Page 2 of Role Play
She lets out a huffy breath. “Too long. That was mean.”
My daughter is four. She doesn’t understand that I paid triple my normal rideshare fare and sprinted six blocks from the drugstore to her school in very uncomfortable dress shoes, so she wouldn’t have to sit in her soiled clothes a minute longer than necessary. I don’t care about being reasonable at the moment. She’s hurting. “Daddy is very sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late. I’m here now, though. Do you want to change?”
Dakota turns in her chair and looks me dead in the eyes. Her puckered frown breaks my heart. “I don’t want you. I want Mommy,” she mumbles. “Where’s Mommy?”
Forget the broken heart. That was a knife straight to the gut.
I clear my throat. “Mommy is…”Hell if I know.Hannah doesn’t work. She’s a trophy girlfriend to a Wall Street guy who put her andmychild up in his mega-penthouse in Midtown. I’m not jealous he’s with Hannah. I’m jealous that he’s giving my daughter everything I can’t. “I bet you Mommy just lost her phone and couldn’t answer. But I’m here. Is that okay?”
Maybe Dakota sees the sadness in my eyes. She’s an intuitive one. Suddenly her arms are around me and she’s burying her face in my neck. I feel her warm tears against my skin. “Brody M. saw and then he told everybody I was a pants-wetter. Nobody knew until he told.Everybody, Daddy. They all laughed at me.” She wails against me. “But I’m not even wearing pants. I like dresses.”
“Well, Brody M. sounds like a giant butthole.”
Dakota pulls away and looks at me with bright, wide eyes. “Heisa butthole.”
The nurse chuckles behind us, then quickly clears her throat, pretending like she can’t hear every word of our conversation.
“You know, baby, sometimes little boys are mean to the little girls they like. Does he pull your pigtails, too?”
She scrunches up her face in disgust. “I’m not a baby. I don’t wear pigtails.”
I stroke her thick, blond hair, curling one tendril around my finger. “You used to.”
There are a lot of competing thoughts going through my mind…
I miss her pigtails. She’s growing up way too fast. Why isn’t Hannah here? She lives just a few blocks away. Shouldn’t she have her phone close anytime she’s away from our daughter? Also, I want to find out who Brody M.’s dad is and kick his ass for raising such a little punk.
“Do you want to get changed and go back to your class?” She’s swimming in the oversized white T-shirt.
A mischievous smile spreads across her face. “I think my tummy hurts, Daddy.” She’s using her squeaky, overly cute voice because she wants something. “That means I have to go home.” She even grabs her stomach and tenses her face like she’s in pain, fully committing to the charade. She’s faking, but you know what? Some miniature jackass just humiliated her in front of her entire class. She’s allowed to play hooky for a day.
Pulling out the pack of size-4T underwear with Belle, Ariel, and Cinderella on the front, I nod. “Good idea. Put on a pair of these and I’ll take you home.” I look over my shoulder at the nurse, who is beaming ear to ear. “Our little secret, right?”
“As far as I’m concerned, Dakota’s belly has been aching all day,” the nurse answers with a big smile.
I wink in her direction. “What would you prescribe?”
“Definitely a big cookie and an afternoon of cartoons and fuzzy pajamas. Oh, and absolutely no homework.” The way the nurse is smiling at me, she might’ve misinterpreted my wink.
“How’s that sound, Koda?”
“Yes, please.” She snatches up the pack of new underwear and proceeds to the bathroom.
“Do you need help?” I call after her, but she slams the door shut.
“Her other clothes are in there.” The nurse points to a tied plastic bag in the corner of the room. “I hope you don’t mind, we put her in an extra T-shirt from the bake sale. It’s brand new.”
“Does she have a change of clothes? When Ms. Mazer called, she said she just needed?—”
“All pre-K and kindergarten students have to have a change of clothes for their cubby. Dakota had everything except underwear. I’m sorry to interrupt your day, but school policy, we’re not allowed to give undergarments?—”
I hold up both hands. “Understood. It’s no problem, really. What’s your name?”
“Kirsten.” She holds out her hand and takes two steps toward me. “I’m subbing in for Ms. Jillian this week while she’s on vacation.”
Before I can shake her hand, something loud crashes from behind the bathroom door. Instinctively, I fly across the office. Jiggling the locked handle, I call through the door, “Koda, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she chirps.
