Dead Beat Dates & Deities - Goddess of Tornado Alley Series Book One

Chapter Fourteen

Friday night was another late one for Ella. Adam's shift didn't end until after midnight, but when his text buzzed her phone thirty minutes later to tell her he was standing outside the door of her apartment, she was wide awake and eager to see her unexpected guest.

"Oh," Frank said dramatically as the two friends shared chocolate croissants and coffee in Frank's kitchen Saturday morning. "It must be really difficult having such an exciting love life."

Ella, although she'd only gotten a few hours' sleep, looked radiant with her eyes bright and her cheeks touched with color. "He wants to go away with me next weekend."

"Don't go to Vegas," Frank pleaded. "Please don't go to Vegas. Your wedding might be the only one I ever get to be in."

"Shut up," Ella chided.

"Mom did it."

"I'm not your mom."

"You know she told Jacob that Dad died of kidney failure last night?"

"That's a new one. I haven't heard that story before. You have to hand it to her. It takes talent to keep coming up with ways to kill a person off."

For many years Frank agonized over her mother's need to repeatedly off her dad who was, in reality, quite healthy and very much alive. She'd always been embarrassed by it and still was at times but had since come to the conclusion that this well-practiced storytelling was a necessary ritual for Rosalie. The demise of the couple's relationship had not come upon them suddenly, but in bits and pieces throughout their time together. Charlie had not betrayed his wife, had not been unfaithful or intentionally hurtful. Their marriage had run its course and the two of them had the sense to recognize it before their interaction with one another became toxic. Still, Rosalie had been devastated by their divorce and, according to the therapist Frank visited throughout her pre-teen years, mourned the failed marriage as though it were an actual death. Killing Charlie off, thus ending the marriage in an assortment of imaginative and creative ways that Rosalie constructed in her head, gave her a power over the situation that she hadn't possessed at the time and so desperately desired. Frank accepted this psychological reasoning and even understood it for the most part. That didn't mean it was easy to live with.

"You should write them all down," Ella suggested.

"I think Dad does, actually. Or he used to. He thought about writing a book called The Days of My Deaths."

"Ah, I see what he did there," Ella said wiping a bit of chocolate off of her skintight yoga pants. "Like the soap opera only not as good."

"Yep."

"Dentists probably shouldn't try to be so creative."

"I tell him that all the time. He never listens."

Ella sipped at her coffee, her blue eyes moving over Frank's face from above the cup. "You look great."

"I do not, but thanks anyway."

Ella sniffed and adjusted the thin band she wore around her head to keep her bangs smoothed away from her face. "Except for the bruises you really do. Why do they have to turn that color anyway?"

"I'm guessing it's humiliation," Frank said. "Very powerful, humiliation. I think it's so whenever you look at the bruises, you're reminded of the dumb thing you did to get them. Then there's the added bonus of getting the same look from other people that you just gave me. You see the sympathy or surprise on their faces and it just makes you feel stupid all over again."

"Philosophical this morning, aren't we?"

"Eh. It comes and it goes." Frank picked up another croissant and carefully pulled it apart. The chocolate inside was dark and still a bit warm when she bit into it. "So, where is Adam taking you on your weekend away?"