When Therese Met Francie...
A FBorFW fic by MeganKoumori
Rated G
---
From the kitchen window, Francoise watched the blue minivan pull out of the driveway and down the street. What good fortune, for her anyway. Her twin brothers, though different in every other way, both needed tubes in their ears. Anthony and Liz would be out of the house for hours.
Francie jumped down and went into the living room. Her half-sister, Elisa, was reclining on the sofa watching a DVD.
Francie grabbed her bag from where she’d placed it behind the armchair that morning. "I’m going out."
Elisa sat up. "Where’re you going?"
"Out."
"You can’t leave me alone here! You’re the babysitter!" Elisa cried.
Francie gave her a look. "Oh come on! You’re old enough to be on your own for an hour or so!"
"Am not!" Francie turned and walked out. Quickly, Elisa turned off the DVD player and ran after her.
The weather was perfect outside, not too hot or cold, but warm and breezy. It was early June. Francie checked her watch. Eight o’clock. The bus would arrive in fifteen minutes.
Elisa ran out the front door, pulling her sandals on as she did. "Come on, tell me where you’re going!"
"Some place you won’t like." Francie hoisted the bag on her shoulder and walked out of the driveway, taking a left.
Elisa ran to catch up with her, her sandals ‘clop-clop-clop’-ing against the pavement. "Please! Please take me with you!"
Francie let out an irritated sigh and turned. "All right, but you have to promise to be quiet and stay out of the way when we get there."
"I promise!" Elisa slowed as she finally caught up. "So, where are we going?"
"I’m going to meet my mother."
Elisa looked puzzled. "But she’s going to the hospital with Dad and the twins!"
"Not our mother," Said Francie. "My mother."
---
Francoise Caine had been born on a rainy March morning at one AM. Afterwards, her mother, Therese, wiped the sweat off her face and said, "That was the most gruesome experience of my life."
Father Anthony, held the baby, wrapped tightly in a fuzzy yellow blanket. "She’s a tiny miracle. A new life that we created, and she’s our precious little…"
Therese groaned. She was tired and sore, and Anthony’s sap soaked gurgling was irking her. "She’s your precious. I told you already."
Anthony rocked the infant gently. "But aren’t you excited? Don’t you want to see her grow and learn?"
Therese lay back on the pillow. "I never wanted children, Anthony. I told you that. I don’t like children. You were the one who pushed and pushed to have them."
Anthony looked disappointed. "I thought that once she was here, you’d change your mind. That you’d fall in love with her."
Therese was turned towards the wall so he couldn’t see her annoyance. "She’s your baby. I did my part, just as I promised. Now it’s up to you to do yours." She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, just so he’d stop talking.
---
Of course, Francie didn’t know anything of this exchange. All she had of her real mother was a vague memory of a woman in a business suit and heels. That and a wallet sized photo of her mother and father, three months after marriage. They were sitting in front of a fake backdrop, painted to look like a forest of Redwoods. Her mother, dressed in gray polyester, had a grim, forced smile. Already the marriage had begun to deteriorate.
So why did they have a baby? Francie often wondered.
A ten-speed bike whipped past the two girls and skidded to a halt, blocking their path. "Where are you two going?"
"Somewhere." Francie stepped around the bike, Elisa behind her. Robin Patterson turned and followed.
He leaned forward on his handlebars. "Want to hear me belch Twisted Sister?"
"Ew, no!"
"I betcha I can do a wheelie!"
"I betcha you could also fall off and crack your head open, but I don’t want to see that either." Said Francie dryly. Cousin Robin, though five months older than her, sometimes acted five years younger. He was in the LD classes at school, diagnosed with an IQ of 80. He and his snobby sister, Merrie, were the favorite grandchildren of Elly and John Patterson.
The bus stop was at the corner of Park Street, a name as boring as the people who lived on it.
Robin braked next to the sign. "So can I come?"
Francie suppressed her irritation. "Why?"
"‘Cause you’re the only one who’s nice to me." Francie felt a pang of guilt as Robin hopped off his bike and put the brake down. "I know I’m dumb and everything…"
"Don’t say that."
"But it’s true. Even Merrie tells me not to tell anyone she’s my sister. But you talk to me at least. No one else does."
"I do!" Interrupted Elisa, huffily.
"Fine!" Said Francie. "But no more tag alongs!"
---
The bus was dirty. Its floor was littered with dust and paper. Elisa clutched Francie’s back as she paid for the three of them. "I don’t like this place. It smells funny." A man with no teeth and a scraggly beard smiled at her. She shuddered.
"You wanted to come." Said Francie. She took the seat behind the back bus doors. Elisa slid uncertainly next to her, and Robin took the seat behind them.
"So why do you wanna meet your mother anyway?" Robin stuck his head above their seat. "Didn’t she abandon you?"
"Who said that?" Said Francie defensively.
"Grandma. She says that a woman who doesn’t want children is unnatural."
"Grandma also says your father can write." Robin looked hurt, so Francie quickly said, "I’m sorry. It’s just that I want to meet my mother. Find out for myself why she left."
Robin sat back and shrugged. "Whatever."
Elisa mimicked him. "Whatever."
Francie stared out the bus window. It was spotted with large smudges of dirt and fingerprints. There was a dead fly in the sill, surrounded by cookie crumbs, and the sticker that said "Emergency Exit" was peeling.
Why did she leave? Francie thought quietly. Grandma says she didn’t want children. Why did she have a baby if she didn’t want one? The more she thought, the more questions arose in her sharp mind. Was I an accident? Francie squirmed. It would certainly explain a lot, like how a woman in a failing marriage who didn’t want children could end up have them anyway. Or why she never sent so much as a birthday card.
Francie only knew one ‘accident’ baby, though not really. Aunt April was an unexpected surprise, but she hardly knew April. Aside from Christmas cards (Which always came with a photo of April and her husband, Alejandro, on their beautiful Costa Rican farm.), she hadn’t seen April since she was five. Grandma and Grandpa Patterson never talked about her, never even kept her photo around the Tiny Train House. It was as if April Patterson never existed. At least the Christmas cards sounded happy…
The bus ground to a halt and the doors screeched (Literally. They sounded like they hadn’t been oiled in decades.) open. The three adolescents hopped off the bus steps and coughed as the bus spewed exhaust.
"Ok, Francie," Elisa waved away the smog. "We’re downtown. Now how are we going to find your mother?"
"We don’t have to." Francie pointed to the skyscraper in front of them. "She works in there."
"How do you know?" Inquired Robin.
"It’s amazing what you can find when you use Google." Francie pushed on the glass doors, and the other two followed.
A woman with curly hair and long nails was ‘clackity-clacking’ on a computer. She had a brass plate on her desk that said, ‘Receptionist.’
Francie and Robin could just see over the edge. Elisa had to stand on her tiptoes.
"Miss?" The secretary didn’t stop typing. "Miss?" Francie repeated louder.
She stopped clacking. "I’m sorry, but this is a place of business. There are no children allowed in this building. You’ll have to leave now." She resumed her work.
"But I need to see Therese Caine!"
"There’s only one Therese that works here, and her last name is Georges." She pronounced it with a Z. Her mother must have gotten remarried.
"That’s her! Can you tell me what floor…"
"Mrs. Georges is very busy. Now shoo."
"But…"
"Shoo, I said! Before I call your parents!" There was no way Francie could explain this to Anthony and Liz. And she had taken Elisa and Robin along! They’d be furious! Well, Liz would be anyway.
She grabbed her companion’s arms. "Let’s go."
"But what about your mom?"
"I said," Francie hissed through her teeth. "Let’s go!"
---
Outside, Francie sat on the curb. "I guess I’ll have to wait until she comes out."
"But that’ll take hours!" Protested Elisa. "And Mom and Dad will be home by then!"
"What else can I do? I have to meet her!"
Robin had been staring into the distance, and now he took off running. Francie stood up. "Robin! What are you doing?"
"Follow me!" He skidded to a halt in front of a payphone. "Let’s call that typing lady, and say we’re, uh, delivering a pizza, but we need the floor number!"
The plan wasn’t half bad, Francie admitted to herself, but it needed work. "How about we say we’re delivering flowers from her husband. No one would have pizza delivered to their office." She picked up the receiver, then put it back. "We don’t have the phone number."
"Back to the drawing board." Said Robin sullenly.
Elisa was digging in her pocket. "I do."
"What? How?"
She handed Francie a card slip. "That secretary had business cards! I picked one up!"
"Why?" Asked Francie.
Elisa shrugged. "I dunno." Francie punched in the number.
There were two rings, then, "Hello, Édition De Bigle. How may I help you?"
Francie cleared her throat. "Um, hi, my name is…Margaret, and I’m supposed to make a delivery to Miss Ca…I mean Georges."
"Delivery? Delivery for what?"
"Oh um, Roses! A dozen roses for Mrs. Georges, from her husband! But my silly assistant, Robin, lost the floor number." Robin stuck out his tongue. "Could you be a dear and just give it to me?"
"Certainly. Mrs. Georges’ office is on the thirty-fourth floor, the last door on the right."
"Perfect!" Francie caught herself. "I mean, thank you." She hung up. "Now how do we get past her?"
Robin was digging in his pocket. He held out a fist full of small action figures. "I can distract her with these!"
"How?"
"I have plenty of experience trying to distract my Dad when he’s writing."
Too bad it doesn’t work. Thought Francie. Then I wouldn’t have gotten Stone Season: 10th Anniversary Edition for Christmas. Jeez, I can’t believe Mom and Grandma made me read that piece of…
"Good luck, Robin!" Said Elisa suddenly. She wrapped her arms around her cousin. He looked startled as she said, "You’re a good person, Robin. I’m happy you’re my cousin!"
"Um, thanks." He seemed a little uncomfortable as if he wasn’t used to being complemented. Francie sadly realized he wasn’t.
Robin had run down the street and back into the building. Francie and Elisa followed and looked through the glass as he sauntered up to the desk.
The Receptionist stopped typing. "I thought I told you to go home!"
"But Lady!" Robin began setting up the action figures on the desk. "Don’t you wanna meet my toys?"
"No."
"Come on! This one is Batman and here’s Ken from Street Fighter and Wonder Woman. I like to pretend that Wonder Woman and Ken are going out, though she gets mad at him for spending too much time working. Oh, and this is Jaws from James Bond. I found him at a flea market…"
"Enough!" Said the Receptionist, getting angry. "If you don’t exit the building effective immediately, I’ll call security!"
"But Lady…" Robin carelessly knocked the toys over. They fell behind the desk.
"Now look what you’ve done!"
"Aren’t you gonna get them, Lady?" Said Robin looking at her with wide innocent eyes. "I’m not allowed behind there!"
The Secretary groaned loudly and bent over. As soon as she was out of sight, Robin motioned to his cousins.
"You stay here, Elisa." Francie instructed. "I need to do this alone."
As she sneaked past the desk, she could hear the Receptionist grumbling, "If I wanted this, I could’ve stuck to being a preschool teacher!"
"Hurry Lady! Wonder Woman can’t stay on the floor too long or she catch cold!"
Francie pushed the up button by the elevator. The numbers at the top blinked neon red.
The Receptionist had straightened up. "Now will you please kindly leave?" She snapped, putting the toys on the desk. The doors slid open and Francie slipped inside.
---
The upstairs was carpeted and had buttery yellow wallpaper, not like the cold white lobby Francie had just come from. There was a print of a beagle on the wall across from the elevator; it had large, almost anime-like eyes and sat in a field with a butterfly on its head. There was a rubber plant a few yards away in a golden pot. This place reminded her of a hotel.
"Last door on the right." She repeated to herself as she walked down the hall and found it. The words on the door said, "T. Georges, President."
Her mother was president? No one had told her that before. Francie felt her heart knock against her ribs as she tapped on the door.
"Come in." Said the female voice from inside. Francie pushed the door open.
There were beagle statues all over the desk in the back. A water cooler, a few bookshelves, and a giant window that was framed with yellow-green curtains were the prominent features of the room.
The president was sitting toward the window, talking on the phone. "Benoit, vous avez promis qu'il serait sur les étagères il y a deux jours ! Je suis fatigué de ces excuses sans fin ! Bien, c'est votre problème..."
Francie took a seat in front of the desk. "Excuse me…"
The woman in the chair held up a finger. For about thirty seconds, she continued to speak in French, then finally said, "Demain, Benoit ! Ou les têtes rouleront!" She hung up and spun around. "Now how may I help…" Her voice trailed off as she saw the black haired twelve-year-old. "You."
Francie had to keep herself from gasping. She hadn’t expected her mother to be so beautiful. She was almost exotic looking, with sharp features, large brown eyes, and jet-black hair. For a second, Francie tried to figure out who she reminded her of. Then it dawned on her: Her mother looked like the Queen in Disney’s version of Snow White.
Her demeanor was queenly too. "What are you doing here? This is no place for children! Now I am very busy, so please let yourself out!"
"You don’t recognize me, do you?" Said Francie, a little disappointed, but not surprised.
"Should I?" Said Therese coldly.
Francie shrugged. "I guess not." She straightened up. "My name is Francoise Marie Caine, and I was born March 7th, 2005. I believe you were in the room when it happened…Mother."
There was a long silence. Therese reached over and picked up the phone. "Anna Beth, hold my calls." She put the receiver down. "So, what do you want? You’re not here to guilt me are you?" She reached into her drawer and pulled out a pack of Fresh Mint Nicorette gum. She popped a piece into her mouth.
The questions inside Francie burst forth. "Why did you leave? Why haven’t I seen you since I was three? Why did you have a baby when you don’t like children? Why…"
Therese waved her hands. "One question at a time!" She sighed. "I always wondered when this day would come."
"Please," Said Francie quietly. "Why did you leave?"
Therese clasped her hands together. Her nails were manicured and polished clear. "Francoise, I never wanted children."
Francie’s heart sank. "I know."
"But your father did. We should have discussed children long before we got married. He begged me for months; I agreed on the condition that he would be responsible for their upbringing."
Francie felt a little stunned. "I didn’t know that."
"He said yes," Therese continued. "He thought that once you were born, I’d turn into June Cleaver…"
"Who?"
"He thought my maternal instinct would kick in." Therese revised herself. "That I’d instantly turn into the perfect mother."
"But that’s not fair!" Said Francie angrily. "You had already told him that you didn’t want kids!"
"I know. He hated the fact that I went back to work instead staying home and playing housewife. He wanted me to give up on my dream."
"What dream?" Asked Francie.
Therese swept her arms out wide. "This is my dream, Francoise! I built this company with my own two hands, from nothing! And he wanted me to leave it all behind."
"I see." Francie said. "What exactly do you do here?"
"Our company is called Édition De Bigle, which in English translates into Beagle Publishing."
"You publish books?"
"Re-publish them." Said Therese. "We buy the rights to books already written in English and translate them into French."
"That’s really neat!"
"Thank you. We’ve just launched our new spin off company as well, Édition De Chiot De Bigle, which means Beagle Pup Publishing. Chiot de Bigle will translate books for younger readers. Our first book was supposed to be out two days ago, but unfortunately there was a computer error."
Francie was impressed. Her mother was not only beautiful but smart and successful as well. Why did her father divorce her?
"I divorced him." Said Therese when the question was put forth. "Your father and I hardly knew each other when we got married. We both wanted to change the other, and it wasn’t fair to either of us. Then, I fell in love with someone else." Therese picked up a picture frame.
"Is he nice to you?"
"Very." Said Therese. "He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. He loves me for who I am, not for who he wants me to be."
Francie took the photo. In it, Therese was sitting on a stoop with a man with dark, dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. Each held a beagle on their lap, one red and white, the other a Faded Tri.
"He’s Franco-Nunavois." Said Therese suddenly.
"I’m sorry. He’s what?"
"It means he’s from Nunavut. He was born and raised in Iqaluit." She took back the photo. "He came to work here as a translator."
"But you ended up falling for him."
Therese nodded. There was a small beeping noise. She pulled back her sleeve, revealing a small gold watch on a leather strap the same color as the office curtains. "I have to go. I have a meeting with our marketing department." She stood.
Francie stood too. "I have to get home anyway." She stopped before going out the door. "Do you love me, Mother?" She asked. "If you don’t, it’s ok…"
Therese stared at her for what seemed like forever. "I’m not sure how to love a child." She finally admitted.
"Then maybe you could learn to love me," Said Francie. "Not as a child, but as a friend."
Therese crossed the room. She smiled and put her hand on Francie’s back. "As a friend."
---
The secretary was reading a magazine when the elevator doors opened. Francie and Therese stepped out. "…Then we can go out to lunch the Saturday after next?"
"Sounds good."
"And you can tell me more about publishing." Said Francie. "I think I’d like to work at a job like this."
"We do offer internships," Said Therese thoughtfully. "Of course, you have to be a college student…"
The secretary stood up. "Mrs. Georges! I am so sorry! I don’t know how she…" She focused her attention on Francie. "Didn’t I tell you to…"
"It’s alright, Anna Beth." Therese put her arm around Francie. "This is Francoise. My daughter." She smiled. "And my friend."
The End.
---
"For Better or For Worse" is the creation/property of Lynn Johnston, not me. Do I look like a delusional Canadian cartoonist who's as out of touch as Andy Rooney? Those two should be shipped off to a desert island so they can complain about kids and technology for the rest of eternity. Away from us.
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