Page 60 of Those Two Words

“JoJo should be your girlfriend,” she singsongs, hands me her ice cream cone, skips over to the swings, and calls me over.Leaving no room for debate.

I dump our cones in the trash and walk to where she’s bouncing up and down.

“Would you like it if Daddy had a girlfriend?” I ask her. I drop to her level as I grab a wipe from my backpack and clean her sticky fingers and mouth, before helping her in the seat of the swing.

“Uh-huh. I think it would make you happy, and I like it when you is happy.”

Well, shit. I can’t argue with her on that logic. She has no idea that her innocent proposal was once a dream younger me wished would become my reality. And present me sees it within touching distance.

“Daddy is so happy when he has such a sweet daughter like you.”

“I know, but like, extra happy. Like when Uncle Boo makes new friends with the other mommies when he picks me up from school.”

Ignoring the fact that Booth has been using her to pick women up, I stand there in the middle of the playground, baffled at how insightful my four-year-old is. That even she can see that something has been missing from my life.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”I look at her angelic face.

“Can you stop standing around and push me, please?”

twenty-five

JOHANNA

If someone had said to me six years ago that I’d be in Patrick’s house playing Barbies with his daughter, I would have laughed in their face. And then probably cried.

Yet here I am, sitting on the plush carpet of his living room and playing with some princess dolls whose names I keep forgetting. Lottie was extremely adamant that I played with the blonde doll with long hair, because we were “twins.”

Patrick and I were due to meet up this afternoon to talk. I was just climbing into my car when he called with an emergency, and asked if we could meet at his house instead. Only when I turned up, Lottie was also being dropped off by Graham who was supposed to be watching her after school ended but got called into the office in the city.

Patrick’s emergency was a burst pipe in his downstairs bathroom. He’s spent the last forty minutes trying to stop the leak before the emergency plumber arrives, and I agreed to help watch Lottie in the meantime.

I don’t know many kids, but Lottie is as sweet as pie and pretty fierce for a four-year-old. My heart nearly melted when she gave me my very own nickname, JoJo. So like the one her dad gave me when we were around her age.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asks from her spot opposite me, not looking up from where she’s making her doll do backflips.

I freeze for a second and clear my throat before answering. “No. No boyfriend for me. Don’t you think boys are yucky?”

She giggles at the disgusted face I make and then crooks a little finger at me.

I shuffle closer so she can whisper in my ear. “I has one and he’s called Malcolm.” Her little hand covers her mouth as she breaks into another fit of giggles.

“Ohhh. Does your dad know?”

Her eyes bug out of her head in horror. “No. Don’t tell. Daddy says no boys till I’m thifty,” she says and holds up seven fingers.

“That’s a lot of numbers. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” I assure her. Though I would love to see the distress on Patrick’s face if he found out. He might be the ultimate girl dad who bends over backward for his daughter, although, I think he would draw the line at her having a boyfriend at any age, let alone four.

“You need a boyfriend. You’re so pretty like my dolls,” she says cheerfully.

“Well thank you, not as pretty as you are though. What’s your favorite color? Mine’s light blue, like the sky.” I try to move our conversation to safer territory.

She thinks for a second, but the next words out of her mouth are not in response to my question. “My daddy needs a girlfriend. He could be your boyfriend. DADDDDDY!” she bellows through the house.

“Oh no, no. That’s okay. Let your dad work,” I whisper, bringing my finger to my lips.

“What’s up, spud?” Patrick shouts from down the hall.

---