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Done Adulting, Volume 1 (Now available on Amazon with a preview of Volume 2)


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6 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

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 would be happy to work with you as an editor.  Your prose is excellent, and it wouldn't take much nudging on my part to elevate it across the board, which is what I get the sense you're after.  Half of the art of fiction, though, is creating crescendos with words as musicians do with sounds.  You can't have everything at maximum intensity all the time.  ;) 

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2 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

I would be happy to work with you as an editor.  Your prose is excellent, and it wouldn't take much nudging on my part to elevate it across the board, which is what I get the sense you're after.  Half of the art of fiction, though, is creating crescendos with words as musicians do with sounds.  You can't have everything at maximum intensity all the time.  ;) 

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

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14 minutes ago, Author_Alex said:

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

Mostly because stuff like this is pure poetry:

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.

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I love the way you described how he felt powerful in the water. I completely felt it and the freedom he enjoyed with it! Exhilarating! Great adventure and hopefully he meets some non regressed littles as well or who are not quite like Rosie. Looking forward to more!

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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.

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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.
Love this book so far. Can't wait to see who is little Jamie.

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That is some spectacular character-building right there.  For the first time, we really get a deep look into what makes Becky tick.  

To be honest, I never got a nefarious vibe out of Becky - just a sense that she was doing what she thought she was "supposed" to do.  

And all of this meshes perfectly with the real issue Jamie has been having - the lack of agency.  Which is, ultimately, a very toddler problem to have.  A two or three year old has found their voice, and they want to be independent as much as they are able, while still having the option to be babied when they reach a point of being overwhelmed.  The "terrible twos" really aren't so terrible once you realize this contradiction and work with it.  

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1 hour ago, WBDaddy said:

That is some spectacular character-building right there.  For the first time, we really get a deep look into what makes Becky tick.  

To be honest, I never got a nefarious vibe out of Becky - just a sense that she was doing what she thought she was "supposed" to do.  

And all of this meshes perfectly with the real issue Jamie has been having - the lack of agency.  Which is, ultimately, a very toddler problem to have.  A two or three year old has found their voice, and they want to be independent as much as they are able, while still having the option to be babied when they reach a point of being overwhelmed.  The "terrible twos" really aren't so terrible once you realize this contradiction and work with it.  

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.

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48 minutes ago, Author_Alex said:

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.

The only mistake she made was not allowing Jamie to show her what he was capable of before she started applying restrictions to him.  It started with the whole bathroom thing.  

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13 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

That is some spectacular character-building right there.  For the first time, we really get a deep look into what makes Becky tick.  

To be honest, I never got a nefarious vibe out of Becky - just a sense that she was doing what she thought she was "supposed" to do.  

And all of this meshes perfectly with the real issue Jamie has been having - the lack of agency.  Which is, ultimately, a very toddler problem to have.  A two or three year old has found their voice, and they want to be independent as much as they are able, while still having the option to be babied when they reach a point of being overwhelmed.  The "terrible twos" really aren't so terrible once you realize this contradiction and work with it.  

Spot on

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I like the character building and agree Becky thinks she is doing what is right for him. I love the conversation and think Jamie’s presence is helping Mom and Daughter as much as it is helping Jamie. Counseling sounds positive as well. I love the direction and healing and analytical-ness of this story in a lot of ways.

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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.

 

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Kinda saw that coming, but enjoyed it nonetheless.  You executed it beautifully - mutual respect, mutual concern for feelings and desires, culminating in a beautiful little shared moment that fulfilled them both. 

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Beautiful chapter. Great end to a great day! I like Amanda’s explanation of how Rosie is and think Jamie liked it as well but you could definitely see the wheels turning in his head about it. Looking forward to more!

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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.

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Poor Cheryl I feel for her.  Jamie is probably going to see that cashier many times if it's their regular grocery store so perhaps something that can be done.   Sunning themselves sounds hellish I hate getting sweaty and that's all sunning yourself does other than upping your cancer risks - double yay (I'm more prone to sweat than most).  I have pale skin that skips tanning and goes directly to incineration to boot. Yay!

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I really like this alternative take on the Diaper Dimension. It seems that a few products from the other parts of the culture are available in Itali, such as the addictive cookies. I hope Amanda and Becky are aware that they should not let Jamie watch foreign cartoons!

Thinking about the comment someone made about not giving Jamie unnatural abilities, I think the character most in danger of being too perfect is Amanda. Maybe she could have an off day and we could see how Jamie and Becky cope with that?

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Oh man I'm loving this story! Seriously, I made an account just to comment, lol. I'm really loving the complexity of Jamie. Seeing him adapt to the new world and lifestyle and dealing with his own problems is making this a really fascinating read! But oh man the story isn't done! I've always hated having to wait a week for an episode in a new TV show, now I gotta wait for the next chapter! Aaaaah!

Anyways, amazing job so far, please keep up the amazing work!!

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I'm worried that Cheryl is going to be stupid and go over to be adopted herself... Hopeful that Jamie manages to deal with most Amazons okay. Now that they're taking him out into the population though I have a feeling he is in for many a shock!

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This at one point looked like it was going the way of 'bad seed', which compleetly zoomed in on the 'woe is me' of the scarred protagonist and compleetly lost all direction, and interest (I thought the pierced chick was going to wind up diapered, for how she was treating her disabled sister. But went on some weird tangent and become boring), but I'm glad to see it isn't. 

 

I think it would be a shock for him to have her visit...., and to realize he now can't stop wetting his pants, and possibly even pooping, and be embarrassed /mortified to realize this during a knee jerk reaction to try and seem more mature infront of her, like when they last met, but instead he's helplessly unpotty trained now. 

 

It would be a well trodden trope to have her come over and be adopted too.he seems to have been clicking better with the daughter so she could be looked after more by the mother.., or the daughters friend who lives littles. 

 

Maybe she would come over to make him not feel so bad about how far he has regressed. She would need her regression level abit stronger to put her at the same level as him from the get go. Say goodbye to her panties and potty training overnight. 

 

This story is great. 

 

Some reason to me, I almost feel like the story 'the promise' is happening afew streets down from here :)

 

Please keep up the great work

 

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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.”

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