Jane.”

“I don’t know. The two names seem to go together.”

“You just call me whatever you want, don’t you?”

“I’m sure you call me a lot of things under your breath.” I picked up the book she’d been reading from atop the dryer. “What weird shit are you reading this time?” I looked down at the title. “The Man Who Folded Himself? What the hell?”

“It’s a time travel novel.”

“What’s the gist?”

“The main character encounters various versions of himself in different time periods. He even has sex with some of them. He just got someone pregnant. I’m trying to figure out if he’s carrying his own child.”

“What in the ever-living f*ck, Frankie? That shit is so twisted.”

“I know. That’s why I like it. The author’s imagination is endless. There are no boundaries when it comes to the human mind and what it can conjure up.”

“You find everything fascinating.”

That’s one of the things I love about her.

Frankie always found something interesting in everything. It was a testament to how much our attitudes shape our life experiences. The more I hung out with her, the more I realized what a miserable f*ck I really had been all my life.

“I do have a pretty big imagination myself, which is probably why I appreciate books like this. But the imaginative mind can be a curse,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“My imagination is too active sometimes and because I have an obsessive mind on top of that, it can cause problems for me. For instance, I’ll get a bizarre thought, and I’m able to visualize it so clearly that it feels like it could be true. But then I start to obsess over the thought, trying to find the meaning behind it.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well, like you might be talking to me, and I’ll have a random thought about stabbing you. The average person would just dismiss it as a fleeting thought. But someone with an obsessive mind like me would perform mental rituals in order to determine if there’s any validity to it. It’s a form of OCD. They call it Pure O. It’s like my mind never stops. It was worse when I was younger. I’ve learned to deal with it.”

“What did you do to make it better?”

“I read some self-help books and saw an OCD specialist. Basically, it all comes down to accepting uncertainty. Rather than freaking out about your thoughts—like the possibility of being a murderer—you just have to accept them for what they are: just thoughts. I used to try to mentally prove them wrong by ruminating, but it’s like an endless cycle. Instead, you have to tell yourself that the doubt you feel is just your OCD. The key is to accept the uncertainty that you might be a murderer and go on with your life. Anyway, how was your birthday weekend?”

“Only you would confess that you might be a murderer and ask about my birthday in the same breath.”

“I’m not a murderer. But I can’t actually say that…it’s reassurance. My OCD will just try to prove me wrong. So, let’s just assume I might be a murderer and move on.”

“Fine by me. I’ll hide the knives.” I smiled. “Kidding. Thank you for sharing that with me. I bet it’s more common than you think.”

An image of f*cking her while she stabbed me in the back flashed before my eyes. Speaking of fleeting thoughts.

“Do you think I’m nuts?” she asked.

“I thought you were nuts way before you confessed your OCD. But it’s all good. I like your brand of nuts—not that hard to crack.”

“So…the birthday…how was it?”

Truthfully, being down in that basement with her was the best part of my birthday weekend. Being able to just relax…talk about anything…even weird shit…I would have chosen laundry with Frankie over most things lately.

“It was alright.”

“Just alright?”

“Torrie had a little party for me, surprised me with some of my friends.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

I could always sense her jealousy whenever the subject of my girlfriend came up. I could feel it, even though she obviously didn’t express it. I’d always suspected that Frankie liked me more than just as a friend, but recently, Moses had let it slip that she’d actually said something to him. Even though I wished he’d never said anything to me, deep down, that news wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. He’d said he wasn’t happy about going behind her back but felt it was necessary to make me aware of it so that I would back off a little. It was basically a warning to check myself before I ended up hurting her. But the problem was, I didn’t want to stay away from her. Moreover, I didn’t know how to stay away from her as long as we were living under the same roof.