Frankie rolled over in bed and squeezed her eyes closed. Her head was pounding, the renegade light beam that escaped the dark curtains assaulted her vision, and the churning in her stomach was fighting its way up her esophagus. She. Was. Miserable.
“Alexa, what time is it?” she didn’t dare to open her eyes to focus on her bedside clock.
“The time is 7:02 A.M.,” the digitalized voice announced, reverberating in her ears the way a cymbal clangs. In her present state of recovery from yesterday’s drinkfest, she had no desire or strength to get out of bed so early. She was quite content to die right where she lay.
“Rise and shine!” Rachel burst through the door, banging a wooden spoon against a metal pot. “Time to get up, Sleepyhead!”
“Mom, stop!” Frankie smashed a pillow against her ears and covered her face. “Get out of my room!”
“No, ma’am. Get out of that bed, get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen in five minutes.” Rachel flipped on the overhead lamp and threw open the curtains. Light flooded the room. “You have chores to do today, Missy.”
“No, I don’t feel good.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but that’s your problem. Not mine.” Rachel looked at her watch, ‘You now have four and a half minutes. Move it.” Rachel grabbed Frankie’s cell phone from the nightstand, “And you won’t be needing this today,” she informed Frankie as she slipped the phone into her back pocket and walked out of the room. Rachel had the spoon tucked under one arm but left the saucepan where the phone had been.
“MOM!” Frankie yelled from her bed, “Give me my phone!” but got no response.
“Four minutes!”
Frankie slowly rolled off her bed. Her mouth felt like tree bark, and sunlight burned her eyes. “Chores?” She wondered aloud as she wrapped a pink fuzzy robe around her body and realized she wore the same close from the day before. She headed to the kitchen in search of strong black coffee.
Her mom stood at the sink, loading the dishwasher. She banged dishes against each other and clinked glasses together, but the repeated dropped silverware crashing to the tile floor made her come undone.
“Mom! Do you have to make so much noise?” Frankie said irritably.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rachel replied in a syrupy-sweet, mocking tone, “Am I disturbing your hangover, Dear?”
Frankie rolled her eyes and grabbed a coffee cup from the cupboard. “I told you I ate something bad yesterday,” That was her story, and she was sticking to it.
“The alcohol reeking from your pores tells me otherwise.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re grounded.”
“What?” Frankie shrieked. “You can’t ground me! I’m almost eighteen!”
“‘Almost’ being the operative word,” Rachel said with air quotes. “You told me you were spending the day with Faith, and I believed you!”
“I was with Faith!”
Rachel snapped her head back at that revelation, “You and Faith were drinking, underage, and she drove you home drunk?” Her mom’s voice began to crack with either rage or disbelief. Frankie couldn’t tell which.
“Faith didn’t drive. I took an Uber.”
“From where?”
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“Hunter’s dorm,” Frankie didn’t want Faith getting in trouble with her mom by the admission but realized admitting they had been at Hunter’s was a mistake.
“Hunter’s dorm? How many times have I told you not to go there?”
“Oh, you mean don’t follow in your footprints in the snow? I believe you went to a guy’s dorm, got drunk, and SURPRISE; here’s Frankie?”
“Now you listen to me, Frankie. This is the last time I am going to say this: I used poor judgment going to that party and drinking. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I…did what I did. I have apologized and asked your forgiveness for lying, and you now know the truth about your father. I can’t make you forgive me, but I am your mother. Drinking, especially underage, has always been forbidden, and you know that. I thought I could trust you. But now, you,” Rachel brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “you are acting irresponsibly, going to places you have been told not to go, drinking, and speaking to me disrespectfully. I have had enough out of you.” she could feel her mother’s anger rising as she counted off Frankie’s behavior changes since finding out about her father.
“But…”
“No ‘buts.’ You will spend the remainder of this weekend without your phone, no company, and no going out. You will clean this apartment from top to bottom. And, for the next two weeks, you will come straight home from school on the bus. No Faith, no Steve, no phone. Do I make myself clear?”
Frankie stomped her foot, glaring at her mother. “That isn’t fair!”
“Life isn’t fair, Kid. Now go take a shower. You stink.” Rachel turned her back to Frankie. “This discussion is over.”
“I hate you!!!” Frankie ran to her room and slammed her door.
By the time the sun set that evening, Frankie was exhausted. Her mother had handed her a chore list longer than St. Nick’s Nice List that morning. Frankie was made to hand-scoured the kitchen and bathroom floors (no mop was allowed) after she disinfected every surface in each room. She scrubbed the kitchen cabinets until they shined, cleaned out the refrigerator, wiped down every baseboard in the apartment, polished all the furniture, folded an unending amount of laundry, swept, mopped, washed dishes by hand after each meal, and any other form of torture her mother could come up with while lounging, sipping tea, and reading Pride and Prejudice on the sofa.
“Can I have my phone back now?” after Frankie completed the punishment list, her arms hung by her side as she sighed a long slow breath. She couldn’t lift her head to look at her mother; she didn’t have the strength to perform such a task.
“No, I am keeping it for the next two weeks.” Rachel quipped from across the room, flipping a page in her book, “Without your phone and being confined to the house will allow plenty of time to think about what you’ve done. Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. Next time, I won’t be so easy on you.”
Frankie was too exhausted to argue. She returned to her room, didn’t bother to undress, and collapsed on her bed. Although the hangover headache was gone, every muscle in her body ached.
“Be up in time for church in the morning,” Rachel called from the living room. Frankie groaned before she fell into a deep, exhaustion-induced coma of sleep.
☙☙☙
Sitting in the pew beside her mother, Frankie fought to stay awake during the morning sermon. Her mother’s bony elbow poked her ribs every time her head bobbed, and she longed for her bed or another cup of coffee. Both would have to wait until later.
Frankie spotted Faith across the sanctuary sitting with her parents and wondered how often Faith stayed in Hunter’s dorm and used her as an alibi. She made a mental note to ask her friend that very question.
Pastor Troy wrapped up his sermon, although Frankie had no idea what it was about. She was too tired to focus on what he said. However, she perked up when the worship band began playing again, and the congregation was dismissed. She grabbed her Bible and purse and sidestepped toward the center aisle. “I will pick you up after Youth Group,” Rachel reminded her before she could escape.
“Whatever,” Frankie groaned and rolled her eyes, then made a beeline for the coffee bar in the lobby.
The robust nutty aroma of coffee filled the lobby. Tasteful Bean made a signature for Discovery Church. Frankie inhaled deeply the sweet, earthy goodness that filled her cup. The coffee was one of the best things about attending that church; Faith and Steve attending Discover was just gravy.
“Hey, Chickadee,” Faith appeared at Frankie’s side as she poured an abundance of vanilla creamer into the caffeine-rich liquid. “I sent you a hundred texts yesterday and this morning, and you didn’t respond. Is your phone broken?”
“No, it got taken away for two weeks after I stumbled in the apartment smelling like a brewery, thanks to you and Hunter.”
“Oh no! Hunter just said you took an Uber home while I was sleeping,” Faith's voice cracked as her volume rose, “You stumbled in drunk?”
“Shhhh!” Frankie grabbed Faith’s arm and pulled her away from the crowd at the coffee bar. Too many ears were about, and she didn’t want her drunkenness known by the entire church. The two girls huddled together in the corner to talk.
“Yeah, you could say that. I woke up on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, sick as a dog. Mom left me there after I threw up a couple of times.”
Faith’s eyes widened, and her mouth slackened, “I had no idea. I thought you just had one to taste it.”
“I guess I liked it and had more than one. I don’t really remember much. Anyway, Mom had a cow. She came into my room at 7:00 AM, took my phone, and I did chores all day,” her posture sagged. “I’m grounded from everything, except church, for the next two weeks.”
“Oh, wow.” Faith repeated several times as they headed to the Youth room.
“I don’t even know if Steve is home yet,”
“I will text him for you,” Faith offered.
“Is that some sort of olive branch for using me to stay at your boyfriend’s, and just how often am I your cover?” Frankie quirked an eyebrow at her friend. The thought still bothered her.
“No, this is my olive branch,” Faith squealed. She produced a folded paper from her purse and handed it to Frankie. Frankie took a deep, pained breath as she gazed at the copy of Michael Winters' driver’s license and his signature from his video store account. There was no turning back now.
Pastor Chris called the group to order and opened class with prayer. Frankie twirled a strand of hair in her fingers as she thought about the test she would drop in the mailbox before school the next day. She couldn’t wait to see her mom’s reaction when she shoved the test results in her face and proved her theory wrong. Frankie tilted one corner and smirked. It was time to get even with her mom for the lies and deception.