My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 3: A Good Dream Turned Sour

Fonzie's POV:

When we reach the Cunningham's—which is literally a stone's throw away from my place—the first one out the door to greet us is Joanie, Richie's younger preteen sister. She's a sweet kind of girl, but she has loads of personality, maybe too much sometimes. Her attitude tends to get her in trouble, but I find it charming. Let's just say, she's become my sort-of sister too. I try to watch out for her when I can. My little shortcake.

"Come here, Shortcake," I say, ruffling her hair. "You're not my only baby anymore. Look at this." I gesture to Bobby, who is hiding behind both me and Richie. "Bobby, stop playing shy and say hi." Losing my patience, I guide him forward by the arm. Gently, of course. I'm no monster. He scowls at me for it though. I don't pay him mind.

Joanie's eyes go wide in the same fashion mine did when I first found out. "Is he yours?"

"Wow. You're quicker than Red over there (A/N: "Red" is one of Fonzie's nicknames for Richie)." I slurp up some air and tilt on my feet, not quite sure how I'm gonna explain this to a fifteen-year-old girl (A/N: remember, this is the 50's where teens were pretty sheltered and innocent). "Okay...um...help me here, Rich." I pat Richie's back in hopes he can fill in the gaps in a child-friendly way. He botches it horribly, of course.

Richie teeters on his feet for a second before speaking. "Well, see Joanie, it'll make sense when you're older and more mature, but–it just happened, okay?"

"Oh, c'mon," Joanie moans. "You don't have to hide stuff from me. I'm more than old enough to deal with whatever you have to say."

Regretting my decision to pass the baton to Rich, I lay it out plain as day. "Joanie, let me put it this way–" But before I could get to the nitty-gritty explanation, Mrs. Cunningham pops her head out the front door of their cookiecutter house, her strawberry hair bouncing.

"Oh, Arthur! What a surprise!" Mrs. Cunningham smiles bright as she always does and gives me a warm peck on the cheek. I can't help but blush. "Why don't you come on in. I have some meatloaf on the table. Good thing I always have extra."

"Heeeey," I say, trying to hide my sentiment behind my hard exterior. Yes, deep down, I am shy and a little mushy, okay? I admit it. "I'd love to, ya know, but before I do, I need you to meet someone."

"Who?"

"Bobby, my–son." The words stick to the roof of my mouth and make everything dry like cotton. I guess admitting it ain't gonna get any easier.

Mrs. Cunningham gasps. "Really? I didn't even know you were–" She looks over at Joanie, then at Bobby, remembering she probably shouldn't bring up adult topics. "Oh, Arthur. I hope you learned your lesson."

What can I say? I just nod. "I sure have...Anyway, now that the bandaid's off, can we get started eating? The kid's starving. It ain't my fault though. His mom didn't bother feeding him before leaving him here with me." I can tell that she ain't satisfied one bit with my answer. I know I'll have to spill my guts later, especially to Richie's father, Mr. Cunningham–the serious, conservative guy he is–but I'll try my best to stall. The only people in my life whose opinions I actually care about will be all 'round the same table, pointing their fingers at me and blaming me for this great big mess. Oh sh*t. Here goes nothing.

I soon ease into my rhythm like I usually do, with a quick slick of my hair with my lucky comb and a brush of my jeans. Just before entering the house, though, I feel a tug at my sleeve, which pulls me out of my zone. "What?" I say gruff, startling the kid I almost forgot was still helplessly attached to me. He is very clingy for a kid his age. I guess I can't say I blame him for that. New place and all.