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


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This chapter is just touchingly beautiful, seeign Eric start the process in learning to trust his new guardians, and maybe a hint of love. 

 

We’re so spoiled with this piece, (almost) daily updates! Absolutely thrilled! 

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1 hour ago, ozziebee said:

This chapter is just touchingly beautiful, seeign Eric start the process in learning to trust his new guardians, and maybe a hint of love. 

 

We’re so spoiled with this piece, (almost) daily updates! Absolutely thrilled! 

I may have to stop spoiling you quite so frequently. This is kinda draining.

Seriously, I always wondered how actors could cry on demand and what it meant to internalize the material.

I spent a half hour on that letter and cried, hard, through most of it. I’m not sure if I’m internalizing material or externalizing feelings. I guess I very much do want and maybe need a Cheryl and an Amanda in my life.

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5 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

I may have to stop spoiling you quite so frequently. This is kinda draining.

Seriously, I always wondered how actors could cry on demand and what it meant to internalize the material.

I spent a half hour on that letter and cried, hard, through most of it. I’m not sure if I’m internalizing material or externalizing feelings. I guess I very much do want and maybe need a Cheryl and an Amanda in my life.

Everyone needs a Amanda /Cheryl in his life ! We all need some love ! And I think you gonna find in the places that you not would expect! Like Jamie !

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16 hours ago, Author_Alex said:

I may have to stop spoiling you quite so frequently. This is kinda draining.

I sooooooooo empathize with you on this.  Writing intensely emotional passages is very draining for me as well.  

That said, there's something to be said for striking while the iron is hot.  You're in a groove on this one.  If you can, push through it. Nothing worse than getting off to a hot start and then losing the muse because you took a break. 

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24 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

I sooooooooo empathize with you on this.  Writing intensely emotional passages is very draining for me as well.  

That said, there's something to be said for striking while the iron is hot.  You're in a groove on this one.  If you can, push through it. Nothing worse than getting off to a hot start and then losing the muse because you took a break. 

For sure. Updates might be a few days in coming, or may get shorter, or a bit of both.

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Short update this time, and nothing heavy.

I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so much. I started off to right a light and happy story, and this went down the path it's on now. I like it more.

____________________________________________________

Chapter 7

 

When morning arrived, Jamie woke up in pain. Not having consciously urinated since he awoke the first time yesterday, he was over full and needing to relive himself. He considered his options.

 

He could call out to one of them and ask to use the bathroom. It might take them a while to hear him, though, and if they did, their reaction yesterday left little doubt they’d only look at him in confusion when he asked to use the toilet.

 

He could climb out of the crib, but he doubted how well he could in his condition, and having gone over the railing, he’d be twelve feet from the floor. And having gotten to the floor, assuming he didn’t hurt himself, he’d need to sneak out of his room, to the bathroom and back. He hadn’t seen the bathroom yet; he could just as easily walk into one of their bedrooms. And then he’d have no way to get back into his crib, and he didn’t know how they’d react if they found him out of it. Strap him in? Put a canopy on top? Punish him?

 

Or take the diaper off and pee … somewhere. In his crib, but he did have to sleep there. It would clean up, but he knew there was never really getting urine out of a mattress. He could pee through the bars. Somehow that struck him as an even worse idea. Finally, an acceptable solution came to him.

 

Getting to his knees, Jamie untaped his diaper, laid it out in front of him, and peed into it like a urinal. A lot. Much relieved, he moved the diaper to the far corner of the crib, not wanting to put it back on. Jamie knew this was more like half a plan, but he liked that half. Shrugging, he got back under his covers and waited for someone to come get him.

 

He began to drift off again when he heard Rebecca whispering, “Wake up, it’s a new day.” He opened his eyes to find her looking down at him. How can something so big make so little noise, he wondered.

 

“Good morning, Becky,” he greeted her.

 

“Did you sleep well? I hope so after the hard day you had. How about some breakfast,” she said as she pulled back his covers. It didn’t happen quickly enough for Jamie not to be afraid of her reaction, but she didn’t look angry, more surprised and confused, and then she laughed. “Where did your diapey go?”

 

By the way she was looking around in the blanket, it was clear she wasn’t expecting an answer. Finally she found it, grabbed it, and rolled it up in one motion. “Did someone take off his diapey? Was that someone you? Did you take off your diapey?” It make Jamie want to smile a little, which he assured himself was only because of how ridiculous the entire situation was. He didn’t know what to say. Answering was superfluous, as the answer was obvious.

 

“That’s my fault,” she said, picking him up and lifting him over the rail, “I should have gotten up earlier to change you. You were probably uncomfortable sitting in that so long.” From the crib directly to the changing table.

 

“Actually,” Jamie said, “I took it off and then peed in it.”

 

“Uh huh …”

 

Once more he felt like he was breaking the third wall, looking at an audience that wasn’t there as if to ask, can you believe this woman? Jamie had no idea how to respond to her non-response. It was as though she had a mental block and couldn’t wrap her head around the idea he didn’t need diapers.

 

“We got the whole day to ourselves, just the three of us,” Becky went on as she got Jamie into a new diaper. Jamie kept his arms folded over his chest and looked away, less embarrassed than fed up.

 

“Looks like someone is cold …” Becky said as she cleaned him off.

 

That was the last straw, and Jamie jerked up instantly, hands ready to animate what he was about to say next.

 

“You know what …” Becky stopped and looked at him, surprised. Seeing the look, remember where he was and what he was and what she was, he forcefully exhaled through clenched teeth. “I am cold. Yes. Thank you.”

 

He laid back down, remember his healing abdomen, and stewed. He recalled that elegant phrase he had heard so often in his career, that phrase that so perfectly encapsulated so very, very much about life on his home planet, this planet, and, he assumed with perfect confidence, every planet: This is some bullshit!

 

And it was, and Jamie could do nothing about it, for the moment. Shortly thereafter he was dressed and being carried out of the room, not paying much attention to Becky but thinking more on bullshit and its many iterations and permutations, when he was taken out of his philosophical musings when he heard, “You haven’t pooped since you got here. If you don’t go soon we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

 

Motherfucker!

 

_­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“That wasn’t too much food this time, right,” Becky asked as she wiped Jamie’s mouth for him.

 

“No, that was just right.” What is that stuff and why does it taste so good, he wondered.

“Good morning,” Amanda announced cheerily as she came into the kitchen.

 

“Good morning,” Becky replied. “You’ll never guess what I found this morning. A naked boy.”

 

Giants live here, Jamie thought, so where’s a giant hole I can jump into?

 

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan for today,” Amanda asked as she made herself a bowl of cereal.

 

“Nothing, really. Just another day to adapt and adjust, for all of us. What do you want to do, Jamie?”

 

It was the first time, that he could remember, that either of them had asked what he wanted to do. “Um … can I take a shower?”

 

“That was on my list. Let’s go do that right now,” Becky said.

 

“Can I walk?”

 

“Oh, sure,” Becky said. She sounded disappointed as she lowered him gently to the ground. She held him under his arms, slowly letting himself take his own weight, and lingering to make sure he could.

 

Eric was patient about it, and when he was on his own feet, rolled his hips a bit to see how they felt. The right one was sore, a little less than yesterday, but it held him up just fine. He followed Becky out of the room and down the hall taking two steps for every one of hers. She turned into the room across from his, the bathroom, and Jamie took mental notes of it.

 

The top of the sink was out of reach; he’d need a stepstool to get to it. Even if he was allowed to use the toilet, he’d need something to stand on for that, too, and he realized, if he were to sit on it, he’d probably fall right in. He’d need a special seat. He’d be able to hoist himself into the tub, but that could prove risky when wet. He’d need both hands to turn the knobs, and the shower head was well out of reach.

 

Becky opened the cabinet under the sink and took out a stool, which relieved Jamie until she sat down on it and began to undress him. It wasn’t for climbing. Only wearing two garments, he was quickly nude again.

 

“Uh, thanks.”

 

Setting his pajamas on the vanity and his unused diaper in the wastebasket, pivoted back and turned on the tap.

 

“Um, I think I can take it from here.”

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Becky responded, once more like this was a game. “I know how little boys are. As soon as I leave you’ll make a horrible, no good mess for me to clean up. Besides, you’re too little to do this yourself. You’ll miss a bunch of spots.”

 

The list of things that were not bullshit continued to get shorter. Still, Jamie thought, a bath would feel good. And considering, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen and touched every part of him already, it wasn’t all that embarrassing.

 

Checking the temperature and feeling it was fine, she lifted Jamie into the bathtub. It may as well have been a hot tub, except almost twice as deep. Jamie had always liked taking baths. He could hardly complain. The hot water sapped the stress from his muscles and eased the stiffness all over. Focusing on how good it felt and not on the fact he was being watched, he ducked his head under the faucet, came back out and pushed his hair back, and laid down against the rear of the tub. This was the best he had felt since he had felt in what was now 41 days.

 

Amanda came in and snapped a few ‘first bath’ pics, and Jamie didn’t care.

 

Becky rested her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee. “You like water, huh?”

 

Jamie smiled with his eye still closed. “Yes. I always have.”

 

“We’ll get you some bath toys then,” she said as she soaped a sponge. When it touched his chest, Jamie let out a happy moan. What incredible feels, the water and the sensation of that soapy sponge being rubbed up and down his torso, then his arms, and his neck. He lifted each leg when asked and from his feet, which tickled, to the very tops of his thighs, the soft but rough sponge cleaned every part of him. Forgetting where he was and with whom, he opened his legs without meaning to, and every part of his there was cleaned to. Finally, we sat up, and the same thing was done to his back, and then his butt. Finally, her hands were rubbing the tension from his scalp, working a sweet scented shampoo into a lather, before he felt a cascade of water of his head. The slick of the soap, the gentle abrasive of the sponge, and her heavy hand made it a massage worth remembering. He hadn’t even had to open his eyes.

 

Amanda left again after she got the classic soapy hair photo.

 

“All clean.”

 

Jamie just smiled in response, up to his chin in the water, and felt he could fall asleep. He stayed like for ten minutes while Rebecca felt warm inside for her contented little boy. She waited and finally pulled the plug, and Jamie opened his eyes back to his new reality.

 

When the water was only an inch deep, she helped him to his feet and wrapped the largest fluffiest towel he’d ever had on his body, and started carrying him back to his room, grabbing his pajamas on the way.

 

“Wait,” he said as he passed the mirror, “I wanna look.” Becky stopped and looked down him and at the mirror, then place him on his feet on the vanity, keeping her hands on him to make sure he didn’t fall.

 

There was no sign of a beard, or even peach fuzz. No grey in his hair, which he swore was a lighter shade of blond than it had been. He opened his mouth and then smiled; his teeth were whiter and perfectly straight.

 

“Can you, uh, take the towel down?”

 

Sensing that this was an important moment, Becky didn’t say anything, just moved the towel. There was no hair on his body, except the faintest on his forearms, felt more than seen. He looked slim, not only across his belly but in his chest and legs, too. He flexed his arms, picked up each foot and rolled his ankles and knees and elbows and neck. Nothing cracked.

 

“Wow,” he whispered. He was the same height, a slimmer version of his old self but still the same build, but he otherwise looked, and, better yet felt as though more than half his years were gone.

 

“Wadduya think,” Becky finally asked.

 

He looked up at her and smiled. “Haven’t felt this good in years.”

 

Back in his room, he was redressed, still not participating in his diapering. Placing her hand gently on his belly, Becky lightly prodded him here and there, and rubbed her hand in circles. “Does that hurt?”

 

“No. Well, a little.”

 

“You’ll feel better when you finally manage to pass something.” And Jamie knew she was right about that, and he both hoped and dreaded that it would happen relatively soon. She held out her hands, he took them, and she helped him to sit up.

 

“Becky, I have some more questions. Can we go talk some more?”

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3 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

"Can you install a giant hole for me to escape into?" :)

Jamie was feeling kinda sarcastic last night. ?

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Well, I had a crummy day. A doctor confirmed if I ever wanted it to stop hurting, I'll need surgery on one of those parts you're only supposed to talk about with a doctor.

Then the clueless, faceless numbnuts that dictate your life when you work for a company that's owned by a company that's owned by another company let me know via my boss that though I've worked the equivalent of 12 weeks in a year that's only 9 weeks old, I need to do more to generate revenue.

And I have a headache, an upset stomach, and I've been typing this with a fractured wrist and two sprained fingers, the latter of which I accidentally jammed into a shelf today.

For sure the upset stomach has to do with either the bug going around in the office or the fact that dinner tonight was a donut and a little scotch that's peatier than I prefer.

So having vented and being prepared to get in bed and stay there until forced to choose between getting out and losing my job, I give you Chapter 8, which I think is pretty good despite everything else and being written in just 3 hours.

So enjoy the read and sleep soundly, but I'm damn sure gonna  ?

______________________________________

Chapter 8

 

 

“So, what did you want to talk about,” Rebecca asked when the three of them were back in the living room, he on the chair we could barely see them from and them on the sofa.

 

“So, first off, I wanted to reiterate that I took that diaper off, and then peed it after I woke up this morning,” Jamie said, awaiting some kind of realization on their faces. Nothing.

 

“Honey, it’s so cute that you want to try to change yourself, but you should always let a Big do that for you.”

 

It was like an insurmountable language barrier. “No, see, it wasn’t a change. I just took it off,” he let that sink in, “and then urinated in it,” and again, “as though urinating in a toilet.”

 

“Honey, that was a dream.”

 

Un-fucking-believable, Jamie thought. I’d be making more progress with a tree. But it pays to be patient.

 

“So,” he said very slowly, “If I were to take off the diaper I’m wearing right now,” using hand gestures to illustrate, “what would happen then?”

 

“I’d put it back on you, silly. We can’t have you running around with a diapey – you’d make a horrible mess.”

 

“Okay.” Let’s try that again. “And, please pay very close attention,” which Becky did, in the way a person looks at a toddler to humor them, “if after you put the diaper back on me – see where I’m going with this – I took it off again, and, peed in the toilet – making more sense now, I hope – what would happen then?” At this point, Jamie felt like he was the one speaking as if to a toddler.

 

“Honey,” Becky said, finally showing some recognition, “if you don’t like your diapers you should have said so.”

 

Progress? Jamie felt a wave of relief.

 

“They have lots of designs to pick from. We can go find some different ones at the store tomorrow. Thicker ones; ones with cartoons; ones with animals; different colors. Personally, I think you’ll be handsome in any diaper you wear.”

 

Direct approach time. “I don’t need diapers.”

 

She giggled in response.

 

“I don’t need diapers.”

 

Now she was laughing.

 

“I. Do. Not. Need. Diapers.”

 

And Becky snorted, which made Amanda finally laugh, too.

 

Now Jamie felt like he was talking to a couple of stoners. As frustrating as it was, it was fascinating at the same time. Like a complete mental block.

 

Finally, Becky recovered herself. “You’re too funny! Mmm, I can’t wait to show you off.”

 

Sighing tightly so as not to swallow his own tongue, Jamie waited. Let the ball be in her court, he thought.

 

“But speaking of …” Becky stood up and cross the room quickly, and without so much as a ‘how do you do” put her hand on Jamie’s crotch, then bent him forward and checked his butt through his pajamas. She did it so quickly and so easily, he realized he couldn’t physically resist her. He could try, maybe slow her down, but he couldn’t win.

 

“Let’s hope soon,” she said as she returned to the sofa. “So what else did you want to talk about?”

 

Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose and roughly rubbed his eyes and forehead. What he wanted to ask for next was a drink, none of that 80-proof crap either; Jamie had grown-up problems.

 

“Do you have a headache,” Amanda asked.

 

“Yes,” he said. It’s named Rebecca, goes by Becky, and is killing me, he wanted to shout.

 

“I’ll go get you something.” She left.

 

“Um … what was I got to say … how old are the two of you?”

 

“Well, time is different than where you’re from, so I guess by your clock I’m about 42, and Amanda is about 20,” Becky replied as Amanda came back in with a medicine cup.

 

She approached Jamie and held it up to his lips, keeping her hand under his chin to catch any drips. “Drink up.” Jamie tilted his head back, and Amanda poured it in.

 

Geez, he thought, even medicine tastes good here.

 

“Thank you.” Amanda kissed his forehead, and sitting back down on the couch said, “He doesn’t feel feverish.”

 

“Okay, um, so what do you guys do?”

 

“I teach science at …” She whispered to Amanda, who whispered back. “I’d guess you’d call it a secondary school.”

 

“And I’m a college student,” Amanda said with pride.

 

“Oh …” Jamie grimaced. “So you’re going back to school when summer is over? You don’t live here?” So far she was the one Jamie actually liked being around. Amanda picked up on his tone.

 

“Oh, you sweet boy, I go to school here, so I live at home. Trying to save money. So I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He smiled bigger than he meant to, and tried to cover it. “Um ... I mean, I’m glad to hear that.” He didn’t want to offend Becky, who didn’t appear to take any offense but instead looked happy he was starting to form an attachment to her.

 

“Can I ask one that may be ... uncomfortable?”

 

“Of course. Ask us anything. We’re family.”

 

“Well, that was actually my question. Do you have a husband?”

 

“I’m divorced,” she said, placing a hand on Amanda’s, “and Amanda’s father is not part of our lives anymore.” Amanda didn’t look bothered by that statement at all.

 

Maybe a couple easy ones next. “So where do we live again?”

 

“Tosca, which is a region in the northwest of Itali on the coast. And the town we’re in is San Siena. We can find a map later, but it’s about two hours from the capital. We don’t actually live in the city, but outside it a little. We can find you a map later, and tomorrow we can drive around town.”

 

“I’d like that. And also, when is it?”

 

“Summer time.”

 

“But, I mean how do I tell time here?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

 

She dismissed it oddly casually. Jamie knew he’d need to come back to that.

 

“Okay … um … I’m not sure how to ask this. I want you to know I’m grateful, and happy here,” he lied, or thought he did. Did he? Or not? “I just want to know, um … why did you want a little?”

 

The softest look came on Becky’s face, that look when your heart melts, and though he’d rather here this answer from here he was, Becky scooped him up and brought him back to the couch, sitting him upright in the crook of her elbow so he could see both of them.

 

“That’s not an easy question to answer. Sometimes we just know we want things, and that they’ll make us happy, and we aren’t sure why. I guess, I just have so much love to give, and who better to give it to?” She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

 

It wasn’t a wholly satisfying answer, but Jamie thought she was probably right. Sometimes we know what will make us happy, or think we do, but we don’t know why.

 

“And we saw your picture, and read all about you,” she continued, “and out of all the Littles out there, we wanted to give that love to you, because you’re so special.”

 

Jamie frowned. If that was a compliment, he didn’t like it. He never much liked compliments. What did ‘special’ mean, anyway? Everybody’s unique; does that make them special? And there are so many other people wanting to be adopted; they’re special, too. Why didn’t they get picked? Surely there were more deserving people. People who wanted out for good reasons, not just to run away.

 

“What’s wrong, honey,” Amanda asked.

 

He didn’t want to tell them the truth. He didn’t know them yet, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful or unhappy or not glad to be there, even if he was feeling those to some degree, though he wasn't sure what that degree was.

 

“I’m just, so … thank you.” Amanda didn’t look like she accepted that answer, but she didn’t press it.

 

Becky interrupted, “Can we ask you some questions?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Geez, he even says ‘sure’ cute, doesn’t he,” Becky gushed to Amanda. Jamie was beginning to wonder if Becky was an idiot, or just turned into one around Littles. Turning back to Jamie, “Tell about your family, and what you did, and what made you want to come here.”

 

Jamie didn’t really want to. “Wasn’t all that in my file?”

 

“Some of it was, but I want to hear it from you.”

 

Jamie didn’t think he could get out of this, but maybe he could get away with not telling them much. He looked up at Becky, who he had to crane his neck to see, and across at Amanda. On impulse he didn’t understand, he held his arms out.

 

“Aww, you want me?” Amanda lifted him from her mother’s laps and set him down in her own. She smiled from ear to ear. Jamie understood that smile; though he had no family, a few times over the years he’d be on the job or at an event with colleagues and their families, and a baby or toddler would want him. And it did feel like a million bucks. Like you were the best thing in the world because this little person thought you were, and their word was good enough. And he did want Amanda.

 

“Um, it’s just easier to see both of you this way,” he said in a transparent lie as he was seated facing entirely away from Amanda, who had her arms around him.

 

“So … I don’t have a family. I never did. I grew up in foster care.”

 

“Yeah, I remember that from your file. What is that,” Becky asked.

 

Figuring they just called it something different here, he answered, “You know, when a kid doesn’t have parents, or isn’t safe with their parents, they go to live in foster care.”

 

“Like being adopted?”

 

“Um, well, sometimes kids in foster care get adopted, but a lot of them, like me, we live in foster care until we grow up.”

 

“Why?” It was a very honest question, he could tell. Maybe they didn’t just call it something else here.

 

“Because there aren’t enough people who want to adopt all the kids that need to be adopted.” He felt Amanda squeeze him a little, and Becky looked shocked. “What? What happens to kids no one wants to adopt here?”

 

Becky’s voice turned very soft, as though she were reassuring someone their nightmare was only a dream. “Honey, that doesn’t happen here.”

 

“Ever?”

 

“Never.”

 

“But … how is that possible?”

 

“When a child needs a home here, they always get one.”

 

“Exactly, like a foster a home,” Jamie said, thinking he’d solved it.

 

“No, they get adopted  right away.”

 

Jamie was skeptical. He knew not every person in Itali could be a good person. Cheryl had said so, that there were good people and bad people here.

 

“Every single one?”

 

“Yep.” He looked at her, still not fully believing her. How could that be? There were always more children that needed homes than people who wanted to give them one; even just mathematically, there had to be, right?

 

“Um, alright.”

 

“So you were never adopted?”

 

“No. I aged out, um, I became old enough to go live on my own.”

 

“Do you still keep in touch with your foster parents,” Amanda asked.

 

“Uh, well, I went through a lot of homes. I was never with anybody that long. And my last few years, I was in a group home.”

 

“What’s a ‘group home?’”

 

It’s what we used to call an orphanage, except worse, Jamie thought. “It’s where foster kids live if there aren’t enough foster parents who want them and can take then in.” Jamie didn’t want to answer more questions about group homes. “So then, I got lucky because my school counselor helped me get into college with a full scholarship.”

 

“Wait, what was the lucky part?”

 

“Well, most foster kids who age out without being adopted don’t go to college.”

 

“What do they do instead?”

 

How to answer that? “Well, some go straight to work, and others … struggle more … to find their path.”

 

“Oh. And what’s a scholarship?”

 

“That’s when a school gives you money so you don’t have to pay to go to college?”

 

“You have to pay to go to college,” Becky asked.

 

“Um, yeah. You don’t here?”

 

“No. Our taxes pay for it, just like for primary and secondary school.”

 

“Wait,” Amanda asked, “So some kids go to college, and some go to work. And what do the other ones do again?”

 

The cultural disconnect was much bigger than Jamie imagined. He was feeling defensive, like he was making his home sound like some kind of hell.

 

“Well, some get in trouble in trouble with the law and go to jail for a while,” he said sheepishly.

 

“Well, there are always a few bad apples.”

 

“No!” he snapped. “I mean, a few, yeah, but most are just kids trying to survive … in a world that doesn’t care much about them.” He looked around at Amanda and back to Becky. “That could’ve been me, if a few of the right people weren’t in my life.”

 

His lips quivered. “Some of those kids … some of them don’t get ever really be kids. And … some of them don’t ever get to grow up.”

 

Jamie wiped at his eyes and nose. “Not all of mine did.” He was struggling to keep himself together.

 

That wasn’t in the file; they weren't sure what he meant. Amanda felt him shaking and held him closer, lowering her head to rest it on his and gently rocking. Becky reached over and rubbed his shoulder.

 

“Why don’t we finish this some other time,” Becky said.

 

“No,” Jamie said louder than he intended. He didn’t want to have this talk again. “I’m okay. What else do you want to know?” He pulled himself together, and Amanda sat back up.

 

“If you’re sure …” Becky said, pausing, and when Jamie nodded she went on, “What do you mean ‘not all yours did?’”

 

“I was a social worker.” There was still some authority, pride, in saying that, a desperate kind, as if to ward off an accusation. “I mostly worked with foster kids, or kids who were at risk of getting into trouble, or who had been hurt before.”

 

Jamie saw faces. Newborns and infants. Toddler and first graders. Tweens and teens. A thousand faces. Some were happy; some were sad; some were angry. The youngest were usually happy, but not always; some were too listless to be happy, never having gotten the love and attention they needed to not just be happy, but even to develop as they should have been, and they never would catch up, not without a miracle. Still, the babies and toddlers were easiest, because it was relatively easy to find them homes.

 

Some of the kids were happy, but not all of them. The ones who came into the system as kids were lost, dislocated, bewildered; the ones who grew up in the system, eventually they figured out that if someone had wanted to adopt them, they would have by now. So they knew there must be something wrong with them. Those childhood years were the crucial years, when you could get to a kid and get them out of that thinking. But there were so many kids, and so many other forces out there, and only so many social workers.

 

A few of the teens were happy. They had outlets, groups they could find some belonging in, like a team, or just a group of friends. But some found the wrong groups of friends. Some never did get happy. Some lived in places where to be happy, to show it, invited trouble from people who wanted to take away that happiness just so they wouldn’t feel alone in their unhappiness.

 

“Ya know,” Jamie said, looking at those faces, “In a lot of the places I worked, the kids I worked with, they don’t use the word ‘home.' It was ‘where I stay.’ They didn’t have homes or families. And … I couldn’t save them all.” Jamie saw those faces; those were the faces he loved so much, and that he couldn't bear to look at anymore, but he saw them anyway.

 

“Is that why you wanted to come here,” Becky asked.

 

“Yes. Because it hurt too much to keep trying, and I couldn’t … I couldn’t … I couldn’t live with myself …” Jamie’s body rocked with the effort to keep the sob back. “ … if I stayed and just watched it happen.”

 

Becky’s eyes were wet. She didn’t have anything to say to that, nothing she wanted to anyway, because she didn’t want to set off the tears again. She only reached out and caressed his cheek.

 

“Ya know what? It’s time for somebody’s morning nap,” she said, holding out her arms.

 

Amanda didn’t let him go. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind a nap myself? You want to snuggle in my bed?” Jamie nodded; he couldn't think of anything else he'd rather do.

 

“Okay,” Becky said, “but make sure he’s between you and the wall so he doesn’t fall out.”

 

Upstairs, resting on the massive bed with Amanda, Jamie did feel tired. He was facing her, and she played with the hair around his ears.

 

“Jamie, can I ask you one more question?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“Did you want to come here, or did you want to leave there?”

 

Seeing him start to quiver, Amanda pulled him closer. As he cried into her chest for the second time in as many days, she continued to stroke his hair and didn’t shush him, but just let him get it out. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “You’re gonna ruin all my shirts.” She kissed his head, and wrapped in her arms he fell asleep.

 

_­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Jamie wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he didn’t think long. He was the little spoon, although the size mismatch stretched the metaphor. It was his belly that woke him up. Whether the anesthesia, pain killers or both, Jamie hadn’t passed anything since he woke up the day before. He wasn’t locked in his crib this time, but he was between Amanda and the wall, her arm was over him, and he’d need to sneak down to the foot of the bed and try to get away.

 

And go where? The toilet was too big for him, and taking his diaper off and using it the way he had this morning seemed a much worse idea in this context. He laid there hoping the discomfort would go away, but it only turned into pain.

 

Okay, Jamie, he thought, accepting the inevitable is sometimes the most mature thing to do. And at least it won’t hurt anymore.

 

Laying on his side, he bore down, and nothing happened except he was in more urgent pain. He bore down again, and was relieved of a large and hard bowel movement, followed by more that was less hard, and wetting himself in the process.

 

No longer in pain, Jamie lay there not wanting to move. His brain didn’t want to think about it. Nor did he want to announce what he’d done. So he just lay there.

 

After what seemed like an hour but was only fifteen minutes, he felt Amanda stir. And Amanda felt something pressed against her that hadn’t been there before, and when Jamie heard her sniff he cringed thinking about what she might say.

 

“You awake, buddy,” she whispered. As much as he wanted to delay the words that would pass between them, he much more did not want her to go back to sleep and leave him like this.

 

“Yes.” Even his voice blushed.

 

“Then let’s go change your pants,” she said picking him up as she got off the bed.

 

Jamie’s relief at not having to say anything or ask to be cleaned was quickly interrupted when Amanda hefted him onto her should, supporting him under his butt with her forearm.

 

“Uggghhh,” was Jamie’s retort to the change in position and sensation. He bounced with each step, and she felt the need to pat his butt. Why does every single adult feel the need to pat every butt with a diaper on it, he wondered. Each bounce and each pat reminded Jamie what he was sitting in.

But Jamie wasn’t too disgusted to notice that while he had peed, he didn’t feel wet. And while he had soiled himself, it was less the sensation he hated than what was causing the sensation. And neither did he feel ashamed; Amanda gave him no reason to feel that way, and really, he didn’t have a choice. If he was blameless, what was there to be ashamed of? Still, once on the changing table, he thought, my kingdom for a potty chair. He'd have thought toilet, but he thought to aim for the possible for now.

 

This time, he enthusiastically participated in his diaper change, whatever he could do to get clean again as quickly as possible.

 

“You’re lucky,” Amanda said as she cleaned him, “Mom would have given you an enema if you hadn’t gone by lunchtime, and that would have been zero fun. And I bet you feel much better.”

 

I do now that I’m clean, he thought as she taped a new diaper on him. “Amanda, thanks … for everything.”

 

“Hey,” she said as she ruffled his hair, “that’s what big sisters are for.”

 

“I like you.” He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was because he didn’t have anything else to give her. She had picked him, comforted him, been kind to him, and listened to him when he spoke, at least more her mother had. All he could give her was his gratitude and friendship.

 

“Aww! I like you too.” Snapping the legs of his jammies closed, she said, “I think it’s almost lunch time. Wanna go see what mom’s cooking up in the kitchen?”

 

More of whatever that incredible drink is, he thought. “Yeah, I’m hungry.”

 

Pulling him into a sitting position, Amanda asked, “Wanna walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

 

Jamie blushed. “Carry me,” he said. She smiled, placed him on her hip, and walked toward the door.

 

“Hey, how about after lunch we make a list of things you want for your room?”

 

“Really?

 

“Uh huh.”

 

_­­­­­­­­­­­_____________________________________________________________________________

 

After a bottle of that ambrosia, Jamie and Amanda lay on the double-thick rug in his room together making his list. For every serious thing he added, she added a something fun.

 

A curtain he could hang around the edge of his crib (for privacy, but he said so he could build a fort); and she threw in some pillows to fortify it.

 

A chair that was his size; an activity table he could play at.

 

A couple of books that would keep him entertained; a couple of coloring books that would keep him entertained.

 

When he ran out of ideas, Amanda lifted her eyes and looked under the crib. She hadn’t forgotten about it.

 

“How about some picture frames?”

 

Jamie followed her eyes. “Yes, please.”

 

So Amanda added picture frames to the list. She didn’t ask, though. She knew he’d let her know when the time is right.

 

“What are you guys up to,” Becky asked as she came in the room. Watching the two of them lay next to each other made her very happy.

 

Jamie sighed. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like an intrusion.

 

“We’re making a list of some things Jamie would like or his room.”

 

“Let me guess: toys?” Jamie rolled his eyes, though not so she could see.

 

“A chair, some curtains.”

 

“Good ideas, sweetie, but let him add some things, too. And don’t forget we’re gonna let him pick out some new diapers.”

 

“Adding it right now.” She quickly scribbled ‘LEGOs’ and show it to Jamie, who cackled before catching himself. He smiled at her, then looked at Becky and stifled a giggle.

 

It warmed Becky to see them this way, especially Jamie, who had cried much more than he'd laughed since he arrived in her home. She saw Jamie felt closer to Amanda, and though she wanted Jamie to feel that way about her, too, she also knew siblings had a different kind of bond. It was one kind of bond when they were close in age – playmates – and a different one when one sibling was much older and the other much younger – safe like a parent, but fun like a playmate, too. And though they weren’t siblings, that’s how Rebecca wanted them to feel.

 

“Is Amanda your person,” she asked.

 

Jamie turned his neck around to look at Becky and then back to Amanda.

 

“Yes.”

Amanda pulled him closed and kissed him on the head again, who sighed to feel her arm around him

.

Any parent would melt at the scene.


 

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I love how you have managed to toe the line with the Amazons, you keep them very human and easy to relate to while allowing them to still be what they are. This is an excellent story and I am so very grateful for the regular updates. Keep up the great work, I hope your ailments mend post haste. Thanks. 

 

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You melted me with this interaction between sister and baby is so cute ! 

And I really hope that your real life gets better and especially your health !! Take care of yourself! Because health is the most important thing in life 

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I was thinking it would be so funny/cute when they are shopping for new diapers , Jamie see a package of pampers and say “ that brand exist in my world “ and becky understand that he wants pampers to use , and in the end he ends with Elmo in his booty hehehe 

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Sweet chapter. I think he likes Amanda better as she doesn’t belittle him and seems to treat him a little more grownup. Sorry about the crappy day but luckily they are not all that way!

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