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Joanne knows her papa loves her.
It’s not even a question.
Papa comes into her room every morning rubbing her back, planting a kiss on her cheek, and muttering in her ear.
“Joanne, mon amour, mon cœur, mon étoile,” He whispers. “It is time to wake up.”
When Joanne doesn’t wake up, Papa will repeat himself. His voice will raise slightly, he’ll rock her side to side was he rubs her back, he’ll place two kisses on her forehead.
Sometimes Joanne will pretend to be asleep, just for Papa to do it again.
“Come on, Joanne.” He’ll place a kiss to her cheek. “Breakfast is ready, you don’t want your pancakes do go cold do you?”
Joanne knows that Papa loves her because Papa makes her pancakes. He doesn’t buy them in a box and toss them in a microwave. No, before Joanne is awake Papa gets up and cooks her pancakes from scratch. Zipping around the kitchen, beating eggs, flour, sugar, and chocolate chips in a bowl. He’ll toss the batter onto a frying pan, before running upstairs and waking Joanne up.
Joanne’s papa is faster than most people’s papa’s. He can be upstairs and then downstairs in the blink of an eye.
“Don’t go telling too many people how special your papa is.” Papa tells her one day.
“Why not?” Joanne loves her special papa, having such a special papa makes her feel special too.
“Your friends parents might get jealous if they know your papa is so special.” Papa explains. “We don’t want to hurt their feelings do we?”
“No.” Joanne shakes her head.
“Good.” Papa kisses her forehead, and Joanne wraps her tiny arms around Papa. Around’s being generous, her arms are so tiny she can barely reach around Papa’s sides.
“Papa?”
“Yes, mon étoile?”
“When I get big will I be special?”
Papa sighs, his eyes glace away from her, and when he doesn’t answer her immediately Joanne worries that she’s made Papa upset.
“If you get very lucky, then perhaps, you’ll be special, like me.”
“Will I fly?”
“You’d have to be even luckier.” Papa explains. “It’s rare enough that your auntie and I can both fly. It’s be especially unusual if you could do it as well.”
“Flying is cool.” Joanne decides. “I want to fly.”
“Yes, flying is very cool.”
“Can we fly?”
Joanne knows her papa loves her because Papa takes her out flying. Even on the hot days he’ll wrap her in a jacket, and they’ll go high into the air. High enough to where they can see their whole neighborhood. Joanne sometimes wants to go higher, but Papa refuses.
“It’s too cold up there for you, mon étoile.” He’ll say. “Maybe when you’re older.”
Joanne knows her Papa loves her, even when Papa makes her do things she doesn’t like. Such as brushing her teeth, or eating broccoli, or take her medicine.
“I don’t like it.” Joanne will stare at the bottle in Papa’s hands as he takes the syringe and fills it with medicine. “Icky.”
“Joanne, you have to take this.” Papa said. “Remember, our talk?”
“Yes.” Joanne pouted.
Joanne was sick. She didn’t have a cough or a runny nose, but she was sick. Her blood was sick, and she had to take medicine to keep her from getting more sick. Or at least that was how Papa said it. Joanne had been sick since birth and would have to take medicine for the rest of her life.
That didn’t mean she liked it. It tasted yucky and she had to take it each and every day. Sometimes she spit it out. Papa would sigh and refill the syringe. Sometimes Joanne would spit it out again, Papa would raise his voice, fill it up again, and Joanne would swallow it.
Papa places it in Joanne’s mouth. Joanne’s tongue feels gross as the medicine shoots into her mouth. She glances at Papa before swallowing it. She feels okay today. Papa accidently gave her a second glass of chocolate milk, so she feels like being nice.
“Good job.” Papa gives her a kiss. "Now let’s go get dressed we’re going to Auntie Jeanne-Marie’s house today.”
So yes, Joanne’s Papa loves her very much. He takes care of her, he plays games with her, he tells her stories before bed. Joanne loves him just as much in return. She kisses his nose, she snuggles him, sometimes she’ll even put her toys away without being asked.
There was never a doubt in Joanne’s mind about this.
Until she was three.
Papa was putting her to bed one night. Tucking her in as he told her the story about the time he won the Olympics. That was Joanne’s favorite story. It was better than the one’s Papa told her about him and Aunt Jeanie taking down bad guys, because Papa sounded excited when he told this story. When Papa finished, he didn’t kiss Joanne and get up to leave. Instead, he said:
“Joanne, do you want to know a secret?”
“Aunt ‘Roro said we’re not supposed to have secrets.”
Papa rolls his eyes. “We’re not supposed to keep bad secrets.” He insists. “This is a good secret.”
Well, if it’s a good secret than that’s different. Joanne sat up eagerly.
Papa leans over into Joanne’s ear and whispers. “Your papa is in love.”
Joanne’s eyes widen so big she thinks for a moment they might roll out. “Really?”
Joanne knows her papa is different from other people’s papas. On top of being special, Papa wasn’t married, and most of Joanne’s friends papas had mamas to match. But Joanne knew that Papa didn’t like mamas.
“He’s a friend from work.” Papa explains. “His name is Kyle. He’s coming over tomorrow to meet you. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Oh.” Joanne shrugs. “Okay.”
Joanne’s family went as follows: Papa and Aunt Jeanie/’Roro. No one else. She knew most people had grandparents, sisters, brothers, and cousins, but Joanne didn’t have any of those. Not that she minded, she liked that it was mostly her and Papa.
Now Papa had a Kyle. What even was a Kyle? She didn’t know anyone at school who had a Kyle. No one ever mentioned a Kyle to her.
“You’ll love him, just as much as I do.” Papa smiled and kissed Joanne’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, mon étoile.” Papa gets up and turns off Joanne’s lights before quietly shutting the door behind him.
Joanne doesn’t sleep well that night. Her mind’s too busy thinking about this Kyle. This Kyle that Papa apparently loved. Where did he even come from?
Joanne eventually falls asleep, she’s tired the next morning when Papa rocks her awake.
“Joanne, mon amour, mon cœur, mon étoile,” He whispers. “It’s time to wake up.”
Papa half carries, half drags Joanne downstairs. They have breakfast, he puts her pancakes in front of her. Joanne eats them up, before Papa helps her get dressed. As he slips a shirt over her stomach, the doorbell rings.
“That’s him.” Papa smiles. “Are you ready to meet Kyle?”
Joanne shrugs. If she has too.
Papa picks up Joanne and runs her downstairs. The feeling of being in Papa’s arms then standing on the carpet is jarring and Joanne doesn’t really like it. Papa doesn’t notice her frown as he opens the door.
The fist thing Joanne notices about Kyle is that he’s tall. Somehow taller than Papa, and she didn’t think that was possible. She backs away as he enters the room.
Kyle also talks funny.
“Hi,” Kyle wraps his arms around Papa. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Kyle, it’s only three minutes after eight.”
Joanne and Papa live in Quebec. Where people mostly speak French. Joanne goes to a French pre-school, all her friends speak French, their parents speak French, and she and Papa speak French. She knows some English but at three she knows more French words than English words.
Papa detaches himself from Kyle and goes to sit down next to Joanne. “Kyle, this is Joanne, I told you about her.” It’s weird to hear Papa speak English. “She is my star.”
When Papa says it in English it doesn’t sound right.
Kyle crouches down and holds out his hand. Even on standing on his knees he’s still much taller than the little girl before him.
“Hi Joanne,” He says. “How are you?”
“Okay.” Joanne answers Kyle’s question in English. Somehow French words sound wrong coming out of Kyle’s mouth.
Joanne ignores Kyle’s hand and steps closer to Papa, who turns back to Kyle. “Let’s take this to the living room, shall we?”
Papa sits on the sofa, placing Joanne in his lap as Kyle sits next to them. Joanne stares at the strange man before her as Papa tells Joanne about Kyle.
“Kyle’s from New York.” He explains. “I showed you New York on the map, remember?”
Joanne learns some things about Kyle. He has a sister named Stevie, he’s a little bit younger than Papa, he likes to read, and he asks Joanne what her favorite books are.
Joanne doesn’t answer, instead she clings closer to Papa, hoping that by hiding behind his arm, Kyle would stop looking at her.
“She likes Papa’s stories the best.” Papa explains. “She loves the story about my Olympic win.”
“I remember you telling me about that.”
Something hot spikes inside Joanne. Papa told Kyle about the Olympics. Papa told Kyle her story.
Papa continues to talk. Telling Kyle all about Joanne and Joanne would really like it if he stopped. Kyle doesn’t need to know about her school, about her favorite toys, or about how much she loves Beauty and the Beast. Kyle doesn’t have to have anything to do with Joanne.
Eventually Kyle checks his watch. “I need to go.” He explains. “I have a work deadline that I have to meet.”
Papa sighs. “If you must.” He stands up taking Joanne with him. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course.” Kyle smiles as he joins Joanne and Papa. “Joanne, it was lovely meeting you.”
Papa looks down at Joanne. “Joanne, what do we say?”
“Bye-bye.” Joanne waves at Kyle.
“Bye-Bye.” Kyle smiles and gives Papa a kiss.
Joanne leans back as Papa’s lips meet Kyle’s, she wants so badly to sprint out of Papa’s arms and run upstairs.
The kiss ends and Papa places Joanne on the floor as he walks Kyle to the door. When he returns, Joanne can’t help but notice he looks a little sad.
“So,” He takes a seat on the floor next to her. “How’d you like Kyle?”
“Okay.” Joanne lies.
She doesn’t like Kyle. Not one little bit. However, it’s clear that Papa’s not going to leave him. So as long as he doesn’t bring Kyle home ever again.
“Good.” Papa smiles and reaches for the remote. “Do you want to watch tv?”
“Beauty and the Beast.” Joanne answers.
“Of course.” Papa sighs and clicks the remote.
Papa does bring Kyle home again.
And again.
And again.
Sometimes Kyle will just eat dinner with them. He’ll sit next to Papa, they’ll talk, he’ll sometimes ask Joanne a question. She’ll answer as politely as possible, but she almost wishes Kyle would just ignore her. If she finishes before them, Joanne will run upstairs to her room until Kyle leaves.
One night Papa invites Kyle to a sleepover. After kissing Joanne goodnight, he’ll head to his bedroom where Kyle is waiting for him. Joanne doesn’t like this at all. It’s one thing for Kyle to hang out, or to have dinner, but to spend the night? Was Papa crazy? What about Joanne’s breakfast. Whenever Papa had Kyle over, he’d order food. Was he going to order pancakes too?
After struggling to fall asleep, Joanne gets up and toddles to Papa’s room. She’ll do this ever so often. Sometimes after a bad dream, or she just can’t sleep, or if she just wants to cuddle, she’ll make her way down to Papa’s room and crawl into bed next to him.
Joanne makes her way past the upstairs bathroom, to the end of the hall where Papa’s room is. She reaches up high, getting on her tiptoes, to try and grasp the door knob.
Her tiny fingers latch on to it, she tires to turn it, only for it not to move.
The door was locked.
Joanne’s feet flatten and she stares up at the knob.
Papa never locked the door. There was not an instance in her life that he had ever locked the door. He had never even told her to knock or stay out of his room.
Tears well in Joanne’s eyes. Her chest heaves and she wraps her arms tightly around her body as she rushes back to her room.
This could only mean one thing:
Papa doesn’t want her anymore.
Joanne jumps onto her bed and slams her face into her pillow. She lets out loud sobs as tears roll down her face. She kicks and punches against the bed covers, knocking toys to the floor.
Papa doesn’t want her anymore.
Papa doesn’t need her anymore.
Papa doesn’t love her anymore.
Papa wants Kyle.
Papa needs Kyle.
Papa loves Kyle.
Not Joanne.
“Papa, Papa, Papa…”
She hopes that he’ll hear her. That he’ll wake up and hear her crying and come running down the hall and come to check on her. That Papa would scoop Joanne in his arms, wipe her tears away, and ask her what’s wrong.
She’ll tell him about Kyle and once Papa realizes how bad Kyle is for them he’ll send Kyle away. Then he’ll take Joanne to his room, she’ll crawl up in his bed, and they’ll go to sleep.
A horrifying thought then strikes Joanne. What if Papa walks in and his angry at her for waking him up. That she’ll tell him about Kyle and because Papa loves Kyle more, he’ll send her away.
She cries harder.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Joanne turns her head at the sound, half-expecting it to be Papa standing at the half open door.
“Are you okay?”
Kyle is standing in the doorway. He’s wearing fuzzy pants and a sweater with the letters N.Y.U. written on it. He looks tired.
“Go away!” Joanne screams, she turns her head back into the pillow.
Kyle does not go away, instead Joanne can hear his feet step onto the carpet. “Joanne is everything okay, do I need to go get Papa?”
“No!”
Joanne clutches the pillow, her are gone but she’s still crying. Her stomach hurts and her chest feels heavy.
Kyle leans down next to her. “Why are you so sad?”
Joanne screams.
This was all Kyle’s fault. Papa locked the door because Kyle was there. Papa didn’t want Joanne around because he had Kyle now. As she screams her foot flies forward and she hits Kyle in the chin.
Kyle staggers backward, his hand flying up to where Joanne kicked him.
“Go away!” She cries. “I hate you!”
“What is going on?” The light flicks on and Joanne sees Papa making his way towards them. “Kyle, is everything alright?”
“No!” Joanne screams. “No, no, no!”
Papa looks away from Kyle and towards Joanne. “Mon étoile,” Papa takes a seat next to Joanne. He reaches to put his arms around her, but Joanne backs away. “What is wrong?”
“His fwault!” Joanne screeches. “It’s all his fwault!”
Papa turns to face Kyle.
“Kyle,” He starts. “What is she talking about?”
“I woke up to use the bathroom.” Kyle explains. “When I passed here, I heard crying and tried to see what was making her so upset.”
“Joanne,” Papa reaches out for her. “What’s got you so sad?”
“My papa.” Joanne moves out of Papa’s way to face Kyle. She points to herself then at Papa. “My papa, not yours.”
“Jean-Paul,” Kyle sits up and crawls over to Papa. “I think I have a pretty good idea at what’s going on here.” He glances over at the little girl sitting in front of him. “Joanne do you think I’m trying to take your papa away from you?”
Joanne’s tongue dries up. Her mouth tightens. She can’t utter a word in English or French, so she just nods.
“Oh, mon étoile,” Papa wraps his arms around Joanne and pulls her onto his lap. “No one could ever take you away from me.” He gives her forehead a kiss. “You know that, right?”
“You locked the door.” Joanne mutters. “You locked the door.”
She begins to cry again, and Papa pulls her in closer.
“I’m so sorry,” He whispers. “I didn’t realize…”
Joanne hears Papa give a small sniffle, and she digs into his chest a little more as tears run down her face.
She didn’t want to make Papa sad. She just wanted him back. She wanted things the way they were.
“I love you so much.” Papa’s voice is warbly. “So, so, so much.”
“I love you too.” Joanne mutters, she glances over at Kyle. “I’m sworry, Kwyle.”
Kyle shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He points to his chin. “See all good.”
Joanne nods.
“Mon étoile,” Papa runs a hand through Joanne’s hair. “Why didn’t you knock? All you had to do was knock and we would’ve let you in.”
“I didn’t know.” Joanne mutters. “I was sad.”
“Well, there’s no reason to be sad anymore.” Kyle says. “It’s all okay. Your papa loves you and I promise I’m not trying to take you away from him.”
Joanne nods.
She likes Kyle’s French. It’s a bit funny sounding but it’s nice.
“It’s late.” Papa declares. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Joanne thinks that Papa’s going to tuck her in again, but instead he lays his head down on Joanne’s pillow. Then he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest. “This, okay?”
“Yes.”
Kyle smiles and makes his way to the light switch. The lamps next to Joanne’s bed flicker off and he makes his way over to them. “Can I join?”
“Yes.” Joanne nods.
Kyle carefully crawls over them as Papa makes room next to the wall. Kyle grabs one of Joanne’s stuffed bears as he lays down, carefully propping it underneath his head. Joanne doesn’t mind this. She thinks if she can share her papa she can share a few toys.
“Good night, mon étoile.” Papa mutters, before glancing over at Kyle. “Good night, mon beau.”
“Sleep well, sweetheart.” Kyle mutters. “Sweet dreams, Joey.”
“Good night, Papa.” Joanne cuddles into her Papa. “Good night, Kwyle.”
Sleep quickly takes over Joanne’s tired, tiny, body. Her mind swirls with images of her and Papa.
Her and Papa eating breakfast.
Her and Papa flying.
Papa giving her medicine.
And if she looked closely Kyle was there too.