Darci
I check my reflection again in the mirror, smoothing my bigger than necessary shirt over my stomach.
“Darc, babe, you’ve changed like five times. You plan on telling them anyway, who cares if they notice your bump.”
I meet Frankie’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “I want to ease them into it, not shock them with her as soon as I walk through the door.” She smiles at my reflection, the gesture full of understanding. “Plus, he’s going to be overwhelmed to see you again. In a good way,” I add when her face fills with worry. It doesn’t still the pain in her features and I turn, moving closer to her position at my bedroom door.
“Francesca, Dad loves you. I see the heartache in his eyes. It’s been there since you left. He misses you. You coming home will make him incredibly happy.”
Her body slumps forward, her head dropping to my shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”
I rub her back, trying to soothe her nerves.
“You really need to stop with the Francesca crap.”
I feel her smile against my shoulder and my body shakes in amusement.
“It’s your name and it’s beautiful.”
“Says the sister that got a name like Darci.” She recites her line without pause, the tension receding from her posture. “That’s a beautiful name. I have an old lady’s name.”
She pulls back, a grin teasing her lips and I poke my tongue out, making her face break into her wide smile, showcasing her dimples.
“Easy done, we’ll swap.”
“Done.” She nods her head, grabbing my hand and pulling me from my bedroom, halting my ability to change my clothes. Again.
“Come on, Francesca,” she announces with flare, looking over her shoulder. “Let’s go face the crazy Croat.”
Pulling a breath through my nose, I follow her lead, reaching for my bag, discarded on my couch, as we exit my apartment.
“Sucks you being Darci and all,” I speak to her back. “I would hate to tell Dad you let Bennett James knock you up out of wedlock. Dirty skank.”
“Yeah, fuck that shit, I’m happy being an old lady tonight. You can keep your pretty name.”
Rummaging through my handbag, I locate my keys, unlocking the car to let Frankie slide into the passenger seat. Settling in beside her, I throw my bag into her lap, meeting her eyes, I glare at her. “Hell no, no backsies. Tonight, I’m the prodigal daughter returning to make their lives happy once again. You made your bed, Darci, you tell them you let Bennett bang your brains out and put a baby inside you.”
Her head tips back on a loud laugh and I swallow the bile in my throat. Realization hits me harder and I feel clammy with nerves. Taking a few purposeful breaths trying to regulate my heartbeat.
Frankie’s hand finds the nape of my neck, massaging lightly. “Deep breaths. In and out.”
I do as she says, inhaling deeply and exhaling heavily.
“Babe, jokes aside, I got you. You’re nearly thirty, you don’t need our dad’s blessing. He loses it, we leave.”
I nod frantically. “And, if you wanna keep it up, I’ll totally be Darci tonight and take the brunt of whatever is thrown. You know they go along with it, from some whacked out reason.”
I shake my head. “I love you, but this is my… situation. I don’t regret it, so I need to take ownership of it.”
Starting the car, I offer Frankie a tight smile, working to reassure her that I’m okay. She sees through it easily enough but doesn’t push anything further.
Driving through the streets of Carnation, we sit in companionable silence. I guess we’re battling our individual fears. Facing our father is a daunting prospect, for our own personal reasons, and maybe it’s wrong throwing Frankie and the baby on him in one foul swoop, but I think we’re both done avoiding. The longer we keep Frankie’s presence in town and my impending arrival a secret, the worse it will be.
Our father isn’t a bad man. Set in his ways? Certainly. Overprotective? For sure, maybe even to a fault. He’s strong-willed, incredibly stubborn, but he’s always provided a loving home for Momma and us girls.
We’re the only family he has here and I know the breakdown of his relationship with Frankie has caused him a suffocating level of pain. It’s evident in the darkness in his eyes, they’re filled with sadness. From the moment Frankie left, his smile has refused to meet his eyes.
She thinks I’m the favorite, I know that. But she’s wrong. He’s always found me agreeable, the daughter that never caused an issue. But it’s Frankie that lives in his heart and vice versa, it’s just a shame that she can’t see that. The fire inside of her came from him. They’re hot-headed and passionate. They share a soul, I’m sure of it.
Growing up, Frankie would argue he was controlling, but he loves her spirit. Momma’s always told us he was much the same at her age. I guess that’s what he feared most, his daughter running off into the world to find adventure. He was just too blinded by his fears to see he was pushing her that way.
My dad left Croatia as a young man, alone, to find a better life. He met my momma soon after arriving and as he tells it, fell madly, deeply in love. Momma was working on a ship, singing and he followed her back to Carnation without hesitation, where they stayed and built their life.
Their love has never faltered. Not once since the moment they met. That’s where my want for a fiery, passionate love stems from. I love their story. I envy their complete trust and devotion to one another.
Pulling into our family home, I turn off the ignition and sit, silently. Frankie does the same, her body frozen in place.
“Tell me he won’t send me away as soon as he sees me,” she whispers, her throat sounding thick as she attempts to swallow her nerves.
“What has he always told us is the most important thing in life?”
“Family,” she answers without consideration.
“He won’t send you away,” I stress and she nods, looking at me one last time before throwing her door open.
Closing my eyes, I search deep in my soul, working hard to find my strength. My hands find my stomach and I hold my little girl under my palms. “We got this, Little Bird.”
Because that’s the truth. No matter what.
Frankie links her arm in mine as soon as I climb from the car, our sides stuck together like glue. Her hand wraps tightly around my upper bicep; reassurance for her or me? I can’t be too sure. But, I’ll take the comfort. Even if it’s not meant for me.
Our steps seem to resonate in the quiet of twilight and I tread lighter, working to ensure the front door doesn’t fly open before we’re ready. Our eyes fixate onto the dark wood door of our family home. Neither of us move, huddled together, the white noise of our breathing magnified by our nerves.
“I feel as though I should knock, but that would be weird, right?”
I nod at Frankie’s question, glancing at her before reaching forward to turn the handle and opening the door into what I have no doubt will be an evening worthy of national telecast.
“Darci, my love, that you?”
My mother’s voice is musical, soft and sweet. More often than not, I’m certain she sings her words. It’s a beautiful thing to listen to. Much like Frankie’s.
“Hi, Momma,” I greet, walking into the kitchen, Frankie close on my heels.
Her back is to us, her hands moving fast, chopping vegetables in preparation for dinner. Our mother is a robust woman; a little extra weight having settled onto her frame over the years. Not largely, but enough to give her curves that add volume. As always, she’s impeccably dressed, a simple blue a-line dress, hugging her figure and stopping at the knee. Her thick hair is clipped messily to the back of her head, a necessity while cooking, but something that will be removed when she’s done. It’s flecked with strands of grey, but that’s never concerned her. She’s a beautiful woman, her glamor much like Frankie’s. It hits you immediately. The elegance and perfection of her features, unfair. I got her height, her curves and the amber of her eyes. Frankie got the rest; the beauty, the voice, the grace.
“You’re late, everything okay? Can you set the table? Dinner will still be a little bit.” She speaks continually, not coming up for air, the words tumbling from her throat with exceptional speed.
Frankie got that too.
I glance at Frankie and her smile is one of complete adoration as she watches our mother. I can see the longing in her dark eyes and I squeeze her hand, bringing her back to the moment. She looks to me briefly, nodding before swallowing deeply.
“Hi, Momma.” The emotion is thick in her voice and tears spring to my eyes immediately. I feel as though I should give them space, but I also deeply want to be a part of this. I want to watch their reunion; feel the love they share.
The knife our mother was holding drops immediately at the sound of Frankie’s voice and her hands brace heavily on the counter. The tension in her body is clear, her frame shaking with the stuttered breathing of someone crying.
“Please tell me that’s you, Francesca, and my mind isn’t playing a god-awful trick on me.”
Frankie’s teeth sink heavily into her lip and tears track her cheeks. “It’s really me, Momma.”
Her body convulses slightly, her frame bending with the full emotion overtaking her. She turns, her eyes connecting with Frankie’s and her hands cup her face as she cries heavily into her palms. Her sobs are loud and stammered, and my eyes sting, and my visions blurs as I watch her.
Moving forward, Frankie rushes toward her, her own sobs mingling with Momma’s as they embrace tightly. They remain this way for a full minute, maybe even two. Pulling her shoulders back, Momma cups Frankie’s cheeks, scanning her face.
“Oh, my beautiful, sweet girl. You came home.”
Hugging her again, they squeeze each other tightly and I brush the tears from my face, but they continue to fall. In the end, I let them, no point in fighting it. Tonight will no doubt be full of waterworks and I may as well try to get rid of as many as I can before my news hits.
Heavy footsteps sound through the house and I turn in their direction.
“Marie, are you okay? I hear a lot of commotion.” His thick accent hits the room before he does, giving Frankie the chance to turn toward the sound, letting him see her immediately as he enters the kitchen.
His feet stumble, a strong hand coming to rest on the frame of the archway, keeping him upright and his nostrils flare as his dark eyes, almost black like Frankie’s glisten with water.
“Moja slobodna ptica.”
My free bird.
Frankie’s hand moves to her heart, her head nodding. “Yes, Tata.”
Hearing her call him Daddy, our father breaks. After five long years without a word from her, having her home; close enough to touch, to hear the sound of her voice, he breaks.
Slumping against the frame his hand was grasped upon moments before, his body shakes with the force of his tears. His cries are loud and incoherent, thick as he mutters in Croatian about his baby coming home.
Frankie is on him before I can turn to check her reaction and their embrace is fierce. He kisses her face, pulling into his body, then out again to look at her. They speak in hushed foreign tones, sharing their words of love, missing one another and their apologies.
I move toward my momma to give Frankie and dad the time they need. I take care in the way I stand close, holding her arms over my shoulders, my back to her front. If she finds our embrace odd, she doesn’t comment, only kissing my head as she watches Frankie closely. “She looks a little broken, sad maybe. Is she okay?”
I tip my head back to meet her eyes, so similar to mine. “She’s okay. She’s healing. She hasn’t let on what happened, but she said being home was the only place she wanted to be. I’m sure she’ll share with you soon enough; she’s never been able to keep much from you.”
Momma looks thoughtful. “She’s been pretty good at keeping me at a distance these last few years. Might take her some time to find that trust in me again.”
She seems sad at the admission, but hopeful in the same breath. Frankie home is more than she could have ever wanted. If it takes her the time to build their relationship to a place where Frankie shares freely once again. She’ll get there. She’s Marie Walker. She’s tough and persistent.
“Moja lijepa ptica.” I turn toward my dad, smiling at his endearment.
My beautiful bird.
“Hi, Tata.”
“Come. Come.” He beckons me over, and I go without pause, walking to him. He grasps my cheeks, kissing each of them repetitively.
After touching both our faces affectionately one last time, he moves past us and toward our momma.
“Marie, moja najslađa ljubav.”
My sweetest love.
She nods at his silent words and his arms move to pull her into his body. They do this often, communicate without words. It’s amazing to watch their ability to read one another so easily from just their eyes. It’s a gift, one I’d always hoped I’d find with someone.
They hug for a long time before sharing a kiss. A kiss that goes a little longer than necessary, causing both Frankie and I to clear our throats. They ignore us, as usual, their level of affection always publically displayed without care how it made others feel. It always made them feel good, intimate, connected. They refuse to let anyone else who might find it uncomfortable affect their behavior. It used to embarrass me as a child. I was mortified that my parents needed to touch and kiss so intimately and so often, wherever the mood struck them. Now, I admire their love for one another. Their disregard for the world’s opinion, I’ve come to realize as I’ve gotten older that what they share is special. Their love for one another is still so deep, so alive, their intimacy feeds their relationship, it magnifies their link, their connection and who is anyone else in the world to tell them to curb it for the rest of us?
Taking our seats for dinner, Frankie chooses to sit next to our dad, wanting to feel closer. This makes him happy, I can see it in his smile, which for the first time in five years, meets his midnight colored eyes. He holds her hand as he eats, squeezing her hand every so often, causing her train of thought to derail and her incessant chatter to pause, long enough to smile over at him or lean in to kiss his cheek.
She fills us in on her life away. Her journey for fame and the hoops she jumped through continually, for just a shot.
“It started to eat away at my love for music and after a long while, I started to realize that maybe I never wanted to be famous in the first place. I just wanted my voice to be heard. Whether that be singing to one person or a crowd. I love to sing.” She glances at our mother, smiling tenderly. “Like you, Momma. But not for the price of my soul.”
The table goes quiet as each of us chew and dabbing his mouth with his napkin, Dad watches her closely. “Moja slobodna ptica, you seem sad. Is coming home making you feel like that?”
Shaking her head, Frankie places her fork on her plate, pushing her mostly eaten dinner away. “No. Being home is working to make me happy, Tata.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I look at Frankie through my lashes, keeping my gaze cast downward to save her the sight of three prying sets of eyes.
“Not in the way you ask it. Just in here.” She places her hand on her heart and keeps it there. “I misjudged him and I was naïve.”
“You’re staying then?”
This comes from our mom, her voice filled with hope.
“Yeah, I’ve moved back to Carnation. After years searching for something, I realized it was where I left it.”
Leaning toward her, Dad holds her neck pulling her face to his, kissing her forehead.
“I’m going to start looking for a place to live, start planting myself here, making it my home. Janie Dean has offered me a job at The Shallow and Jake has mentioned once or twice that Steve Cole needs an office girl. I like the idea of working both, plus I’ll still sing here and there when I can. I’m really looking forward to setting my life up here. Where it belongs.”
I smile over at Frankie widely, happy that she’s finally come home. For me, sure, it’s nice having her here, but mostly for her. I’m glad she finally feels as though she belongs.
Mom and Dad seem so happy in this moment, their smiles wide, Dad’s dimples on show as his face beams with joy. He has his family back. Mom looks much the same, her eyes wet with tears, her face free of concern, making her look years younger.
In that moment, I reconsider my need to divulge my news. Why throw such upheaval into the mix? Especially when everything has gone so smoothly. I don’t want to be the one to bring worry into their lives once again. Not after it’s just been washed away by happiness.
“It’s silly for you to find your own place to live, Francesca. Your room is still yours if you want it. Or Darci has another bedroom. Why would the two of you live alone when you can live together?”
Mom collects our plates, watching us expectantly to answer us and I swallow the lie in my throat. I attempt to speak once, twice, but no words filter out and Frankie senses my hesitancy. Her eyes widen and her head shakes just slightly, enough for only me to see it when she recognizes that I’m shutting down.
“Mom, I just got back, I think it’s best I don’t move back home. I’m old enough to live on my own and I like my own company.”
Mom nods at her reasoning for not moving home and she visibly relaxes.
“Doesn’t explain why you don’t just move in with your sister,” Dad remarks, motioning to me.
Frankie and I stare at one another in silence, her eyes like fire, refusing to let me back out of this. Knowing I’d hate myself for it in the morning.
“Darci needs the space, isn’t that right, babe?”
Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I close my eyes slowly, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them again. “Momma, sit down,” I request, patting her place at the table. She glances to our father, at Frankie and back to me, concern etching into her skin and causing lines to frown along her brow. She does as I ask though, sliding into her vacated seat and leaving the dishes.
Taking a deep breath, I go to speak but reconsider my words, closing my mouth without actually speaking. I do this, three times. Both Mom and Dad’s faces grow more troubled as each second passes and I hate that I’m doing this. This was never me, causing them drama.
“Darc,” Frankie prompts, “right here.”
I nod at her words of support, so simply spoken, but I don’t doubt the depth of their meaning. I’d never have to, not with Frankie.
“I’m pregnant,” I speak to my hands, my thumb massaging the palm of my hand brutally.
“What?” My mother’s voice cracks on the word, and I lift my head to look at both of them.
Pushing my glasses back up my nose, I sit straighter, squaring my shoulders. “I’m having a baby. I’m almost six months along and definitely showing, ergo the reason for the baggy clothes, they seem to camouflage me pretty well. I only found out… recently, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both sooner, I just…” I trail off into nothing, not knowing what words would be enough to explain my fear of disappointing them or them possibly rejecting my baby girl.
My father sits in complete silence, his wide chest expanding and contracting with his labored breathing. His eyes are fixated on me, and I swallow my nerves at the intensity of his glare.
“Are you feeling well?”
I turn toward my mother’s voice, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling really great through it all, so far.”
“I’m going to be a djed?”
Facing my dad again, I nod. “Yeah, Tata.”
I feel like I’m watching him in slow motion as his lips tip upward, morphing into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, his white teeth on show and dimples coming on in full force. “Marie, did you hear that? I’m going to be a djed.”
This is said as a statement. A declaration of pride and happiness and my whole body deflates in relief. The stress that was constricting my heart, making me sweat and making it difficult to breathe, eases completely and I let myself return his smile.
“Yes, Aleksandar, I heard,” she answers softly, her voice tainted by censure.
My eyes flick to her, scanning her face. “You’re mad.”
It needs not be a question, her tone was clear enough and my body sags with regret. I’d been prepared for my father’s disapproval, but not my mother’s. Her support was always a given, I’d never even let myself consider she’d be upset.
“No, Darci.” She reaches out grabbing my hand. “Concerned, my love, I didn’t even realize you were involved with anyone.”
Fiddling with my glasses, I clear my throat heavily. “It’s complicated. There are real feelings involved, definitely on my behalf anyway.”
“And his,” Frankie interjects, giving me a pointed look.
“Well, yes, but I just want to make certain our feelings are real and not exaggerated by the excitement and connection of bringing a life into the world.”
“Are we allowed to know who the father is? Do we know him?”
I nod at my mother’s question. “Yes, you know him. Umm…” I clear my throat, readjusting my glasses. “Her father, the man I’m semi-involved with,” I cough, exhaling forcefully. “It’s Bennett James.”
“It’s a girl?”
“Bennett James?”
My mother and father’s questions are spoken at the same time, then a pause and reversed.
“Bennett James?”
“A girl?”
I laugh quietly in my hands. “Yes, and yes.”
“Darci, sweet girl, I’m incredibly happy I’m going to be a grandmother, to a baby girl.” Her hand touches her heart, and she smiles affectionately at me. “And I like Bennett as well. He’s a good man. He’ll take good care of your baby.”
“And you, if you’d let him.” I roll my eyes at Frankie’s remark. “Don’t roll your eyes, you’re keeping him at a distance, and I don’t understand why.”
I narrow my frown in her direction, avoiding the prying eyes of my mother and father. “Thanks for the united front, Francesca.” My voice portrays the level of hurt I feel at her lack of support, and she sighs heavily, shaking her head.
“If I have to keep repeating myself when it comes to how one hundred percent I am behind you, I will. That doesn’t mean that I don’t get to voice my disapproval about the way I think you’re handling things.”
“In private sure, but when it’s in a family setting when I’ve finally shared my news? Not okay. Not by a long shot.”
She stares at me blankly, and I stare right back. “I kept your secret. I didn’t blurt to our parents that you were home because you told me you weren’t ready. I waited until you built up your inner strength and you just pushed me straight under the bus,” I snap, throwing my napkin onto my plate and pushing my chair back to stand.
“Before the two of you start on me about this, know that I’m working through it and will continue to do so, at my own pace. I’ve only recently found out that I’m going to be a mother. It’s my responsibility to make sure the life I give my baby girl is right and that I don’t jump into something that may or may not work. Bennett and I are caught up in the excitement of being parents, I need to be certain it’s not railroading our rational thought.”
My words are said in a rush of stutters and frustrated growls. I feel shaky with the need to defend myself because if I’m honest, I don’t want to admit to my family that I might stupidly be falling in love with Bennett James with no certainty that he could ever love someone as shy and awkward as me, back.
“Moja lijepa ptica, calm down. I think you are being smart. We think you are being smart,” he gestures toward my mother and she nods reassuringly.
I take a deep breath, letting my body deflate from the fight it was preparing itself for. “I think Frankie is right, that you’re shielding yourself from something, maybe a potential broken heart. Don’t live like that, Darci. Trust your heart, sweetheart. It’s strong, rely on it to tell you the truth.”
I smile reluctantly at my mother’s words, irritated that right now, she can read my insecurities so well. The gesture looks more like a grimace and she laughs softly at my annoyance. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. There will come a time when your heart will no longer let you deny how it feels.” Her words are said to me but spoken at my father, a tenderness gracing her features that he easily returns.
“Yeah, let’s just hope that’s not too late.”
“Francesca,” both my parents admonish, and she shrugs at their reprimand.
After helping Frankie clear up our dishes, in silence, both of us angered by the other, I say my goodbyes, needing to get home. Frankie stays on, wanting more time with our parents and I don’t begrudge her that. I’m actually thankful for the reprieve, not caring to argue with her tonight. Not when both our bombshells seemed to be accepted without detonation.