You're loving something of a Midas touch; everyone you need, you turn to stone

"You just make sure you come back, yeah? Because when you do, I'll be fucking waiting for you, okay? I'll be right here."

Franky woke with a start, shaking the images of Nick's pleading face from her mind. A face that appeared almost every night in her dreams. It seemed as though no matter how far she ran away, she just couldn't quite escape him. She loved Nick, and he loved her...but she also loved Matty, and that was the root of all of their problems. She realized now that it was unfair for her to string either of them along anymore, which is part of the reason why she left Bristol. Things had gotten so fucked up in the past couple of months, and she knew most of it was because of her own selfish acts. Before she left, she had promised herself that she would not return until she had a clear head about what she wanted.

It had already been a week, and as far as she was concerned, no progress had been made. Matters with her mother and sister, however, were going rather well. After much deliberation, Clara had finally given Franky the rundown of what exactly happened the day her mother gave her up:

She was always so coked up. But I think, somewhere in her strung-out high, there was a voice of reason. A voice that told her to do the right thing-if not for the both of us, than at least for you. You were younger than I was. I guess she figured that since she'd already monumentally fucked up with me, I didn't have a chance at having a good life. But you, you did. So she dropped you off at the agency and never looked back.

Things were rough, but as I got older, I started to get a steady head about my shoulders. When I was 16, I'd had enough and I made the decision to ask for help. She started out in a rehab facility-it was awful. She kept relapsing. She couldn't stay off the dope for more than a few days. But she started getting better after awhile. The shakes weren't as bad, and she found a way of coping through her art. The damage had already been done though. She was in no fit state of mind to be out in the real world, sober or not. So they sent her to the clinic. She's been there for 3 years now. She's so much better, Franky. She gets bits and pieces back every now and then.

I remember one day, on your birthday, she had painted 3 flowers-poppies, you remember how much she loved them-and stared at the last one for nearly 20 minutes until a coherent thought came to mind. She said your name. She said Francesca. And for a moment, it was all clear as day to her. She started sobbing, saying how sorry she was, and how much she missed you. I knew then how much she must have loved you, to give you away. How much she still does to this day...

It was all too much, and yet not enough. She had spent the past few days visiting with her mum while Clara was at work. Sometimes she wasn't all there, oftentimes mistaking her for the nurse. Other times, though, she just knew. She'd glance at Franky from the corner of her eye and simply smile; a smile that only a mother could possess. A smile that says "What a lovely young woman you turned out to be, my daughter." She missed her dads, there was no mistaking that. But this is exactly what she needed.

"You okay, Franks?" It was Mini, again. She'd only rung her about 50 times in the days that she'd been in Birmingham. Franky regretted not being there with her to help, but she knew Mini would understand.

"I'm fine, Mins. How have you been?" Mini released an exasperated sigh. "Dead tired. I think I've maybe slept a total of 4 hours in the past 48? I don't know how I'm going to finish college when I go back. Speaking of which, when are you coming back?"

She was silent for a moment. She didn't want to give Mini a definite answer, because in all honesty, she didn't have one. She took a deep breath, and settled on something simple that she could get away with. "Soon. I'm still...figuring things out." That was one way of putting it. She'd already bored Mini with all the details the first few calls, and as of late, there wasn't much else she could tell her that she didn't already know.

"Well, do what's best for you, but do it quickly, okay? I miss you, Franks." She felt a small smile spread across her face. She had let herself get so caught up in all the bullshit, she'd almost forgotten how close she and Mini had become. "I miss you too-"

"-Ah, ya bastart. Don't pull so hard, Gracie. Alo? Alo! Will you quit staring at my tits and help me out?"

"Mini? You alright?"

"Sorry, Franks, I gotta go. See you real soon, okay?" The line clicked off and she was left staring at her phone in silence. Absentmindedly, her finger tapped the name directly under Mini and the contact information popped up. You should ring him, egged on the tiny, nagging voice in the back of her head that wouldn't quite go away.

Unlike Mini, Nick had given up calling Franky after the first few days. But also unlike Mini, Franky hadn't been ignoring her calls. She couldn't talk to him; there was nothing left to say. And even if she could, would it really help anything for either of them? They both needed some space. She was giving it to him, and he, finally, was giving it to her. This is what she wanted. She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and shut her phone off.

"You've been awfully quiet, Franky."

"Huh?" She looked up from her spaghetti and meatball supper, which she had successfully managed to make appear as though she had eaten more than half of it, when in fact, not a single bit of it had made it inside of her mouth. Clara had many redeeming qualities to her, but one thing she simply could not do was cook. Franky was sure she'd lost at least 5 pounds since coming here because she hadn't been eating anything but biscuits and apples, staples in Clara's small loft.

"Oh, I'm just-can we see mum tomorrow? Together?"

Clara cleared her throat. The question took her by surprise, but she shrugged it off. "It's my day off, I don't see why not." Franky instantly perked up. She'd only seen her mum with Clara twice, and each time they went together it was just a little bit easier than the times she would go by herself. Perhaps, she thought, it was because she was the only other person who knew exactly what it felt like to have someone know you, but not. There was a certain camaraderie to it.

"Can we make a stop at the store on the way? There's something I need to get."

"Maria? You have visitors." Maria was gazing out the window, watching the rain patter down the glass, each drop trailing after the other. The nurse looked at her warily, but continued: "It's your beautiful girls, Clara and Francesca. You remember?" She looked at them then, confused, as if she were about to say she didn't have any children, but decided instead to remain quiet.

Clara stepped in first, making her way to stand next to her mother. The resemblance was uncanny. They both had long, golden locks and fair skin with grey-blue eyes. Franky couldn't help but feel a sting of pain looking at them together. She didn't fit in with them, having inherited majority of her biological father's genes. She'd only ever seen pictures of him, but the dark hair and hazel eyes that he sported were not far off from her own.

"Hey, mum, how are you feeling?" Again, she said nothing. Clara looked back at Franky and motioned her forward. "Franky's brought something for you." Hesitantly, Franky placed the vase of poppies she'd picked up at the mart on the windowsill beside her. She stared at the flowers now, still saying nothing. Franky's heart was pounding in her chest. They knew it was a long shot, that the memories would come and go, but still. She had hope.

Clara took Franky's hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. "It was worth a shot, yeah?" Franky nodded solemnly, and just as they were about to turn to leave, she heard something. Hope.

"Do not feel sorry for me, Francesca. That is the one thing you mustn't do." She couldn't believe it. After all this time, all the countless visits, her mother had finally spoken to her. She was speechless, but not wanting to pass the moment up, managed to squeak something out. "I don-"

"No," Maria interrupted. "No. I...I failed you. Both of you. I couldn't do what a mother is supposed to do. I couldn't take care of my own children. I couldn't do anything but be a nuisance to both of your lives. I chose drugs over family. I chose drugs over everything, and look where it's gotten me." She gestured to the room around her. "In a fucking loony bin." She reached her hand up, as if she were about to place it on Franky's cheek, a simple but loving gesture. Instead, she rested it on one of the petals of the poppies, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger gingerly.

"I am glad, though, that you've had the life I wanted you to have. The life you deserve. The life I never could have given you. I'm just so, so sorry. You must know that. You must know that, after all these years-high or not, I've only ever loved you girls. Loved you with all my life, I have. Shitty as it may be." A single tear slid down Franky's cheek, and she welcomed the warmth it brought to her face. She moved towards her mother, carefully wrapping her arms around her fragile frame in an embrace. Something she never thought she'd do, and then she said something she never thought she'd say: "I forgive you."

Her mother broke into a sob, holding onto Franky for dear life, and reached a hand out for Clara to take. "My girls. My beautiful girls. I love you so much. Never forget that."

The drive back home was quiet. Neither one of them could speak. They were too caught up in their own relief and happiness, afraid that it would all be gone in the blink of an eye. But no, it had happened. This wasn't a dream, it was real. Her mother had given her exactly what she needed to move on with her life. She knew for a fact now that there was nothing in the past to be holding her back. Nothing, except the boys.

"I think," Franky said finally, "that I'm ready to go home." Clara tapped her knee gently, reassuringly, and made the turn for Bristol without a moment's hesitation.