Mommy, May I? by A. K. Alexander Page B

tell she was upset about something. What could it be? She didn’t say much during the dinner, and Patrick racked his brain trying to figure out why she was being so quiet.
    “Will you excuse me?” Helena asked. “I need to go to the restroom.”
    “Sure,” Patrick said. Once she left, he looked over at Frankie working on a second serving. “Did something happen while you two were setting the table?”
    “What? No. Why?” Frankie made a face, her mouth full of spaghetti.
    “It looks like your mom’s upset about something. She seemed fine when you came in, but now it’s like, I don’t know. Did I say something out of the ordinary?”
    Frankie shrugged. “Really?” She set down her fork and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel really good about things. She’s hip. Her charity thing is way cool, and she’s a killer lady. I never thought that before, but I’m changing my opinion, you know.”
    “Well then, I can’t figure it out, everything was going so well.”
    “Oh, duh, I might know. It’s a no brainer, Dad.” Frankie smacked her forehead with her palm. “You two want to hook up again. You’re totally into her, that’s obvious, and she’s not sure what to do. I mean, you called her Lena during dinner.”
    Frankie rolled her eyes, making him feel dumber than he already did, knowing she could be right. The problem probably had been his calling her Lena—his pet name for her when they’d been lovers. It had slipped out. With her here in his home, the comfort of it all made the name fall off his lips with ease. “You really think that was it?”
    “God, Dad. I’m not Dr. Laura, you know, but you caused her to remember the past, and there’s still feelings there. Remember when I found the letter that you wrote to her right after I was born? Asking her to forgive you?”
    “Yeah, the one I never sent.”
    “In it, you called her Lena, and I asked you about it. Jeez Dad. Why don’t you ask her out?”
    “We’re just friends. It wouldn’t be right.”
    “Whatever.” Frankie averted her eyes.
    Helena walked back into the dining room and sat back down, smiling at them. “I’m sorry. I had something in my eye.”
    Frankie started to cough and laugh at the same time. Patrick glared at her.
    “You okay?” Helena asked.
    “Yep.” Frankie stood. “I’m done. Besides, I think you two need some time alone. I’ll do the dishes.”
    “No, that’s okay. I’ll help,” Helena protested.
    “But you hardly even touched your food,” Frankie said.
    “I don’t know what it is, maybe the ride, but my stomach is kind of queasy.” As Helena walked past Patrick with her plate in her hand, he grabbed her by the other wrist. “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “I’m sorry about earlier,” Patrick said.
    “About what?”
    She was still a bad liar. “About what I called you.”
    “Oh Gosh, didn’t even faze me. No big deal.”
    “You sure?”
    “Positive.” She stared blankly at him.
    “Maybe we do need to talk. There’re some things I’d like to say.” Her lack of emotion was disconcerting. Was she simply trying to hide from the feelings he was sure were still there? At least he felt them.
    “Patrick, not tonight okay? I’m enjoying myself and don’t want to wreck it by discussing the past.”
    His gut sank. “What about the future?”
    “What are you talking about? All I know is that we have a daughter to raise. I’m grateful you’ve let me back into her life, I really am. But if you think that includes you back on a level other than friendship, you’re wrong. I did that once, and look where it got us.”
    Her blank look turned to one of anger. He dropped her wrist. Now it was his turn to feel like crying. Patrick hadn’t realized how strongly he still yearned for Helena until tonight.
    He remembered the first time he’d called her Lena. They’d been in Italy that night. They’d heard La Traviata at La Scala. He’d held her hand loosely, as