It took two full weeks before Franklin finally saw his mother for the first time since he stormed out of his father's apartment. By that point, it had been months since he last saw her. All he wanted was to talk to her, to explain what had happened and hear her tell him that everything was going to be alright, that he could stay with her and that they could fix things together. Instead, he spent his days alone in her apartment, on the phone to Marci or watching television, waiting.
When she did finally arrive home at her Boston apartment one evening, the reaction that Franklin got was not what he expected.
He had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the television when he heard the door open. She was on the phone, and as she entered the apartment she kicked her heels off but didn't turn on the light.
"I don't care if Martin doesn't agree. The paperwork was filed this morning, and the hearing date has been set already-" She noticed someone on the couch and stilled, removing the phone from her ear. Her body tensed and her hand moved to clutch her purse.
"Who the hell is there?" she asked coldly.
"It's just me, mom! Remember?" Franklin told her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "For God's sake, Franklin, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked. She turned the light on finally.
Franklin sat up slowly, tired. "I've been staying here. I fought with dad? He kicked me out?"
"Kicked you out?" Rosalind asked. "He most certainly did not! When?"
Franklin was confused. Hadn't David told her what had happened? "Two weeks ago, mom! I called David and he said you knew."
"Right," she said. "I've been busy. Well, let's get this sorted then. What happened?"
Franklin didn't want to tell her. Suddenly, all of his optimism that Rosalind would understand why his SAT scores were low or that she would want him there evaporated. Panic surged in his body. He didn't say anything.
"Franklin," Rosalind said, "You are going to tell me what happened with your father right now."
"I finally told him off," Franklin told her, exaggerating slightly so she'd be less angry. "I was upset because my SAT scores came in and they... well, they weren't good. And he didn't care. So I told him the truth. That is was his fault. That he wasn't creating the kind of atmosphere I needed to be successful. That I wasn't going to watch the store or Candace for him anymore. And he flipped out on me."
"How bad were they?" Rosalind asked. Of course she would zero in on that aspect of what he said.
He didn't respond.
"Franklin? Tell me." Rosalind said again.
"1260," he replied finally.
"12-" Rosalind said, cutting herself off and shaking her head with a sigh. "That is..."
"Bad. I know," Franklin said. "But it wasn't my fault."
"Oh? Did your father take the test for you then?" Rosalind asked.
"No!" he replied. "But..."
"Don't you dare try and blame what happened on anyone but yourself, Franklin," she said coldly. "I spend my living making excuses for people and I have no interest in hearing any from my own son. Your father didn't take that test. You did. He may be a miserable failure, but he isn't the failure here. Take responsibility for your own actions and do what you have to do to fix things. Tomorrow, I'm going to call a tutor to prep you over the summer so that you can take the test again next year. And you're going to call your father and apologize."
"What?" Franklin asked. "Why? Why can't I just stay here?"
Rosalind laughed. "I'm working, Franklin," she said. "On a very important case. I don't have time to babysit you. And besides, that wasn't what we agreed to. I booked some time later in the summer once my case is over for us to head up to the Vineyard. We'll be together then."
"But I hate it there. I hate him," Franklin said. "I want to stay with you."
"Well consider this an important lesson. We don't always get what we want in this life," Rosalind said.
Franklin felt like he had been hit by a truck. He hadn't expected Rosalind to respond this way. Another rejection. It stung. He could feel tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.
"You know, dad said that you would do this," he spit at Rosalind. "He said that you didn't want me, that you never wanted me. I guess I should have listened to him."
He watched the way Rosalind's entire body stiffened and suspected that he had said the right thing to get what he wanted.
"Your father shouldn't be talking to you about me that way," Rosalind said. "He never understood me when we were together and he certainly doesn't know a damned thing about who I am now. But I see what you're trying to do, Franklin. And it changes nothing. You will call him tomorrow."
"Please," Franklin begged, changing tactics and letting the tears fall. It was cathartic, but also useful. "Please, mom, don't make me go back. In the fall I will, but please, can't I stay for the summer. I'll stay out of your way, I promise. You won't even know I'm here. I just can't... I can't go back there. They hate me. They don't want me. Nobody does."
"Oh, don't cry, Franklin, honestly..." Rosalind said, but she reached out and uncharacteristically rubbed her hand on his back. It felt wonderful, and he leaned into it but knew better than to try and hug her. He would take what he could get.
"Okay," Rosalind finally said. "For the summer. But you need to understand that I will not be here, and that when I am I will be working and need to be left to it. You'll also have to join me in court. I have no intention of leaving you to your own devices and letting you do whatever you feel like. And I may need you to come with me to certain parties and events that I'm obligated to attend. You can be my plus one. It will be a good networking opportunity for you, actually."
She stood up and he breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
"But don't think for a second that I don't see right through what you just did there," she said. "I don't appreciate being manipulated, Franklin. It had better not happen again."
"It won't," Franklin promised. "Thank you, mom."
"Do me a favour and don't sleep on the sofa. Take the blankets to your room. Good night, darling."
"Good night," he said, flopping back down onto the pillow for a moment as she turned the light out and left the room. He'd won the battle. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to win the war.
FILL: The Price of a Soul (10/?)
When she did finally arrive home at her Boston apartment one evening, the reaction that Franklin got was not what he expected.
He had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the television when he heard the door open. She was on the phone, and as she entered the apartment she kicked her heels off but didn't turn on the light.
"I don't care if Martin doesn't agree. The paperwork was filed this morning, and the hearing date has been set already-" She noticed someone on the couch and stilled, removing the phone from her ear. Her body tensed and her hand moved to clutch her purse.
"Who the hell is there?" she asked coldly.
"It's just me, mom! Remember?" Franklin told her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "For God's sake, Franklin, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked. She turned the light on finally.
Franklin sat up slowly, tired. "I've been staying here. I fought with dad? He kicked me out?"
"Kicked you out?" Rosalind asked. "He most certainly did not! When?"
Franklin was confused. Hadn't David told her what had happened? "Two weeks ago, mom! I called David and he said you knew."
"Right," she said. "I've been busy. Well, let's get this sorted then. What happened?"
Franklin didn't want to tell her. Suddenly, all of his optimism that Rosalind would understand why his SAT scores were low or that she would want him there evaporated. Panic surged in his body. He didn't say anything.
"Franklin," Rosalind said, "You are going to tell me what happened with your father right now."
"I finally told him off," Franklin told her, exaggerating slightly so she'd be less angry. "I was upset because my SAT scores came in and they... well, they weren't good. And he didn't care. So I told him the truth. That is was his fault. That he wasn't creating the kind of atmosphere I needed to be successful. That I wasn't going to watch the store or Candace for him anymore. And he flipped out on me."
"How bad were they?" Rosalind asked. Of course she would zero in on that aspect of what he said.
He didn't respond.
"Franklin? Tell me." Rosalind said again.
"1260," he replied finally.
"12-" Rosalind said, cutting herself off and shaking her head with a sigh. "That is..."
"Bad. I know," Franklin said. "But it wasn't my fault."
"Oh? Did your father take the test for you then?" Rosalind asked.
"No!" he replied. "But..."
"Don't you dare try and blame what happened on anyone but yourself, Franklin," she said coldly. "I spend my living making excuses for people and I have no interest in hearing any from my own son. Your father didn't take that test. You did. He may be a miserable failure, but he isn't the failure here. Take responsibility for your own actions and do what you have to do to fix things. Tomorrow, I'm going to call a tutor to prep you over the summer so that you can take the test again next year. And you're going to call your father and apologize."
"What?" Franklin asked. "Why? Why can't I just stay here?"
Rosalind laughed. "I'm working, Franklin," she said. "On a very important case. I don't have time to babysit you. And besides, that wasn't what we agreed to. I booked some time later in the summer once my case is over for us to head up to the Vineyard. We'll be together then."
"But I hate it there. I hate him," Franklin said. "I want to stay with you."
"Well consider this an important lesson. We don't always get what we want in this life," Rosalind said.
Franklin felt like he had been hit by a truck. He hadn't expected Rosalind to respond this way. Another rejection. It stung. He could feel tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.
"You know, dad said that you would do this," he spit at Rosalind. "He said that you didn't want me, that you never wanted me. I guess I should have listened to him."
He watched the way Rosalind's entire body stiffened and suspected that he had said the right thing to get what he wanted.
"Your father shouldn't be talking to you about me that way," Rosalind said. "He never understood me when we were together and he certainly doesn't know a damned thing about who I am now. But I see what you're trying to do, Franklin. And it changes nothing. You will call him tomorrow."
"Please," Franklin begged, changing tactics and letting the tears fall. It was cathartic, but also useful. "Please, mom, don't make me go back. In the fall I will, but please, can't I stay for the summer. I'll stay out of your way, I promise. You won't even know I'm here. I just can't... I can't go back there. They hate me. They don't want me. Nobody does."
"Oh, don't cry, Franklin, honestly..." Rosalind said, but she reached out and uncharacteristically rubbed her hand on his back. It felt wonderful, and he leaned into it but knew better than to try and hug her. He would take what he could get.
"Okay," Rosalind finally said. "For the summer. But you need to understand that I will not be here, and that when I am I will be working and need to be left to it. You'll also have to join me in court. I have no intention of leaving you to your own devices and letting you do whatever you feel like. And I may need you to come with me to certain parties and events that I'm obligated to attend. You can be my plus one. It will be a good networking opportunity for you, actually."
She stood up and he breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
"But don't think for a second that I don't see right through what you just did there," she said. "I don't appreciate being manipulated, Franklin. It had better not happen again."
"It won't," Franklin promised. "Thank you, mom."
"Do me a favour and don't sleep on the sofa. Take the blankets to your room. Good night, darling."
"Good night," he said, flopping back down onto the pillow for a moment as she turned the light out and left the room. He'd won the battle. Now he just had to figure out how he was going to win the war.