#ptmy 10 years later

[intheorangebedroom]

UMMM YES I'M INTERESTED IN HOW THEY'RE DOING???

Oops sorry for yelling

My love, you can and should yell at me for taking so long to answer you 🫣 I don’t know how you bear with me. But I’m not complaining that you do 🧡

The question was, how are PTMY’s Frankie and Gabrielle doing. First, can you believe it’s been 10 years, sort of, since PTMY takes place in 2015? And today is Frankie’s 50th birthday 🥳🥳🥳 So not a bad day to answer you, after all!

I’m afraid the following will only reveal the extent and depth of my delulu where these two are concerned.

A lot happened in those ten years, and also not much. Time passed and they all went about their lives.

Yovanna went back to school to finish what she had started back home before moving to the US with Santi, and became a legal adviser. On the day she graduated, Santi proposed. Classic Pope. Their wedding was a lovely day, just like them, casual and warm and love everywhere. A couple of years later, they had a son, Joachin. Sweet and sensible, the spitting image of his father. The kid is obsessed with music. He'll be a great musician one day, you can mark my word.

Will, too, got married. Remember Clare, his neighbor? Now this was what you might call a big wedding, and also the first time Gabrielle saw Benny after the “late night” incident. Awkward. Maybe even more so because Benny brought two plus ones? Anyway, he didn’t leave the party with any of them, because he ran into Clare’s cousin, Nicola, and the two have been “casually dating” ever since (they’re stupid in love). Nicola even managed to have Benny quit the fighting (to everyone’s relief). He trains kids, now. Often, Frankie will pick up a six-pack and stop by the gym where he works and they'll hang out past closing time, just like they used to, you know, before.

Will and Clare had twin daughters, Ella and Carmel. Ben and Gabrielle are Ella’s godparents. Being an atheist, Gabrielle tried to protest, but Will assured her it was mostly a way of making her an official family member (there was a lot of crying, it was a joyful snotty mess). Those kids are... well, I hate to say spoiled when talking about kids because I don't believe you can love a kid too much. But those two peanuts are SPOILED ROTTEN. Good for them.

As for Izzy, she’s still single. It’s fine. She doesn’t travel as much as she used to. It's fine, too. She’s still a freelancer, but she’s made enough money that she can be picky with what job she takes on. Five years ago, she bought an apartment in Buenos Aires and she spends the (New York) winter months over there. Frankie had gotten used to having his sister nearby, and he misses her a lot. And yet, she still hasn’t managed to convince him to come down and visit. But Gabrielle is working on it.

Rosie went back to med school and successfully graduated. Now she works (her ass off, she doesn’t know how to do it any different) for a non-profit that provides medical and legal assistance to undocumented women. She finally hired someone to come once a week to clean and tidy up the house. Oh, and she’s currently having a torrid affair with the very hot (younger) guy who cleaned her gutters last fall, no pun intended, don’t tell anyone.

I’m very happy to report that Dolores is doing a-okay. She still runs her vintage store in St Mark's, which is a little miracle, given how the rent has increased, and she’s dating a very handsome and wealthy gentlemen. The poor man is completely wrapped around her little finger. She sure knows what she’s doing. She’ll be alright. I love her.

Sadly, though, Suzanne lost her partner to breast cancer. She stepped down from the book store, and Gabrielle now pretty much runs it on her own. She made a few changes through the years, and the book store is now specialized in children’s literature and graphic novels. She developed regular events (like drag queens reading kids' books centered on difference every second Saturday of the month) and the store acquired a great reputation. She’s been able to hire another employee, and she no longer works on Saturdays (a French girl's ultimate goal, not working on weekends).

She still meets with Rosie every Tuesday evening, rain or shine.

Frankie found a good position as a flight instructor, something much closer to their home, so he doesn’t have to spend half his day in his truck on a never-ending commute. He’s got a good schedule, a good insurance, and most importantly, his coworkers' respect.

They are disgustingly happy, with their soft love and their rough sex and their many minute rituals. Gabrielle makes coffee in the morning, while Frankie packs her lunch. Every night before bed, he braids her hair. On Saturdays, they watch SNL. Sunday mornings are for pancakes, Sunday nights are for movies. Every summer, they travel to Europe for a week, and once a month, they drive to upstate New York, where they spend the weekend in a little cabin they bought there with Izzy.

And they have a secret. They eloped. It started as a joke, but Frankie kept talking about it, preferably in moments when he knew she couldn’t counter, like during sex. The idea kept growing inside his head, another way to protect her, another way to keep her safe. She tried resisting, she put up a good fight, but in the end, she relented. Not like she can refuse him anything...

They didn’t tell anyone. Just ran off and did it. Afterward, Frankie told his sister and Gabrielle told Rosie (both were pissed but not surprised). No one else knows about it. Will suspects something, of course, but he’s letting them have this one. For now.

They don’t have rings. Gabrielle still goes by Tourneur. But she wears a little gold locket with a lock of Frankie’s curls clasped inside it. The chain is sealed around her neck.

Sometimes, when they’re alone at home, he stops whatever it is he's doing and comes to stand in front of her. Draws her flush into the solid wall of his chest. His arms wrapped around her, he lowers his lips to the shell of her ear, and in his low husk, he says, my wife. She rolls her eyes, pulls a face, but it makes everything inside her buzz and sparkle. The way he beams with pride. The way his voice rumbles. She burrows into him, her face in that place between his jaw and collarbone where fear and pain can't find her, where she's home, safely tucked away from the rest of the world behind the orange curtains.

Those years of domestic bliss still haven’t outnumbered the harrowing ones they spent apart, searching for each other, caught up in their loss and trapped in their loneliness. Those years are lost forever. They never talked about it, but the day the balance will tip will be a special kind of victory for Mr and Mrs Morales.

🧡