anymore....”
“Did you see Denny’s name in the paper when U of H beat Tulane in the Bluebonnet Bowl?”
“You know, I saw Denny’s mother at the dentist….”
Each time her dad had tried to run interference, but the woman was unstoppable.
“Mother, I will never, n-e-v-e-r marry Denny. You’ve got to stop this!” She paced around her parents’ family room like a member of an ant farm on maneuvers. “Why would you want me to marry someone I don’t love?” Frannie’s internal rage was just getting stoked. “That’s as idiotic as not caring if I get an education. What happens if I don’t go the marriage route like you two? What if I don’t find someone to take care of me for the rest of my life?” Frannie air quoted someone. “What if I want more? That is so stupid!” She knew she’d crossed the unspeakable line by throwing the stupid word out there, but she didn’t care. Her entire upbringing had classified “stupid” as one of the words that shall not be mentioned. Ever.
“Sugar, do not call your mother stupid.” Frannie’s dad had blown the whistle for a time out, but Frannie ignored the call.
“Dad, that’s not what I said. I’m not calling her stupid, it’s her stupid idea about me and Denny. There’s a difference.” She heaved in a hot breath before exhaling her final dragon-fire statement. “And I will not, repeat not, move back in here. You cut off my education? Fine.”
Frannie could still see the shock and hurt on her parents’ faces. It had been the first time she’d stood up to them. Strings were cut that day, wounds had erupted that had been simmering for too long. Even now she didn’t regret what she’d said…it had to be done. Still, hurting people you love is never easy.
At Janie’s suggestions, she applied and got a job with Southwestern Bell. Frannie moved her stuff into Janie’s small duplex, making them roommates once again. She saved every penny and even worked overtime until she could afford a VW Bug with over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on the odometer. After finally securing her own transportation, she became adamant about getting her degree, despite her parents’ lack of financial backing. Frannie enrolled in night school at University of Houston’s downtown campus.
“I will get my degree.” She repeated the mantra as often as necessary. Her first two years at Sam she had majored in English, but journalism had always tugged at her heart. However, neither choice seemed realistic at that point in her life. She felt the need to be more practical, so with a more radical switch of gears, she decided on a business degree with a minor in accounting.
Frannie still wrote in her journal; in fact, she wrote all the time about different observations. Like once she’d seen a homeless man with dreadlocks sitting at a corner table at a Jack-in-the-Box, thoughtfully writing in a spiral notebook. What drove him to write? He didn’t look like he suffered from schizophrenia as did a number of homeless people. He seemed to have a gentle, philosophic nature about him, although he definitely appeared to be without any sort of permanent shelter. Those sort of life stories not only fascinated her, they were her passion. But how could she parlay that into something substantial enough to pay rent?
Her rebellious streak kicked in big time after her first semester at night school. Most got through this stage during their late teens, maybe? She just had a delayed ignition switch which had just…blown. Her choices of boyfriends plummeted way beyond horrible, and she ended up doing the unthinkable. She quit school…a direct violation of her I-will-get-my-degree slogan. She kept her employment at Southwestern Bell, but picked up a job bartending in the evenings and weekends. Her recent life decisions had wavered between being passive-aggressive to get back at her parents, or admitting her picker was just dang broken.
“What do you think?” she’d asked the
“Did you see Denny’s name in the paper when U of H beat Tulane in the Bluebonnet Bowl?”
“You know, I saw Denny’s mother at the dentist….”
Each time her dad had tried to run interference, but the woman was unstoppable.
“Mother, I will never, n-e-v-e-r marry Denny. You’ve got to stop this!” She paced around her parents’ family room like a member of an ant farm on maneuvers. “Why would you want me to marry someone I don’t love?” Frannie’s internal rage was just getting stoked. “That’s as idiotic as not caring if I get an education. What happens if I don’t go the marriage route like you two? What if I don’t find someone to take care of me for the rest of my life?” Frannie air quoted someone. “What if I want more? That is so stupid!” She knew she’d crossed the unspeakable line by throwing the stupid word out there, but she didn’t care. Her entire upbringing had classified “stupid” as one of the words that shall not be mentioned. Ever.
“Sugar, do not call your mother stupid.” Frannie’s dad had blown the whistle for a time out, but Frannie ignored the call.
“Dad, that’s not what I said. I’m not calling her stupid, it’s her stupid idea about me and Denny. There’s a difference.” She heaved in a hot breath before exhaling her final dragon-fire statement. “And I will not, repeat not, move back in here. You cut off my education? Fine.”
Frannie could still see the shock and hurt on her parents’ faces. It had been the first time she’d stood up to them. Strings were cut that day, wounds had erupted that had been simmering for too long. Even now she didn’t regret what she’d said…it had to be done. Still, hurting people you love is never easy.
At Janie’s suggestions, she applied and got a job with Southwestern Bell. Frannie moved her stuff into Janie’s small duplex, making them roommates once again. She saved every penny and even worked overtime until she could afford a VW Bug with over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on the odometer. After finally securing her own transportation, she became adamant about getting her degree, despite her parents’ lack of financial backing. Frannie enrolled in night school at University of Houston’s downtown campus.
“I will get my degree.” She repeated the mantra as often as necessary. Her first two years at Sam she had majored in English, but journalism had always tugged at her heart. However, neither choice seemed realistic at that point in her life. She felt the need to be more practical, so with a more radical switch of gears, she decided on a business degree with a minor in accounting.
Frannie still wrote in her journal; in fact, she wrote all the time about different observations. Like once she’d seen a homeless man with dreadlocks sitting at a corner table at a Jack-in-the-Box, thoughtfully writing in a spiral notebook. What drove him to write? He didn’t look like he suffered from schizophrenia as did a number of homeless people. He seemed to have a gentle, philosophic nature about him, although he definitely appeared to be without any sort of permanent shelter. Those sort of life stories not only fascinated her, they were her passion. But how could she parlay that into something substantial enough to pay rent?
Her rebellious streak kicked in big time after her first semester at night school. Most got through this stage during their late teens, maybe? She just had a delayed ignition switch which had just…blown. Her choices of boyfriends plummeted way beyond horrible, and she ended up doing the unthinkable. She quit school…a direct violation of her I-will-get-my-degree slogan. She kept her employment at Southwestern Bell, but picked up a job bartending in the evenings and weekends. Her recent life decisions had wavered between being passive-aggressive to get back at her parents, or admitting her picker was just dang broken.
“What do you think?” she’d asked the
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