Supermarket - Bobby Hall Page 0,72
times have I awoken? I thought. How many times did Red have to put himself back there in that pain, explaining the death of his wife over and over, all in the hopes that it would help me heal and fight my own delusion?
“Mia,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Mia, I think I know how to beat this thing once and for all. But I’m gonna need your help.”
“Flynn, we’ve been here a million times.”
“Not. Like. This,” I said, more serious than ever. “Mia, I’m so in love with you. And after the news about my career from my mother, success of my book . . . what we had and the future we could have . . . I can’t let this go.”
“Flynn, I’m moving to NYC.”
My heart sank.
“I’ve got an entry-level position at a law firm as soon as I pass the bar. I can’t wait anymore. I’ve put it off for too long and . . . I’m sorry.”
I tried to process this information.
“I’ve done all I can do, Flynn. I’ve been patient, I’ve been persistent, I’ve been aggressive. I’ve spent days and nights here. I’ve given you my time, my energy, my thoughts, my emotions. I’ve done anything and everything to help you, but I’m sorry. I’ve run out of patience. I have to live my own life now.” Holding back tears, she started to rise from her seat. “I hope you understand.”
She turned to walk away.
“No, Mia, wait! Listen!” I said, running after her and grabbing her by the arm. “I can kill Frank!”
She stared at me, taken aback.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Flynn? Do you hear yourself?”
“Look, I know how it sounds . . . but Red told me that.”
I thought about my next words very carefully, and the whole time, Mia waited, looking as though she were in emotional limbo, hanging in anticipation of the words I would utter next.
“What’s another day?”
“What?” she said. “What are you talking abou—”
“Look.” I put both hands on her shoulders. “I need your help. I need you to trust me, utterly and completely. I need you to just . . . help me. You don’t owe me shit, okay? But do this one thing, and if it doesn’t work, then you go . . . you go live the life you deserve in New York. You get a great job, find a guy who isn’t out of his mind. Get married, start a family, and live happily ever after.” I took a breath. “But if it works, and I feel deep in my heart it will, then I go to New York City with you and we live that ending . . . together.”
She thought about what I was saying and seemed totally lost. She didn’t know what to make of the situation, and, to be honest, neither did I.
“You’re fucking crazy. No way,” she said.
“Mia, please. Listen to me. Just this one thing,” I said.
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
“Your help. I need you to help me break out of here.”
“What the fuck, Flynn!” she erupted. “Are you serious?!?! I can’t do that.”
“I need this. Trust me, please.”
“Flynn, you’re asking me to be an accessory. I can’t help you break out . . . of a mental facility!!!”
I put the palm of my hand over her mouth. “Ssshhhhh!!!!!”
Mia pushed my hand from her mouth. “What the fuck? Get the hell off me!” I could tell she was getting really angry.
“Listen, Mia, I’m fucked up, okay? There’s no way around it . . . I’ve got fuckin’ problems. And to be quite honest, you’ve got problems too, or you wouldn’t be standing here with such a mess!”
“I came here to tell you I’m leaving, remember?” she said with a smart-ass tone and smirk to match.
It was so hot.
“I can kill Frank.” She looked at me, and I knew that expression from memory—confusion, but also intrigue. “Frank is real,” I continued. “I mean, look, I know he doesn’t exist in the physical sense but he does because . . . he’s real in my mind. I tried to run from him for so long, and that’s what kept him alive. It’s like all the problems we face, or rather don’t have the strength to face . . . we run from them. But that doesn’t make them less real. Emotions, sadness, anger, depression, financial debt, physical insecurities . . . Frank. All real things that we, as human beings, are constantly running from. But