"Now boarding, group 3. Group 3, you're welcome to board."
She shuffled past the crowd, her suitcase dragging behind her halfheartedly. It was early. The mixture of muted impatience of the people around her, with the sleepy dawn light, was enough to put her in a funny mood.
He stepped on the moving walkway, and looked behind to her with a little smile. She hopped on behind.
"We have snacks in your work bag, sweetie. The airport snacks aren't healthy. You need to stay on the right side if you're not gonna walk."
She shuffled over to the side and looked around at the passersby. A lot of hurried, business-looking people, a lot of exhausted-looking families. Some people were in their PJ, too! They had the right idea.
He guided her by the hand off the walkway. "There you go, pumpkin."
A little *bump* as her suitcase hit the end of the walkway. She swished after him, towards their gate.
"Group 4 to Austin, Group 4..."
He guided her to one of the chairs. The chairs were hard and inflexible–clearly not designed for sleeping. She needed at least a squirm or two before she was comfy, and a nice pillow for her head. She nuzzled up onto his shoulder.
"You're probably sleepy, aren't you?" He guided her head with one hand.
"No!" She blinked a couple of times.
"Oh, of course. You're just blinking."
Someone was crying. She looked up and saw a bit of a scene– a mom, carrying a very cranky baby in one arm, large bag over her shoulder. The mom was making her best attempts at shushing, but the baby's cries weren't going to be stopped. She watched as they made her way toward the woman's restroom. Next to the women's sign was another: a blue stick-figure-style picture of someone changing a baby's diaper. She felt a little flutter in her chest, looking at the sign. She looked around. Other than the baby, the gate was silent– a few people were on laptops. They had gotten there early. Minutes passed. Her eyes glazed over. Maybe she was... sleepy...
"Did you bring your book, pumpkin?"
"Let's see what you brought."
She fumbled with her bag for a minute, working at the stuck zipper. As she was working at it, he leaned over towards her, very close, and whispered in her ear:
"Do you need to be changed before we take off?"
"Stooppp..." She flinched and turned away. Her cheeks flushed.
"I'm fine!" She whispered loudly.
"Honey, you've been in that one since you woke up. It's been hours. Now are you going to come with me to the bathroom, or do I need to check you right here?"
Her cheeks were burning. She looked around, nervous. "Not here..."
"That's what we're gonna have to start doing, if you can't tell me when you need to be changed, hun."
"Noooo..." She hadn't even gotten the zipper undone.
He stood up, now not whispering.
"Come on. We need to take care of you before they start boarding. You need to take your suitcase, too; they don't let you leave them in the airport."
He took her by the hand, leaving her other hand free for her suitcase. She gulped, the sound of her PJ's now much more audible in her ears, despite the din of the boarding area.
His hand was tight on hers. He was taking her to the gate attendant.
"Do you happen to know where the nearest family restroom is?"
"Oh, yes, we're very close by. It's just over there, past 3A on your left."
"Thanks so much, we appreciate it." He gave the attendant a relieved, sympathetic look.
She stared at her bunny socks.
Her head was swimming. She waddled after him as he walked in front of her. She felt a little nervousness as they rounded the corner and saw the sign: "Family changing room."
He knocked at the door as she stood outside, squeezing her legs together.
He opened the door– "come on, sweetie–" and led her by the hand inside.
The room was tiled and fluorescent, brighter than even the airport. A few walls were spray-painted with little butterflies and hearts. The lights were uncomfortable on her eyes. She stiffened.
"Not now, hun. We have snacks in your bag for later. Do you want to tell me about your book?"
"Um, it's a new book that I had on my Goodreads and its all about..."
He lifted her by the arms, and carried her over to the large, adjustable changing table in the corner. She dangled her legs off the side, her eyes darting to the flowers on the wall. He opened her backpack and pulled out the changing mat. He unfolded it carefully, laying her gently back onto the table.
"A new book about what?" he asked, smiling.
"It's a book about the French Revolution..." she felt his hands pull at her pajama bottoms, "and two people in Paris who have to escape."
"Wow, that sounds fascinating. Are they revolutionaries?"
"They... they..." she felt the cool air hit her skin and flinched. She felt herself start to whine.
"It's okay, hun. It'll just be a minute."
"They're..." she focused on the flower. "They're just ordinary people. But they're in a lot of danger because they have to escape the Reign of Terror..."
"What's that?" He pulled out the wipes. She saw him glance down at the soaked padding. His gaze was calm, caring, unchanged..
She squirmed, trying to sit up, but his hand on her chest was gentle but firm.
"The... Reign of Terror is... it's when all the people with guillotines took over. They, um, didn’t like it when you were nobles, or if you liked the King and Queen. So if you did, you had to hide or they would capture you." She flinched a little as the cold baby wipe touched her bottom.
"Sounds like they were in a sticky situation," he said, his voice calm as he continued to wipe. "What did they do to not get caught?"
She continued. "Um... they tried to escape. But the guards were everywhere, and everyone was watching everyone else. So they needed to find someone who could help them... go into hiding." Her voice wavered as he lifted her legs with familiar ease, sliding the fresh diaper beneath her. He let go of her legs for a minute and she relaxed, while he rolled up the sodden, used diaper beside her. Her curious eyes looked over at the yellow padding. She forced them shut.
"They needed someone to help them?"
She felt him secure the fresh diaper between her legs, one of his hands reaching for the tapes at her waist. "Y-yeah, but, um... it was harder for them because they had to be sneaky. That's why they needed someone who knew the way, who could help."
"That's very clever of them. I think we all could use someone to help us sometimes, huh?" he said with a little smile, securing the diaper snugly around her waist. "There you go. Glad we changed you, honey–you wouldn't have been a happy girl on the flight. You're a great storyteller."
He sat her up, as she looked involuntarily at the used diaper on the table before quickly looking away. He pulled her PJ’s back up and gave them a quick pat. "All done. That must feel better. Wanna tell me the rest of the story while we wait to board?"
"Can we have a snack now?" She hopped down and looked around as he packed up, pulling restlessly at her clothes. She *did* feel better, even if she didn't want to admit it.
"You just can't seem to stop snacking, huh? Okay, you can have one."
"The peanut butter ones?"
He opened the door, and tugged her by the hand outside. She tried to look the other way at the impatient-looking line that had formed outside the door.
"One peanut butter one. But we have to save the rest for the flight. What a luxury! Peanut butter crackers at 40,000 feet."
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