Frankie’s smile is radiant. Starting at the corners and growing bigger. Lyllian smiles inwardly to herself a mixture of amusement and cynicism. She had seen the Guppy walking her daughter up the hill from the school hands clasped tightly breath coming out in white puffs. The Guppy is how she and Michael refer to their daughter’s “boyfriend”, notice the “air-quotes”. He appears to be an amiable sort and judging from the myriad of conversation she sees on her daughter’s Ipod (password required random parental checks understood) behaves like someone with a serious case of ‘like like’.

Lyllian hovers between a sense of pride and panic. Her daughter, her P.P.P is moving at light speed towards maturity. Her independence already extends to how she interacts with Lyllian. A knowing look. A sharp response. She was never just a quiet little thing unaware. She has begun to scrutinize every little thing Lyllian does or says. It began a few years ago when Frankie was in junior high. Suddenly mom was not as infallible. Not bona-fide. She made mistakes. She lost control. She was weak. And her daughter, her sweet, intelligent firstborn can see it.

“So how’s guppy?”, she asks as Frankie slides into the passenger seat and immediately sets about searching the radio for a song to suit her. Frankie’s tastes are heroic at best. I mishmash of tunes inspired by her parent’s 90s love story and today’s “substitute alternative”.  She settles on an oldie but a goodie by Alice in Chains. The song reminds Lyllian of high school. The powder blue walls of Mount Rainer High. The array of flannel walking by on jeans and docs.

“He’s fine.” Frankie it seems has already accepted the name. She casts a sidelong glance at her mom. “Actually he was wondering if I wanted to go out on an official date Friday.”

Lyllian’s head suddenly begins to ache. In the backseat Vivienne is asking Frankie for a snack. Her little voice demanding. Frankie shoots an annoyed look at her little sister and reluctantly hands back half of the squished protein bar she’d crammed into her backpack who knows how long ago.

“So….” Frankie brings her mother’s attention back from the brink of blissful ignorance where she can pretend her little pumpkin is not going on dates and being kissed by boys.

“So. You know the rules. No alone dates til your seventeen. And you go dutch.” Lyllian inches the car along in the early evening commute toward home, red brake lights as far as the eye can see. Or her old tired eyes anyway.

Frankie tosses her thick shoulder length brown hair. It’s not black like Michael’s, nor dark brown like Lyllian’s. It’s a light caramel colored and contrasts prettily with her caramel colored skin and green eyes.

“Ok, I’ll see if Maria and Caleb can go. And maybe Teresa and Aiden too. Although Teresa and Aiden are not officially ‘shipped’ but…..”,Frankie’s voice is bright. Cheerful and generous. Lyllian smiles and listens to her older daughter talk about her friends and plans. She adds in the occasional momism but otherwise keeps silent. Grateful that her teen daughter is talking to her in more than monosyllables. 

Next Chapter: Anne, 1942, New York