Chapter 7

“What the hell are you talking about?” Frankie’s voice reverberated throughout the interior of her mom’s car

“Frances Tulsa Montgomery! Watch your language, young lady.”

“Really?” she shouted again. “After that bomb you just dropped? How about you use your language to tell me what the crap is going on!”

“Let’s just go upstairs and talk, ok?” Rachel’s voice quivered slightly in her throat.

“Fine!” Frankie got out of her mom’s car and slammed the door. “I hate these stupid crutches!” she huffed as she sidestepped, unbalanced on the crutches. They impeded what would have been an effectively executed rant as she headed toward the elevator. She threw them to the ground and marched on. Adrenalin flowed through her system, masking any discomfort she otherwise would have experienced in her ankle.

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Frankie stomped into the living room and plopped on the couch with her arms crossed across her chest. “Ok, so talk!” she barked as soon as her mom entered the apartment carrying her discarded crutches.

“It isn’t a good idea walking without these,” Rachel’s voice had calmed to its usual tone.

“Talk!”

Rachel ignored Frankie’s demand and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She gripped the counter's edge, steadying herself as the Keurig spewed hot Earl Gray tea into her favorite mug. She avoided turning to face her daughter momentarily.

“Okay,” she inhaled deeply, “That gentleman, your English teacher, Michael Winters, is your father.”

“Yeah, you said that already,” Frankie threw at her mother. “But what I want to know are all the “Ws.” You know, Who, What, Where, Why, and How! Well, technically, those are the “Ws” and an “H,” but you get the idea! You told me my dad’s name was Junior! You said he was gone!”

“Calm down, Frankie.” Rachel closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead slowly. “I will answer all of your questions after I finish, okay?”

“First, let me say this…” she looked her daughter in the eyes, “I am sorry for a lot of things I did in my past. But the one thing I am NOT sorry for is giving birth to a fantastic daughter. I love you with every fiber of my being.” Frankie’s heart softened around the edges, but she remained silent.

“I met your father at a college party at the University of Tulsa,” she stared into her cup, and the teaspoon clinked the sides of the mug as she absently stirred the contents.

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“And?”

“And, well, it was a college party with lots of alcohol. I was young and stupid,” she hesitated, allowing Frankie to digest the information she had just delivered.

“Oh my God, Mom! I am a product of a one-night stand?” bile rose in Frankie’s throat. “I think I am going to be sick.”

“Honey, please, believe me, you weren’t a mistake. I always knew you are a gift from God,” Rachel pleaded with her daughter for understanding.

Frankie clutched a pillow to her stomach and rocked forward and back on the couch. This had to be a bad dream. Everything she ever thought about herself and her life was turning into a lie.

“Wait, you always told me that my dad’s name was Junior,” she rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. Nothing was making sense.

“He told me his name was Junior. That’s what all of his friends were calling him at the party. I never asked his last name,” Rachel hung her head in shame. “I am so sorry.”

A thought hit Frankie like a lightning bolt, and she jumped off the couch. Turning to face her mom, she yelled at her mom, “You told me he was DEAD!”

“Sweetheart, I never said your dad was dead. I said he was ‘gone’ you assumed I meant dead.”

“And you never bothered to correct me? All this time, I thought I didn’t have a father. All my life, I LONGED for a dad, and you just stayed quiet!? How could you, Mom?” tears streamed down Frankie’s face.

“I didn’t know how to find him. My friend Mindy dragged me to that party while visiting her sister in Tulsa. I was back in Dallas when I found out I was pregnant.” Her mom stared off into space momentarily, visiting the ghosts of her past.

“So you never even tried.”

“Of course, I tried, Frankie! What kind of woman do you think I am?”

“A loose one!” Frankie shot back at her mom and instantly regretted her words. Deep down, she didn’t want to hurt her mom, but on the surface, she did. But. damnit, she was hurt too. Her mom had been lying to her for seventeen years. Of all the secrets she could keep, this one was a doozy.

The pain her accusation caused her mom showed clearly on her face, but she kept quiet.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean that.”

“No, it’s ok. I deserved that. I lied to you your entire life. I was just trying to protect you. I knew how much it would hurt you to grow up without a father around. I wanted to spare you any pain I could. I am so very sorry, Frankie.”

She looked at her mom for a few minutes without speaking, mulling over her mom’s confession. Realization floated to the surface of her consciousness, and she asked her mom slowly, “Am I the reason we left Dallas, and you don’t speak to Grandma and Grandpa Templeton now?”

“They didn’t want me to keep you once I told them I was pregnant. They were ashamed of having a pregnant, unwed daughter. So, I packed up and left Dallas with you in tow,” she smiled brightly at her daughter, “That might have been the only right decision I ever made in my life because I have you, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world, kiddo.”

“Oh, Mom, I love you too.” she ran to her mom and crushed her into the couch with the most heartfelt hug she could muster. They sat on the couch silently, holding hands, staring off into space for a long time. They would get past this; they were the best of friends.

After some time, Frankie turned to her mom and asked, “Can I stay home from school for the rest of the year ?”

“It’s only September. I don’t think so, young lady. We will figure out something.” She pulled Frankie closer, and they continued staring into the living room's darkness.