Page 14 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“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.
“Brisbane’s great,” Frankie says. “As long as you’re okay changing your name to Malcolm Forsythe’s Kid. That’s all you’ll ever be known as there.”
I kick off my thongs and dig my toes into the sand. “I prefer Archie.”
“Then you’ll need to tell Dad you’re not going back. You need to keep the house.”
“I don’t really need the house.” I’m not ready to walk away from Dad the way Frankie did.
“No, but you’ll need money if…whenDad cuts off your allowance.”
“So, you’re saying I should sell the beach house?”
“Yes,” she scoffs. “He took our money. You have every right to get some of it back.”
Now I understand the excitement in her voice. It’s not just about fighting Dad. It’s about revenge.
When Frankie eloped with someone Dad didn’t approve of, he restructured her trust, changing the conditions so Frankie won’t gain access to hers until Dad dies. At which point, a new trustee will be appointed who Frankie will be required to ask for money whenever she needs or wants it.
