I Can See the Stars

Chapter Six

"Where were you last night?" My mom slammed open my bedroom door.

I looked up from my drawing. (I might have been drawing Oliver) "What are you talking about? I was gone for five hours. My school takes longer than that."

"'Gone for five hours'? Francis, where were you?"

"I was. . . On a date." It was a date right? I mean, a guy doesn't just invite you to his house, make a whole big set up, and kiss you under the stars for you to not call it a date.

Mom's whole persona changed. She went from an angry mother to interested fangirl in a second. "Who were you on a date with?"

"A boy named Oliver Brightly."

"I see," my mom said, she walked over and sat at the foot of my twin bed, "and where did you two go?"

"We went to. . . His house."

Mom raised her eyebrows. "Uh-huh, what did you two do?"

"Well, he set up a whole make-shift bed-slash-couch on his roof and we watched the stars."

Mother scoffed. "Were his parents home?"

"No, his dad was at a meeting."

"And his mother?"

"His mother's fucking dead!"

Mom gave me that you are in trouble look. She snatched my artbook right out of my hand. "I'll give this back when you apologize and I know that you mean it. You're grounded. You can not leave this house except for school for the next week."

"Mom, I'm going to the dance with him."

"The dance?" She looked down at my
sketchbook. "And is this the so-called, Oliver Brightly," she asked while showing me my drawing.

"Yes."

"Francis, you are not going to the dance with anyone. Ever!" And with that, my mother stormed out of the room.

I ran after her and caught up with her in her bedroom. "Mom, mom. Please, momma. This is the happiest I've been since the accident. He is a good boy mom, he's nice."

"I don't care how nice he is. You went to his house when you barely knew him! He could have killed you or—"

I shut my eyes and yelled, "I don't care if he would have killed me! I don't care if I die!"
Right after I said it, I knew that it wasn't a lie. I've been trying to stay away from Oliver this whole time because he made me happy.
Happier than when I'm with Cora. He made me my old self.

I could tell that I was different than I used to be before the accident. The way that my mom looks at me sometimes. It's like I'm a stranger that she let into her house and she doesn't know why. She never told me what I used to be like, I guess it's because she doesn't want to upset me. But I can tell that she misses her daughter.

"Frankie," my mom spoke, soft and quiet, "why don't. . . Why don't you call him and ask him to come over—I want to meet him. If he's that important to you."

I nodded my head slightly and wiped my tears that I didn't know had fallen. I walked out of my mom's room and into my own. I fumble around for my phone. When I find it I have to retype my passcode a couple of times before I stopped shaking enough to type it correctly. I found Oliver's phone number and started calling it.

Ring.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

Ring.

Please.

Ring.

No, no, no.

"Hello?"
I let out a breath of relief. "H-Hey, Oliver."

"Oh, hey, Frankie-Sue. What's wrong? You sound upset."

I sniffled and cleared my throat. "No, no, I'm fine. So, I told my mom that I was going to the dance with you and she wanted to meet you. Can you come over?"

"Yeah, sure. But, isn't she just going to meet me when I pick you up?"

"Oliver, please."

"Yeah. . . Yeah, I'll be right over." I heard the line go dead and quickly texted him my address. I dropped my phone onto the bed and got up. I slipped on a sweatshirt and went into the living room to wait. Mom was in her room, probably getting dressed and out of her pajamas.

When my mom came out, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans but still better than me. I was in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. . . And no bra. I didn't really care.

My mom sat next to me on the couch and grabbed my hand. "I love you, Frankie. And I'm sorry that I haven't been here for you these past few years. I don't even know you. So, why don't we" —she looked at me with a sad smile— "set one day aside every week to spend time with each other. We could maybe. . . Go to an art museum, go shopping, or paint some pottery. There is a place off of Wheatfield Road where we can go and volunteer to walk dogs. . . If you're interested in something like that."

I tried for a smile and nodded. "I'd like that."

"Oh, and, maybe, tomorrow we can go and look for a dress. Since we don't have any here."

There was a knock on the door. It signaled that Oliver was here. It didn't seem like a big deal but it was. Oliver. Was. Here.

I jumped off of the couch and ran about two feet to the door, stumbling over a rouge shoe that was in the middle of the floor. When I opened the door, Oliver was waiting. He had on a simple long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants but it was enough. I hugged him quickly and then pulled away, so fast that he didn't even have a reaction.

Oliver meeting my mom was. . . Awkward.