All's Well that Ends Well Untitled Babysitting Story (Yes That is the Real Name, Deal With it) chapter 5 by 2kfsk

When Jason woke up again, it was to Mrs. Jones’ face. She was visibly exhausted—it was 2 in the morning after all—yet her voice contained no hint of that when she said, “Looks like she gave you quite the workout. So, my little Franky’s in bed, I take it?”

Jason looked up at the scrawny woman. His mind went to a number  of places: if there was some sort of solution he couldn’t see yet, if there was a chance he could make a run for it, if he could turn the shrink ray onto her, how so scrawny a woman birthed such a chubby child… but in his sleep-addled brain, he found that the only words he could properly summon were the truth.

So, he did. He started speaking the truth. The words fell from his mouth in torrents; he leaned up to make his point better as he described in detail the various activities that he and Franky got up to without her mother’s knowledge. The shrinking, the games and activities, and everything in between, he even brandished the shrink ray for emphasis. When Mrs. Jones balked at the item in bemused disbelief, Jason in an expeditious attempt to keep the narrative flowing aimed the weapon at the coffee table, reducing it to a millimeter tall before flicking the reverse switch and returning it to normal size. Mrs. Jones didn’t interrupt after that. And then, Jason culminated the tale with the girl’s brutal, brief, climactic end.

“You… you can’t mean…” Mrs. Jones stuttered.

In defeat, Jason held up his hands and stared up in silence.

Mrs. Jones set her purse on the counter and wobbled, clutching the edge for balance. “I should’ve known… Franky… Franky!!”

The woman dashed upstairs, and Jason wondered if she was holding out hope for this to be a practical joke of some kind. But something about those words made Jason wonder. How on Earth could she have predicted this?

Jason did feel a certain freedom at having told the truth, though. As easy as it would’ve been to either run, reduce Mrs. Jones to size and end her, or manufacture any sort of lie, none of those were in Jason’s heart. As tasty as Franky was and as much as he would’ve liked to find out how more shrunken women feel on his tongue… Jason was a big ol’ softie. He felt mortified and ashamed that he’d made such a stupid blunder that led to her death, and the last thing he wanted at this time was to compound this woman’s tragedy be sentencing her to a like fate.

When Mrs. Jones came back, Jason was already putting on his shoes to leave, but she was coming in his direction. And holding someth—a book. Not just any book, a diary. She shoved the diary in Jason’s hands, and Jason nearly dropped the thing.

“Read it,” Mrs. Jones said, and she turned away from Jason as if to give him privacy. The exhaustion in her voice was now palpable.

Jason looked at the cover. The design was very girly-pop; in addition to the rainbow and unicorn cover, there were also Sanrio stickers and My Little Pony characters dancing around Franky’s hand-written name on the front, which was barely legible.

Jason opened it up and thumbed through, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Mrs. Jones offered no hints, so he just briefly scanned each page, certain that he would find what he was looking for eventually, until he hit a dog-earred journal entry that had seen more visitations than any other. This was still pretty early in the book, but evidence of repeat visits—additional stickers, revisions and crossed out words like a zombie, Jason thumbed through the leafs until it landed on an entry bordered with a wavy outline of glitter and pockmarked with Disney Princess stickers. Between the affects, the words written were from three months back. Coincidentally, perhaps a week before he started babysitting her:

Jason had mostly been standing around uselessly, white-faced, as Mrs. Jones and a few officers investigated the now empty domicile for any traces of where Franky had gone. Exhausted and without reprieve, Jason saw no reason to rush his inevitable departure in cuffs, so he opted simply to wait until the police reached the inevitable conclusion that the only other adult present was responsible for Franky’s disappearance, one way or another. He simply repeated his alibi: “I was asleep on the couch. Franky had already gone to bed… that’s all I know..” It was paper thin and would surely fall apart upon scrutiny. However, for the moment, it was all he had.

However. The discovery of the diary changed things.

I dont know if this will work so God if Im doing something bad by writing this its an accident and I dont mean it

anyway

by my heart, I want to shrink; I don’t care if old shoes stink; or even socks, and carpets too; I want to be small, so please make it true!! Whatever it takes, I promise I’ll do. I’ll earn All A’s, and be nice to Mom, too! Life at this size has me feeling so blue, I’ll even eat collard greens if I need to! I’ve seen the videos, I’ve seen the pics. I know it’s possible, it’s there on the clips. What you’ve done for others, I can plainly see. So please oh please, do the same for me?

Amen.

It was one part mantra, one part wish, one part prayer. It’d also been heavily workshopped—there was a crossed-out section that read “Or on a bird’s wings, I wanna…” Presumably, she was unable to find a finishing word that rhymed with the rest of the main body. The page was pockmarked by dark splotches which Jason reasoned could’ve been tears, or perhaps the smudges from where she’d kissed the paper, not to mention the glitter outline of the page.

“I’d seen this so long ago,” Mrs. Jones explained, finally lucid enough to hold a conversation. “I just didn’t think she’d meant it so literally.”

Jason was aghast. It was the kind of revelation that came entirely out of left field, and yet… was there really any doubt? Everything about Franky’s behavior told him that this was a well-reasoned desire of hers. She’d harbored I for at least years; possibly the entirety of her life. And it made Jason wonder—if he’d never come around, would she have found some other means of making her dream come true? She was a resourceful girl; the answer to that question was “Probably”, and the guilt on Jason’s heart started to wane.

But there was still the question of the mother before him. “So… what are we going to do?”

“I…” Mrs. Jones paced. “I… don’t know. My husband’s all the way in Canada, he won’t be back for another three weeks.” She cupped her forehead between her fingers. “I’ll have to break the news to him, somehow…”

She paced again, deep in thought.

“Maybe… I’ll start by reminding him of how nice it was, back before we had any children,” she began. Jason found it remarkable just how even-toned her voice was as she pondered out loud. “I’ll handle him. As for you…”

Mrs. Jones unzipped her purse and pulled out two bills: a hundred and a twenty. She held them out to Jason, who held his hands up.

“I mean, I… did I… do I really deserve this?”

Mrs. Jones was unfazed. “You gave Franky the chance of a lifetime—if anything, you deserve far, far more. And in any sense, I don’t need it being said that Valencia Jones doesn’t pay her help. Take it, here.” She shoved the bills into Jason’s chest. Finally, he grabbed them both, and clasped her hand into his.

“Ah, well… hm. T-thanks, I guess?” This was getting weirder by the minute.

“Don’t mention it.” Mrs. Jones collapsed onto one of the bar stools. A half-drunk bottle of Smirnoff was next to the fridge—she reached for it and poured a glass. “I’ll have to unenroll Franky from school… as long as she doesn’t need to be present, it’ll be fine. That ought to give us more time. To figure something out.” She took a sip, and her face twisted into a pursed line. “Flat.”

Jason had been shuffling closer and closer to the front door for the past few minutes, but a high-pitched call of “Jason!” made him stand at attention.

“Yes, ma’am?” he replied. Force of habit.

“I…” Mrs. Jones swirled her drink in the glass. “My, ahm… friend. Single mom, real sweet girl. She was interested in a babysitter for her little one while she goes back to school. And, well… this little one is… I don’t want to say she’s bad. But, she’s not the best. The point is, with that ray you have… I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you had to pull it out a few times to keep her in line, is all.

“Hell…” Mrs. Jones’ gaze darkened. “Sometimes, when we’re both pretty hammered, I remember my friend telling me she was in over her head with the whole ‘children’ thing. You know? So, no kid gloves required.”

Jason nodded. “Right. You can give me her number, in that case.”

“Gladly.” Mrs. Jones gave a smirk. “Don’t be a stranger, Jason.”

Jason nodded, finally, once and for all, slipping out the door.

When it slammed shut behind him, Jason leaned against the door as he took in the night air. That was, undoubtedly, one of the most uncomfortable conversations he’d had in his entire life. And yet, he’d come out of it relatively unscathed. Not only had he narrowly evaded punishment at Franky’s untimely end, but he also had the promise of additional work later down the line. He didn’t even have to give up the shrink ray.

“I guess the truth really will set you free, huh.”

Jason’s phone buzzed twice. The first one was a generically female contact card. What followed, however, piqued Jason’s interest far more. It was a picture of a girl, cropped, with a pool party in the background. Jason could make out Franky’s friendship bracelet holding onto the girl’s hand, but this girl looked perhaps a year older, with frazzled blonde hair and a button nose and an expression frozen in mania yet missing a few baby teeth. Her untamed energy made the part of Jason that rejoiced with bringing unruly young girls to heel pulse in excitement—she seemed in dire need of discipline, and so be it if that discipline had to come at the barrel of a shrink ray.

Interested? The message came only a few moments after Jason decided that he needed to turn this girl into a dust mote yesterday. His reply followed shortly:

Without a doubt.