Chapter 4 #2
By the time I reach them, Frankie’s found the buttons on Junie’s shirt and almost has her disentangled from the mess she’s gotten herself into. I step back as she frees Junie from the shirt, then shushes her gently.
“Shirt’s gone!” Frankie tosses her hands in the air, and I dodge the flying shirt “All better.”
Junie sniffles and tries to smile, but when her eyes meet mine, she breaks down again. “Daddy!”
Frankie catches her as she reaches for me, then passes her to me. “We had a little water spill.”
“More of a waterfall,” Larry grumbles behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to where he’s stacking wet napkins in a pile.
Flo shoots me an annoyed look from behind the order window that I quickly turn away from, only to meet the stares of every customer in the diner. With a reassuring wave I say, “She’s alright.”
“I wet,” Junie’s words come out in a staggered cry.
Flo growls and mumbles something that sounds like, “Better only be water wet, or I’ll have the health department after me.”
“Your clothes will dry, love.” Frankie rubs big circles around Junie’s back.
I look at her, remembering—not for the first time in the past week—how calm she was while Jasmine was foaling. I hardly had words out of my mouth before she knew what I needed. She was nervous, but she didn’t panic. I trusted her without question even though I’d never seen her with a horse.
I’ve seen her with Junie enough times since then to recognize she’s good with her. I'm not sure how much time she’s spent with other kids, but more than once, Frankie’s picked up on what Junie needed without being told or asked.
With Junie buried in my shoulder, sniffling, I slip the backpack off my shoulder and hand it to Frankie. “There’s a spare outfit in there. Would you mind getting it for me?”
Frankie takes the Junie bag, nearly tipping over from the weight of it. She drops it to the floor and unzips it. As the flaps fall open, she sends me an amused look.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised after seeing your OB tote.”
I follow her eyes to the carefully packed and stacked snack containers, extra outfits in labeled plastic bags, Pull-ups, wipes, extra plastic bags, two sippy cups—one for water, one for juice—a First Aid kit, a tiara, and cat ears—just in case.
Frankie holds up two plastic bags labeled Extra Outfits, and I nudge Junie to lift her head.
“Pink or blue?” I ask, and when she points to the blue, Frankie hands me that bag then holds up a third bag labeled Panties.
“Which panties?” I ask
“Booey.”
“Which Bluey?”
“Bingo.” Junie points to Bingo’s face on her panties visible through the clear bag.
“Couldn't tell ya which are Bingo,” Frankie says while holding open the panties bag for me.
“You don’t know who Bingo is?” I say with mock surprise as I pull out the Bingo panties and hold them up for her to see.
“Guess I need a tutorial.” Frankie’s voice lifts with what could be an invitation, but I'm not sure if it’s for Junie or me.
“Junie would be thrilled to give you all the Bluey lessons you want. Right, Bug?” I ask and Junie nods excitedly before launching into the first lesson.
Frankie listens and nods, but when her eyes drift to mine, I take my chance and in a low voice, mutter, “I’ll find something else to tutor you in.”
“Promise?” Frankie’s brow rises in a slow arch.
“Promise.”
Even if watching “Bluey is about all I can afford for a first date.
A smile plays at Frankie’s lips before I scoop up my Junie bag and carry it and her into the men’s restroom.
Gerry’s at the urinal, so I turn and hurry right back out, cursing Flo for not having a family restroom before knocking on the door of the women’s restroom. “Anyone in there?”
Before there’s time for an answer, Frankie’s by my side. “I’ll check for you.”
She goes in, then comes back out and holds the door open for me. “All clear.”
“Thanks. There’s no changing table or stalls in the men’s restroom,” I explain as I pass her.
Instead of leaving me by myself, Frankie beats me to the changing table and unfolds it from the wall. “Makes sense. Men are gross. It’s a mess in there.”
“Facts.” I set Junie on the changing table and strip off her wet pants. “It was easier when she was in diapers, but now she’s potty-trained, and she’s got all these questions about anatomy, and why she can’t stand up to pee.”
Junie grips my shoulders to brace herself as she steps into dry undies. “Daddy has a penis,” she offers helpfully.
A laugh bursts from Frankie’s lips in a loud puff. “You’ve got all kinds of tutorials, don’t you, June Bug?”
Junie shakes her head. “No. I habe a bagina.”
Frankie loses it, which delights Junie who repeats, “Daddys habe penises and Junies habe baginas,” until Frankie is nearly doubled over laughing, probably as much about Junie’s private parts song she’s composing in real time as about how red my face is.
Suddenly, Junie stops singing. “What do Frankie’s habe? Penis or bagina?” she asks very seriously.
Frankie stops laughing. Her eyes dart to mine, begging for help.
I should help, but I’m too happy to not be the only one with a red face anymore.
“All the parenting books say to use the proper terminology,” I tell her, trying hard to keep a straight face.
She glares at me before turning back to Junie. “I have a vagina, too,” she says with the confidence of a woman about to march on the capitol.
“Can I see?”
“Junie!” My face catches fire again. “We don’t ask to see people’s private parts! Remember?”
Junie scrunches up her face, trying hard to remember a lesson, I’m not sure I’ve taught her, but I mentally add it to my ever-growing list of Daddy To-Do’s.
“Kinda rough raising a daughter by yourself, mate?” Frankie teases.
“I worry every day I’m screwing up in a million ways,” I sigh.
Frankie’s smirk disappears, and she pins me with a serious look. “You’re a great dad, Cal.”
“You really think so?”
She scoffs and looks away. “Trust me. As someone whose dad has screwed up in at least a million ways and could care less, I know what a bad dad is. You’re not it.”
Her eyes stay glued to the outfit bag as she pulls out Junie’s blue dress and holds it up. “This is a pretty sundress, Junie! I can’t wait to see you in it!”
“It has fowers,” Junie points to the big sunflowers on the front.
“Ohhh! Pretty!”
“You turned out pretty good, despite your dad.” I pin Frankie with the same intensity she used on me, even though she keeps her eyes on Junie.
Junie lifts her arms, ready to be dressed, and Frankie finally looks at me. I shrug and step back so she can help Junie. When she slides the dress over Junie’s head, the way she looks at my little girl hits me right in the gut.
I want that for Junie. A woman who can anticipate her needs, then smile adoringly at her. Mom does that, but she’s the grandma. Junie needs a mom.
Not Frankie. I’m not saying that. Way too soon to even be thinking it. I can’t find the time or money to take Frankie out on one date, let alone make wedding plans.
But maybe this afternoon could be a trial run.
We’re obviously interested in each other, and I still need help with Junie.
Before Frankie and I fan the spark between us into something more, she should know what she’s getting into with me as a single dad.
An afternoon with Junie will open her eyes to what she’s in for with me. Or… it could scare her away.
I hope the second doesn’t happen, but it seems only fair to give Frankie a chance to run now rather than later when it would be harder on both of us.
Frankie’s fingers fly deftly over the buttons at the back of Junie’s dress. When she’s finished, she undoes one of Junie’s pigtails and redoes it.
“I can never get those straight.” I laugh.
She smiles.
My pulse picks up, and I take a breath. It’s now or never.
“Are you busy this afternoon after work?”
Frankie’s face lights up, and I realize my misstep. She thinks I’m about to ask her out...finally. I scramble to fix my mistake, and my words spill out in a jumbled mess.
“I’m in kind of a bind and could use some help with Junie. I wouldn’t ask if I had any other options…”
Her face falls, but only long enough to find her usual teasing grin. “Good to know I’m a last resort.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I shake my head, trying to put my thoughts straight. “I only…I don’t want to impose. It’s a big ask. Forget I said anything.”
“I need to go potty.” Junie holds out her arms for Frankie, which surprises Frankie almost as much as my question.
I step between them and grab Junie, grateful for an excuse to hide in the stall until I can act like a man again, not some awkward teenager who’s never talked to a girl before.
I carry Junie into the stall and lock it, expecting to hear Frankie walk out of the bathroom instead of waiting around to see if Junie’s bladder or her imagination drove us in here.
Junie, in the meantime, swings her feet back and forth, giving me the Bingo tutorial I’d offered Frankie.
“Don’t touch the seat, sweetie,” I tell her, still listening for signs of Frankie.
Junie lets go, but with her feet still swinging, her bottom slips into the toilet with a soft splash. “Oops. I stuck, Daddy.”
Frankie giggles.
I just shake my head and sit Junie back on the edge of the seat. “Quiet feet and hands on your knees, please.”
Junie sits up straight, clutches her knees, and begins singing, “Knees and toes. Knees and toes. Knees and toes.”
I shake my head, unbutton her dress and slip the second wet outfit of the day over her head. I knew I should have packed more than two extras.
When I carry naked Junie back out of the stall, to my surprise—and relief—Frankie’s still there.
“Okay,” she says.
“Okay?”
She nods then her mouth curves into a soft, untrained smile. A smile I haven’t seen on her before.
A smile that cracks open her Fran McVey persona and gives me a glimpse of the Frankie Forsythe I want to get to know.