Page 114 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Or, worse, he could do like he did to Frankie and make sure I never gain control of what I’ve earned.
With my own money tied up, Dad’s supplied me with an admittedly generous allowance that supplements what I’ve made from coaching Dex these last few years. I’ve used the funds to help my mates, to pay for travel, to build a life in LA. But without that allowance, I’m...broke. I break into a cold sweat at the thought.
Money has never been something I worry about. I’m not keen on starting now.
But I’m not keen on working for Dad either. And with Dex’s dream of winning a second World Surf League championship on hold, I’d like to try to make my own dream come true.
The irony is, I figured out how to get Dex his first WSL championship, but I have no idea how to make my own dream come true.
Not without Dad’s money.
I walk a bit further, but the convo with Dad has stolen my appetite. I detour back to the sand and find a relatively dry spot to sit.
What I need is my own coach, and I know exactly who that should be. If anyone can help me figure out my life, it’s my twin.
She answers on the first ring. “Hey, Arch. You caught me on break.”
“Sorry, sis. I should’ve known you’d be working the dinner shift on a Friday night.”
“That’s how I make the big bucks.”
“You could actually be making the big bucks, you know.” I force a laugh, but I still can’t believe my sister is waiting tables at a diner in the middle of nowhere instead of starring in moremovies. She was the best actor of us and had every opportunity to make a real career after the show ended. She got really good reviews for the few films she did right out of the gate.
“Yeah, nah. I don’t miss having lies about me splashed all over the internet, or anything else that came with fame.” Frankie’s confidence falters with the last bit. I get the sense she misses the acting part, and I hate that she’s given it up because of her ex and Dad.
Frankie seems happy enough—broke—but independent. She’s only a couple hundred miles from LA, but might as well be a different world.
“What’s up?” she asks.
"Not much," I tell her, suddenly hesitant to ask for help with finding my life’s purpose. That’ll take longer than the few minutes she’s got. It’s taken me twenty-eight years just to figure out Ineeda purpose.
"Liar. You only call when you really need something."
I laugh. Frankie and I text all the time, but it's true—I’m not a big phone person. Now that I’ve rung her, I won’t be saying goodbye before she wrangles the reason why out of me.
"Dad wants the house back so Cynthia can have it as their divorce settlement." No use beating around the bush when Frankie’s working.
She huffs. “That tracks. Give me the details.”
I tell her how Dad’s pressuring me to come back to Aus and threatening to cut off my allowance if I don’t sign the quitclaim deed. “I’ve got the weekend.”
Mumbling voices and other indistinguishable sounds fill the pause that follows before Frankie speaks. “So, he needs you to turn over the house before the divorce is final?”
There’s a gleefulness in her voice that has me worried.
“Yeah,” I say hesitantly.
“Don’t sign.” The words are short, sharp, and sure.
“Don’tsign?”
“Archie.” She sighs. “What do you want to do with your life?”
“Dunno. That’s why I rang you.”
“Do you want to live in Brisbane? Work for Dad?”
“Brisbane’s not bad.” I do love my hometown. I just haven’t lived there since I was a kid, and going back would be…complicated.
