...
Do you know something funny, Da?
I think Ma knew you'd be coming.
That's why she brought us here. I think she wanted
you to find us.
I don't have much to add to the Introduction to Dear Frankie insofar as concerns the encounter between Lizzie and The Stranger in an upscale coffeebar. Lizzie is out of her habitual surroundings; The Stranger looks bad-tempered and possibly hungover.
We have no way of knowing how he has been coaxed and inveigled, shamed and browbeaten into this meeting, apparently the last weekend of his time ashore. For Lizzie the tone bears more resemblance to a police investigation than to a romantic comedy. She says nervously:—
...
Marie didn't tell me much about you.
— No past, present or future. That's what you said
you wanted.
There's an unmistakeable satisfaction
in his tone. Lizzie takes an envelope from her purse.
Frankie's letters to his dad ... And this is
one of mine ... I make it all up. I've been making it up
for years. I made up the boat. Saw the name on a stamp. How
was I to know the bloody boat actually existed?
The Stranger is unresponsive to Lizzie's attempt to turn the situation into a joke. She goes into her purse again, removes a photo, hands it to him.
...
That's Frankie. Couple of months before
his dad left.
It's of a small
boy, little more than an infant, a happy child lacking the
solemnity of the up-to-date photo of Frankie which follows.
The infant looks so much like Lizzie The Stranger can't
resist looking into her face to verify the resemblance.
He gazes for what seems a long time at the photo
of the younger child before turning to the photo of the
older boy.
And this is him now. Frankie's deaf,
but he's a champion lip reader.
At this point The Stranger begins questioning her in earnest, verifying Frankie's age and whether or not he remembers what his dad looks like or if he has seen any photographs. Lizzie is adamant in her claim that Frankie neither remembers his father nor has seen a photo.
...
You must think I'm completely mad, asking a total
stranger to do this. I don't know who the hell you are,
but ... I'm asking if you'll do it. I don't have much,
but I'll pay you what I can.
— What time do you want me to be there?
We hear sounds from a playground, children cheering, and Ricky's voice:—
...
One day to go, Frankie boy.
. . .
________________________
Sandsifter Five Retrospectives