I found Frank by the cold drinks case, grabbing a water and a Coke.
“Hey,” I said. Frank looked over at me, letting the glass refrigerator door swing shut, giving me a little blast of cool air.
“All filled up?” he asked in that same bland, maddening tone.
“Listen, I don’t think it’s fair for you to be mad at me.” I was speaking without thinking about it first, not hesitating, just saying what I felt.
He just blinked at me for a moment, then looked down at the bottles in his hands, wiping the condensation off his water bottle’s label—Lancaster Blue, a brand I’d never heard of before. “Let’s not do this,” he said, his voice tight. “We have a long drive ahead.”
“So we’re just supposed to sit there in silence?”
Frank looked back at me, and I saw frustration pass over his features. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m helping you out. Let’s leave it at that.” He turned and headed to the chips aisle, and I followed, after grabbing myself a water and a Diet Coke.
“No,” I said, more loudly than I intended to, and a woman who’d been reaching for a bag of Fritos glanced up at me. I took a step closer to him and lowered my voice. “If you’re mad at me, just be mad at me. Don’t pretend you’re not.” Somewhere in all this was getting lost the fact that I was mad at him, but I was no longer sure who was in the right, since we’d both behaved badly—me by kissing him, him by ignoring me for a week.
The woman with the Fritos was still looking at us, and Frank must have seen this, because he retreated to the candy aisle, and I followed. “ IfI am mad at you?” he asked, stopping in front of the chocolate section, like it was a rhetorical question, like the answer was obvious. “You ran away from me, Emily. Literally. You left me standing in the middle of the road because you wouldn’t even hear me out.”
I stared at him for a moment. I hadn’t realized he would be mad about this; I’d assumed it was because of the kiss. “Well,” I said, feeling a little off-balance, “maybe I didn’t want to listen to you tell me we couldn’t be friends anymore.”
Frank just looked at me. “And what if that’s not what I was going to say?”
“ ’Scuse me.” I turned around and saw what looked like a bleary-eyed trucker reaching for the Reese’s Pieces, which I was currently standing in front of.
I stepped aside, and Frank turned and walked up to the register. I followed, placing my items next to his on the counter, my thoughts spinning. I glanced over at him as I reached into my bag for my wallet. I was so sure I’d known what he’d come to my house to say; it was like I’d never allowed for another possibility.
“Um,” I said, as the woman behind the counter started to scan our items, “So what were—”
“Four eighty,” the woman said. Frank reached into his pocket, but I pushed a five across the counter to her before he could pay.
I took my change, and we picked up our respective drinks. Frank headed out of the mini-mart, into the sun, and I hurried to follow him. I realized, as we walked to the truck, that I had the keys, and could refuse to let him in until he told me, but I didn’t think this would be the best way to go about things. I handed him the keys and walked around to the passenger side. I made myself wait until we were back on the highway before asking him again.
“So,” I said, playing with the cap on my water bottle. “What was it that you were going to say?”
Frank let out a breath, and I saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “This is why I’m mad,” he finally said, still looking straight ahead at the horizon. “I go to speak to you. I get my courage up, and you won’t even listen to me. But now, a week later, only when we’re stuck in a car together, you want to know.”
Just like that, I felt myself get mad again. “You disappeared for days. You weren’t texting me back.”
“But then I came to your house,” Frank said, as he changed lanes, his voice rising. “And you wouldn’t give me a chance to explain.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’d had enough of people vanishing on me this summer!” I was yelling this before I knew I was going to say it, before I was really even aware it was what I felt.
“Oh,” Frank said after a moment. He glanced over at me, and I thought I saw something in his expression soften. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”
We drove in silence, and I kicked off my flip-flops and curled my legs up under me. I noticed the silence didn’t feel quite so charged any longer. It wasn’t the easy quiet that had been between us before, but it no longer felt uncomfortable. “So do you want to tell me now?” I finally asked.
Frank shook his head, but then said, “Maybe later.” He reached forward and turned on the radio, starting to scan for a station, and I let it go for the moment, unrolling my window and letting the warm air whip my hair around my face.
I wasn’t sure if it was the heat, or the fact that we’d landed on a station that seemed to be mostly easy listening, all soft wailing saxophones, or the fact that I’d gotten almost no sleep the night before, but as we crossed into Virginia, I felt myself yawning, my eyes getting heavy. I rested my head against the window and felt my eyes close.
I half expected I would dream about Sloane, if I dreamed at all. But when I opened my eyes again, I realized that I’d been dreaming about Frank. We’d been back together in his tent, where it was warm and peaceful, and he wanted to tell me something, something important.
I sat up and looked around. At first, all I could see was green. The truck was parked, I was alone in it, and all around me was green—brilliantly colored trees and grass. After a moment, I realized we were parked at a scenic overlook, and that Frank was standing a few feet away, taking pictures with his phone.
From the light, it looked like it was getting to be later in the afternoon, and when I pulled out my phone, I saw that it was almost six. It no longer felt quite so oppressively hot out, though it was hard to tell inside the truck. I stretched my legs in front of me, and rolled my shoulders back. Even though I could see the highway, you couldn’t hear it here, just the low drone of cicadas and the occasional birdcall.
I wasn’t sure how long Frank was going to be, so mostly to occupy myself, I reached for his iPod and started scrolling through it. He never titled his playlists—this had been one of our bones of contention as we exchanged music, since I always titled mine, titles that he’d liked to make fun of—so I just went to “Mix 14,” which I assumed was the newest one, and scrolled through the songs.
MIX #14
Entertainment
Phoenix
My Racing Thoughts
Jack’s Mannequin
I Need My Girl
The National
Let’s Not Let It
Randy Houser
Yesterday
The Beatles
Each Coming Night
Iron & Wine
Magnolia
The Hush Sound
I Always Knew
The Vaccines
Little Talks
Of Monsters and Men
You Came Around
Nico Stai
Everybody Talks
Neon Trees
Makes Me Lose Control
Eric Carmen
In My Life
The Beatles
Let’s Go Surfing
The Drums
Young Love
Mystery Jets
Emmylou
First Aid Kit
Moth’s Wings (stripped down version)
Passion Pit
It’s a Hit
Rilo Kiley
Lights & Music
Cut Copy
You and Me
Parachute
Eleanor Rigby
The Beatles
Man/Bag of Sand
Frightened Rabbit
Isn’t It a Lovely Night?
The December
Look at Us Now
Math & Physics Club
You Send Me
Sam Cooke
At first I was just looking through them, noticing with a bittersweet satisfaction that there was Eric Carmen on the list, which I’d introduced him to, and that Frank had even allowed some country on his precious iPod. But as I looked at it a little longer, I realized there was something else.