Page 9 of Abbott’s Lost Spoon

I could not.

There was no denying it at that point. It wasn’t here. I’d used it twice at Chained, but that was the last time I remembered having it. From Chained little room to here, there were so many places it could be. It could be in Luke’s car or in the changing room. It could be in the hallway or the parking lot. I had no control over any of those right now, but I was able to go out and trace my steps all the way back to where I’d been dropped off at my building. Using my flashlight, going slowly, tracing every single step and back again.

It wasn’t there.

I messaged my group chat, seeing if anybody there had seen it. Crickets.

Fuck.

The chicken nuggets were long cold by the time I gave up. My spoon was gone.

For most people, losing one of their favorite things would be sad, and this was sad, but it was more than that. It would alter my ability to eat ice cream. And that sounded ludicrous. Who can’t eat ice cream without the right spoon? Just suck it up and do it. No big deal, except it was, and I’d tried. I used all of them. Different shapes, different materials. None of them worked.

I was always so careful, but tonight, I allowed myself to get lost in the fun. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have talked myself into it. No amount of enjoyment was worth losing my spoon.

My phone dinged, and I hoped it was one of my little friends saying they had seen it. It was my group chat, but none of them had seen it anywhere. Given how long it took them to answer, they had looked, too.

Brock asked if I checked my bag. And then when I told him of course I did, he asked me every place else. I’d done it all.

Chained office hours were over and I’d be sent straight to voice mail. Suck. I couldn’t do anything about it now except leave a message, but no one would get it until office hours. And when they did, what were they going to do about it? The odds were great it had ended up in the trash.

So like every responsible grown-up who loses something, I grabbed my stuffie, climbed into bed, and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. There was sadness to my tears, but most of it was anger—anger at myself for being so careless as to lose my prized possession. And the more upset I got, the littler I felt, and the more I needed a daddy. He would’ve helped me find it or at least held me while I cried. Maybe he’d put me into softer pajamas, tuck me onto his lap, tell me it would all be okay.

If I’d called Luke, he would’ve shown up. Honestly, Brock or Sammy would’ve too, but I didn’t want to take them away from their daddies because I didn’t have one. That wasn’t fair to them, and asking Luke to step up because he was the one without a daddy wasn’t fair to him, either.

I cried myself to sleep but didn’t stay asleep long. Every time I woke up, I checked my phone. Nothing. I kept holding on to maybe it’d show up, and Luke and Brock would let me know. Or maybe Ms. Lily found it and would leave me a message.

The phone buzzed, waking me again. I was sure that it was Luke or Brock checking on me. They were great like that.

Instead, it was from Ernie. Ernie, who I barely spent any time with tonight. That caught me off guard, and the first thing I worried about was that something had happened. And then a picture populated, and in it was my spoon sitting on a counter, clean, with the message, Did you lose this?

My spoon. Ernie had my spoon. There was a spoon fairy, after all.

Chapter Eight

Soren

Ernie knows whose spoon you absconded with.

The reply to my text arrived the next morning, and I breathed out a huge sigh of relief. Because that little would be even more relieved.

I owe Ernie a quart of chocolate and maybe even a little glitter.

Just the ice cream please, Jovan replied.

Should I give the spoon to you or Ernie to return, then? I asked because it seemed like the socially appropriate thing to do.

No. If it’s all right, he’d like to stop by today and pick it up.

It was so much better than all right. I knew the rules of daddy/little required I allow the little to approach me first. To let me know his interest before I took things any further. Did he want to see me again? Or did he just want his spoon ASAP?

Sure, that will be fine. Thanks for helping me get this straightened out.

Anytime.

I set the phone down and went to look for something to do. First, I asked the person manning the counter to let me know when someone came in asking for me, or their spoon. They looked a little confused but nodded and went back to taking an order for a sundae with about eight kinds of candy on it.

My bookkeeping was caught up, as if I would be able to concentrate on that this morning. The freezer was filled with product, and we had none scheduled to be made until the next day. We were stocked with toppings, and someone had put away all the bowls and spoons.