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Frannie led the way and I followed with my rolling suitcase and locked the door behind us. “Mama says to use these things,” she told me matter-of-factly, attempting to reach for the sanitary seat covers.
For being four, she was impressively skilled. Not once did she tear the tissue, having properly pulled it up and then down gently before laying it on the seat.
“Nice job,” I praised.
She smiled, taking a seat. “Mama calls them ass gaskets but I’m not supposed to say that word. What’s so bad about gasket anyway…?”
I heard the lady in the stall next to me stifle a laugh, but I wasn’t able to.
When she was done, it was my turn.Finally!
I wasn’t a stranger to peeing in front someone—E and I grew up sharing a bathroom; it was just something we did sometimes. What I wasn’t used to though, was having a kid no more than five inches from my face as I attempted to do the deed.
Frannie stood right in front of me. Like,rightin front of my face.
A little odd, I thought, but it would have to be ignored. I had togo.
And then I remembered I had to change my tampon. This could prove to be a little awkward, but there was no turning back now.
“Uh, Fran, could you hand me my purse please?” I thought the distraction would be a perfect excuse for taking out my tampon while her back was turned instead of her being front and center while possibly being scarred from Aunt Flo’s cruel nature.
Frannie turned around looking for my bag which was hanging on the door hook. I hoped she could reach it. But then again, it could buy me some time.
It was go-time. Now or never.
Fishing for the string, I began to tug on it. And nothing happened. Shit. I changed it right before the flight so the likelihood of it being fully absorbed was pretty low.
Frannie was on her tip toes now, the bag almost unhooked.
It was time to go big or go home. I took that string and wound it around my finger for good measure, much like I did with floss—I didn’t want it slipping. Not that I was comparing tampons and floss, becausegross.
I was so focused on getting the damn thing out and doing it inconspicuously, that I hadn’t noticed Frannie had gotten the bag off the door finally.
One last yank and it was free!Victory!
Except, when I looked up to mentally pat myself on the back for my undetected ways, Frannie was once again in her former position. Right. In. Front. Of. My. Face.
If her stealth moves hadn’t startled me, the red smudge on her forehead sure did.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
At first, I didn’t think she had noticed that she was now sporting period blood on her face like war paint.
“Here’s your purse, Lucy.”
“Er, thanks…uh, come here sweetie.” I slammed my hand down on the toilet paper roll like I was playing the snare drum. Square after square began to free fall like a Tom Petty song.
“I think you got some schmutz on your forehead,” I muttered mostly to myself.
“I thought I felt something,” she laughed.
Smiling sheepishly, I wiped it away like it had never been there.
I took stock of the situation:
One pee accomplished, one more to go.
Tampon removed successfully, if not for a minor casualty.
