Not Like Other Girls

A continuation to the Fran stories, where we find that Fran has extraordinarily strong opinions about common utterances surrounding uniqueness among women and the value they have as a result of that uniqueness.

---

It's always been a mystery, Fran muses, and it'll always be a mystery. I guess that sorts it.

The mystery in question is what it is that makes men feel as though their commentary should impact Fran. It doesn't. It never has. And as a result, she has always managed to just keep walking. What else is there to do when a mystery rears up.

But is this time really the same as every other time, Fran continues the thought, if the person doing it is my former boss, for whom I ought to have some measure of, I don't know, loyalty? Kinship? Something.

The man in question is Dave. Yes, the very same Dave who until recently was manager of Fran's department at work. And the same Dave who recently found himself with the courage to ask Fran out to coffee. And ever the same Dave who had just now said to Fran the following words:

"I've always liked you Fran. You're not like other girls."

And without a word, Fran stood up from the coffee shop table and removed herself to the streets. She's walking away from what once was her favourite coffee shop and is now the place where Dave proved he was just like every single other guy and is now no longer a safe place for coffee as a result.

She's not mad at the coffee shop. She's not even mad at Dave, surprisingly. If anything, the main thing Fran feels is confused. Did Dave think this was a date? She wonders further as she wanders farther, not entirely realising she's walking clear in the wrong direction. I don't even like men, she admits to herself for the first time since she started working at the Totally Real Company, and I barely like women most days! As she finishes that thought, Fran finally looks around and starts to understand that she has no idea where she is.

She's tempted to blame Dave or the coffee or some other cause for her current predicament, but instead she decides it's time to problem solve. Feeling is for moments when there is not a crisis on, Fran reminds herself just as the tears are working their way to the corners of her eyes, but she chokes them down.

- - - - -

Fran doesn't know that back at the coffee shop she left her phone on the table, and Dave had given up the moment she walked out the door. Fran also doesn't know that one of the staff at the coffee shop has picked up her phone and recognised it. And more than that, she doesn't know that the staff member in question watched Fran walk out the door in a storm then turn right instead of left. So that very same staff member followed Fran out the door and turned right instead of left to hopefully catch up to her.

- - - - -

Fran hasn't been watching the scenery around her change. She hasn't been thinking about the turns she's made. I have made turns, haven't I? She doesn't recognise any of the buildings, any of the cars, or any other part of the area she is now standing. For all she knows, she could've crossed the bridge into the next town over! That would be about right, wouldn't it?

Fran is lost in these thoughts far deeper than she would normally allow or be comfortable with, but this is the way it goes sometimes. If you do things differently even once, then you set yourself up for being lost.

Fran is doing her best to ignore the footsteps around her. She can't let herself hear the chatter of the groups and couples walking by. She must at all costs drown out the cars, bikes, and trains together with their horns, bells, and klaxons. So it's really no wonder that she doesn't hear a particular voice the first three times it says

"FRAN!"

Of course, the fourth time, she hears it just fine because the person saying it has made it within just a few metres of her. It's finally enough for Fran to look up and take in the scene for a moment before she recognises a familiar face.

"Fran," the face speaks somewhat frantically, but with a paradoxical softness, "I'm so glad I caught up to you. You turned the wrong way back at the shop, and you left your phone. And I guessed you must have been really upset. You know. Your 'whole life is on this thing', so you say. So I didn't think you'd ever leave it behind. Not on purpose anyway."

It is the phrase whole life is on this thing that sparks recognition for Fran. The familiar face is Dot. She works at the coffee shop. They had taken and delivered Fran's order every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday morning as well as every Wednesday and Thursday night since she first started going to that coffee shop. Dot knows just what Fran wants, even if it is different than her 'usual'. Her familiar face is one of the many reasons Fran enjoys that coffee shop. Dot is comfort personified, and they bring home to the space they work.

"It's you," Fran manages to say as she pieces all of that together.

"It most certainly is," Dot says, not teasing but also not blustering. They're simply stating the fact of her identity.

"Why would you follow after me like that?" Fran is terribly confused at the circumstances.

"You would do the same for me," Dot says flatly with a smile, but she perks up as they continue. "Even if you wouldn't, I still would've. You're my favourite customer."

"Why is that?" Fran muses, mostly to herself.

"Well, if I'm honest?"

"Please do." The words spill out before she realises she's saying them.

"You're not like the rest of them. You make sense to me. The rest of my customers are too busy to notice, but you make your trip to the shop the most important moment every day. When I see you walk in, it's almost like your face tells a story. And by reading that story, I might know everything I need to know about you and your day."

"So it's not just because I tip well?" Fran tries to lighten the tone of things. She's suddenly feeling different than she had been just moments ago.

Dot smiled brighter for a moment and attempted what they believed to be a perfectly sarcastic tone. "I hadn't even noticed if you tip at all." But seeing Fran's face hasn't picked up the sarcasm, they continue. "I'm kidding. No. Your tips aren't really that big a thing to me. I live cheap, so my pay is largely ornamental. Makes for a nice stress free existence."

Huh, Fran allowed herself a moment to think, not like the others. That feels nice. I wonder why? Do I like this person?

Realising she was starting to lose herself in thought, she decides to make an effort. "Dot. I seem to be a small bit lost. Can you walk me back to the shop?"

"Sure. I assumed you might get a little lost going this way."

"Thanks. And if it's not too presumptuous. Would you maybe like to go somewhere sometime and get something to drink? Other than coffee I mean."

"As a date?"

"Only if you like the idea."

Do I like Dot? Like that? Fran lets herself wonder a bit more. That's a mystery I think I can solve.