Chapter 8: Dorothy Parker

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March, 1962

Oakland, California

It's been a few months since Mary and Francesca left for Italy. I do miss those girls. Sometimes it's so bad that I can barely get out of bed. But it was for the best. They will have a much happier life with their family and culture. Who knows, maybe one day I'll become well off enough to travel the world and I'll meet my daughter again. Yeah... That would be a treat. Until then, I've been trying to focus on work, football, and my family. The promotion I recently received is helping out big time but it's draining me as well.

"Frank, could you help me out, dear?" Heather calls. "My feet are sore and my back is killing me."

It's great that everything is back to normal between Heather and me but lately, I've been very tense regarding employment. I haven't made love to her in months.

"Darlin', what's wrong?" I question playfully while massaging her neck.

"I'm sore and tired. I have a feeling this is going to be a nine-pound boy." Heather chuckles.

"Yikes!" I gasp.

"Believe me, I was worried too. But, I think after this one, I don't want to have any more children, Frank." Heather exhales.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Heather smiles.

"What if it's ten years from now and I want another one?" I ask.

"Maybe. I'd have to think about it. It's a lot on me to carry your children." Heather sighs.

I sulk and continue massaging her back and neck. It's hard not to be sore about what she just said. I understand women's bodies go through a great deal of pain and torture for nine months but I'm here with her. Even in my mess, I was here with her, taking care of her and my son.

"You know, men always try to have a say over what they want from us. You don't know how hard it is at times--"

"Stop with that crybaby bullshit!" I snap.

"I beg your pardon?" She retorts. "You watch your tone, Frank Richardson!"

"NO! All you ever do is complain and mope around. I've been working my ass off for you and taking care of you when I'm off!" I scold. "Do you know how fucking tired I am, Heather? Yeah, I make a little more bread at work but I'm constantly reminded that I'm the only nigger boy there that makes almost the same as every other white cat! Not only that, they still segregate football players when we play out of state! You aren't the only one going through stress, baby!"

"Please calm down, Frank." Heather pleads. "I'm sorry!"

"No, I'm fucking sorry." I snap. "Who in the fuck wants any more kids with someone like me anyways? I'll settle with my boys and just be grateful I guess."

"You have a daughter, Frank," Heather says softly.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME, HEATHER? RIGHT NOW!?

"Wow...I see..." I shake my head and snort. "How long are you going to punish me for that?"

"I'm not punishing you. I'm telling you the truth that you already know. You have a daughter and probably other children I don't know about. I'm not stupid, Frank. I know Mary couldn't have been the only woman you've stepped out on me with."

"You know what? Believe whatever the fuck you want to believe. I'm not talking about this shit anymore with you. You, women, enjoy living in the goddamned past!" I huff.

"You make it seem like it happened ten years ago! Frank, it's only been a few months since I found out!" She laughs sarcastically.

"Like I fucking said, believe what you want. I'm not going to sit here and take this shit. I've been loving you and taking care of my family."

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