Frankie in Paris

Frankie in Paris by Shauna McGuiness

Book: Frankie in Paris by Shauna McGuiness Read Free Book Online
Authors: Shauna McGuiness
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Lulu was sitting up in her
bed.
    “Did you sleep at all?”   I asked.
    “A little,” she replied.
    Due to some of the medication that she takes,
she isn’t able to sleep.   She goes to bed
late and wakes up early.   When I was a
little girl and I used to spend the night at her house, I would marvel at how
she left her radio tuned to a talk radio station all night long.   There were twin beds in her bedroom, and she
would always make me a cozy nest in between them, on the floor (by my request),
and she would let me read romance novels—even though I could barely sound out
the titles.
    I would marvel at the pictures on the
cover.   Women in ripped dresses, being
held by men with long hair and no shirt or maybe a pirate getup. We would watch
the late, late shows together, and I would finally fall asleep, but she would
stay up listening to the radio.  
    Grampy had moved to another bedroom years
before because he couldn’t sleep with the noise.   She claims that she asked him to relocate
because he snored.   I still don’t know
who to believe.   Maybe they were both
telling the truth.  
    Lulu would always be awake, watching
television, by the time I woke up.
    ***
    Looking up and out of the window,   I could see a rectangle of blue sky.  
    “What are we doing today?”  
    “I thought maybe we could go to an outdoor
market.”   That sounded wonderful.
    My stomach rumbled at me impatiently.    Needless to say, our dinner from the night
before had long been digested. “But first, let’s go down and see what they have
for breakfast.”     
    What to
wear for our first day at large?   I settled on a black, ankle length, rayon
dress.   It had little maroon roses on it,
and I wore a black T-shirt under the thin straps.   Lulu was wearing a navy blue silk suit with a
white shell underneath.  
    Watching her apply pancake makeup, I hunted
through my purse for my lipstick.   Then
we put on our shoes:   mine clunky and
industrial and hers, white and delicate.   And flat.
    Downstairs, someone other than Henri was at the
front desk.   Much younger and handsome,
in a French way—whatever that meant—he had blonde hair and a silver hoop earring
through his left eyebrow and was wearing the hotel's burgundy suit jacket and bright
orangey-yellow bowtie.
      “ Bonjour !”   he called as we walked by.
    Responding in his language, we giggled like
girlfriends.
    In the breakfast room, one couple was already
eating. Although there were several open tables, the hostess sat us directly
next to them—probably figuring that we were all American and might want to
talk.
    “Hello,” the woman said.
    “Hi,” I smiled, “we’re from California.”
    “I’m Lu,” said Lulu, “and this is my
granddaughter, Francesca.”
    “Please call me Frank,” I corrected firmly.
    They introduced themselves and told us that
they were from Hawaii.   Neither of us had ever been to The Islands,
and Lulu told them that.
    “How are you enjoying Paris?”   I asked. “You must be used to this heat, being from Hawaii.”
    “We are,” the man agreed.   He had a blob of purple jam stuck to the side
of his upper lip.   I concentrated on it
until it twisted and landed on his plate with a light plop. A bit embarrassed,
he swiped at his mouth to capture any possible residue.
    “We’re ready to be home.   This is our last day,” his wife added.
    Our waitress told us that they were serving a
continental breakfast.   Of course I knew
what this would mean:   more bread.   Lulu chose a croissant and I opted for
toasted French bread with butter and jam.   We both drank coffee, but first I added my customary five sweeteners and
three creamers, turning my beverage the shade of old lady pantyhose.
    A short conversation about what we did back
home followed, and Lulu told them that I was an actress.   They informed us that their niece was Tina
Something-or-other, from some recent movie that I'd yet to see. Lulu thought
that this

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