Chapter 11

Marek

“What other questions might you have for me, Mr. Fabritis?”

I look down at Lilly as she sits in the chair beside me, happily engrossed in a Dr. Seuss book while I talk to Miss Dormers, head of the prestigious Brassfield School. It’s the third such “school” I’ve toured today, and I’m not quite sure when day cares became “educational learning centers” for little kids.

“This is all a little overwhelming,” I admit to her. “I mean, she’s not even four years old yet and she’ll be learning Spanish? I seem to remember the highlight for me at that age was nap time and Jell-O pudding cups.”

Miss Dormers laughs easily and gives me a knowing smile. “The children here get plenty of naps, recess, and healthy snacks. But their minds are engaged, for sure.”

It’s been an unbelievable experience for me today. Gracen started her job at the hospital, so she informed me yesterday that not only would I have to watch Lilly, but I would have to help her find a suitable day care to put Lilly in starting next week, since training camp began on Monday. This wasn’t how I figured I’d be spending my last free Friday before the season starts, but I also didn’t mind the responsibility of it.

Sure, I’m a little uneasy being on my own with Lilly. What if she chokes on something? Or has an allergy I didn’t know about? Surely Gracen would have told me that, right?

Hell, buckling her in the car seat we transferred from Gracen’s car to mine had me totally doubting my own abilities. I’m pretty sure the belt was too tight on Lilly, and I was a nervous wreck with her in the car.

“I’m going to have to talk to Lilly’s mom about this,” I tell the very helpful school administrator. “But we’ll make a decision before the end of the day.”

At least I think we would. I didn’t even think to ask Gracen what time she got off work, but today was just orientation for her, so I assume she won’t be there all day. Shit, I’m not even sure what she’s doing at the hospital. We haven’t exactly had any conversation since our kiss the day before yesterday when I was so goddamn angry at her, but equally turned on as well. I don’t understand any of it.

I accept a fancy folder of information from Miss Dormers and she walks Lilly and me out to the front doors. I no sooner get Lilly strapped into her car seat when she says, “I’ve got to go potty.”

Now this, I know what to do. Gracen didn’t just turn our daughter over to me without some basic instructions. I got a full course on what to do when the potty was needed.

“Pee or poop?” I ask her, because one requires more assistance than the other.

“Pee,” she says with the cutest grin.

“Okay,” I say with an answering smile, and unlatch the buckles over her chest and lap. “Let’s do this.”

I feel somewhat accomplished when I’m able to get Lilly back into the school and in the guest bathroom adjacent to the main office. I hover outside the door, calling through it every thirty seconds, “Everything okay?”

Each time she replies, “I’m okay.”

After what seems like thirty minutes but is really only five, Lilly tells me she’s okay for the tenth time and I push the door slowly open.

Lilly’s still sitting on the toilet, her little jean shorts around her shins. Her elbows are on her thighs and she’s leaning slightly forward, swinging her legs casually.

“Are you still peeing?” I ask her.

“I think I need to poop,” she says. “Will you tell me a story?”

“I…um…well…a story?”

She nods, grinning at me expectantly.

“Okay, well…what kind of story?” I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

“About a princess,” she exclaims brightly.

Shit. A princess? Seriously?

I rack my brain trying to remember any bit of information I might possess about princesses and I come up dismally blank.

Lilly’s blue eyes stare at me with such high expectation I feel myself growing hot under my collar. I’m utterly panicked, not wanting to let her down.

But then I remember something Gracen said to me this morning as she was making Lilly’s breakfast of eggs and bacon. “Just remember, Marek, Lilly’s like the most easygoing kid there is. It’s going to be hard for you to disappoint her.”

God, I hope she was right.

I take a deep breath and lean back against the sink, putting my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “Okay, so once upon a time, there was this princess.”

“What was her name?” Lilly asks excitedly.

“Um…Princess Joan,” I say, my mom’s name the first thing that comes to me.

Lilly frowns a little, and I can’t tell if she thinks the name is weird or if she’s actually pooping, so I continue.

“And Princess Joan was locked in a tower and guarded by a big, mean dragon.”

Those blue eyes go wide with awe, and I feel a little encouraged.

“Yeah…so anyway, all the princes in the land tried to save her, but the dragon was just too fierce. None of them could make it past him up the long, winding staircase to the top.”

“What happened?” she asks breathlessly, and then another frown.

Yup…she’s pooping.

“Well, luckily for Princess Joan, there was a very strong and brave prince called Galeti.”

“Galeti? What kind of name is that?” she asks suspiciously.

“Lithuanian. He was a prince from the kingdom of Lithuania.” My voice is assured and Lilly buys it. Her smile brightens and she leans forward on the toilet a little more as if the anticipation of the rest of the story is too much to bear. “And anyway, Prince Galeti was a hockey player. He was big and strong and wasn’t even afraid of the dragon.”

“He wasn’t?” Her eyes are as big as saucers, twinkling with keen interest.

“Nope. In fact, he ran up that staircase with his hockey stick, and when that dragon tried to block his way, he hip checked that dragon right into the boards.”

“What boards?”

“Um…the castle wall. And the hip check was so awesome, the dragon got a concussion and was taken out of the game.”

“What game?”

“Taken off guard duty, I mean.” Damn, this is hard. “And so Prince Galeti ran up the staircase, kicked the door open, and swept the princess in his arms.”

“Did he kiss her? Did he?”

“He did. Gave her a big kiss and then—”

“They lived happily ever after,” she yells exuberantly, and starts clapping her hands. “That was really good, Daddy.”

My knees go wobbly over her affirmation, that she liked the first real thing I’ve done for her as a father.

And when she calls me Daddy, there are no words to describe the feeling.

My throat tightens, and for the first time in what has to be two decades, I feel like crying.

Luckily, Lilly kills the overwhelming emotion bubbling up inside of me when she says, “I’m done pooping. I need help wiping my butt.”

I can’t help the bark of a laugh that comes out as I push off the sink. While generally I would not be crazy over the idea of wiping someone’s ass, I find myself not minding the responsibility at all.

When I finally get Lilly strapped back into her car seat, she says to me, “I’m hungry, Daddy.”

I still don’t know if she really knows what a daddy is just yet, but she’s calling me that consistently, and it touches me more than anything has in my life. I glance at my watch and see it’s quarter after one.

And shit, not sure how time got away from me. I remember Gracen saying that after lunch, Lilly will usually nap for a few hours. We’re already well past the time she normally eats, and I don’t know what to do at this point. I assume food is more important than sleep, but she should have both, right? And Gracen says she normally gets up around 2:30 P.M., but by the time I feed her and get her down, she’d probably sleep until dinnertime, and that can’t be good. She’ll be up all night.

“Shit,” I mutter as I run my fingers through my hair.

“Shit,” Lilly says, and mimics my action.

My eyes widen and I shake my head. “No, honey…you can’t say that word. It’s bad.”

“Then how come you say it?” she asks with her head cocked to the side.

“Um…well, okay…it’s not a bad word, but only daddies can say it.”

“Oh, okay,” she chirps, as if that makes all the sense in the world. And I feel damn proud of myself for making sense to a toddler.

Giving her knee a pat, I step back and close the door. Fishing my cell phone out of my pocket as I round the front, I think about calling Gracen to ask her about lunch and naps. But I can’t do that. She’s at work.

So I dial the next best option right now.

As I get into the driver’s seat, Reed answers on the second ring.

“Is Josie there?” I ask him. I don’t have Josie’s phone number, and I don’t think she’s my biggest fan anyway based on how I’ve treated Gracen so far.

“Yeah…sure,” he says, and then I hear him say, “It’s for you.”

“Hello?” she says hesitantly in the phone.

“Josie…it’s me. Marek.”

“What’s up?” she asks, sounding pleasantly open right now.

“So, is it dangerous for a kid to miss their nap?”

“Pardon?”

“If I don’t give Lilly her nap today, are there any dangerous side effects?”

“There are,” she says gravely, and my stomach tightens. Our schedule is now getting very complicated. Maybe I don’t feed her and just have her sleep instead.

“What sort of complications?” I ask, a feeling of impending doom hanging over me.

“You’ll probably have a very cranky toddler by 7 P.M.,” she says with a laugh. “Why?”

Relief courses through me, and I can’t even be mad at Josie for yanking my chain. “I’ve got Lilly today, and we’re getting ready to grab some lunch. By the time we’re done, she’ll have missed nap time.”

“Relax,” she says with a laugh. “She’ll sleep if she needs to sleep. I’ve seen kids fall asleep in their lunch mac and cheese before. But she may not sleep. Just depends.”

“But she won’t die if she doesn’t?” I ask to make sure.

“No, she won’t die, Marek.”

“Cool. Thanks.” I say, and then disconnect the phone. Turning in my seat, I look back to Lilly. “Want to do something fun?”

She nods at me with sparkling eyes.

“Then buckle up, little girl, because we’re going to Dave and Buster’s for cheeseburgers and arcade games.”

“I’m already buckled up,” she points out.

“We need to work on relaxing your literal interpretation,” I tell my daughter with a grin, then turn back to the steering wheel so we can get this party started.

Nap be damned!