Alex Bridges

I used to say no to this question. But if I define “chance to stop” as a chance stop needing all the things I get from diapers, yes, I’d give it up. It’s one more thing that makes it that much harder to find a significant other, and in this decade of my life, that’s what I want. It’s fucking hard enough already.

I just had to get this out of me. _______________________________________________________________ Chapter 16 “How are you feeling,” Amanda asked. “Fine, really.” “You were better at lying when you got here. Or I’m better at seeing through you. It’s okay to be nervous.” “It really is fine. It’s just for a day. Not even a whole day.” “But it’s the first time you won’t be with either me or Mom.” “I know. Would you feel better if I was more upset about it,” Jamie asked. Because I can do that easily, he thought. He was more afraid than he wanted to let on. He didn’t feel safe in this place yet; he felt safe with two of the people in this place. “Of course not. Let’s get you dressed. Grandma will be here soon. By the way, her name is Dana, but don’t use it.” “Will do. Thanks for the bath. I know you need to leave soon.” “How else would I rather spend my morning than with you? Any preference on what you wear today?” “Think we’ll go anywhere?” “No. You’re probably be in the house for the day.’ “Pajamas then, I guess.” “I hear ya. Pants suck.” As she was getting him dressed, he asked her what he’d been wondering since his party. “Why did you tell me I’d like her?” “Well, I didn’t want to prejudice you; then there’d be no chance of you getting along.” That at least made sense. “I wish I hadn’t made fun of her that day.” “Well, you learned a life lesson then.” The doorbell rang. “You just be the charmer you are, and you’ll win her over.” She paused and decided to add, “And if not, it’s only for part of the day. Walk or carry?” “Walk.” He wanted to appear as mature as he could in his pajamas and crinkly underwear. They went to the front door together. He put his politest smile on, and Amanda did the same before she opened the door. “Good morning, Grandma!” She stepped aside to let her grandmother in. “Good morning, Amanda. Jamie.” “Good morning, ma’am.” She looked at him with an inscrutable expression. “He’s had his bath and his breakfast and just got changed. The important numbers are on the fridge. Is there anything else you need?” “No, I think I have everything. We’ll make do.” There was curtness in Dana’s voice. She knelt down and took Jamie into a full hug. “You be good today. Mom will be home around lunch.” She kissed him on the forehead and lingered, looking at him a moment longer. “Ahem. Won’t you be late,” Dana reminded her granddaughter. “Right,” she said standing up. “Thanks again, Grandma. We really appreciate it.” “You’re welcome.” Dana had a hand on the open door. With a look at Jamie, Amanda took her backpack and left. It was just an orientation day; Amanda was leading freshman sessions all day. Classes were still five days away. Dana closed the door and looked down at Jamie. He looked back at her, keeping his thin but genuine smile. He wanted nothing so much as a positive relationship with Dana; he didn’t know how much time he’d be spending with her, but he knew moms of moms were de facto babysitters. He anticipated seeing her more with school back in session. “Well, I see my daughter didn’t bother to dress you today. No surprise.” Jamie’s instinct was to defend Becky, and Amanda, but he didn’t want a nasty, behind-the-back comment to derail things already. He wasn’t sure what to say or do next; he wanted to just walk away and go find something to do, but something about her made him reluctant to. He didn’t wait long until she bent down and picked him up. Instead of putting him on her hip or shoulder or cradling him, she held him under the armpits and turned him around. No one had done this to Jamie yet; there was nothing gentle about it. He heard her sniff deeply. “At least you’re clean. We’ll see how long that lasts.” She turned him back around and put him on her hip, carrying him into the kitchen. Jamie just sat there wondering what her problem was. Amanda had just told her she had bathed and changed him. He felt awkward in the silence. She set her purse on the counter and Jamie in his high chair, buckling him in. He hadn’t been buckled in in weeks. He watched her cluck around the kitchen, scoffing and wiping at the counter with a sponge. Done cleaning up messes only she could see, she took a bottle and formula from the cabinet. “Excuse me, ma’am, I already had breakfast.” It didn’t even slow her down. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m actually still full.” “Hush, baby. I know what you need.” She proceeded to make a full liter-bottle of formula and put it on Jamie’s tray. As much as he liked formula, he had no appetite for it right then. Dana picked up the sponge and proceeded to wipe down the stove top and the fronts of the appliances, then put the sponge in the dishwasher. Only after did she turn her attention back to Jamie. “You need to eat. You’re too thin.” She nudged the bottle toward him. That she wore a smile the entire time was more off putting than the way she ignored what she’d been told by Amanda or by him. She stared not in expectation but in smiling certainty. “Again, that’s very sweet of you. I had breakfast, and even when I do have a bottle that’s much more than I can eat at one time.” “Oh, I see.” There was a lilt to her voice as she unbuckled him and put him back on her hip, carrying him into the living room. “Oh, good. It’s not that I’m not appreciative. I’m actually glad we have this time together. I wanted to whoa!” He was cut off she sat down and shift him into a cradling position in her right arm. The bottle was at his lips. He didn’t open. She bounced him uncomfortably in her arm to urge him on. “It’ll make you big and strong.” Thinking she might stop if he drank a little, he took the nipple and slowly took some swallows. After five, he opened his mouth, but she didn’t take the bottle out. He tried to talk around it. “Dank u, weally, dis is vewy good, but I’ve had enuf.” She slapped the outside of his right thigh in response and said, “Enough of this nonsense. You’re going to drink this whole thing.” It hurt and shocked Jamie; it hurt his feelings too. Any hope he’d had of using the day to start a friendship with her evaporated. Fearing she’d hit him again, he started drinking again. He could only go so fast. There was something different about Dana. So far, he’d met inconsiderate Bigs, Little crazy Bigs, and kind Bigs. It was apparent she wasn’t the latter, but neither was she the two former. She didn’t seem blinded to him because he was a Little. She just seemed not to care. Except she did, in her way, or she wouldn’t be insisting on feeding him and complaining about his outfit. “I know you can drink faster than that.” Was she really serious, or was this some sick game to her? He couldn’t see what she was getting out of this. From the moment she walked in the door, she’d taken an issue with everything she laid eyes on, even Amanda. He’d never been more polite with her than anyone since he arrived. Jamie tried to drink faster, but he was now feeling sick. Finally he pushed the bottle away, trying to catch his breath. She let him, and then she brought the nipple back to his lips. “Please,” he pleaded, turning his head and pushing her hand away as she tried to maneuver it back into his mouth. With an exasperated sigh, she stopped trying and put the bottle down on the coffee table hard. “Fine. Have it your way. I tried to do what’s best for you. Maybe a timeout will adjust our attitude.” She wasn’t exactly raising her voice, but it was elevated, and definitely angry well beyond reason. So he didn’t finish a bottle? So what? She lifted and gripped him under the arm pits. Her hands dug in, reminding Jamie of the time he sprained his ankle and was on crutched for a time. She put him in the playpen. To Jamie, it was a relief. He liked nothing about her or being held by her. She’s just mean, he concluded. He thought back to the party. She didn’t seem to genuinely enjoy herself; maybe at points, but on the whole, not. Becky seemed to behave differently around her that day; her mood changed when doorbell rang. Jane was surprised she had even come, and when she said so, Becky seemed offended. She seemed to walk on eggshells around her. When Jamie and Dana had their little contest of words, it was Amanda, not Becky, who swept in to end it. Jamie had seen enough bad family dynamics to know something was wrong. Through the mesh, he watched her bring her purse back to the living room, turn on the TV, and pull knitting project out. Jamie looked around his playpen. He hadn’t left anything in it, even a blanket. With nothing else to do, he tried to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he tried. The TV was on. He was cold. He sat up, and once more in his politest tone asked, “Excuse me, ma’am, may I have a blanket please.” She only glanced over. “You have your pajamas on. You’re fine.” Might as well be asking Bumble for more gruel, he lamented. He sighed loudly, trying to breathe through his anger. That, unfortunately, got her attention. “Don’t you dare cop that attitude with me! I’ll win, and you’ll lose.” Jamie was disgusted with her. He had empathy for a lot of people; it was necessary in the work he’d done. People did things out of ignorance or misguided belief. Rarely did he meeting someone who was just plain cruel. He could forgive a lot; he was willing to give almost anybody a second chance. Not people who hurt the defenseless just because they could. He had no room in his heart to forgive those kinds. He didn’t consciously think it, but a part of him realized that’s what he was: defenseless. He laid back down. Between breakfast #1 and breakfast #2, his bladder kept him from getting comfortable no matter how many times he emptied it. Over the past few weeks, he’d stopped trying to time that for specific times when he was home; he never had to wait long for a change. Away from home was a different matter. Not having left the house much still, he managed to avoid public changes by holding it. Trying to warm himself up, Jamie turned onto his side and brought his knees closer to his chest. Once more, he let his bladder drain. The side of him exposed to the room was cold, so he rolled over. When he did, he felt the cooler air on the outside of the thigh he’d been resting on. Reaching over to rub some warmth into it, his hand came away wet. Now he had to interact with her, and in the most humiliating way he could think of, other than if he had done the other thing. He stood up and put his head over the top of the playpen. “Excuse me,” he closed his eyes and opened them again, forcing himself to say the next part. “I’m very wet. Could you please change me?” It was all he could not to spit the words out like poison. Not that he had to ask for a change, but that he had to ask her. If after he was dry he’d never need to ask her for anything again, he’d have been content. “After the show is over.” Perhaps she didn’t understand how wet. “I, um, leaked. My pajamas are wet, too.” “James, sometimes you have to wait until it’s convenient for a Big, not you. Bigs don’t exist just to take care of Littles. Just sit down, and I’ll change your diaper when I’m ready.” Embarrassment gave way to anger, and his ineffectualness to do anything about that anger gave way to dejection. He sat down, which cause a little more to leak. He was disgusted. At least in a diaper he didn’t feel it. It was warm and wet, then warm and dry against his skin. Now he was cold and wet. He waited probably another twenty minutes, into the closing credits of one show and the opening of the next. He swallowed that down. But then he had to pee again. He stood back up. “Excuse me, but this is getting urgent.” She looked from her knitting to the TV. He wanted to get her attention. “Mrs. Dana?” He got it. She dropped her knitting and stomped to the playpen. Jamie backed up as far as he could, terrified of what she was going to do. “You are the most disrespectful Little I have ever met!” She screamed at him like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “If you can’t behave and do a you’re told, you can spend the rest of the morning in your crib until Becky gets home.” She picked him up again, a little harder under the armpits this time, and carried him at half-arms’ length to his room. Jamie feared worse if he said or did anything, so he tried to just be limp. She dumped him in his crib. “You know what the problem is, is you think you’re back wherever you came from. But you’re not. You’re just a Little here. You need to understand that, so help you figure that out …” Dana turned each of Cheryl’s pictures face down, and worse, she snatched his bear out of his crib. “I’m getting rid of this. We’ll find you a new one, from here.” She left the room and closed the door behind her. Jamie hadn’t felt this tangled mess of negative emotions in a long time. Fear, anger, impotence, grievance, sadness, hurt. He wasn’t even sure at which point he started crying. He threw himself down on the mattress and put his face in a pillow. As he lay there stewing, he thought on Dana’s words, and suddenly he realized she may be doing something to his bear. Tearing it apart, cutting it to pieces, throwing it out with the garbage. The more he thought on it, the more sure he was that’s what she was doing. It was just the kind of thing someone like Dana would do, probably convinced she was doing it to help him, whether she knew how cruel it was and did it anyway or if her cruelty was so much a part of her she didn’t even realize what she was doing to him. ­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________ “Hi, I’m …” Becky’s heart leapt to her throat as her ears were assaulted by Jamie’s hysterical sobbing. Her voice filled with alarm, she raised it to be heard, “WHAT’S HAPPENING? WHY IS HE SCREAMING?” Becky didn’t wait for an answer; she dropped her purse and quick-stepped to Jamie’s room. He quieted down when she came in but didn’t stop sobbing. She scooped him up immediately, put him on her shoulder, and rubbed his back trying to soothe him. Dana walked in casually. “What happened?” Becky was trying to hold back judgment. “Someone is learning a lesson about being disrespectful to Bigs.” “What?” “He needs to learn he’s here now and stop trying to be something he isn’t.” “I can barely hear you.” Becky turned back to the crib and picked up the blanket, looking for Jamie’s bear. She knew it would soothe him. “Where’s his bear?” “I took it.” “WHAT!?! WHY!?!” “He’s not going to figure out his place if reminders of his past are everywhere. We’ll get him a new bear from here.” No longer trying to withhold judgment, she shouted in anger and to be heard above Jamie. “MOM!” Becky raised her voice above Jamie’s. “WHERE IS HIS BEAR?” “It’s in the kitchen.” Becky brushed past her mother and into the kitchen. The bear was on the counter. Jamie’s eyes were shut so tight he didn’t see. Becky picked it up and held it up near Jamie’s face, its fur brushing his cheek. Jamie, recognizing his bear’s fur, pushed himself off Becky’s shoulder, grabbed the bear, and fell back onto Becky’s shoulder with the bear crushed between them. “Here you go, baby,” she cooed, “it’s alright now. Mama’s back and your bear is just fine. Shh, shh.” Jamie’s sobbed calmed down to a soft whimper. He was no longer afraid, but he felt wounded. He hadn’t ever been so afraid, and for so many reasons. Becky kept shushing him, carried him gently back to his room, and set Jamie in his crib, patting his bottom out of habit. “Ugh, Mom, his pajamas are soaked, too.” “You’re just enabling him. He’s never going to learn his place…” Becky had had all she could take. “THIS IS HIS PLACE, MOM! She shooed Dana into the hallway. Dana threw up her hands as though she was so misunderstood and mistreated. Becky closed the door most of the way. “What the hell happened?” Dana recounted her version of the story. “So I took the bear. And he’d be fine if you didn’t coddle him.” She sounded so satisfied with herself. “Does he sound fucking fine to you! What the hell were you thinking?” “Rebecca, he’s a very rude Little boy, and your behavior right now is as bad his. I …” “OUT!” “Excuse me?” “GET OUT! Go home. I will call you later.” “You’re …” “YES! GO!. I will call you later.” Dana walked to the front door without another word and left. When the front door closed, Becky went back into the room and crossed to the crib in a single step, picking up Jamie and clutching him to her, once more with the bear pinned between them. Jamie had heard the entire exchange. The yelling frightened him; he’d not heard Becky raise her voice before. But she had stood up for him in the most difficult way she could. Still with tears in his eyes, still feeling the trauma of nearly losing his bear and the fear of what else Dana might have done, he felt a new closeness to Becky, and new respect. As much as she pressed him into her shoulder, he pressed back into her. When the two of them were calm, she pulled off his wet pajamas and laid him on the changing table. He didn’t have much energy to help her. She lifted him up to get the overused diaper off him and began to wipe him down. She rolled him to his side. She saw a pink area, very light but easy to see the handprint. Nothing in all, her life, not in twenty years as a mother, hurt as bad as this. It felt like someone was squeezing her heart. Her diaphragm cramped, and she sucked in air in painful swells. Her tears made his start again. She lifted him up, and he wrapped his legs around. He didn’t care if he was naked. They each had something they needed to give the other; Rebecca sank to the floor, holding him tighter than she ever had. They stayed liked that until they were both sure the other had cried all the horrible feelings out.

Chapter 15 “This was a good idea,” Becky said. Jamie sat upright in his stroller watching the houses pass by. He’d yet to leave the house except by car. Now he was seeing his neighborhood. The size of everything no longer impressed him. Everything had a suburban quality to it, wide lawns and fenced back yards. Occasionally a dog would bark from behind the fence as they passed by. Jamie hadn’t seen a dog yet. “Well, I haven’t left the house much.” “You weren’t up to it for a while. What do you want to do at the park?” “Um, maybe just people watch?” “That’s it? There’s playgrounds and sports fields.” Jamie knew that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to play on a playground. It seemed boring to him. He was more interested in just getting to see more Littles and Bigs. “We’ll see.” Paved walking paths threaded the park together. They entered near tennis courts, where a few people were volleying balls, and a concession stand that was closed. Two stone pavilions were across a small field. The trees were old; Jamie had once believed you could tell the strength of a community by the width of its trees. Old trees, old community, strong community. He stopped believing that years ago. They made a right down the walking path and came to the playground. A fountain spouted water to splash in; part of the playground was for ‘younger’ Littles; and part for older. “You wanna get out?” “Yes, please.” They sat on a bench. Becky felt a bit of a pang, wishing Jamie was like the Littles in front of them scrambling up fake rocks and sliding down slides. Not that she wanted a typical Little; she just wanted Jamie to be that carefree. Jamie was content to sit. A weekday morning. Women, Littles, a few very young Big children, just one man. The leaves filtered the perfect morning light, when the sun is still soft and the air so clear and heat hasn’t come yet. A tranquility about the place, and the people, too. Everyone rested, no one tired; friends known mostly by face, because they share these mornings alike in the faint recognition of how fragile they are; they die with the sun near its apogee; they die with the autumn; they die with the passage of time. The mothers with their own children, if they do not know it yet, will know it soon; no one ever learns kindly . No desert or ocean is as indifferent to suffering as the passage of time. It will not be reasoned with; it cannot be bargained with. But in the spaces of time we call memories, we grasp hold of the illusion of time arrested, and we can take back our moments, the golden and the dismal, and pretend for however long we can hold the memory that stillness is the natural state of things. So Jamie watched other people’s moments. The Littles running every direction, chasing each other, climbing, swinging, falling, getting back up again. Bigs helping them up or making sure they didn’t fall of or boosting them higher than they could go alone. Jamie doubted they would hold on to those memories. He’d do it for them. “What are you thinking about?” “How lucky they all are.” “Why are they lucky?” “Because they’re still at the point in life that these memories are cheap. Even too cheap.” “How so?” “You had mornings like this with Amanda?” “Lots.” “How many do you remember?” Becky leaned back against the bench thinking, this guy sure knows how to bum me out. Jamie pointed. Past the crowd was a man and his infant. He held his child up to the sunshine, and they smiled at one another. The toothless grin of a young child; the wrinkle at the eyes of a young father. Jamie needn’t keep that memory. “He’ll remember this one,” he said. Becky had a sudden urge to find some alone time with Amanda. They sat and watched some more. After another few minutes, a Little walked up to them and spoke to Becky, “Is he in timeout?” Jamie let out a single chuckle. He could see why people called him cute; he would have called this Little cute. “Hi, sweetie. No, he’s not in timeout. Why?” “Because he’s been sitting here forever.” They’d been there about fifteen minutes. “Well, no, he’s not in timeout.” “Can he come play then?” “You can ask him if he wants to.” The Little hadn’t yet said a word to Jamie. “Do you want to come play with us?” “Uh …” Did he? Becky smiled encouragingly at him and nodded. Jamie figured he’d watched all the people there were to watch today. The Little had a sly grin. “We’re playing tag – and you’re it!” He sprinted away. Jamie’s competitiveness overcame his shyness and sense of dignity, and he gave chase. The view struck a chord of his memory: rushing through a sea of tall legs, under a slide, between the swings, and into an open field. He’d done this before. Other Littles were on the field, and they recognized Jamie for what he was: It. What some of the other Littles lacked in coordination they made up for in the abandon with which they moved their bodies, as though falling at full speed or running into each other at full speed were not risks they considered as they ran from It. Jamie caught one, and his muscles remembered this tricky part of the game, tagging someone and dodging the immediate attempt of the new It to tag him while he was still close. She missed Jamie by a country mile. Becky pushed the stroller over to watch. A few other Bigs were gathered under a shade tree talking and laughing and watching and unobtrusively supervising. Becky wanted to join them, but she felt shy, because Bigs sometimes feel shy, too. She stood near the group but far enough away to not come off as a lurker. What she was hoping for happened pretty quick. “Hi! Which one is yours?” Becky pointed proudly to Jamie, who was trying to taunt It into chasing him some more. “The one in the red shorts.” “He’s a regular rabbit! Must run you ragged all day. I’m Stephanie.” “Rebecca, but please call me Becky.” “Do you want to come join us?” “I was hoping you’d ask. It’s our first time at the park.” “Oh! What a special day!” They walked to the group, and the conversation paused to let them in. “This is Becky. Today is her first day at the park.” That elicited smiles and happy oohs. Becky got introduced around: Kendalyn, Jess, Marie, Leah. “So how long since he arrived?” Becky already forgot which one she was. “The beginning of summer, almost.” “Why did you wait so long?” “He needed a little extra time to heal and adjust.” “Not mine; she was so out of it for the first three months I could’ve taken her to a dynamite plant and she wouldn’t have known what was happening.” “Well, welcome.” “Thank you. Are you guys here every day?” “Oh no. Not every day, but there’s always a group of moms under this tree in the morning.” Another one interjected. “This year it’s tag. Always a game of tag. What was it last summer?” “Bulldog.” “Summer before that it was Red Rover until that one Little tore her rotator cuff. Then it was Piggy in the Middle.” “Which one is yours?” Becky pointed him out. “There. Jamie.” One of the moms (Brenda, maybe?, Becky wondered), remarked, “He’s quite the athlete. He seems … very coordinated.” Becky liked the compliment. “Oh, you should see him swim! I can’t even keep up with him.” A couple of heads cocked to the side. Becky realized what they were thinking and felt judged. “You … let him swim? Alone?” “Well, he’s very good at it,” Becky responded. “But isn’t that a little dangerous,” another said. “Well, good for you. Personally, I could never do that.” Becky knew a backhanded compliment when it hit her in the face. “I don’t think you understand. Jamie isn’t regressed.” Becky felt an urge to be accepted by this group, or at least to not be made to feel like a bad mom. The one woman cocked her head again and took a moment to process the idea of an unregressed Little. “Oh. That’s … an interesting choice.” The woman turned back to the game. On the inside, Becky was outraged. Who does this bitch Brenda think she is? It is Brenda, right? The game was winding up. All the Littles looked tired. A few spotted the group, including Jamie, and walked over. Becky went into the diaper bag and came out with a bottle of water and a wet wipe. Jamie, winded, accepted the bottle and drank hard. “You are quite a sight Jamie,” Becky said as she wiped his face. “You need another bath when we get home.” That sounded great to Jamie. The Little who had invited Jamie to play walked over. “Thanks for playing with us, Jamie. Hey, Mom, this is Jamie. He’s really fast.” Brenda, maybe, was apparently his. “I saw.” She looked at Jamie and then knelt down next to the boy. “Maybe even too fast to be playing with this crowd.” Becky understood now; she never got it before, but now she understood what drove people to use the C word. “Can Jamie come over and play some time?” “We’ll see.” She led him away. Becky was shocked. She hadn’t considered people would judge a Little for not being regressed, nor had she ever expected to be Big-shamed. When she was over being shocked, she was indignant. “What a fucking bitch,” she said slowly, annunciating each syllable. Now Jamie looked shocked. “Rebecca!” It was cute to hear him scold her. Eyes were on Becky again. At least one pair looked unamused, one of the other ones who had spoken up when Becky said Jamie swam alone. She put her Little in their stroller and walked away. “Don’t worry about it,” Stephanie interjected. “They’d be talking behind your back if you had last season’s diaper bag.” Becky felt thankful for Stephanie saying something encouraging, though she wished she’d have stood up for her earlier. “What’s their deal?” Stephanie looked at Becky and Jamie and back to Becky. “Hey, Jamie, my Little, Beth, is playing in fountain. Becky, do you mind if Jamie goes to meet Beth?” Becky and Jamie looked at each other, then Stephanie. “Why don’t you, Jamie?” Jamie would have preferred to hear what Stephanie had to say, but he doubted she’d say it with him there. Maybe Becky would fill him in later. When he was out of ear shot, Stephanie told her. “Some people don’t think unregressed Littles belong here.” “At the park?” “No, honey. In Itali.” This was news to Becky. She hadn’t given it any thought. Now, she felt more than judged. She felt wounded, and worse for Jamie. “But … he’s still a Little.” She hadn’t ever felt this way. Stephanie stepped forward and rubbed her arm. “Some people think unregressed Littles belong in countries where … where they can be ‘controlled’ more. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Sadness, anger, fear. “I just thought … everyone sees him like any other Little.” “O, Becky. They do! It’s not a lot of people who feel that way; they’re very few. I know that doesn’t count for anything when you meet one of them.” Becky looked distraught. “Hey, Becky?” Becky looked up. “Repeat after me. Will you?” Becky nodded. “Fuck. That. Shit.” Becky let a short laugh out. “Uh uh, Becky. Gotta say it.” Becky lifted her chin and announced it: “Fuck. That. Shit!” Stephanie rubbed her shoulder again. “There ya go! And I think Jamie is pretty awesome; he’s welcome to play with Beth whenever her wants.” Becky let out a breath. “Thank you, Stephanie. That means a lot right now.” “’Steph’ is better.” “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it. Wadduya think? Time to round up our Littles?” “Yes. Get him home and cleaned up.” They found Beth in the fountain still and Jamie seated in the sun, his clothes soaked through. “Can’t keep you away from water, can I? I want you to meet Steph.” Jamie stood up. “Hi, Steph.” “Hi, kiddo. Feel better after the fountain?” “Much. Beth is very nice.” “Good! I’m glad the two of you got to meet. Will we see you at the park again some time?” Becky answered for him. “Definitely. Ready to go home, Jamie?” They walked away from the playground back toward the tennis courts and stopped. Becky fished a t-shirt out of the diaper bag to dry Jamie as best she could. “Maybe next time we’ll bring your bathing suit. Or at least a towel.” “Yeah ... I guess I didn’t think about that. I just wanted to cool off.” “We’ll get you cleaned up and in a no saturated diaper as soon as we get home.” She lifted him into the stroller for the walk back home. Jamie felt the squish of the water in his diapered and cringed. Too cold. “Did you have fun?” “I did.” “Bet you didn’t think you’d enjoy that, did you?” “No, I don’t think I’ve run like that in a long time. Who was that woman you called a … you know?” “Her? She’s nothing. Nothing at all.” Becky felt satisfied with that answer. Stephanie’s mantra seemed perfect for people like Brenda or whatever her name was. She knew it did nothing to fix prejudice, but in the moment, it felt good to think it and better to say it. She expected to see those women again at the park; she didn’t know what she’d say or do then, only that it would be anything she had to do to protect Jamie from those hateful people. Whether she should explain it to him, she wasn’t sure. “Did I surprise you with what I said?” “Yeah. I’ve never heard you say things like that.” “Well, do as I say and not as I do.” “What did Steph say to you that she didn’t want me to hear?” “Nothing you need to worry about. My problem, not yours.” Jamie figured it at least involved him. “You sure?” “Positive.” They walked in silence for another two blocks. “Hey, Jamie? I guess you know summer is almost over.” “I figured.” “I’m going to have to go back to work soon, and Amanda will have classes.” Jamie saw where this was going. “I know.” Enough for one morning, Becky decided. “How about we talk about it tomorrow?” “That’s fine.” He yawned and wondered how many miles he ran and at what pace. “I trust you have it all figured out.”

Long update. And past my bedtime, and no one is here to change me but me. Drat. ______________________________________________ Chapter 14 “Honey, you can’t keep doing this.” Tish watched Cheryl bag up another departure’s belongings. She was out cold in the waiting area, ready for her trip. “What? I’m not doing anything.” “Oh, so you’re not sitting in your office with the door closed seven hours a day? And you didn’t lose ten pounds in two months? My mistake.” “How would you know about my office? You’re never even in that building.” “Because people talk.” “They shouldn’t.” “But they do. And you’re making it worse, because they don’t know. They think you’re sick. Except Matt – he thinks you’re abusing pills.” “Matt’s a dipshit.” Tish wasn’t getting anywhere. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t know Cheryl well; they didn’t spend time together outside of work. But everyone’s a friend if they care even a little. She placed her hand on Cheryl’s shoulder. “Stop! Just for a minute.” Cheryl shrugged and rolled her eyes. She’d humor Tish. “Fine. I’ve stopped.” “Sit down.” They each took a chair. There were always at least two chairs in these rooms. One for the case worker and another in case someone came to see the person off. Cheryl always wondered what that must be like. It was parents who came, mostly; they didn’t understand. They questioned what they’d done wrong. Rarely a significant other; not many who had someone like that in their lives wanted to leave. Friends, sometimes. Only close friends. She wondered sometimes about the sense of abandonment they must feel, but if they were here it was because they were supportive, sometimes to a fault. Tish placed her hand on Cheryl’s leg and used a soft voice. “Why don’t you go see him?” “Who says that’s the problem?” Cheryl knew, though, that she all but admitted it by not questioning who ‘him’ was. “I was in the room. Alright? Stop with the bullshit.” Cheryl looked away from Tish and shook her head. She'd held this in for so many weeks, and all it took was Tish to poke the dam to make it come out. “Did I make the wrong decision? We send people there every day because they want to go. He just wanted the pain to stop. Maybe I could have helped him here.” “It wasn’t your decision. You followed the guidelines. The doctors cleared him. They said he was making this choice without influence from depression. And he did want to go.” “He asked a lot of questions, a lot more than most.” “So he’s smarter than most.” “Did I talk him into it, though? Did he want to go there or leave here?” “He said he wanted to go, he went through every step, he signed every consent. His motives aren’t a part of the guidelines.” “Then maybe they should be. Other motives are part of the guidelines. If he’d been running away from creditors, we’d have stopped it … I was responsible for him.” “You were responsible for carrying out his wishes based on the guidelines. It’s not your job to save people from themselves.” “I should have slowed it down.” “It took five months.” “I should have slowed it down and gotten him help here.” “That’s not your job.” “So add that to my job description then!” Cheryl was getting angry, at what she couldn’t say. “Fuck! I … my god, it’s like … fuck the job. If this was about the job, I wouldn’t feel this way.” “And how do you feel?” “Like … Like I’m an awful person, because I held my friend’s hand while he …” She’d been torturing herself with this analogy for those eight weeks but never said it out loud. “Cheryl …” Tish felt exasperated, and scared for her; she thought she knew what Cheryl didn’t say, and she understood why she couldn’t. Tish didn’t want to say it; she didn’t even want to acknowledge the thought. “He may be very happy where he is.” “His last letter didn’t exactly seem like it. He’s not written in a while; just the once.” “Maybe he’s having too much fun.” “That’s not his strong suit.” “So write and ask him.” “I can’t.” “Because you feel guilty?” “No … because I can’t dump my emotions on him. That’d be a shitty thing to do. ‘Here: do you mind carrying my issues plus your own that were so bad they drive you off the planet?’ I’m … I can’t do that to him. That would make a good situation bad, or a bad situation worse.” “You vetted those people.” “I’m not worried about them. Just, the whole experience. Did I just give him a new place to be miserable in? Or even more miserable? Damn near everyone else goes regressed. He’s there with all the crap in his head he left with and god knows what else is new.” “When’s his first home visit?” “Another month.” “So move it up. You’ll know when you read the file.” Cheryl shook her head. It went beyond just him. If she'd done this to him, had she done it to others? Tish saw she hadn’t gotten through. Cheryl would move up the home visit, but Tish doubted whether that would make her feel any better. “Cheryl, you miss him. You can invent every reason for why you should feel like a monster, but isn’t it possible you just miss him, and you’re making yourself suffer for it? Just go see him.” Cheryl’s eyes weren’t focused on anything in the room. “It’s too early. I’d just break his routine.” “Then move up the home visit or send a letter or get over it. And go eat an actual meal.” Tish left the room to take care of her next patient. ­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________ “I need to go to the grocery store this morning. Want to come,” Amanda asked. Jamie could eat solid food again, mostly soft food but he looked forward to chewing his lunch. “You can help pick out some things for yourself.” “Yeah! I never thought I’d get tired of pudding, but I’m through with it.” Pudding with protein powder. Pureed fruit. Protein shakes. Pudding with protein powder. Pureed fruit. Not that it didn’t taste good, but he missed variety, and there was something about chewing – he’d never noticed it before – that made a meal more satisfying. “How about a bath when you get back? It’ll be less crowded if we go now.” Jamie hadn’t ridden in Amanda’s car yet. It had a car seat just like Becky’s. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hear her very well, and the restraints did their job; he could only lean forward so much. They arrived at the store, and the parking lot seemed immense. Jamie estimated it had the same number of spots as a large grocery store back home, but the cars were so much bigger. The manicured trees on the concrete islands were bigger, too. “Do you mind riding in the cart?” “No.” Jamie liked having the independence to walk, but he felt he was always rushing to keep up, or else they were slowing down for him. He could only rush so long before he got tired. Amanda took a cart from the return and put Jamie in. She looked at the way he was seated. It seemed off. “I think this is for a Big child. I’m going to put the seat belt on you just in case.” Everything felt oversized to Jamie, but it did seem there was too much room for him in there. Jamie wasn’t a big fan of riding in carts, even if it beat speed walking to keep up, he decided. This was only his second time in one. He didn’t like the sensation of moving backward and not seeing where he was going. Nor did he like the rough ride over the asphalt. When the door slid open and the cart was on tile, it was much more comfortable. “Hey Manda? How come we don’t leave the house more?” “Well, a few reasons. There are some diseases you’re vulnerable to until your vaccinations are done. But mostly we just wanted to give you time to adjust. It must be hard to be in a world so different from your own, and the culture is different, and … well, we didn’t want to put you in what could be uncomfortable situations until we knew you better. Why? Do you want to go out more?” “Well, yeah. It’s nice, in a way, when everything is the same, but sometimes I get bored. I’ve read through my books. I’m getting really good at art and building with blocks now. It would just be nice to do something else. And I don’t even know where we live.” “We’ll make a point of it then. Let’s make a list later of places to go.” Amanda loaded the cart with staples while Jamie looked around. People were concentrating on their own stuff. He saw other Littles riding like he was or in car seats balanced above the seat of the cart. He only saw a few Big children. “How come there are so few Big children. At the beach, too. I don’t think there were any.” “That beach is Littles only a few days a week. Most Bigs send their kids to camp here in the summer. It’s a cultural thing, I guess. I think it’s less common in the rural areas. You’ll see more of them when school starts.” “How do kids feel about people like me?” Amanda wanted to phrase this right. Big children varied just like Big adults did in their reaction to Littles, but for different reasons, reasons not easy to describe without insulting Jamie. “Uh, it depends on how old the kid is. By the time they’re around 8, they’re usually fine with Littles. And teens babysit Littles; teen girls especially dote on Littles. But …” Was there a good way to say this? “By the time a Big is about 3 years old, they’re as tall as a Little and heavier. Have you, um, ever seen a kid that young with a puppy?” Jamie blanched, less at being compared to a puppy than the fact that he had seen kids that young and what they unintentionally did to puppies sometimes. It was a mixture of mental and physical development. Kids that young don’t always understand a pet is not a stuffed animal, and when they do, they may not have the gross motor skills to be gentle with a pet even when they mean to be. Amanda looked at his face. “So you have then. People are very careful about young children and Littles. It would be rare you’d be left alone with anyone under 6, even if there was one in the family.” It made Jamie think about something. “So what do Big kids play with? Big baby dolls, or Little dolls?” “Both.” “Hmm.” Jamie twisted around to see what was in the cart so far. “So what kinds of things can I eat now?” “’Soft mechanical’ is what the doctor’s instructions say. So soft solids. Any special requests?” “Cheese.” “Cheese?” “I’ve been craving cheese.” Amanda laughed. “Would you like to put it on something?” So they went and got bread and pasta. Peanut butter. Soup. Eggs. Ground meat. Oatmeal. “Ice cream,” he asked. “I was betting you were going to say that.” Amanda crisscrossed the store, going back to get the things she had forgotten or that he remembered. They were about done. “So I’m having some friends over this afternoon,” Amanda said as she put a few snack items in the cart. “You don’t have to hang out with us if you don’t want. But if you do you can skip your afternoon nap.” Jamie felt a bit irritated. This seemed like it was bring sprung on him. But then he knew it was unreasonable for them to run everything by him. They had to return to a normal routine at some point. He couldn’t be the only thing in their lives. “Who are they?” “Mel and Donna. Just some friends I grew up with; we go to school together now.” “Anything I should know about them?” “That they’ve been begging to meet you. I send them pictures sometimes.” Jamie got more and more comfortable with her taking candid photos on her phone. Hardly a day went by when she didn’t take at least one. “Who else do you send photos to?” “Uncle Danny and Aunt Laurie.” “I’m not on the internet, am I?” “Nope. Mom and I talked about that. We didn’t think it was right to put you out there for everyone to see without your permission.” “Good.” “They’re coming for lunch, and we’re just gonna hang out in the back yard. Here’s the Little food aisle.” Sandwiched between the pet food aisle and baby food aisle. Jamie took some offense at the implication. I’m not a pet or a baby, he thought. “What’s the difference?” “Little food is made just for Littles. It’s … I guess it’s made so that Littles like it. Anything you want to try?” He looked at the packages. They were brightly colored and had cartoons on them and looked not unlike packaging for kids back home. Jamie had no idea who the characters were. He hadn’t watched any cartoons; hardly any TV at all. “Are those soft enough?” Jamie pointed to a package of cookies. Amanda looked at the back of the box. “It says they’re ‘chewy,’ so I guess they are. Let’s give ‘em a try. I think that’s everything.” They had enough groceries for at least a week and one afternoon picnic. They had too much for self-checkout, so they had to wait in line. Jamie looked across at the other lanes. Once in his career, he took a week off for a staycation. He went to the park each morning that week; it was September, a good month to be out each morning in a park. He’d people watch. He realized he’d found a subculture he knew nothing about. The park was busy each morning. There were some retirees, but otherwise it was moms with kids under school age or women, usually in pairs or small groups, on the walking trail together. Jamie hadn’t known stay-at-home parents growing up, and none of the families he worked with had a stay-at-home parent. He’d just never thought of it before, but here was a space without a man between the ages of 6 and 70. Not that he didn’t know these women worked hard; he was acutely aware of it; they just didn’t get paid for the work they did. The park in the morning just stood out to him because it was a part of the daily life of the city he never saw. He liked it. The day was fresh, the dew was still on the grass, the sun was still climbing, the air was warm but with a foretaste of fall. He was jealous just because these people got to be outside at such a perfect time of the day, whereas he was made to feel guilty if he left the building to eat lunch away from his desk. Everyone seemed happy those morning in the park, from the babies in strollers to the little kids on the playgrounds to the moms with their morning latte and the speed-walkers lapping the park on the trail. “Can we go to the park tomorrow?” “Sure.” “Find everything alright,” the checker asked. Jamie always wondered back home what would happen if for once he said no. The checker was a woman on the late side of middle age with a broad smile. She must like mornings, too, Jamie thought. “What’s your name, little guy?” Jamie was about to answer, but she made it obvious she didn’t expect him to. “Huh? What’s your name?” He bristled. “And why the unhappy face? Need some dry pants?” Jamie opened his mouth to respond, then decided against it. What was the point? In a few minutes they’d be out of here. Did it matter what she thought? Amanda watched to see what would happen, prepared to jump in if needed. Instead, the checker finished their order, and the bagger put it into the bags they’d brought, Amanda paid, and they went on their way with mutual thank yous. Amanda got him situated in the car and loaded the groceries up. She appeared back at the door when she was done. “Here. Have a cookie.” She was hold out one of the Little cookies they’d bought. “Thanks.” He took the cookie. “Why?” “Because you did a good job by not getting angry with that woman. Did you want to?” He shrugged. “At first.” “And then?” “I decided it didn’t make a difference … and that I should get used to most people who don’t know me treating me like that. She didn’t mean anything by it.” “Good boy,” she said as she ruffled his hair. She quickly felt his crotch, which spoiled the moment slightly for Jamie, but, he thought, she was right about the one thing. Amanda backed out of the space and had them on their way back home. “Uhmmmm!” came from the back seat. “What?” “This cookie is so good. Seriously, what do they put in the food here? I wonder what this tastes like dipped in formula. Or put the two in a blender…” ­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________ Jamie had his morning nap after his bath. Amanda let him sleep longer in case he wanted to be with her and her friends for the afternoon. “Where’s Becky?” “You’re just now noticing?” “Well, I’m good at other things besides noticing.” “She’s at school for a meeting. She’ll be home before dinner. … So fair warning; Donna is Little crazy,” Amanda said as she got him dressed. “She’s a little crazy?” “Ha! No, I mean she really, really likes Littles. As in she’ll probably pay more attention to you than me today.” “In a good way? Or is she going to babble at me like a moron?” “No, she knows you’re not regressed. I think that made her even more curious.” “Hmmm.” “Feel free to pretend you’re scared and cling to me if you need a break from her … of course, she’ll probably think you’re even cuter for that.” “Cute” was not a word used to describe Jamie, not that he could remember. He had a hard time picturing it. Back home, kids were cute, he thought some women he knew were cute, couples were cute (sometimes to the point of sickeningly cute), puppies and dogs were cute, kittens were cute and cats were not, Christmas decorations were cute. He never thought to apply the term to other men, but then, he was straight. But he also never thought to apply the term to himself. He’d been insecure about his appearance. Not that he wasn't reasonably good looking, but just that he didn’t look exceptional, and he didn’t carry himself with confidence, and he never got much attention from the opposite sex. “Cute.” “What’s that?” “Me, apparently.” He made him feel good, but also, like always, he never was uncomfortable with compliments. A nagging part of him always suspected they weren’t sincere. “Yeah, you are,” Amanda said as she tickled his tummy. Jamie laughed in response; Amanda was always sincere. “They’ll be here soon. We’re just gonna cook lunch on the grill and probably lay out in the sun.” They went to kitchen so Amanda could prepare some drinks. The doorbell rang; Jamie stayed in the kitchen while Amanda went to answer it. He heard the creak of the hinges. “Hey, guys …” “Hi, Amanda. Is he awake, can I see him?” Donna was walking past Amanda as the words came out. “She needs a boyfriend or something,” Mel said, rolling her eyes. “Yeah … or something. Come on in.” As Mel walked past her, Donna let it be known she had found Jamie. “Oh my god! Here he is! You are so darling!” She had one hand pressed demurely to her chest in what looked like an overacted middle school drama class production of Gone With The Wind. Jamie leaned back in his chair trying to keep some distance from the gushing she-giant who was acting like she’d found a duckling in an Easter basket. He wished he was in the high chair; at least he’d be strapped in, and there’d be a tray between her and him. She starting leaning toward him to pick him up. Well that just ain’t happening, he quickly thought. “Amanda!” “Oh, shit …” Amanda trotted to the kitchen and pivoted around Donna; in the moment Donna looked over her shoulder to see who was there, Amanda reached in from behind Jamie and lifted him out of the chair and onto her hip. It was athletic, a mix between a basketball player ducking around a defender and an outfielder snatching away a home run from above. “Donna,” Amanda said, a little light for breath, “Good to see you.” Mel came in and made for the pitcher on the counter, pouring herself a drink and watching the scene unfold. “You too! I can see why I haven’t seen you all summer. I wouldn’t leave this little guy’s side either.” She turned her attention back to Jamie. “I’m Donna.” She put that hand back to her chest again when she said it; Jamie cocked an eye brow up. “And you and I are gonna be bestest buddies.” Jamie turned to whisper in Amanda’s ear. “I think I was right.” “About what,” she whispered back. “She is a little crazy.” Amanda laughed before she could stop herself, and Mel must have heard it to because she nearly did a spit take. “What’d he say,” Donna obliviously asked. “Oh, nothing. He’s just shy with new people.” “He just finds you weird is all”, Jamie said under his breath. Amanda patted his butt. Did I say that out loud, Jamie thought. Oops. “The shy ones are the cutest ones, amiright?” Jamie leaned back so he could see behind Amanda to Mel. Jamie was a smitten immediately. She had red hair. Jamie had a thing for red hair, especially the way she wore it short and sporty. “Hi, Jamie. I’m Melissa, but everyone calls me ‘Mel.’ It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand. Jamie took it and blushed. “I’m called … Jamie.” She knows that, stupid. He tried to find something else to say. “I like your … sunglasses. On your shirt, there, hanging.” You are such a schmuck. Mel smiled back. “Thank you.” It wasn’t a condescending smile; it was sympathetic and genuine. There was an awkward pause. “Well,” Amanda filled the silence, “Should we carry some trays outside and start the grill? Donna, do you mind taking the fruit salad?” she cut her off before she could “offer” to carry Jamie. Mel took the pitcher, glasses and cheese tray. Amanda stayed behind for a moment. “Still want to hang with us?” “Yeah,” Jamie replied. “I’ll even let her hold me, if she calms down.” “That’s sweet of you. I’ll try to get her chill. Mind carrying something?” Jamie shook his head, and she set him down. He took the tongs, some plates and bowls, and some silverware. She took the chicken from the fridge. They walked through the breezeway and out to the backyard. Mel had started the grill. Food was on the table, and the umbrella was up. Amanda set her plate down, and took Jamie’s things from him. Jamie was only interested in one thing. With a leap, he pushed himself into a chair at the table, reached as far he could across, and with the tips of his fingers pulled the plate of cheese toward himself. Cheese; yum. Mel sat down across from him, and Donna, to no one’s surprise, sat down next to him. “So Jamie,” Mel started, “How do you like your new life so far?” He felt Donna staring a hole into the side of his head; he side-eyed her. Maybe this will snap her out of it, he thought. “Actually, Mel, I prefer to think of it not as a new life but instead as a new chapter in the larger narrative of my story. It’s not unlike Homer’s Odyssey in that regard, not a new epic but the continuation of Odysseus’s arc from the martial battlefield to the marital battlefield, both of which he must survive to reclaim his home from the usurping suitors who would steal his wife and his throne.” Mel nodded seriously. “I can dig that.” She was in on the joke, though he had no idea if they knew of Homer here. “Donna, any thoughts on Jamie’s analysis?” “So, Jamie, which is your favorite?” Donna nodded toward the swing set and the sand box. At this point, Jamie was curious. Was there anything he could say that would get her to take him seriously without hitting her over the head with it. “Ya know, I’ve always been partial to the fence.” “The fence?” “The fence. Do you know why?” “No.” “I don’t know either. Something about fences. Like ‘em; always have. Wood, vinyl, picket, privacy, wrought iron, split rail – never met a fence I didn’t see and say, ‘I like that fence.’ In fact, gimme a fence over a wall any day, because I like walls too, but that is how partial I am to fences.” Jamie was a great straight man. He looked and sounded perfectly in earnest. He expected at some point she would start laughing, or at least call his bluff or pick up the sarcasm. “I can push you on the swings later.” Jamie cocked his eyebrow up again. It’s just bizarre, he thought. Back home, if a kid as young as she supposed him to be had recited that soliloquy, he liked to think he would’ve picked up on something not being quite right. Even Amanda, standing next to the grill, was fascinated by the exchange. She could see what Jamie was trying to do; else she’d be telling not be rude to guests. “Maybe after lunch. Jamie, what would you like to drink?” “May I have some cranberry juice, diluted with some water.” “Sure, I know the way you like it.” “And Amanda?” He didn’t want to say it out loud, so he held his hand up high with his palm turned down, hoping she’d figure it out. “Please.” It only took her a second. She nodded. “Of course.” “So,” Mel continued, “Anyway … I see you like cheese.” “Ha! Today is the first day since I’ve been here that I could eat solid foods.” “Why is that?” “I had surgery to repair some stomach ulcers.” “Oh my goodness,” Donna interrupted in a squeak. “And,” he spoke over her, “I have to ease my way back to regular food. I’ve been thinking about what I want to eat, and for some reason I wanted cheese.” “Simple pleasures, right?” Jamie nodded. This was a person he could relate to. The conversation paused there. Jamie was a keen observer. He remembered every time he was in a room with a baby, the kid would magnetically draw everyone’s eyes. A whole dinner table of adults would manage to speak to each other without looking at each other, all taking in the wonder that is a new human being. Jamie was the same, but when he looked at a baby or any child, he was also fascinated by the physical processes occurring in the child’s brain, the networks and synapses being built and retired, the learning and shaping of a mind happening so fast in front of him. He wondered how the baby would feel if they knew everyone was staring at him. He suspected they wouldn’t appreciate it because as soon as kids become aware of that, they don’t like it. Mel had one foot on the other chair and was leaning back, exposing her face and neck to the sun. Donna was just looking at him. Jamie decided to walk around the yard to get away from gaze, or at least far enough away he couldn't feel it. He got outof the chair and walked into the grass barefoot. The grass was green and lush when he got here. Now it was equal parts green and brown, and it was dry. Summer does that to grass. If Becky was at a meeting at school, and the grass was this baked, summer must be coming to a close soon, he knew. He walked over to the swing set; it was his size, not a Big size. He found he liked swinging. If he put some effort into it, it was an okay workout. He even launched himself into the air sometimes; the first time, he was thrilled to see how durable his body felt. He wouldn’t have done that prior to coming here. He stood under the bar and jumped to grab it. He wanted to let the weight of his body stretch out his arms, shoulders, and back. He caught the bar easily. It was only a foot and half above his head. “Jamie! No!” Donna shouted, literally shouted, as though he were stepping into traffic and only stern scolding could stop him long enough for her to physically intervene. Mel was almost startled out of her chair. Amanda reached the back door at the same time Donna reached Jamie. “Donna!” Amanda shouted louder, just before Donna put her hands on him. “He’s allowed!” It brought her up short. Jamie, who was facing away from them all, couldn’t believe the commotion he – no, she – managed to cause from the moment she walked in the door. “But he could fall!” She turned half an eye over her shoulder, keeping her focus on Jamie and her hands out just in case. Jamie stayed where he was, his eyes turning side to side, wondering once more what biology or chauvinism or both motivated some Bigs to be like Donna. Amanda lifted the high chair over the threshold of the door frame. “But he doesn’t! And if he did, he’s less than two feet from the ground.” Donna looked as though she were facing a great moral dilemma: trust her friend or trust every instinct she had to protect this Little. Jamie was facing his own dilemma: his arms were now burning in protest, but he didn’t want to let go, just to make a point. They started to quiver. “Just, please, come back to the table. He’s fine.” Consigned to Jamie’s likely fate to fall and break his leg and have it amputated and develop gangrene and die so horribly, Donna sulked back to the table. When he knew she was out of arm’s reach, he let go. Amanda put Jamie’s glass on the table between her own seat and Mel’s. Jamie opted to stay out of it, as did Mel. She joined him in the yard. “Sorry about her. She doesn’t mean anything by it.” Jamie sighed. He wasn’t angry with Donna, but that excuse was getting old. “No one does. What about you? You’re not like that obviously.” “No. But that’s not to say I don’t like Littles and look out for them when they need it, or that you’re as cute and clever as Amanda says.” “What does Amanda say about me?” “Nothing she hasn’t told you. She loves you a lot.” “Yeah.” Jamie wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel odd knowing he could cause such intense emotions so quickly. On the other hand … “I love her a lot, too.” “I hope you tell her that every day.” In fact, Jamie had yet to say that to her. “Hey, want to really get back at Donna? Sit on my lap while we eat.” “That’s funny, but no, I don’t want to get back at her. And I don’t want to be mean.” “Looks like they’re done talking. Take my hand, at least?” “To be mean?” “No, just because we’re friends now.” On the patio, Mel stepped away, and Donna got down on one knee so she could look at Jamie face to face. “Jamie, I’m sorry for acting the way I have. I didn’t see you for who you are. Do you forgive me?” Of course he did, but Jamie hated that trick. She didn’t know it was a trick, but he knew: when someone asks you to forgive them, the only time saying no doesn’t turn you into the asshole is when the person asking forgiveness did something really egregious. “Of course I do. Why don’t we just start over? My name is Jamie.” She smiled, a little too enthusiastically, but small steps. “Nice to meet you, Jamie. I’m Donna.” Mel leaned into Amanda and asked, “Do you ever get the sense they understand us a lot better than we understand them?” “Oh, definitely. One the things I like about Littles; they make it very hard to be dishonest with ourselves.” “Geez,” Mel quietly exclaimed. “What?” “You’re practically a whole different person than you were at the start of the summer.” “And what, you don’t like it?” “No, I like it a lot.” “Well, they’re talking to one another and it doesn’t look like he’s trying to get her to make an ass of herself, so there’s that.” Amanda put the chicken on the grill, and Mel headed inside to get the salad out of the fridge. Amanda helped Jamie into this high chair and snapped the tray on before serving him some fruit salad. “I think I missed them, but be careful about seeds and skins. You still can’t eat those for a while. Donna, fruit?” “Thank you.” Amanda served up a bowl. “Jamie, can I ask you something?” “Sure.” “I’m surprised you use a high chair, being so … independent.” Jamie looked down at himself for a moment. “I don’t always, but this table is higher. Now I can see you when I talk to you.” “Oh. That makes sense.” Still, she was more used to Littles resisting a high chair. ­­­­­­­______________________________________________________________________________ When lunch was done, everyone helped clear the table, even Jamie, and they did the dishes. “Go make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll be out in a minute,” Amanda said. They did, and Jamie followed her into his room. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it. How’s your diaper?” She asked and checked at the same time. “Eh, you’d be more comfortable dry.” Jamie was less and less bothered by it; he found it easier to go in almost any position and anywhere in the house, even while being held. Like always, they talked while she worked. “What did you say to Donna?” “To stop and see you as an individual, not a generic Little. Thanks again for being so mature about it.” “Well, you and Becky both told me to, when people act like that. I still don’t understand it. Never mind me being a Little; the way I talked to her, I was trying to see if she’d just recognize I’m not … ‘dumb’ isn’t the right word. Developmentally immature. How do people not see it when they actually see it? The checker assumed, but shouldn’t Donna have known it before she even got here?” The change was over, but he laid there looking up, and she leaned with her palms on the table looking down. “I honestly don’t know.” “It’s bizarre. Like a total mental block. But not when you explained it to her. She listened to you and not me.” “I think that’s just a part of it; people like that acknowledge what I say because I'm a Big, and they dismiss or don't even hear you because you're a Little. Ya know, it’s gonna happen a lot more. The more people you meet, it’ll just happen more.” “I know.” “How will you deal with it?” “Roll with it like the checker when I’m not going to see them again, and try to correct it the other times. And take the path that causes me the least trouble when that doesn’t work. I can ignore them better than they can ignore me, I think.” She nodded approvingly. “And Mom and I will help you when we can. We’re going to lay in the sun. You wanna come back out or take a nap in here? Or take a nap out there?” “I’ll come back out, and maybe fall asleep.” “I have my two piece on under this, and so do they. Want your clothes back on, or … I have something that will cover your diaper but not as much of as you as shorts.” Jamie sighed for he didn’t know how many times that day. “Sure. Guess I need to get used to others seeing me like this. They don’t seem to care.” “Of course they don’t.” The expect me to wear this, even Mel. Amanda went into the top dresser drawer and pulled out a light blue, satin diaper cover. She slipped it up his legs. “That looks pretty good on you.” Jamie reached down to feel it. He liked the way it slipped so smoothly over this diaper. “Thank you.” “C’mon. Grab your sunglasses.” They got back out to the yard to find four towels laid out and Mel and Donna on two of them. Jamie and Amanda did this most days; he knew the procedure and sat down as the end of her towel for her to apply sunscreen on him. When she was done, he moved to his own towel. “You gonna fall asleep?” “Probably.” She leaned over and whispered to him. He nodded. Amanda got up and went over to Donna, and whispered in her ear. She nodded vigorously. Donna moved her towel next to Jamie’s, who was flat on his stomach and already feeling more tired that he had just a few minutes ago. Donna laid down next to Jamie, and very gently she ran her fingers up and down his back. That did the trick. Jamie was asleep within five minutes. Mel already was.

I haven’t finished this, but it’s well written and I like it.

Who else had a long Thursday? Not much here tonight. I had some bigger moments planned, but that would just be pushing the story along too fast. I think this brings the chapter the right conclusion, and more is ahead for them. ________________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 4 (the last part of the chapter) When they got back home, they emptied out the car into the driveway to shake out the sand before putting things away. “Why don’t you go wait in your room while we take care of this. You look a little overheated,” Becky said. He did feel flushed. He wasn’t sunburnt, but he did have a glow, felt more than seen. The sun, the saltwater, the exercise. He felt drowsy. “He had quite a day,” Amanda said, “And so did we.” “I think I’m at least as tired as he is,” Becky replied. “Did Jane say anything about him?” “Not really. Other than thinking he’s the cutest Little boy she’s ever seen, but she’d say that no matter who we brought home.” “I’m glad you have good friends, Mom.” “Do you think Rosie had fun?” “I think she has fun anywhere, but if you’re asking if she had fun with Jamie, yeah. But I don’t think she seems him as her peer.” Setting down the chairs in the basement, Becky groaned, “Ough! I just want to get this salt off me.” She stretched her arms toward the ceiling and yawned. Amanda knew how hard a day it had been for her mom. An emotional gut punch in so many ways. What happened next wasn’t clear to Amanda, so she knew it wasn’t clear to her mom. Like she had said, ‘play it by ear.’ For her own part, Amanda wasn’t troubled by the day; she was comfortable with the uncertainty, but then, she knew most of what they discussed that day. For her mom, it was a mix of the old and hurtful and the new and worse. “Go take a shower. I’ll get Jamie cleaned up.” “Thanks. How about just salad for dinner? I’ll fix it while you’re in the shower.” “Sounds perfect. I feel too drained for anything hot.” They walked up the stairs together, and Becky went up the second floor while Amanda went to Jamie’s room. He was sitting his chair with his eyes half closed trying to read his book and struggling to concentrate and comprehend. Amanda’s nose twitched. “Did you save that just for me? How very thoughtful of you.” Jamie knew what she was reference. As a matter of fact, he thought, I did. “You know the routine.” He pulled himself out of his chair, and Amanda scooped him up and placed him on the changing table in nearly one movement. “Let’s just stirp you now. Arms up.” She pulled off his t-shirt, unbuckled and removed his sandals, and pulled off his shorts. “Did you have a good day, buddy?” She opened up the tub of wipes and placed one on his forehead and used another to wipe the warmth and stickiness from his face. “Ooh, that feels good. It was a great day. Thanks so much.” He paused, holding the wipe, no longer cool, over his eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Aww. Buddy,” she said as she leaned in, “I’d fall to pieces without you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s get that yucky diaper off you and then how about a cool bath.” Jamie was too tired to help much, so Amanda did the heavy lifting. These times were becoming the time when they had important conversations. He already felt vulnerable but safe. “How come you didn’t tell me Rosie was regressed?” “What do you mean by regressed?” “I mean … you know what I mean. She has the mind of a toddler.” “Rose came here only slightly regressed.” “You mean she chose to be regressed further?” “No. She just … became that way, over time. I think she reached this point maybe after five years.” “But, how?” All clean, she carried him naked to the bathroom and filled the tub; he settled into the lukewarm water. “I think you misunderstand. She’s developmentally no different than when she came here. She just behaves like that.” That made less sense. Jamie wasn’t sure if his next question should be why or how. “But, how?” “She chose to, or chooses to. I’m not sure which.” “So she’s faking it?” “No. She … what makes you think she’s acting like a toddler?” Jamie’s face showed how obvious the answer was. “Uh, the way she talks; that she spent most of the morning making a pile of sand; the way she seems … I don’t know … not fully aware of what’s going on around her.” “Exactly. Other stuff, too, if you’re around her often enough. I think she just …” This was hard to put into words. “Got over it?” “Got over what?” “Over … not being the way she is now. Her life got simpler, he needs and wants got simpler. She doesn’t have any inhibitions; she’s honest to a fault. She has fun building a pile of sand … Tell you the truth, I wish my toys were that cheap,” she quipped. “I guess she found out she was happier this way and slowly became that way.” “You make it sound like she devolved.” “Why do you think that’s devolved?” “Because she went backward. I mean, she lost her … you know what I mean.” “If she is the way she is because it makes her happy, that’s not backward. That’s forward. And I think it’s more of an evolution. Like she became wise enough to let go of everything except the stuff that makes her happy.” That was a new way for Jamie to think about it. Amanda washed him all over. As much as he liked the sea, by the end of the day he always felt like between the sand, the sweat and the salt he had a layer of grime to peel off. “And I think she can turn it on and off.” “How does that work?” “Well, she’s as smart as she ever was. Nothing has changed physically in her brain. Every once in a while, you see her making a face like she’s … her old self. I think she found a way to be happy and likes it, and she can snap back to being her old self whenever she wants to. She doesn’t want to.” Amanda paused and looked up to her left for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, just only when she and Jane are alone.” Jamie looked surprised and fascinated. “How does someone do that? Just … stop being an adult – mentally? Just, turn off the thoughts, lose the inhibitions?” Amanda was done washing Jamie. “I don’t know. If I did, I’d probably do it sometimes, too.” “You would?” “How many dozen ways to people try to let go, take the edge off? And how many of those are dangerous? And none of them completely work. Her way … it works. She’s been peaced out for seven years.” They both sat there and pondered it, both looking a little wistful. “Can you please turn the cold water back on?” She leaned over and did, and Jamie stuck his head under it and ran his hands through his hair a few times. “You ready to get out?” He exhaled. “Yes.” Amanda leaned over and pulled the plug, then took the towel from the bar and opened it up wide. Jamie stood, and in one motion she wrapped him up and lifted him to the sink. “Can I comb your hair for you?” “Hmmh.” She always did. She carried him back to his room in the towel and set him back down on the changing table. “Any preference on PJs tonight?” Jamie still felt flush from the sun. “Um,” he blushed, “Maybe just some shorts?” He’d had gone with less, but he didn’t like sporting just a diaper, or at least was embarrassed to admit he was fine that way. When he was dressed, she put him on his feet. “Mom’s in the kitchen. Why don’t you go hang out with her while I take my own shower?” “Okay.” She headed upstairs, and he went to the kitchen. “Hi, Becky.” She was chopping vegetables. “Hey, baby. Looking handsome tonight.” He pulled himself into a chair; he was getting stronger thanks to Cheryl’s gifts. “Thanks again for today. I had a really good time.” “Good! I’m glad to hear you say that. Where did you learn to swim like that?” “Day camp.” Every summer, he’d get put in day camp at the city park. The morning would spent on some activity, and then the afternoons were spent at the pool. Most of the kids played on the slides and lazy river. Jamie liked the lap pool. It wasn’t so crowded, and he could play with other kids in it except during adult swim periods. He figured out, though, that if he swam laps, too, then the lifeguards wouldn’t make him get out unless an adult wanted the lane. And he wanted to stay in the water all the time. When he couldn’t stay in, he watched the adults swimming and tried to do what they did. Four hours a day, five days a week, 12 weeks a year from when he was old enough to not be in daycare until he was 16. And then whoever he was staying with at the time would come pick him up. “I don’t think I could swim like that.” Jamie figured she could. That’s how water works. The longer the swimmer, or the longer the boat, the faster it goes. Maybe there was something else about Bigs’ anatomy, like they were too dense, not as buoyant as humans. “Have you ever tried?” “Well, I guess I haven’t.” They heard the shower turn on upstairs. “Maybe you should try. Or you’ll never know what you can do.” Becky chuckled at this Little who knew so much about life. She looked in the fridge. “We have pureed fruit, pureed vegetables, pureed chicken, and pureed … nope, that all we got.” So the same thing as the past however many meals, Jamie thought. He was looking forward to being able to eat solids again. “I’m not very hungry tonight.” “Oh no? You feeling okay?” “Yeah.” She bent down in front of him and place her palm on his forehead. “I think you got a little too much sun today.” “Feels like it. I have a headache too.” “Did you get enough to drink today?” “I think so. Just very bright. I’m not used to not wearing sunglasses outside.” “Then we’ll have to get you some. But you gotta eat something tonight. I can get out the blender and make anything you want.” Nothing makes food taste better than being pulverized into mush. He didn’t look like he wanted to even choose, and Becky noticed. “I have an idea. How about some of that formula. I can put some ice in it. I know you love that stuff.” Jamie perked up. He did love that stuff; how it could taste so good and keep him so contented, he didn’t know. He missed it, though he thought she was feeding it to him at night, and somehow he wasn’t waking up. “That sounds really good, actually.” “Comin’ right up.” Becky went to the cabinet and looked at the cups and containers. She wanted to bottle feed him. She loved that time with him; it felt so right. Sharing a meal brings people together, but feeding your Little was a whole other level of intimacy. She envied the people who breastfed their Littles, but she also remembered how unpleasant that was. She also remembered everything she and Amanda had talked about, about letting him lead the way and seeing what he liked and what he didn’t and helping him to find his own way. She sighed, picked a bottle and a sippy cup out of the cabinet and turned to Jamie. “Which one do you want?” Jamie surprised himself by not being sure. His pride said sippy cup (or it did, given the choices), but like he had that day after swimming, leaning back against Becky while she held a bottle to her lips felt good. It just did. It was comfortable, and it made him feel close to her, and he knew she liked it. And he felt he owed her for the day, so they both got what they wanted. Jamie blushed and pointed to the bottle. Becky tried to hide a smile. “It’s getting a bit late, and Amanda’s gonna be in the shower a while.” “She’s kinda a water hog.” Becky laughed and then laughed harder. Jamie hadn’t meant it as a joke; it just came out because it was true. Becky’s belly laugh made Jamie laugh until they both had tears running down their cheeks. “He swims, and he’s funny!” Jamie blushed. “I was gonna say how about I feed you instead of us waiting for her?” Jamie noticed the sun was going down. It was late, later than he normally stayed up, but then he’d slept longer than he did most afternoons. “Works for me.” “How about in the living room? I’ll be there in a minute.” Jamie climbed down and went into the living room. Climbing up on to the couch was harder. Unlike the chair, it gave way when he grabbed handful of cushion. He’d work on that, but for now he chose the floor and laid himself back on it. The carpet fibers actually felt good against his bare back. Becky came in with the bottle and two cloths this time, both wet. He got up when she came in, and she sat down on the couch. She pulled him up and into her lap, then pivoted so she was reclining against the arm and he was reclining against her. “Put your head back, baby.” He did, and she put one of the folded wet cloths on his forehead. “Feel better?” It did. She took the other one and laid it flat against his chest. He writhed a bit, the coolness of it electrifying his skin, but soothing it too. He closed his eyes. Becky picked up the bottle and held it to his lips. He latched on and drank very slowly. Becky ran her free hand through his still-wet hair. It felt so soft to her. He was getting a little shaggy, she realized; he needs a haircut soon. She took the cloth from his forehead and turned it over the cool side, pressing it over his eyes, behind his ears, his cheeks, his neck, the tops of his shoulders, and then his belly. She saw his heartbeat slow; she could always see it in his tummy when he laid back, a steady, healthy beat. His head slumped a bit, and his breathing slowed. He drank still, but slow, too. She brought her hand back to his hair and played with it. Amanda appeared in the living room. Becky held a finger to her lips. Amanda looked dismayed. “Mom,” she whispered, “We talked about this today.” Becky looked up at her briefly and then back to sleeping Little boy in her lap, her hands still playing with his so-soft hair. “I asked; this is what he wanted tonight.” “Oh! Sorry.” Amanda smiled down at the tableau. She looked happy, and he looked peaceful. She knelt next to the couch, first kissing her mom on the check and then stroking his soft face with the back of her fingers. “I love it when he’s like this.” Amanda sighed and stood back up. Becky took the empty bottle from Jamie’s lips. “I can go put him down while you finish getting dinner ready,” Amanda offered. “Or you can put him down and I’ll get it on the table.” Still playing with hair gently massaging his scalp, Becky shook her head softly. “Not yet. Why don’t you get started without me? I want to stay like this a while.” Amanda understood that perfectly, and she was glad to give the two of them this moment alone. Jamie and Becky hadn’t actually been in each other’s arms much. It made Amanda happy to see them this way. She went to the kitchen to eat alone.

That’s an excellent point of comparison. I think readers have been harder on Becky than I have been. Sort of a Captain Queeg situation. In the moment, her behavior seems wrong, but step back and she really done anything inherently wrong, and some of it has even been right.

I really want to hear how this impacts views of certain characters. __________________________________________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 3 When Jamie had tired himself, he allowed the current to wash him back in, surfing the waves that carried him and bracing for the ones that broke over him. At last he righted himself and swam lazily back to Amanda and Becky. A small crowd had gathered on the beach. “Here,” Amanda shouted when he was still deep enough to be under from the waist down, tossing him his swim suit. Jamie blushed, looking at the crowd, not because he was naked but because he didn’t like audiences. Not everyone looked happy. Well, he thought, then let them not be happy. He was. Amanda was smiling proudly. But Becky’s face, he couldn’t place that expression. Perhaps it was more than one. It didn’t matter to Jamie. He was happy in the moment, and he had her to thank for it. Ignoring the small crowd, whom it didn’t seem Becky or Amanda were aware of, he high-stepped through the water and wrapped his arms around Becky. “Thank you,” he muttered, “I haven’t felt this good since I got here.” Becky had the unique power to make things easier or harder, more or less fun, more or less miserable. Jamie understood that power, but he didn’t hug her and thank her for that reason, but because he was thankful, and he wanted to express it physically. Peering down at his head against her hip, she patted his hair, rubbed his shoulder, and said, “That makes me very happy to hear, baby. I bet you’re tired.” She started to break the hug and turned, seeing the dozen and a half people who had gathered and watched. Some looked like there just stopped for the distraction, a few seemed to judging, and a couple seemed angry. Becky wasn’t prepared for that and turned red and insecure. “Yay for Jamie! Woo hoo! That was incredible!” A voice started from the back of the crowd, and clapping hands appeared above it, moving their way to the front: Jane. Jamie blushed more: an audience and praise for something wasn’t really praise worthy. He wasn’t a competitive swimmer; he was just good at it. A couple in the crowd politely clapped, some of the others drifted off, and Jane remained waiting for them to walk out of the surf. One woman wanted to have her say, though. Amanda saw it coming. “Just ignore her, Jamie. She needs to learn to mind her own business.” “Excuse me, ma’am.” Nothing in the voice was a question, and whatever respect or courtesy ‘ma’am’ implied was clearly not meant. “Do you have any idea how unsafe that was? Do you? And you just gave a hundred Littles, including mine, a seriously dangerous idea! What were you thinking?” Amanda started to walk faster. Jane started to step in front of this woman just to cut off her view. Becky, to her own surprise, got her dander up. She wrapped an arm around Jamie’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “Can your Little swim? Mine can.” The woman seethed and started to stomp off. “We’ll be here until dinner time if you want to race him!” She shouted after the woman, who didn’t turn around. Amanda and Jane laughed, Jamie looked shocked, and Becky stared holes into the back of the woman’s head before she started walking again. “Where did that come from, Mom?” Amanda was as surprised as Jamie, and, for that matter, as surprised as Becky. She didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “Let’s get you dried off.” He pulled himself on the foot of her chair, and she sat behind him with the towel, then wrapped him in it, pulled him close and reclined. Amanda handed her mom a bottle of water, and with her eyes Becky asked Jamie, and he nodded. She held it while he drank. “You’re a very good swimmer.” “Thank you.” Becky sighed, and Jamie’s eyelids felt heavy. It was his afternoon nap time, and he had exerted for the first time in … he wasn’t sure. He was losing track of days. A while, he knew. “I think it’s time for my very good swimmer to get some rest.” Jamie was fine with that. “Amanda, could you hand me his bag?” She did, and she once again stood beside Jamie as Becky pulled his wet suit off, patted Jamie dry, and got him into a regular diaper. “Here,” Amanda said, handing her mom a dry pair of shorts for him. Dressed but for a shirt, Becky reapplied sunscreen, and Jamie felt sleepier still. “Here, buddy.” Amanda helped him up and guided him to his towel. She moved it to where the sun had pushed the umbrella’s shade, and he eagerly lay down on his stomach. Amanda handed him his hat and another water bottle. Jamie put the hat over the back of his head. “Thank you, Manda.” He got a goodnight kiss. Rosie was already sleeping. Amanda went back to her book, Jane worked on her tan, and Becky contemplated. When she could tell from the rise and fall of his back that Jamie was asleep, she asked Jane, “Do you mind watching Jamie while Amanda and I take a walk?” “Not at all.” Amanda was pulled out of her book by the sound of her name. She wasn’t surprised; she put her bookmark in and stood up, waiting for her mom. Becky put a wrap around her shoulders and walked past Amanda, who fell in step. The two of them waited until they were out of ear shot. “I’m sorry, Mom, he got away from me. I won’t let him happen again.” “Yeah, you will.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, no reproach intended. Amanda knew she was right and that she had just lied, again. Jamie had sprung away from her at the first chance, but she had no intention of trying to stop him or trying to catch up with him if he did. Becky sighed. “Why do you understand him better than I do?” She sounded hurt, even a little sulky. It didn’t feel fair. I’m the mom, Becky said silently to herself. “He’s always happy around you. He always wants you.” A few tears escaped, and Becky held back a sob. “I don’t even think …” a sob stopped her from finishing the sentence. “Oh, Mom,” Amanda cooed. She wrapped her arms around her mother, and held her own to herself. Amanda wasn’t sure how to answer the question. She didn’t know. It’s a fact, she knew, the people who are very good at something make the worst teachers of it – it comes so easily to them, they don’t know all the steps. People merely good are the best teachers because they have to remember each step consciously and so are better able to explain each one. The answer, she supposed, was it was intuitive to her. They ended the hug and kept walking. Beaches are good for that; there’s always more sand than words. “Littles play favorites sometimes,” Amanda tried. “Littles have favorites sometimes. Why is it so much work between the two of us? I mean, what am I doing wrong?” “Mom, I wouldn’t say …” “Oh, stop. It’s obvious.” “I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong, Mom. It’s just … Jamie is hard, that’s all. He’s different. He was different before he got here.” “I know he’s different. I read the file; I talked to his case worker.” They walked on in silence. “I guess …” She stopped and sighed. This was the hardest conversation she’d ever had with her mother. “Where do you see this going?” “What do you mean?” “Like, what’s the goal you’re working toward?” Becky was stumped. That was a much easier question to answer about a child than a Little. There were obvious milestones for a child, the main one being the child becoming an adult. A parent’s work doesn’t stop there; there are milestones remaining. But if a parent can get to that main milestone, and the child is a happy, healthy, functioning adult, that’s success. Amanda rephrased the question again. “What do you want for him?” “I just want him to be happy. He was sad when he got here. Now he seems sad and angry most of the time. When he’s not with you, he’s with a book or his blocks or that puzzle you hung on his wall. He’s … that first morning when he woke up and the day after, he talked to us. He told us about his feelings. He’s withdrawn. From me, mostly. I … did I do something?” “When he said he wanted to go swimming, what was your first thought?” “That it was too dangerous.” “Why?” “Because Littles don’t swim well. I’ve never seen one swim well.” “He told you he could. Why did you doubt him?” “I … I didn’t doubt him. I just wanted him to be safe.” “He told you he was, though.” “Littles say things like that. They don’t always know, and sometimes when they do, they’re not honest.” “I think Jamie is the most honest person I’ve ever met when he feels he can be.” “What does that mean?” “Sometimes he fibs to end conversations. He’ll say yes or no just so the conversation ends.” They walked in silence some more. “I never met an unregressed Little before Jamie, Mom. I think I maybe saw a couple, maybe. Have you?” “No.” They walked farther. “I’m trying to do what he said he wanted. In writing, in the file. Toddler; doesn’t want to grow up. He said that.” “Is that what you wanted?” “I didn’t care. I …” “What?” Becky’s lip quivered. “C’mon, Mom; you can say it.” “I picked him because you wanted him.” She was speaking through tears again. “You … you didn’t want to do this and then you saw him and said ‘I think we can help him.’ I … I …” They stopped, and Amanda rubbed small circles on her mom’s shoulder, but kept enough distance for her to finish. “If you … if you wanted him then … then I knew he must be right for us … and … we were right for him.” She took as deep a shallow deep breath. “And … if …” She stammered. “If you could … if you could love him … right then, from a file … then I … I loved … him too just … because he ... because he could make you feel that way. You told me, you said to me you weren’t sure you could … And then you did and I loved him just because he made you love him … and his file made him seem so … deserving of a new chance. And … that first night when you were … you were holding him and what you said. It felt so right; it felt like we were both right.” Becky wiped at her eyes. Amanda drew the line through the statement: she loved him right away because I loved him right away. Because she loves me. “And watching the two of you get so close makes me love him even more.” Becky stopped crying. “And it makes me feel like shit that I can’t connect with him or give him what he wants or what he needs.” She sounded so angry with herself. “I don’t know what he wants either.” Amanda tried to smile as if to tell her it was okay. “I don’t think he does. His file … it’s one big contradiction.” “How?” “He doesn’t want to grow up, but he didn’t want to be regressed even a little. He wants to get over all this pain, but he didn’t want any memories erased. I’m not sure what he was trying to say.” Amanda started walking again to give herself time to think. Silence isn’t awkward when you’re walking, not in conversations like these. She thought very hard about what to say next. She decided not to tell the whole truth. “I don’t know why he’s here.” Becky thought back on what she knew. “He said it was so he could get away from all the things he was struggling with there.” “He had other choices. This was a little extreme, right?” “He said he couldn’t stay there and live with himself.” “And I think he believes that. I don’t. Here; there; people live with some horrendous stuff around them, in them. People can live with anything if they want to badly enough. And he could have gotten help there, too. I don’t know if he even tried.” “His case worker seemed to think he belonged here; seemed she felt pretty adamant about it.” “Is a Little a Little back there?” “What do you mean? A Little is a Little everywhere.” “He was leading a whole other life and just ended it. Walked away. I mean, he did it because he thought it was different, or that he’d be different, or that something would be different, right? Why else do it?” They stopped and felt the wind off the ocean picking up. The tide would be rolling back in soon. They turned back. “His case worker thought he’d heal here, emotionally,” Becky said after a few yards. “I think he thinks that, too. I think he hoped it and then she convinced him. And he’s probably wondering when and how that happens.” “Time.” “Time and what? There’s time where he’s from.” “Us, I guess,” Becky answered. “Right?” “Yeah. The whole experience of being a Little, I suppose.” “He’s fighting the experience, though.” “I don’t know if that’s entirely true. He’s fighting change.” “He wanted the change, or thought he did.” “He wanted a change; I don’t think he understood what all that could mean here.” “It is a lot.” “And sudden.” They walked on in silence some more. Becky started again. “I’m just trying to take care of him. Protect him. That’s the change he wanted, vaguely, right? Give up adult responsibilities; simplify his world down to … down to being loved and loving others. He resists being taken care of, letting others love him and … and letting them show it by what they do for him.” “So what makes you think I’m different? I love him; he seems fine with that. He could hardly be more affectionate,” Amanda chuckled. “Maybe it’s the way we care for him in different ways. You’re the cool big sister; I’m the mom.” “Moms can be cool and fun, too.” “I try to be.” Amanda sighed. “Have you considered that you’re giving him a very narrow space to have fun in?” “What’s that mean?” She sounded defensive. “Water wings. Toddler toys.” “Appropriate for Littles. And safe! And he said toddler; I thought it was what he wanted.” “’Toddler’ was the oldest choice on the form. And I don’t know what ‘never grow up’ means. He has grown up, for a Little. If he picked ‘toddler’ because he wants to undo that, in some form, it won’t happen overnight or just because he wants it to. He still has his regular mind and his regular body and the same sense of autonomy he had when he got here. He didn’t give up the first two. I think he’s only okay with the last one if it makes him all the other things better. Else, why do it? I mean, what would that be, prison?” “So what do we do? What do I do differently?” “He’s not a toddler; I don’t think he wants to be. I think he just wants the sadness to go away and thought the best way to do that was to reach the point where he wasn’t even aware of sad things in the world anymore, like, his world was so small, he didn’t see them. I think we have to figure out what he wants to be, and he has to help us do that, and it’s gonna be something completely unique. It won’t be a toddler, or any stage of life. It’ll just be the way Jamie is. Maybe some things or sometimes like a toddler; other times not. Maybe younger than a toddler sometimes; who knows?” They were almost back within sight of their spot. “I still don’t … what does that mean, for us I mean? Me?” “He’s got a brain and body that need to be kept active, first of all. Over time, maybe he’ll learn to let go of the … I don’t know. Whatever it is that stops him from being like a Little. He had fun being tossed around in the water. He was able to let go, stop being so serious. Play.” “He played with Rosie.” “He was faking it.” “Yeah … he was.” “So we play it by ear. Some things we let him be older; some things we keep younger and see how he reacts, and then we adjust. And over time, maybe he learns to let go of whatever keeps him from accepting and enjoying that he’s a Little, like letting himself be taken care of and actually liking it. If he can figure that out, that he doesn’t have to do it all alone, maybe then he’ll share the demons with us and let them go.” “But … he is a Little. What if he gets hurt while he’s figuring that out? And I don’t just mean physically.” “I know he’s a Little. I haven’t forgotten. He doesn’t know he’s a Little, and if he did, he’d probably hate himself even more than he already does. I want him to know he’s a Little and be okay with that.” “You think he hates himself?” “Yep. Sometimes …” Amanda knew this was a serious thing to say, but she’d already said so much else. “Sometimes I think he came here to punish himself. For all the things he couldn’t fix back there, and he’s torturing himself by not understanding the difference between forgiving himself and forgetting about the people he thinks he’s failed. He may even be doing it on purpose.” Becky was horrified. It made sense now, in a way that hadn’t been clear before. She sat down in the sand. Amanda sat down next to her. “His case worker did say he’d benefit from counseling,” Becky said, her voice full of recognition, putting puzzle pieces together. “I think she’s right.” “And what do we do in the meantime?” “Like I said. He is a Little, and he needs to know and accept that. But he’s his own kind of Little. He doesn’t know and we don’t know what that kind is. He’s not going to fit into a stage-of-life box. We have to help him figure out the things about being a Little that make him happier and the ones that don’t. And he might not always agree, and we likewise need to know we might not always be right. And we’ll reach some … equilibrium.” “And when we disagree?” “We pick the right battles. We ask, ‘Is doing this my way going to help him become the Little he is and accept it, or not,’ and if not, we let it go.” “That’s not always going to be possible. The rest of the world sees a Little, not Jamie.” “Jamie’s smart. If we tell him he needs to be a certain way in front of some people and different with others, he’ll understand. I think he knows how to wear different masks better than either of us.” “Ok. So where do I start?” “By focusing more on what he can do than on what he can’t.” “But he just got here. We don’t know what he can do; he doesn’t even know all of what he can and can’t do. What if he gets hurt?” That was the crux of it for Becky. She wanted two things for Jamie: to make him happy and keep him safe. She had done what she thought would do those, and she feared in abandoning what she thought was the former, she too greatly risked the latter. “So what if he does? We’ll pick him up and make it better, and he’ll see how much we care for him and love him, and he’ll trust us more, and he’ll let himself be littler and littler until he finds the right kind of Little he is. And then, god willing, he’ll let us take that unhappiness away; he’ll trust us to take it from him, that he can let us do that without him … having failed or … betrayed anyone. That’s the idea, right? That’s how we help Littles: we let them be who they are so all the rest can be stripped away, and then they’re happy.” “And how do we introduce the Little things to see if they help him or not?” “Slowly. When the time is right. We can’t just force him to act like a Little and expect him to accept being a Little because of it. I think some things we’re going to have to introduce to him, but it can’t come out of nowhere, and it can’t be an immediate mandate; he’ll just reject it immediately. But like the way you did with the pacifier. And that bear; he carries that around the house. I doubt he was doing that where he came from.” “So what do we stop doing, right now?” “Nothing, I don’t think. I think he’s fine with most things we’re doing. It’s more a matter of … when he thinks he’s not being recognized for who he is. It’s the assumptions that hurt him. Like that he can’t swim, or that he doesn’t understand what’s being said about him when he’s right there. Or just … ignoring his feelings, dismissing him when he says he’s not sure or wants to do it a different way. When that happens, then we ask, is this something that will help him accept himself or not.” “You’re so much better at this than I am.” Becky sighed. She was proud of Amanda, but also frustrated with herself. “Why is this so hard?” “Because we picked it, Mom.” Amanda shook her head in a shrugging way; didn’t her mom know that? “We didn’t pick him because we thought it would be fun; we didn’t pick him like some of those assholes do because they think it’s like having some cross between a puppy and a doll. We picked it because we wanted to help him.” They sat for a while longer. “I’m glad it’s hard. We do what’s hard for the people we love.” Becky let that sink into her. Amanda was right again. “Should we go back?” When they arrived back, they were surprised to find both Littles still sleeping. But sun and water will do that to you, and they’d both played hard in their own way. “Sorry we were gone so long,” Becky whispered to Jane. “Don’t mention it. He’s been asleep the whole time.” “We should probably wake them up or they won’t go to bed tonight.” Becky, Jane, and Amanda began packing up. When they took down the umbrella, both Littles stirred. “Hey, buddy,” Amanda whispered, brushing some hair from his forehead. “How ya feelin’? The sun was lower but still bright. “Still sleepy. Are we going home soon?” “Yeah, we’re almost packed up. I bet you’re hungry, too.” She ran her finger down his back, and Jamie shivered in pleasure. He didn’t know why he liked that so much, no matter who did it. She kept her hand moving and stopped when she reached the bottom of his diaper. Still clean and dry.

Folks seem to have reacted a lot more strongly to that chapter than I thought they would.

Burning tires for fuel is done in industrial settings, and I’m not sure what systems need to be in place to accomplish that as the fumes from a burning tire are toxic. The energy is used to power equipment, typically, not to heat a space. I imagine burning a wet diaper would require very high temperatures so dry and incinerate the SAP, and in addition to fumes, I believe the SAP would produce a lot of particulate matter. All the plastic (tapes) would not be eliminated but melted. I doubt diapers can be safely burned inside a wood fireplace or stove indoors.

For 15 years my mom has been telling me to write a novel. I said I didn’t know how. I don’t like all of this writing. It moves the story forward, but only some of the language is of the quality I would expect in any fiction I read, which is not much. I have published and do make a little money on nonfiction, enough to pay for a vacation every year. What I’ve always lacked for fiction is a premise. I kind of want to take parts of this ajdncovble together something. I think some of it works as an allegory. I spent some very good language here, and I kinda want it back for use elsewhere ?‍♂️

I just realized how many times his named got autocorrected to “Jaime.” I’ll watch out for that from now on.

It’s a metaphor. See the dream sequence in chapter 5.

Literally wanted to take this chapter one way, then took it a different way, then rewrote the ending what it is now, which is where I wanted to go in the first place. Amazing, how so few words can entirely change not just the events but the tenor and meaning and direction of the nearly 56,000 that came before them. __________________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 2 Jamie knew this would happen eventually; he just hadn’t thought much about what to say, nor was he sure what about a regressed Little made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the notion that a regressed and unregressed Little were essentially on the same playing field in terms of how they were viewed by Bigs, or could be viewed that way if a Big decided to. Already Jamie had seen how Bigs treated Littles they thought were regressed and they had continued to treat him nearly as poorly after he informed them otherwise. And it wasn’t even poor treatment in the context of a regressed Little; then it was normal treatment. It was only poor if, like Jamie, the Little was entirely himself. What Jamie felt, and what he didn’t like, as a sense of superiority over regressed Littles, not that they were in some way inferior, but only that if he wasn’t in some way superior, then the Bigs who had treated him poorly had done nothing wrong. He didn’t want to feel superior to anyone; it wasn’t in his nature to have such an ego. He had always mad humility a policy, a way of working with all manner of people who practiced all manners of living, to be able to help them without judging. But Jamie didn’t judge Rosie, though neither could he see her an equal, so he thought, without diminishing his own status. Jamie responded by assuming the same mannerisms he found so unappealing when directed at him. “Hi, Rosie,” he said in explosive enthusiasm, “I’m so glad to meet you. I would love to play with you. Can you show me how?” All three Bigs ‘awwed’ in unison. So Jamie found himself seated in the sand listening to Rose instruct him on how to make a pile of wet sand. It was, if nothing else, familiar. He’d worked with young children, many of whom wanted to show him something, and he did it with feigned enthusiasm and asked questions he knew the answer to and generally humored them because it made them feel good about themselves and like they had a friend, which they did, though a different sort of friend than perhaps the imagined. He remembered also that when playing with a young child, the game is whatever they want to play. So they made a bigger and bigger pile, and the tools that would have made it something else were left to the side; she was happy having a pile for a castle. Inevitably, Jamie found himself bored and longed to get in the water. He wasn’t sure how to excuse himself, though. As an adult, he could always just decide the game was over and graciously extricate himself. As a Little, could he do that without disappointing the three Bigs, or would that be considered unkind? Luckily for the moment, but perhaps not later, the issue resolved itself. “The sun is moving, kiddo. Let’s get some sunscreen on you.” Becky motioned for him to sit in front on her chair and she applied the lotion to his entire body save what was covered by his bathing suit. Jamie felt he could have made a day of just being massaged with suntan lotion, even though the stuff was so heavy he imagined it was SPF 100. Becky stuck a ballcap on his head to protect it as well. “Do you want to play in the water?” That was better than the massage. “Yes, please.” “Alright; let’s get you ready.” Oh yeah, Jaime mumbled. Becky got off her chair and motioned for Jamie to lie down in her place. Looking to the sky was too much, and Jamie lifted the hat and placed it over his eyes to block the sun. “Are you feeling shy,” Becky asked when she saw. “Amanda, do you mind sitting on the other side of Jamie so he’s a little less exposed?” Amanda moved over while Becky rustled around in the pool bag. “Ready,” Becky asked, though it wasn’t a full-fledged question. It was just the outline of a question, because Becky didn’t wait for an answer before pulling his swimsuit off his ankles, leaving him in a diaper for hundreds of people to see. His diaper was removed without anyone taking note of it still being dry, and a swim diapered was threaded up his legs followed by his trunks. The swim diaper was so much tighter, but also thinner, though Jamie knew that wouldn’t last. He pulled the hat from his face and looked around. There was no crowd watching to see the show. He thought he could see someone getting a similar treatment down the beach. Becky held out her hands to help Jamie sit up. He started walking toward the water. As though he were about to walk into traffic, Jane reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, buddy. You have to go with one of us.” Fair enough, he thought, though he was not amused. I bet I can swim better than any of them, Jaime thought. “And we need these.” Jaime turned back around to see Becky holding an inflatable ring and water wings. He wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed, more angry at them, or more angry at himself for not seeing this coming. He wanted to throw a genuine tantrum; the first time he had looked forward to doing anything, and it was being taken away from him. That’s not swimming, he thought. That’s not even floating; that’s bobbing. He drew on his patience and managed to keep control of himself, and he remembered what Becky and Amanda had both said: trust them and behave yourself. “C’mere so we can get these on you.” Becky sounded so chipper. It was difficult to be mad at someone who was so chipper all the time and clearly meant well. The fact that it was difficult only added to Jamie’s frustration. If he considered it, it wasn’t even Becky per se; it was being over-mothered. He had envisioned someone who mothered him by taking an emotional toll off of him, not someone who mothered him by placing so many, and such strict restrictions on him. From the diapers to the crib to her habit of feeding him unless he specifically asked her stop, the irritation was adding an emotional toll where none had been before. Of all the ways Jamie didn’t feel himself here, some good and some bad, the bad one that concerned him was how often he felt angry. It was a different kind of angry than the kind that drove him here, one emotion among many that drove him here. Being angry on behalf of others felt righteous but draining. This just felt draining. The things he used to be able to do – be patient, reason with people – were ineffective here for the most part. For all the progress she had made, and she had made good progress, this undid a lot of it. No one had asked him if he could swim, though Becky knew he loved water; she had asked, and he had told her so. At worst, Jamie thought she was doing this because, as she had before, she thought it was cute; at best, it was because of her need to feel she was keeping him safe rather than his need to actually be safe. The word ‘trust’ had been thrown at Jamie a lot – from Cheryl, Becky, and Amanda – and what needed was some reciprocation. His arm hanging in a water wing, each breath from Becky just pissed him off more. Fortunately, at least, her giant lungs made it a quick task. He looked at Rosie; Jane was getting her ready in the same way. She looked delighted. That pissed him off as well. The five of them walked toward the water – actually, three walked and two waddled while holding plastic rings around their waists – and stepped into the surf. Jamie tried to concentrate only on what he was feeling. The sand at the surf gives way with each footfall, and the water tamps the san back down until there’s no evidence you were ever there. But once past his ankles, the pressure of the water, just the few inches of it, was greater than his, and the sand was hard; it didn’t give way with each step; it hardly acknowledged Jamie was there. The water wasn’t cool; it was warm from a summer’s worth of sunny days. The foam obscured the sand through the water, and when they got deep enough it cleared so he could see the bottom, just a foot deep now, and he could see the sand was not all white. Some was black, and the waves formed patterns with it, the black grains being lighter than the white or the other way around, reflecting the curl and drift of the surf above. No shells of any notable size, and what small ones to be seen were mostly broken. Schools of fry; no fish or crab. And the smell, that smell of the medium for the creation of life, that remnant smell of the primordial which produced the first living thing, that smell you taste, that green smell of water full of life. A smell you can feel, because the salt sticks to the skin and stays in the hair, that smell you take home with you. That bloody smell when it fills your mouth. That burning smell when it finds you eyes. If you ever find yourself far from home, go anywhere to the sea, and some deep-buried part of you, a part that’s been there since before we were human, will recognize that place as your true home, the place you came from before we were. Jamie tried to take all that in, but his mind couldn’t hold the thought. Instead he felt the seams of the inflatable scraping against his skin and rubbing his armpits raw, and he heard Rosie squealing in a way that’s only barely cute in very young children, and without looking, he saw eyes on him, expecting something. They waded out until the Bigs were just past waist deep, leaving the Littles with their feet dangling a few inches above the bottom. Rosie dog paddled in circles. Jamie bobbed. Even if he had taken for granted that this was what he needed to wear, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Grabbed suddenly and before he could realize it, Jamie was out of the water and quickly back in it with a thud that forced the ring up into his armpits. The Bigs were laughing, and Rosie was squealing, “Do me! Do me!” Jane picked her up and threw her, and she landed laughing. Becky picked her up and threw her back. Jamie was airborne again, thrown by Amanda back to Becky, who immediately threw him back. Startled as he was the first time, the sensation of breaking the water, feeling the cool air suddenly embrace him before his toes broke back through the surface – Jamie couldn’t remember the last time someone has tossed him in the water this way. He thought to himself it was kind of fun, and soon he was laughing, too. And when all three Bigs had tossed him several times, and they were too tired to hoist him so forcefully one more time, Jamie actually felt disappointed. The fun didn’t last all that long; it never does. The stubborn part of Jamie didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed himself anyway, just in a different way. “Who’s ready for lunch,” Becky asked, a little out of breath. Taking Jamie’s hand, she towed him back to where he could stand, and the five of them walked out of the sea. Once out of the water, Jamie learned even with a swim diaper he felt waterlogged. He recalled the rash he would get from being in a wet bath suit, combined with sand, and wondered how someone could possibly avoid that with one of these things on. There were chairs for Jane, Becky, and Amanda. Littles, Jamie assumed, are expected to sit on the ground. But Amanda sat down next to him anyway and opened a package of pureed fruit, handing it to Jamie along with a spoon. “Did you have fun?” “Yeah. I … Yeah.” “What?” “It’s nothing.” She nudged him with her foot. “C’mon, what?” Jamie didn’t know what to say. At what point does a request cross the line between just a request to do something differently and rejecting what Bigs saw as being in his own interest? The thing he had been told to stop doing so often, in other words. Probably not one request, but Jamie didn’t want to stop at one if he got a no. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much he had asked that, having begun doing differently, Becky or anyone else had acquiesced to do the way Jamie preferred. On this point, Jamie was feeling like he deserved to insist, and maybe even blatantly disobey. No one had told him what the consequences of that might be, but even so. “I want to go swimming.” “Right after lunch we can go again.” “No, I mean, I can actually swim. I want to swim.” “So, go ask her.” Her eyes pointed to Becky. “And if she says no?” “Then you and I will take a walk and do it anyway. But only if you ask her” As a foster kid, Jamie had always been afraid to ask for anything. He didn’t want seem ungrateful or greedy. He rarely asked for anything. “Will you come with me?” “Nope. Gotta do this on your own. But tell her I’ll go with you.” Sighing, Jamie nervously walked over to Becky, who stopped talking with Jane. She saw he looked tentative. “What is it, pumpkin?” “Um … Can I go swimming?” “Sure! We can all go when we’re done with our lunches.” Jamie’s impulse was to feign a smile and say thank you, but he forced himself. “Um, that sounds fun too, but I mean, I want to actually swim, without the water wings. I know how … I’m actually really good at it. Promise?” That sounded more pitiful than he meant it to; he didn’t mean that last part to be a question, or even to say it. Some part 15 years deep in his brain remembered it helped sometimes. Becky’s impulse was to kindly say no. How did she know if he could really swim? He was so small. Some other day, in a pool, maybe he could try. “Amanda will go with me.” Becky looked behind Jamie to see Amanda looking at her with a neutral expression. Amanda looked back hoping Becky would do the right thing without her having to explain it first. Trust me, trust Jamie, is exactly what she didn’t want to have to say; she wanted Becky to figure it out on her own. “Okay. But stay close together.” Becky said it looking into his eyes and then much more deeply into Amanda’s. Amanda smacked her hands together to remove some crumbs and took a long pull on her water bottle. She walked up to Jamie. “C’mon.” She held out her hand, and the two of them walked back to the surf. Jamie was almost waist deep, deep enough to float, when Amanda stopped. Hard as she tried not to be, she was nervous. He said he could swim, but so did people who could barely keep their heads above the water. Still, Amanda told herself, you’re here and a lot bigger than he is; it he really can’t swim, he won’t get far and it will be easy to pluck him out of the water. Becky and Jane watched from their chairs. Becky had both hands on the arms of her chair, ready to jump and run. Amanda let go of Jamie’s hand. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jamie thought. “Um, Amanda? Could you do me a favor?” “Depends on what it is.” Jamie figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Putting his thumbs on the waistbands of his bathing suit and swim diaper, he said, “Hold these,” and in one motion pushed them off, dove forward, and threw himself under. He didn’t hear Amanda laughing or Becky shouting 'stay together!' over the waves, and if he had, he would not have turned back. Pushing off the sand, Jamie came up between the waves and threw his shoulders forward in a butterfly, dropping his head down to crash through the breaker, kicked his feet in the shallow-deep motion of the stroke, let the movement roll from his toes up, his body undulating like a cord snapped by the hand until the momentum and his muscles lifted his shoulders back out of the water and threw his arms forward again. The very motion felt wonderful. Jamie hadn’t done anything strenuous in he didn’t know how long. He didn’t realize how stiff and tight his back and shoulders were until he forcefully opened them with each stroke, taking at first three then two then one stroke for each breath as he became winded, when he went deep and dolphin-kicked so fast and low to the sand he pulled some of it along in his underwater wake. The salt burning his eyes, the exertion grabbing at his lungs, the diffuse light through the water, the complete silence. This felt like home. Anywhere there is saltwater, he thought, is home. Back above, Becky walked to the water and up to Amanda as casually as she could, but she wanted to run, and she wanted to start lecturing. She held it back though. “That’s not staying close, Amanda.” “Look ...” Amanda nodded toward Jamie, his feet breaking the surface and powerfully rolling from hip to knee to ankles in a curving thrust that would propel him back upward again. We couldn’t catch him if we wanted to.” They couldn’t. They were big, and they were strong. Jamie was small, and he was fast. Jamie was the rabbit turned fish. He could swim better and faster and longer than either of them.

I do seem to recall Depend sponsoring a Nascar driver for a time, promoting the narrative of "nothing to be ashamed of - in fact, we plastered it on a car to prove it."

And it ends up in a landfill or river anyway Really just looking to solve the plastic bag problem. Maybe i need to try paper bags and see how well they do.

And the winner is the one who was smart enough to buy Abena. The losers in Depends went home in wet pants.

I know what you meant and I take no offense. I’m just giving you a hard time and trying to set some expectations because I, too, know it can be disappointing to have to wait a long time between updates. I’m glad you like the story enough to feel that way at just the prospect of having to wait. ?

I wear disposables, like most people here. I wear probably about 12/7, so each week it definitely adds up. My trash smells even tho I just wet, so I started buying 2-gallon ziplock bags, which hold up to 3 used diapers. Way more effective than using plastic grocery bags. No problem with the smell anymore. But it’s bad enough I’m generating all the refuse that the diapers themselves, parts of which will outlast me. Adding plastic bags makes it even worse. Is there such a thing as biodegradable, yet mostly odor-proof, bad suitable for disposing of disposable, adult-sized diapers? Or does anyone have any other ideas that don’t include my guests wondering why my house smells like a nursery, and not in a good way? Switching to cloth, which are better but not perfect for the environment, is not an option. Thanks

I lied. This is hardly the entire chapter, but given where I've stopped, there's no reason not to post it. Enjoy! ____________________________________ Chapter 13, Part 1 “What are we doing today,” Jamie asked after his breakfast or pureed fruit. It felt good to be back on something other than liquid, though he really liked the formula. Still, he missed chewing, and that was still several weeks away. “I don’t know yet,” Becky replied. “Did you have anything in mind?” “Not really.” “You’re bored, huh?” “Well, pretty much been the house since I got here, other than a couple errands.” “Well, why don’t I call Jane and see if she and Rosie want to do something with us. You can go play meanwhile.” Jamie toddled off to find Amanda, who was in the shower, apparently. Not that he’d have minded just sitting in there while she did that. Jamie didn’t think of her that way, he just enjoyed being by her side, and he didn’t have much else to do. So he went to his room and got his bear, then sat down in his chair with one of the books he got. He was surprised by it. It had, at best, young adult themes, but it was written well enough to be absorbing. “Oh, Jamie,” he heard Becky coming up the stairs. “We’re gonna go to the beach and meet Jane and Rosie. I’m going to pull our things together, and I’ll be back in a bit to get you dressed, okay?” “Okay.” Of all the places to go, the beach would have been Jamie’s last pick. Staying home sounded better. But having asked to do something different, he knew he couldn’t back out now. He liked the beach, loved it even. But here? A beach, the most public of public places. He tried to turn back to his reading, but he kept picturing himself waddling out of the water with half the ocean in his pants. “Hey! I heard you’re going to the beach.” Amanda smelled like flowers he hadn’t smelled before. “Yeah,” he feigned some enthusiasm.” “Can I come?” “Of course!” “Mom’s getting a bunch of stuff ready. How about I get you dressed?” Amanda started rooting through the closet. “Ok … what am I gonna wear to the beach?” “Well, I figured this would be a good chance to break out the sailor suit. I mean, we were gonna save it for a religious holidays and christening ships, but now that think on it, that’s just dumb. If you can’t wear a sailor suit to the beach, you might as well just have the hat and not the suit, right?” Jamie knew when he was being put on. It actually made him feel good. Kids don’t get sarcasm; it’s mean to be sarcastic with kids. That Amanda would joke this way with him just showed she respected him. “Unless you’d like to wear something else …?” “Um, how about a bathing suit and a t-shirt?” “That’s what I like about you, Jamie. You’re stylish yet understated. Let’s get you changed.” She lifted him on the changing table, and he held up his arms by instinct. She unzipped his sleeper, and as she put in the hamper he reclined on the pad. The few minutes of time without a diaper he got each day were pleasant for him. Just feeling air where he rarely felt it was nice, and that the time coincided with baths, which he also loved, and with Amanda paying such gentle attention to him was extra special. Wanting a toilet to use above anything else, he been timing his voiding for when Amanda would be around next. It didn’t always work, but two out of every three changes were done by her. It was that Becky wasn’t just as good at it. It was just that, between the two of them, he preferred in pretty much all things, and if he couldn’t choose where to empty himself, he could choose when and thus who changed him. “Um … Amanda, I, uh … I can’t swim in this, can I?” “Not unless you want to carry around about 4 liters of sea water with you. We have some swim diapers for you.” “Oh.” Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She had him in swim trunks and a t-shirt in another minute and put sandals on his feet. He already had a tan from spending so much time out in the backyard. In fact, having been chained to a desk, he hadn’t been this tan in years. “Let’s go wait in the living room for mom.” She helped him down, and the two of them went to the living room. ‘We’ turned out to be Jamie, whom Amanda lifted into the playpen while she went to go get herself ready. Jaime didn’t mind. He’d left his coloring book in there. Jamie sort of liked the play pen. If he sat against the side away from the center of the room, he could still see out through the mesh, but he was a little more hidden. Becky came crashing up the stairs with chairs; then she went back down and came crashing up with a mesh bag full of beach toys; then she went down and came crashing back up with an umbrella. This is quite the production, Jamie thought. Becky had worked up a sweat. She decided to go get herself ready next, as Amanda came down wearing a T-shirt dress and carrying a backpack. “What happened to you?” “I was getting stuff from the basement.” “I’d have helped, Mom.” “It’s alright. How ‘bout you go make us a lunch while I change?” So Amanda went and filled a cooler with water and food for them, and that went to the car, too. It wasn’t a large car. This seemed a bit much to Jamie; they were just taking a day trip to a beach, and he thought they lived near it. He told himself to remember to ask for a map. At last, Becky came back downstairs in a new outfit carrying an overstuffed pool bag in her arm, which she set down, went back down the hall, and came back with Jamie’s diaper bag. “Are we ready?” Jamie didn’t know who she was asking. “Yeah, Mom. So long as we don’t forget Jamie,” Amanda said as she came back into the living room and lifted him from the playpen. I could live with that, Jamie wanted to say. Even from his low vantage point, Jamie could see the back of the car was filled with stuff. He had a lot of beach experience and knew you didn’t need all this. Not unless you were taking kids. Oh, he thought. This presented a dilemma. Jamie didn’t feel compelled to use eight buckets and five shovels and a sifter and a net. But so much work went into bringing it, he felt he had to. As Amanda buckled him in, he asked, “Will you sit in the back with me.” “Sure, buddy!” She went around to the other side and climbed in. Becky had them headed toward the beach. “So, what did you want to talk about?” “Rose.” “Ah. You want to know what she’s like?” “Yeah.” “I used to babysit her.” “Why don’t you anymore?” “School, and because Jane’s neighbor’s daughter is old enough to now, and she’s cheaper than I am.” “So, what is she like then?” “She’s about your age.” That was confusing. “Which … of my … ages?” Did that even make sense? “Your Little age. I think she’s older than you where you’re from.” “How long has she been here?” “I want to say twelve years.” “So she decided to stay then.” “Yep. She’s always been a happy little Little.” “Does Jane have any kids?” “No, she says she never wanted any. After a while, she decided she wanted a Little though.” “But …. How is that different?” “It …” That was a good question. Having a Little was arguably more work than a kid. Kids grow up and need less care. Only a handful of Littles grow up. Some grow up a bit and then stop, and most stay the way they arrived, or even go backward. “I guess I’m not sure.” “But it is different, though, right? I mean …” He had trouble wrapping his head around it, too. Amanda tried again. “I think, maybe … maybe Jane liked the idea of always having someone who depended on her, and being able to take care of her forever.” “But, doesn’t your mom do that for you?” Such a sweet guy, Amanda thought. “Ya know, you’re right. She does. But I think every parent is torn. A part of them wants to see their child grow up and get to know the person they become, and a part of them wants their child to stay young, even so young that they need their moms and dads for everything.” That made sense to Jamie. “That makes sense. So how far is the beach anyway?” “It’s on the other side of that hill.” She pointed to the ridge on their left. “Maybe when we get home, you could show me a map of where we live.” They pulled into a sandy parking lot filled with cars like Becky’s. From his seat, Jamie could see other people unloading as much junk as they had. Jamie had no idea what time it was, but he was feeling tired and figured it must be near his morning nap time. “Chill here; we’ll get some stuff out first.” Jamie kicked his legs for no reason, his feet dangling low so they didn’t hit the seat. The hatch of the car opened, and it sounded like all but a few things fell out. Becky got the entire car seat out with Jamie still in it and secured into the stroller. She looked at Jamie and at the pile. “Can you walk?” “Of course I can.” Does she think I’m gonna forget how? Jamie found himself next to the stroller, and as much as they could fit ended up in it, under it, or hanging from it. From stroller to luggage. Still, they’d need to make more than one trip. Jaime appraised himself. This was the most normal outfit he’d worn since he got there, even if the shirt had a whale on it. The swimsuit did nothing to disguise what he had underneath, but catching glimpses of other Littles between the cars as they walked past, he counted himself lucky he wasn’t wearing a speedo, or nothing but a diaper. He remembered people taking their babies around like that in public back home, and he always wondered what possessed a parent to do that. It was hardly dignified for the child, and it wasn’t exactly polite to the people around them either: here, it said, this my child and the thing they void their bowels into; we thought you’d enjoy it more if there wasn’t even a layer of cotton to obscure the view. “And we’re off.” Amanda held Jamie’s hand as they crossed the parking lot, looking both ways. They headed toward the boardwalk. Jamie looked at the sand: white and fine. There was sand like that at home, but he’d never seen it in person. A dozen trash cans, some overflowing, were near the entrance to the boardwalk; that part he did remember from home. They boardwalk was long. Thankfully Amanda and Becky slowed down so he didn’t have to speed-walk to keep up. When they finally came in sight of the sea, Jamie stopped walking and took in the scene. He smiled; a tear fell from his eye, the good kind. “Honey, is everything okay,” Becky asked. “Yeah. It looks like home.” The two of them waited for his cue before they walked on. At the foot of the boardwalk ramp were two dozen other strollers. It was still early in the day; Jamie could at least tell that from the sun, and it wasn’t as warm yet as it would be. He wondered if things would get busier or if this was it. Jamie was handed his diaper bag and the sack of beach toys, and Becky and Amanda shouldered the chairs and umbrella and beach bag. They turned left from the boardwalk. Their feet slipped a little each time they pushed off the balls of their feet, the rubber soles of their sandals squeaking with each step. It was a little hard on the calves, just like Jamie remembered. The salt in the air; the smell of sea life; those were familiar, too. After a few hundred meters, they saw Jane wave to them. She trotted over and took the toy bag. “More toys! Exactly what we need,” she chuckled. “Good morning, Jaime. Are you excited for your first time at the beach here?” “Good morning, Jane. I am. I missed it more than I thought.” “Rosie can’t wait to meet you.” They reach the spot Jane had picked out, just above where the surf stopped; he could feel the tide had only stopped washing over the area an hour or two ago. The sand wasn’t dry; it was spongy and cool, not hard like the packed sand the waves still lapped over. Rosie didn’t pay them much attention. She was seated with her legs under her, working on something in the sand in front of her. She had an array of buckets and tools to work with. “Rosie,” Jane said as she knelt down and touched her on the shoulder, “I want you to meet Jamie.” Jane’s voice was odd, he thought. Rosie turned around, and Jamie saw what she’d been working on – a wet mound of sand. He looked her up and down. One-piece bathing suit with polka dots and ruffles on her butt, clearly padded underneath. She had black hair and olive skin. He couldn’t tell how old she really was; it was impossible to know because of the cosmetic work the doctors did, the same ones that make him lose his facial and body hair and look and feel so much younger. When she turned all the way around, he saw she was blushing, and when she spoke, she rushed the words out: “Hi, Jamie. I’m Rosie. Wanna help me build a castle?” Jamie hadn’t considered it, and no one had told him. She’s regressed, he realized.

What a wonderful compliment. Thank you. And sorry, no update today. Maybe not until Thursday. There’s a lot I want to in this next chapter, and frankly, I’m just tired. Every time I lay down on my couch with my laptop the last few days, I feel an overwhelming urge to close my eyes. I’m gonna follow that feeling.

I’m glad it makes you happy. Writing it makes me happy, too.

That's an odd name for a diaper. As in, the 'forsite' to know you're gonna load your pants? I like the Under the Sea ones. I haven't tried them; I just mean I like the idea. A print diaper for incontinent people, as if to say this doesn't have to be miserable and it's okay to find accept it for what it is AND to even find some fun in it if you want to. I think that would be a revolutionary attitude adjustment for people who need diapers and the people who care for them. All the mainstream brands (Depend, etc.) market themselves primarily for being discrete, and there's nothing wrong with wanting discretion (I do, too), and having a printed diaper isn't the same as not being discrete, it's just that the motivation behind the desire to be discrete is that, whether you feel it or not, it's something to be ashamed of. A print doesn't say "don't be discrete;" it just says "it's nothing to be ashamed about - here, you can even have a little fun with it."

I didn't doubt it. Those folks live in the world, too. If we forget, they remind us. Hope you like this next installment. __________________________________________________ And chapter 12. There's something I'm trying to work toward, and I'm not sure if this chapter did it or not. I started out with a scene in mind that I quickly changed to this scenario, which I think is better and, within the story, more consistent and authentic with the world I've created. In other news, Daylight Savings Time should be all the time. Anyone who disagrees should go eat worms. __________________________________________________ Chapter 12 After a night’s rest and a thorough bath, Jamie was ready to write to Cheryl. My Forever Friend, Cheryl, I’m called Jamie now. Amanda picked it out, I think. You were right about her. No one has ever been so nice to me, except you. She calls me her buddy. She makes it bearable here so far. Becky and I got off to a rougher start. At first, it was like she was so blinded by her idea of a Little that she didn’t how I was different. She’s never been less than kind, but sometimes inconsiderate. But Amanda talked to her. I don’t know what she said, but Becky apologized. She promised if I trusted her and gave her another chance to show me she loved me, I’d come to love her and even heal, she said. I don’t know what that means, ‘heal.’ If it means to forget, I’d rather stay broken. Do you think that’s what I am? I don’t want to be a pity case. There are some thing I hadn’t anticipated, and if I had, I don’t know that I’d have come. They’re hard sometimes, but not everything about them is bad. They threw an arrival party for me yesterday. I like Amanda’s uncle Danny and aunt Laurie, and Becky’s best friend, Jane. Jane has a Little named Rose. Becky’s mom seems like a piece of work. I sorta made fun of her, but honestly, I don’t feel guilty about it, and everyone else thought it was funny. Except Becky, but she didn’t seem mad either. I’m going to get to me Rose eventually. I haven’t gotten to meet any other Littles yet. I saw some in a store. Most of them seemed regressed. I think I’ll feel better when I get to talk to some Littles and hear their perspective on things. They have to have some tips and tricks to make things easier. Other than that trip to the store, I haven’t gone out yet. I had several surgeries, and between that and the time difference, I’m tired a lot. The surgeries don’t hurt very much anymore, but I guess I’m still mending. About that trip to the store. Some random lady just came right up and pinched me cheek, and then when I got mad she did it again! Like she didn’t even hear me! I’m nervous about meeting other Bigs, not because I’m worried they’ll be mean to me but because they’ll treat me like she did, like I’m not a full person. I try to tell myself it will be okay as long as Becky and Amanda are around, but I know at some point, when summer ends, they won’t be around all the time. I’m trying to prepare myself for it, but sometimes it’s easier not to think about it. Every day is pretty much the same; that’s comforting, in a way. I think it will get boring eventually, but so far it’s better, I think. Most of my day is spent with Amanda. It’s a bit embarrassing, but when I do get bored, I follow her around. She never gets tired of me, though. She usually picks me up and keeps doing what she was doing, or else she stops and we talk or she helps me find something fun to do. It seems I never go long but I’m with her or she comes to me, I like that. She makes me feel ... I’m not sure. I just want to be with her most of the time. I have two people who love me. I don’t know if I’d can say with sincerity I have that depth of feeling for them, even for Amanda. It would be absurd to, right? I’ve known them little more than a week. Thank you so much for the presents you gave me. They were each so thoughtful. The bear is ... I’ve never had anything that was important to me. He sleeps with me. Sometimes I carry him around the house. I know it’s silly; it’s just a teddy bear. But because it’s from you ... I don’t understand how a teddy bear could make me feel so much better when it’s just a bear. But it does. I’ve only heard its voice once. It hurt so bad, hearing your voice and not seeing you, and not knowing when I’ll see you again, I don’t think I can hear it again. But knowing your voice is inside there makes me feel that I’ve not lost you. I haven’t, have I? There are times when I’m afraid I’m pretending, or maybe don’t even know I’m pretending. Do I feel such affection for Amanda because I have her with me and not you? Is the bear just a substitute? Your words are always a great comfort to me. Not hearing them every day leaves a void. I can’t tell if Amanda is filling that void in my heart, or if my heart grows each day to make a space for her. I can’t say I’m unhappy, but neither am I happy. I don’t know what this feeling is. There are moments, many of them, when I smile and laugh and have fun and suppose am I happy. But it feels like those moments end, and then there’s just the uncertainty. What am I doing here? Did I trade for a better world, or did I just trade for a new world to be sad in? I can’t foresee where this all ends. Amanda can’t tell me that, or Becky. They know where they want it to end, and they believe it will; they seem so sure of it. I want to be sure of it, too, and I try to will myself to have their confidence, but I can’t, or when I can it only keeps away the doubt so long. I never doubted your word. When you were sure, I was sure. Can you tell me, where does this road go? I thought I was scared when I left you. I thought that was the hard part, and it was so hard, harder than anything I’ve done, and I’ve done what’s hard. I had to do what was hard, and then I chose to do what was hard. Then I chose to walk away from all that, as far as I thought I could walk. The road didn’t end, Cheryl. Maybe I deluded myself into thinking it would, or else chose not to think on it because I didn’t want to know. As there’s a path still to tread, I guess I have to keep walking. It feels more like a limp. Cheryl, do you know where this road goes? Do you know the way? Your Forever Friend, Jamie PS, Becky sings a song to me every night. Its last verse make me think of you. Though sad fate our lives may sever Parting will not last forever, There's a hope that leaves me never, All through the night _­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________ “Where are we going?” Jamie had asked once already and had not gotten a straight answer. Were they trying to surprise him with something? He doubted it. “You'll see,” Becky answered. Amanda kept silent. Jamie gave up and watched the houses go by out the window. Everything reminded him of pictures of ancient Rome, not because things were ornate but because they were so massive. Not being told put him in a suspicious mood bordering on irritated. They pulled into the parking lot of a long, rectangular, brick building. Jamie was allowed to walk into the building, but he had to hold Becky’s hand. He wanted to ask Amanda what was going in; surely she’d level with him, but he never got the chance. Once in the building, he saw the sign board listing names and initials behind them. This is a medical building. Why not tell him he was going to the doctor if nothing was wrong? But he felt fine. Were they going to do something to him? They rode the elevator to the third floor and went into a waiting room filled with Little and their Bigs. Amanda took Jamie to find a chair while Becky registered them. Littles were sitting next to their Bigs, some were in strollers or carriers, some were playing on the floor with toys. Some looked sick, and some, like Jamie, looked fine. Their Little ages ran from new born to child. He could easily tell some of them were regressed by their faces and body language. Their eyes looked bright enough, but their hands and arms jerked when they tried to move them; nothing was smooth. Or else they had control of their gross motor skills, but no their fine; one held a sippy cup with both hands, while another smashed two toy cars together. He looked happy, but he also looked like he wasn’t capable of any game much more complex than that. Only one other Little, besides Jamie, looked completely with it. “Jamie,” a nurse called out as she opened the door. She held the door and then showed the three of them to an examination room. “The nurse will be in shortly.” Jamie heard loud crying from the room next door; he was out of patience. “Why are we here?” “It’s just a check-up.” “And?” “And that’s it.” “Why didn’t you just tell me that?” “Well, I know the doctor can be scary.” Yeah, Jamie though, when you’re five, and not knowing can be scary too. It would make sense if he was regressed, but he wasn’t. There was a knock on the door and it opened before they could answer. Guess doctors do that here, too, Jamie mused. Becky stood up to greet the young woman who came in. “Hi,” she said, “I’m Dawn. I’m one of Dr. Perkins’ nurses.” Becky answered back for the three of them. “Hi Dawn. I’m Rebecca, this is Amanda, and of course, this is Jamie.” Though he was seated on the exam table, Dawn still had to bend down slightly to look him in the eye. “Hello, Jamie. I’m Nurse Dawn. It’s a big day for you, isn’t it? Are you ready for your first physical?” She said it as though speaking to an actual infant, her voice pitched higher than when she spoke to Becky. “Actually, I’ve had, like, 50 of these.” “Ohho, well today you get your first real one.” Was that a shot at me or human medicine, he wondered. “I’m not regressed.” “I know. It says so right here in your chart. Arms up.” Her tone didn’t change. Jamie looked at Becky, who was smiling weakly. “It’s okay, honey, she's just going to undress you.” “I can do it.” Rather than reply, Dawn lifted his arms for him and pulled off his shirt, pushed him back gently, and then removed his shoes, socks, and pants. Jamie looked pleadingly at Becky and Amanda. He wasn’t sure why; maybe because she was being so patronizing, and because this was the first time someone other than the two of them saw him in just a diaper. The nurse lifted his wrist and took his pulse. Jamie preferred to not look at her. With a tug on one and then other hip, Jamie heard his diaper being opened and felt the cool air. It made him need to pee. “Oh my, goodness,” Dawn squeaked, “someone is all dry.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, which one of us,” he asked in his driest voice. Amanda had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. Even Becky chuckled. Dawn didn’t get it. “We need to get a quick urine sample.” Finally, Jamie thought, I can show them I can control my bladder. He started to sit up, and Dawn pushed him back down. “It’s a lot easier to go standing up,” he said. She shushed him. “It’s alright, honey. I know this doesn’t feel very good.” "What doesn't? What are you doing?" She didn't answer. She took his penis in her hand and began wiping the end of it with a something wet. He cringed. Before he could over it, he suddenly felt something wet and just above freezing being rubbed in circles over this bladder, and he felt an irresistible urge to pee, which he did. He heard it hitting the plastic of a specimen. Jamie wasn’t sure if he had purposefully let his urine go or not. The need was so urgent, he couldn’t tell if he instantly relaxed or lost control. He was embarrassed and angry. “What did you just do?” “Sorry, kiddo, I know that was cold.” “That …” Before he could finish, Dawn flipped him over. “Did you bring a stool sample?” Jamie blanched. “Right here.” Becky reached into her purse and pulled out a plastic bag with an opaque specimen cup inside. Jamie put his head back down. Screw this, he thought, resigning himself to being a passive participant. Or at least he did until he felt a very large hand spreading his butt cheeks apart. “HEY!” Jamie struggled to get up, but Dawn pushed him back down. Amanda interjected. “Could you be a little gentler, please?” To everyone’s astonishment, Dawn answered with, “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest Big sister. Don’t worry, baby, it won’t hurt.” Amanda scowled and shot back, “I’m not regressed either, lady.” Dawn had already turned back to the task at hand. Becky intervened. “This way is much more accurate for Littles, trust me.” She stepped forward and put a hand on Jamie’s back, gently, but he knew she’d hold him down if she needed to. Jamie tried coming to his own defense. “Can we talk about this! I mean, what’s so bad about being off a tenth of degree. That’s not ...” He was cut off mid-sentence by a greasy finger entering his backside. “Ow! Take that out! Do you even fucking hear me?” “Shh,” was Becky’s response, which she meant well, but it did nothing to make Jamie feel better. The finger was withdrawn and something much thinner was inserted. Jamie would have tried to get up, but holding perfectly still seemed the wise option. He laid with his cheek pressed to the table, thinking, fuck this and all y’all. After fifteen seconds, the thermometer was removed. Dawn folded the diaper back over Jamie’s butt and announced, “The doctor will be in just a minute.” “I’m sorry, baby, I know that wasn’t nice, but it was necessary,” Becky said as she stroked his back. Jamie huffed in response. “Amanda,” he asked. “Yeah, buddy?” She stepped up to the exam table, and Jamie subtly titled his eyes. She caught the signal and bent down so he could whisper in her ear. Amanda nodded and opened the diaper bag, took out wipe, then folded back the diaper again and cleaned the lubricant from between his cheeks. “Thank you.” There was another knock, and again another woman came in without waiting for a response. “Hi! I’m Dr. Perkins. You must be Rebecca.” “Becky, please.” “So, his first physical.” Jamie was getting a headache. “May I?” It wasn’t a question as she stepped forward and placed what Jamie could tell was a cold stethoscope on his back. “I don’t even have to be here for this,” Jamie said. “Shh. Be very quiet for me, babe.” Jamie’s inevitable sigh coincided with her request he take a deep breath. “Can you be a big boy and roll over for me?” Becky said something this time. “Yes, because he’s not regressed.” “Oh! I’m sorry. Sometimes we just forget!” But the apology was to Becky, not Jamie. He turned himself over, and she put the stethoscope back on his chest, then his belly. She probed around his abdomen. “Any complaints?” “Just an upset tummy last week. It cleared up in a day.” She folded the diaper down and checked Jamie’s privates. To her credit, she was gentle. Finally, the doctor spoke to Jamie. “I’m go to press in a few places, and I want you to tell me if it hurts.” He nodded, and she pushed gently around his stomach, pubic mound, hips and joints. “There,” Jamie winced. “Here?” “Uh huh.” “Okay, sorry.” She turned her attention back to Becky. “Well, that’s normal for the surgery he had. He’s healing at the right rate. He’s moving around alright?” “Yes. He gets tired easily, though.” “That’s to be expected. I don’t see anything different from what the doctors at the hospital noted. He looks healthy and well developed.” “Then can I get up?” She ignored him. “How’s he tolerating his diet.” “Hey! Can you please address me, dammit!” James sat himself up and did his best to look deserving of respect, albeit nude. The doctor turned and look at him with a blank expression for a few second before turning back to Becky. “There are things we do to manage his behavioral outbursts, such as medication.” Becky cut her off. “No, thank you.” Now Perkins look at Becky blankly and turned to Amanda, who looked livid. “Alright. I’ll have Dawn come back in and give him his vaccination, and then you’re free to go.” She left. Becky sighed. “Sorry, Jamie. Let’s get you redressed.” Becky was getting his shoe on by the time Dawn came in. “Alright. So this will only take a sec.” Dawn laid out a syringe, alcohol wipe, and band-aid on the exam table next to Jamie. “What’s the shot for?” Dawn ignored him. “Becky?” “It’s just a vaccination. You got some in the hospital but will need some boosters.” He nodded. Amanda stepped forward and took his hand. “Squeeze if it hurts, buddy.” Dawn rolled up his sleeve and rubbed his arm vigorously with the alcohol wipe. “Are you gonna be brave for me?” She pinched his arm to make the needle slide in easier. It looked no different than any other needle he’d been stuck with. “What’s the big deal? I’ve gotten shots …” Dawn inserted the need and depressed the plunger. Jamie’s lips quivered. Agony. Pure agony, like he’d been stabbed by a rhinoceros horn! He burst into tears and proceeded to wail while crushing Amanda’s fingers. Dawn put a bandaid over the spot. Jamie’s arm felt limp. “He’s all set to go.” “Oh, baby boy, I know it hurts.” Both Becky and Amanda tried to comfort him, and it was only a moment before he got himself under control, though he still lost a few more tears. “What the hell was that? What did she do to me?” Becky rubbed his back. “It was just a shot honey. They hurt.” “Not like that! We have shots where I’m from, too! Did she maim me? Is it bleeding?” Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle at his dramatics. Littles and shots – she didn’t understand how they could overreact so much. “Can we go home?” “I think that’s a good idea.” _­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________ Once inside, Becky told Jamie, “Go wait for me in your room. I’ll be there in a minute.” Amanda stayed behind. “We have to get a new doctor, Mom. She and her nurse were just awful.” “Agreed. We need to take Jamie out somewhere he can meet Bigs soon. He’s left the house twice so far, and both times were terrible for him. He’s gonna think we’re monsters. But I need to have a little talk with him first. He can’t behave like that and expect to get away with it.” “I know. The books say it’s important to confront Littles as soon after misbehavior as you can.” “Yeah, so I’m gonna go talk to him and then put him down for his nap.” She filled a bottle of water and went to Jamie’s room, where she found him sitting his chair looking tired and rubbing his arm as though he’d been an industrial accident. “Jamie, we need to have a little talk.” She sat down in the rocking chair. “Come over here, please.” Jaime didn’t like where this was going, but her face said it wasn’t a question. He got up and walked to her, and once he was close enough, she leaned out and picked him up, putting in in her lap so they were facing each other. His heart skipped half a beat; the action reminded him of large, fast hands from his childhood. And the moment reminded him just how much at the mercy of her good intentions he was. He figured to head off trouble by apologizing, though what for he wasn’t sure. “Becky, I …” “I’m going to talk first. I don’t like how that doctor and nurse talked to us or treated you. They had no excuse. We’re going to find a new one for you. Okay?” “Thank you.” “But I also don’t like the way you talked to them. When someone is rude to you, you can’t just be rude back. That doesn’t fix things. And your language is not alright. When you get angry or afraid, you need to use appropriate words.” “I know I used some swear words, but overall, I don’t think I said or did anything that was out of line.” “Where you come from, when someone made you angry, is that how you talked to them?” “Well ... no.” “Why not?” “Because it’s just not how I talk to people.” “Why not?” “It would just be wrong; you’re supposed to control those impulses.” “Exactly.” But people didn’t treat me like …” “Like a Little?” His ears burned. “Yeah.” “I like you so much the way you are, Jamie. I like the way you came to us, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. You’re smart and funny and confident. Those are all good things, and it’s important to me you stay that way. Understand?” He nodded. “You are a Little, and that’s such a good thing. Some things are different here, and they’re all for your good, even if you don’t understand why. For instance, Littles get their temperature taken in their bottom. That nurse should have explained things to you as she went along instead of ignoring you. She was wrong about the way she did it, but she did what she needed to do for you.” Jamie wasn’t liking this conversation. Why do Littles get treated differently? That seemed like a whole different conversation, and Jamie didn’t want to solve it just then. He wanted to end the lecture. Still … “But … I’m not stupid. I’ve taken care of myself for a long time.” “Of course you’re not stupid. You’re very, very smart. Remember when we talked about trust? That’s what this is. Rights and responsibilities go hand in hand; you gave up a lot of responsibilities, and that was for the best. But that means some things can’t be up to you. That’s why you have to trust us and let us make some decisions for you, even when you don’t understand why. It takes a lot of courage to trust that much.” That made a certain sense. Someone with no responsibilities but who thinks they can still make decisions when it’s convenient for them is called a brat. Still, there’s a line between trust and credulity. “That … what if I really disagree? Like, I don’t think they do have my interests in mind?” “You ask me or Amanda, or someone you do trust, and then you do what we decide.” “What if the only person is around is someone I don’t know enough to trust?” “Like who?” “I don’t know … a babysitter?” “I wouldn’t put a babysitter in charge of you that I didn’t trust. But, if you ever feel unsafe, you do what you think is best, and we’ll talk about it together later. Okay?” “Okay.” So basically, Jamie thought, my right to do what I want has a limit. He thought back again to the adoption agreement. You have the rights of a minor, which effectively meant he had given up rights, a lot of them. And he wouldn’t ever talk to anyone the way he did to the doctor and nurse, not as an adult. He knew better – it was rude and it made whatever the problem was worse; everyone just dug in their heels more. The tables turned. Jamie used to tell kids in new situations something very much like what Becky told him. These people know best, or I wouldn’t put you with them; you need to do what they say, but if you ever feel unsafe or if they hurt you, tell me or another adult. I just got told to behave myself, in other words, he thought. And overall, he didn’t disagree, at least in theory. Giving up the power to make certain decisions, which he had agreed to do, was something he had to do in order to have the freedom of having less responsibility. I can’t have my cake and eat it too. And he knew trying otherwise wouldn’t help him in the long-run; he’d just be another version of his old self, or worse. “I know it will be hard for you sometimes, especially at first. Sometimes you might not succeed, and we’ll work on it together. Does that make sense?” He could foresee that. No one never misbehaves. What then? One thing at a time, though, he thought. “It makes sense. “It’s your nap time. When you wake up, we can talk again if you have more questions.” She hugged him tightly, undressed him, and kissed him before raising the crib rail and turning off the light. _­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________ When Jamie woke up some time later. His arm still hurt. He found the bottle of water Becky had left in his crib and started drinking. He never seemed to wait long between waking up from a nap and someone coming to get him. He did his business in anticipation of being clean again very soon. Sure enough, he only had to wait a few minutes. It was Amanda, the person he wanted to see. She shut the door behind her. “Hey, buddy!” She said it in excited voice, a little higher than normal, but it wasn’t like when others did it. She was excited to see him, Jamie knew, and it wasn’t patronizing. He smiled back at her but stayed where he was. She lowered the crib rail and knelt down so she was at his left, and then ran her hand over his back. He was beginning to recognize her hands by the way they felt different from Becky’s, softer, more delicate. In some ways, this was the best part of his day. It was Amanda’s, too. She always took the opportunity when she could to get him up from his naps; it was quality time together. “How about we go straight into some PJs for the rest of the day?” That was fine by Jamie; he was growing to like those sleepers. She picked a pair from his dresser. He wondered how many there were. He’d only worn a couple of them more than once. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” This was also getting so routine that it was losing the power to bother Jamie. So long as he was able to time it right, he didn’t have to endure it long. That it didn’t bother her, or Becky, made him feel at least as though he didn’t have to feel ashamed. “How does your arm feel?” “It still hurts.” “You were very brave.” Jamie blushed. “No I wasn’t.” “Why do you say that?” “Because I cried like an infant.” “Ya know, every day I see people who walk around with some hurt inside them. Are they brave because they don’t cry?” “Well … no.” “So what makes them brave?” “I guess, that they keep going.” “That’s right. Anything else?” Jamie thought about it. “I can’t think of anything.” “How about that when they need to, they ask for help? I think that’s very brave.” “I think so too.” I guess that’s what I did, Jamie thought. “And there’s nothing wrong with a Little letting it out when something hurts a lot. That’s just another way of asking for help.” That made Jamie feel better. It took away some shame. He was clean again. “Manda?” She smiled at him funny. “What did you call me?” He blushed; he hadn’t meant to. “Um … Manda. Sorry.” She ruffled his hair. “Don’t be. I like it.” Jamie smiled. Now he had given her a name, too, even if he didn’t mean to. A name only he knew. “How bad … was I?” He wanted her opinion. It meant the most to him. Zipping up his footies, she picked him up and carried him to the rocking chair. “Can you hear me?” “Of course I can.” “And you’re listening really well?” “Yes … promise.” Was he about to get another lecture? “You weren’t ‘bad,’ Jamie. I don’t think you could be bad if you wanted to. You just made a little mistake. And when that doctor started talking about medicating you, I wanted to make a much bigger mistake than you did. Did you notice what Mom did?” “She just shut down the conversation.” “Right. That was the right way to handle it. The rest of it, they only did what they were supposed to, but it was how they did it. They were very mean to you. Has anyone been mean to you before?” “Of course. Lots.” “When you were a kid, how did you handle it?” “I’d get angry … which didn’t usually work.” “Exactly. You learned better ways to handle it. Ya know what I think happened? I think, without you realizing it, not having a say made you feel you weren’t responsible for what happened next, so you said what felt good even though you really know it wouldn’t help.” Jamie realized Amanda had him totally figured out. He wondered what else she knew. “But you were responsible for some of what could have happened next, weren’t you?” “Yes.” “That can be really hard to remember when we feel powerless, that we only feel that way. What we say and do can make things better or worse.” Jamie certainly knew that was true. There wasn’t much that couldn’t be made worse. “You’re right.” “And I know you know I’m right, because you’re a very smart person. Sometimes we all forget things and make mistakes. That’s another Big sister responsibility, help you avoid those and helping you learn from the ones that get made even though we both try.” Jamie just wrapped her arms around her. He shuddered a bit, to know he was safe with her. She kissed his head and stoked his hair. “Feel better.” “Much. Thank you.” “I’ve got something else for you, too.” She reached around to her back pocket and withdrew an envelope. Jamie’s breath grew a little faster. Excited and nervous. She handed him the letter and he looked at it for a long moment. “Tell you what. How ‘bout you just hang out in here for a while?” She set him on his feet, and he finally looked away from the envelope. “Okay.” Amanda decided to empty the diaper pail, so she took that with he. Before she reached the door, Jamie asked, Manda? What are you doing later?” “After lunch, I thought I’d go lay in the sun for a bit.” “Can I come with you?” “Of course.” When Amanda walked by his room twenty minutes later, Jamie was under his crib, re-reading his letter. _­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________ Dearest Jamie, What a joy to see your name on the envelope! My thoughts turn to you by the hour. The hours are long sometimes. It is a great relief to know you are well. You are not broken, Jamie. Never. You have me and always will. Forever and ever. Whatever else you doubt in the world, never doubt that. No distance or time or force can sever what we have. We are part of each other, now and always. I’m so happy you and Amanda are growing so close. She’s a sweeter person than she knows. I saw her in it like I saw it in you. She is young yet, though not so much younger than you. None of us knows all of what we are until time in its fullness reveals ourselves, but each day we come to know more. We shape and are shaped by the people around us. You are helping her to know herself for the miracle she is as much as she is helping you. Becky is right. Trust her, and you won’t regret it. I placed the two of you in each other’s arms. Trust that, and you will trust her. My sweet boy, I don’t know where the road goes. I don’t know the way. But I know you’re on the right road. I’d have held you back otherwise. It was hard enough not to. You are a pilgrim now. Pilgrims have far to walk; they know where they mean to go, but they don’t always know what they’ll encounter along the way, or what paths they’ll follow when the road diverges, but a pilgrim is never lost. Wherever he goes, he is still a pilgrim, and whether he ever arrives where he set out to, a pilgrim always arrives where he is meant to. A pilgrim’s walk is easy some days. There’s dew on the grass in the morning. The sun warms you. The breeze pushes you along. Other days, the walking is hard. The mud pulls at you feet. The rain pounds at you. The wind pushes you back. Good days and bad, it hurts to walk far. But the way provides for pilgrims who keep walking anyway. I’ve never met someone so able to endure as you. You will walk so far you'll discover wonderful things only you'll know of, and then you'll share it with us the way you've shared yourself and made our lives so much richer. And when you think you can walk no farther, when it hurts too much to take another step, Becky and Amanda will carry you. Others will, too. They’ll carry you because it lightens their hearts to shoulder your weight. We carry those we love. And when you’re ready, they’ll know it, even if you do not, and they’ll set you back on your feet. How far you will go. I walk beside you always. Your Forever Friend, Cheryl

This didn't happen to me, but when I was a high school senior, a group of us were walking down the hall and saw the dean of students standing outside the restroom in the freshman hallway with a custodian. Seems some poor freshman (that's 14-15 year olds, for you Brits) was taken suddenly ill and didn't get his pants down in time. No idea who it was, and had we known, no one would have made fun of him. Our school was known to not have cliques or bullies. We were pretty close to one another. I couldn't imagine how mortified the kid must have been. Poor guy.