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What Happens When You Call Mama

Things weren’t much different the next night except that Eminem wasn’t in the Motel with Fran, but in Detroit visiting with his daughter. But it was the same. She was alone, feeling bad for herself, bad for AJ, bad for Em. She hated herself and she went straight to the bar after her show. She’d spent half an hour there before hearing a Backstreet Boys song played on the jukebox and returned to her room. She’d have to get drunk there and it’s what she was in the process of doing.
The comforter she sat on cross-legged was stained in several places and the wallpaper was peeling off in one corner of the room. There was a burned spot on the nightstand where a cigarette had fallen out of the ashtray and that’s where she sat her beer down as she turned to pick up a container of Chinese take out. Before she realized it she had picked up her phone and dialed her home.
“Mama, hi, it’s Fran.”
“Of course it’s Fran, who else would call me Mama?” Fran chuckled and sat back.
“How are you Mama?”
“Good, busy at work, but that’s not a bad thing.”
“You like working there Mama?”
“Of course I do, why do you think I still work there?”
“Cause you’re a damned fool and won’t listen to your daughter who wants to take care of you.”
“I’d be working just this hard if I didn’t have a job and you know it.”
“Mama, why won’t you let me get you your own studio, you could really make a go of it, you and Georgia, you’d really be something down there, I’m telling you.”
“What for? Darling, you’ve done enough for all of us already, I mean that.”
“I like being able to take care of you Mama, you and the girls, even Dad, you know that.”
“Don’t you worry about us so much, you just take care of yourself. You worry about finding yourself a man to marry and giving me some grandchildren.”
“Well, that ain’t going too well lately.”
“Oh? You’ve been looking have you?”
“At two of them, and I don’t know what to do.”
“My little girl has caused a love triangle!”
“It’s only been a week Mama, and don’t sound so proud, it’s not such a good thing to be.”
“Oh please baby, it’s about some time you broke some hearts of your own. You’ve been down that shit holed road so many times that you really deserve a break. So date around, you’re young, you’re entitled.”
“But I think I really hurt this guy.”
“Baby, how many times have you been hurt?”
“But I should know better than to do it, to another person, shouldn’t I?”
“That’s your call baby. If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you call him, apologize, I don’t know sweetie.”
“I could, I suppose.”
“What’s the matter Franny?”
“I liked him Ma, I think I really liked him.”
“So, do something about it.”
“I know you’re right, I’ve just been sitting around, feeling guilty about it, and well that ain’t working.”
“You know what I’ve always told you baby girl, you got to find the way that’s right for you then not feel guilty about it. Nobody can know but you.” Fran sat for a quiet moment and heard her mother take a deep breath.
“Are you okay Fran?”
“I guess so. But I don’t know.”
“Baby, I got to get going, George is taking me and the girls out to a late night movie.”
“Oh that’s nice, I guess I’ll let you go then. Give dad and the girls my love.”
“I will sweetie, and look, if he’s meant to be, he’ll be, okay?”
“Thanks Mama, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bu-bye sweetie.”
“Bye Mama.” Fran closed her phone and wondered if what her Mama had been saying was right. She’d grown up with her mother always telling her to do what was right and felt right to her. She remembered her mother’s exact saying about guilt.
“Guilt,” she would say, as though she were spitting out a sour candy, “is more of a waste of energy than smashing up bananas to make bread with, so if you’re gonna waste all that time feeling guilty, you’re gonna miss out on a lot of tasty banana bread.” Fran chuckled as remembered, smiling for the first time that night. She chuckled until it came out in a real, hearty laugh that made her stomach hurt and her eyes tear up.
In the midst of her laughing there was a knock at the door. She shook her head, wiped away her tears and stood up to answer it. Composing herself her opened the door and realized she couldn’t have been composed enough.
“I figured you for a Motel 8 kind of girl.”
“You figured right,” Fran replied, trying to hide that she was nervous, “I just got some Chinese food, you want to join me?”
“Yeah, I would.” He stepped inside and Fran closed the door behind him.
“It was a good show tonight, I particularly liked the story about you and your mom at the grocery store when you were seven.”
“Yeah, the lobsters, who knew the seafood man didn’t like to play with them?” He chuckled and sat on the bed, taking a takeout carton in hand.
“Sweet and sour chicken, my favorite,” he said after a bite.
“Mine too. So AJ, what have you been up to?”
“You mean besides obsessing? Not much. Why do you ask?” She walked toward the bed where he was still eating from the container. He took a moment to look at her while chewing then back at the carton.
“Cause, I don’t know, maybe cause I treated you like a piece of shit and was too stupid to apologize?” He paused in his motions but didn’t look at her, didn’t speak.
“I’m a hypocrite, I know that. I told you that I wasn’t good at the personal stuff, then I ended up in bed with somebody else in no time flat. I don’t know what it was, but I just kind of let it happen. I don’t apologize for what I did, but for how I did it, and expecting you to understand. You think you could deal with that?”
“What’s his name?” AJ went back to eating from the carton.
“Does it matter?”
“I got to know what I’m up against, don’t I? Or is he out of the picture already?” He turned and looked at her this time as she stood at the side of the bed.
“No, he’s still in it, and he didn’t take the idea of me dating around any better than you did.”
“What’s he like then?”
“It doesn’t matter. But look, I’ve been feeling, really awful about this, and I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Fran explained.
“So you’re thinking about me when you’re with him, and you’ll be thinking of him while you’re with me, is that how it’s supposed to work?” There was some ice to his tone and she couldn’t blame him.
“When I’m with you?” she asked, surprised.
“Why do you think I’m here? I didn’t come out here banging on doors of cheap hotels for a good night out.”
“But, I, I was,” Fran started.
“An asshole, but I’ve squared with that now. I’ve been through a lot of bullshit too, and if you turn out to be like the rest of them, well, it’ll be reason enough to quit this game I’ve been playing for too long.”
“This ain’t gonna be easy.”
“I doubt very much that this is going to be easy.”
“And what do you get out of this?” Fran asked. He sighed, placed the container on the dresser in front of him and stood up. His hand caressed her face, combed through her hair and held her gently. She stepped closer and he had his arm around her waist pressing his face into her hair.
“I get this, for the little amount of time I’m allowed.”
“This?” Fran asked carefully.
“Fred. I get you, and Fred.”
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