Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Cora grinned. “He doesn’t do it anymore past eleven at night. And when he does do it, I’m at the opposite end of the house and can barely hear him.”
Frankie snickered, the smile on her face making me doubly happy that I’d brought Cora and come when I had.
“Well, that’s good to know.” Frankie said. “I would hate for him to have a vindictive neighbor when I’m not there to keep him in line.”
I snorted. “Like you could control me.”
Frankie and Cora both laughed.
I waved my hand at the waitress when she passed. “Check, please.”
Moments after paying, Cora stood and Frankie and I both followed suit.
When we arrived outside, Frankie shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here,” my girl apologized.
I wrapped her up in a hug, reveling in the way she still felt so small in my arms despite being almost fully grown. “You’re my little girl, Frank. I’d fly to the moon for you if that’s where you were, and you needed me.”
My eyes caught Cora’s over the top of Frankie’s head, and she gestured that she was going to go sit on the bench.
But before she could completely walk away, Frankie said something that made her pause.
“I’m fucked up, Dad,” Frankie sighed. “This college thing is a whole different ballgame. They don’t care if you come to class, yet they’ll still test you as if you did. They grade harder. They don’t give any homework to help even out the tests. People aren’t nice. My roommate blows…”
I looked at my girl, letting her see my love for her, and said the only thing I could think of at that moment. “Well unfuck yourself already. Go get your roommate changed, and if they won’t change your roommate, then I’ll pay for an apartment.”
She started to laugh.
“I thought you said I didn’t need an apartment at seventeen?”
I shrugged. “I’d rather pay for you to live alone than to have you living with some twat that bothers you.”
Frankie snickered. “I’m already on the list to meet with the advisor. I called her today after your phone call last night. She told me that there was an empty dorm room that nobody was in and that it was mine if I wanted it.”
I didn’t hide the relief on my face. “In that case, let’s go get you moved.”
Chapter 10
The best thing about having a penis is sharing it with people who don’t.
-Coke to Cora
Coke
The next week was better than the previous week.
My daughter, after the visit from me and Cora, was starting to enjoy school a little more. She wasn’t pledging a sorority or anything, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before we saw her.
Cora and Frankie were texting each other back and forth in a group chat that for some reason they included me in, and I had to ask June how to turn off the notifications because they were constantly going off and driving me insane—to the point where I couldn’t concentrate.
Not that I was upset that they hit it off and were talking or even that they included me in the conversation. Mostly it was just problematic because I couldn’t have my phone on silent, and they seemed to send each other about eight million texts an hour.
Sometimes I’d scroll to where I’d last responded and reply. Other times I’d read the last five or so to try to get the gist of what they were talking about.
Which was what I happened to be doing at the moment.
Cora (11:30 AM): Do you think it’s possible that an egg could explode? The chicken sites I’m checking say that sometimes, in an incubator, a bad egg can explode.
Frankie (11:30 AM): I read that same post just a minute ago. They say it’s more prevalent toward the end of incubation. That you should candle all the eggs right before lockdown and make sure they’re all viable.
My daughter and Cora had bonded over chickens of all things, and from that point forward, the majority of their texts were about chickens.
Sometimes they strayed toward school or a funny meme that one or the other saw, but mostly their conversations were all about chickens.
Pictures of coops. Pictures of different breeds of chickens. Pictures of incubating eggs that looked like goddamn eggs—no matter what stage of incubation they were in.
Literally, it was all that they talked about.
And though I liked it—to an extent—there was only so much I could handle, and I had reached my fill of chicken trivia.
Which was why after I read the messages, I didn’t respond anymore.
And, maybe if I hadn’t been ignoring the messages, I’d have noticed that they stopped talking about chickens and had started talking about things that weren’t chickens—like boys.
While paying some bills, I realized I’d need my calculator, and I reached for my phone. My eyes snagged on their latest message on the screen, and one word stuck out. Sex.