caring mom and bedwetting daughter Fear of Missing Out (Ch. 23 posted 4/30/20)

[Sarah Penguin]

[Atomic Blonde]

This was a short and cute chapter. Gentle, supportive buttpats are always a crowd pleaser!

[Alex Bridges]

Just a heads up. This will be back tomorrow. I wrote 9,000 words today. Just need to give them a once over.

[Guilend]

Yay

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 21 (Taylor)

 

I think Abby’ whole family is weird. I mean, whatever is going one with her cousin, Allison, and Allison’s mom is definitely weird. Allison seems normal enough, but her mother, Lisa, who I’ve only met a couple times, is just nutty. She just gives off this vibe like she wishes it was still 1930. I don’t know; maybe she’s overcompensating for some misguided shame about being a single mom. Like, she’s just that old fashion that she’s adopted this persona of righteousness and traditional “values.” Or maybe she’s just a freak. Either way, I’m with Abby and think she’s a total bitch.

And Allison is not that normal or she would’ve punched her mom right in the nose and gotten the hell out of that house. Abby has told me all about her theory that there was some conspiracy between Allison and Lisa to talk Abby into this “arrangement” with her mom. That’s how I know when Abby got in trouble recently: she starts talking about the alleged conspiracy again.

And Abby? The weirdness must be genetic, because why else would she go along with this? Not even go along with it - literally asked for it. If she told me it were a sexual thing, I’d think she were out of her mind and a bit of a freak, but I’d get it. Susan? I’ll give her credit for seeming weirded out as I am, but seriously, what is with these four?

And Abby, for that matter, I’m just confused by. On the one hand, she and her mom are besties. On the other, it looks from my perspective like sometimes Abby fights with her mom for no reason I can tell. I think it goes back to Abby wanting to seem so independent, to the point that she doesn’t realize she pretty much is independent. Not entirely, but mostly. More so than I am. It’s like a complex; moving back home for the summer made it worse, because she went from somewhat independent before college to almost entirely independent at college and then moved back home. Which pretty much everyone does after their freshman year of college. Bothers pretty much nobody but Abby, which I would get if she had a terrible home life, but again, she’s always gotten along so well with her mom. She found more ways to get in trouble than I can think of during high school, but it was never “rebellion” on Abby’s part, and her mom was never really angry about it. I’ve always thought Susan is kind of an awesome mom like that; she never got really angry and rarely raised her voice that I ever heard. I always thought it was a really loving home.

Which is, again, what makes Abby going along with all this so weird, but it’s also why the amount the two of them are bickering lately is so odd. I mean, it’s clearly Abby driving it. She wants to seem so independent that she’s refusing help and saying no and picking fights, so far as I can tell, just so she can feel she’s making her own choices. But even that doesn’t make much sense, because Abby hasn’t gotten an actual job, which would be more independent than babysitting, and I can’t reconcile the whole independence thing with the whole spanking thing. On the surface, Abby’s motives make sense, but all she had to do if she wanted to not be grounded this summer was to not move home. You can just tell how conflicted she is, and the way she’s trying to be more independent are making her seem more childish.

I don’t know. From where I sit, I think she should move out because she’s using her mom as a crutch. Abby can exercise some incredibly poor judgment sometimes, but she didn’t do much of that while she was away at school. Yeah, she skipped too much class, and her grades were worse than they should’ve been, but across the possibilities of college freshman exercising bad judgment, skipping class barely even registers. Then she moved home for the summer, and in a month she got arrested for underage drinking and got caught shoplifting. And the endless bickering. I love Abby like a sister, but as the outsider with the best inside view, she and her whole family, again, are weird, and Abby should move out if she can’t get her act together. She did better on her own, or at least it seems that way to me.

Combine these things, and I spent the last ten days listening to Abby go back and forth between looking forward to the lake and complaining about her aunt going. A lot. She was worried about being in close quarters with Lisa for a week, and I could tell it was about more than the ways Lisa can be such a condescending bitch to her, which would be enough. But her mom invited Lisa and Allison all the way back in March, before any of this happened.

All that was enough that I almost said no when they invited me along. I’ve been tagging along on Abby’s family vacation since we were in sixth grade, but this year I was reluctant, especially when I learned Lisa and Allison were going. Sharing a house, no matter how big, with all that tension had me really wondering how much a week at the lake mattered to me.

I do love it there, though. We go to the same place very year, do the same stuff. Sometimes we stay in the same house. A lot of sitting on the beach, but also canoeing, picnicking, mini golf. We drive into town for dinner some nights, and there’s shopping and a boardwalk and rides and games. I guess I’m a sucker, because I like the old fashioned atmosphere, too. It’s just kinda wholesome, and even though Abby and me grew out of some of that stuff a couple years ago, it’s fun to watch the kids have so much fun. Makes me wish I was eight again, when summer lasted forever and fireworks and carnival rides were like actual magic.

But Abby and me grew out of that right around the time we discovered boys. A boardwalk and fireworks and bright lights plus boys - maybe we’re hopeless romantics. Anyway, that’s part of why I went, because I wasn’tso young that I didn’t realize that the number of summers you get to experience like that is limited. Two, maybe three more, and then that transitional phase between childhood and actual adulthood called “college” is over.

But I very nearly snuck back outside and left when I heard Abby bickering with her mother as soon as I was walking into their house. Not an auspicious start to a road trip. I could’ve just said my boss told me I had to work, but instead I dropped my bag next to the front door, took a deep breath, and greeted Ryan and Emma, who were sitting on the couch. They are pretty awesome kids, even if I do say that about pretty much every kid.

“What’s going on, guys,” I asked with a big smile and trying to sound upbeat. “You guys ready to go?”

“As soon as Abby stops fighting with Mom,” Ryan said. He sounded fed up, and I don’t blame him.

“Abby’s tummy hurts again,” Emma said, “but she didn’t go to the doctor until this morning.”

“That stinks,” I said. “I’ll talk to her later. She listens to me.” I winked. I always felt special when an older cousin or someone winked at me when I was her age, like we had a secret. I get why Abby is so protective of her brother and sister. Abby had a pretty good childhood, but you can see the ways it wasn’t so good really stuck with her, too. Her dad leaving, of course, was the top of the list, but Ryan and Emma don’t even remember him much. I feel a little protective of them, too.

“You guys excited,” I asked, trying to get them to think about fun instead of the muffled argument we could hear. We chatted about what they were most excited about, and it was only for a few minutes until we realized the arguing had stopped, and Susan was in the living room all of a sudden.

“Taylor! So glad you’re coming with us this year,” she said. She was smiling, but I could see she was not in the best of moods.

“Thanks for inviting me again. Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, being very truthful, because there were good reasons to miss it.

“You two ready,” she asked the kids. They nodded. “Go run to the potty one last time then,” she said. To me, she asked, “Can you give me a hand?” I followed her into the kitchen.

“Emma said Abby is sick,” I said.

“She’s got a UTI again and didn’t even tell me or go to urgent care until this morning.”

“Is it bad?”

“She waited too long; she’s in more pain than she’ll admit. She’ll feel better by tomorrow, but she really ought to know better by now. I suppose you heard us arguing?”

“Yeah. Maybe she should stay home.” I’d have stayed with her, of course. We’d have had a good time.

“She’s fine to come with. She’ll be ninety percent better after twenty-four hours on antibiotics, and probably completely normal again in two days. Probably be just a little tired … I swear, some days I could just drop kick her right in the butt.” She started getting stuff from the fridge and putting it in the cooler. “I have no idea why she’s being like this this summer. It’s not even like her.”

Well, I got theories, but I opted to keep them to myself just then. Instead, I asked, “What were you arguing about this time?”

“Her ... well, you know anyway. I asked her to wear a diaper instead of a Goodnite in the car. We talked about it, and she didn’t want to, and I backed off, but then she told me she had a UTI, and I thought I’d ask again.” Unspoken fact all these years: Abby wears a Goodnite on these road trips. It’s almost twelve hours to the lake.

“Well, I don’t know what she’s told you, but that was probably smart anyway.”

“Told me about what?”

“How much trouble she’s had with her problem lately. During the day, I mean.”

“I figured it out,” Susan said as she tried to close the lid of the cooler and reopened it to rearrange. “I just wished she’d tell me these things,” Susan said with complete exasperation in her voice as she threw up her hands for a moment and waved a quarter pound of deli chicken at me. “I’m her mom and a nurse. I mean, I know she’s embarrassed, but ...” She rolled her eyes and sighed as she went back to trying to fit everything.

“You know that’s why she’s wearing a watch, right?”

“What?”

I’m not surprised she hadn’t noticed. I probably only noticed because no one our age wears a watch unless it’s a fitness tracker or iWatch. Abby just wears a little sports watch. I explained, “It vibrates every hour. It’s a reminder to use the bathroom.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Susan said, sounding kinda sad.

“She didn’t tell me or anything. I just figured it out. I mean, almost no one wears a watch anymore. She probably thinks it’s more discreet. I guess it’s less obvious than setting an alarm on her phone.”

“Well, that was the other thing we were arguing about,” Susan said, as she closed the cooler. “There. I told her when we get back she’s going to a specialist. She can pick any doctor our insurance covers, but she’s going.”

“Good. I sometimes bring it up with her, but she’s not interested in hearing about it from me either.”

“You’re a good friend,” she said and reached out and touched my arm. She turned back to the fridge to get some water bottles out of the fridge. She shook her head slightly.

“What,” I asked.

“I was thinking maybe you could talk to her a little this week and maybe just see what has her so out of sorts since she got home. It would be a help to me, and just maybe it will help her steer clear of trouble.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Try what,” Abby said from behind me. She set her backpack down against the wall. It looked pretty full.

“Try to help us with the kids,” Susan said as she picked up the cooler. “You know how they got last year and the way Emma has no sense of danger in the water.” Give Susan credit for thinking on her feet. “You ready, honey?” She nodded, and Susan carried the cooler toward the car.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m excited to be going with you guys.” I did mean that, even as I was starting to feel as stressed about the whole thing as Abby already had been.

“I’m glad you’re coming with,” Abby said. She sounded exhausted.

“Your mom told me you’re sick again.”

“Fucking sucks.” She reached around me to the door of the fridge and took out the biggest Hydroflask I’ve ever seen, along with a regular sized one.

“How much does that thing weigh?”

“It’s for the beach, so we don’t have to carry a cooler full of water bottles. Right now it has cranberry juice inside it. So does this,” she said and flipped up the spout on the regular one and took a long drink.

“Anything I can help you take to the car?”

“My bag’s already in the back. Just got my backpack. And twelve pounds of diluted cranberry juice,” she said with a very weary laugh.

“I’m sorry you’re sick. Gonna try to sleep in the car?”

“I took three melatonin just now. You might have to help drive.”

“Car’s going to be pretty full. You can sleep on me if you want.”

“I was gonna anyway,” she said. There was enough of a twinkle in her eye I could tell how awful she felt, but that she was still in there. There was a honk. “That’s Aunt Lisa and Allie,” she said.

“Maybe the kids can ride with them part way, give you some peace and quiet.”

“Like I’d wish that on my worst enemy. Don’t even know why the harpy is going. So she can be a cunt in a different state?”

Well, her feelings for her aunt aside, Abby doesn’t dip into the C word often, in case her feelings weren’t clear enough. “You and I will have fun anyway,” I told her. I picked up her backpack for her. “You, um, got everything you need for a long nap in here?”

“Yes,” she said and reached for it.

“Just thinking about you.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the floor a couple feet in front of her. “I owe my mom an apology. I just jumped down her throat for ‘thinking about me.’” She shook her head and looked up. “Can you tell what I’m wearing? I’ve never worn one outside the house or in actual clothes before.”

I looked her over. “Not really.”

“I’m probably being paranoid. I put on my leggings under the skirt.”

“I can’t tell. And I’m probably gonna wish I put on leggings the way your mom blasts the air conditioning.”

“I have another pair if you wanna go change before we go. I left them on my bed.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I hesitated before saying this, but I decided to ask, “Could you do me another favor? Could you tell your mom you’re sorry before we go? Just to start the trip right?”

“Good idea,” she said. I went toward her bedroom, and she headed toward the front door.

 

 

­­­­­_______________

 

 

         My parents have never let me drive on any of the long trips we’ve taken as a family. I guess it’s just a parent thing, like if they’re both there, there’s no reason the two of them can’t handle it. Normally, I’d just go to sleep. But with Susan driving, I felt someone had to stay awake, just in solidarity, even if I was in the backseat. Of course, with everyone else asleep, I couldn’t actually talk to Susan so I fell asleep too. I woke up because Abby did, about three hours into the drive; she’d been laying against me, and she took the blanket with her when she sat up.

         She was turned away from me, but I could see her face reflected in the window. There were tears in her eyes. I whispered, “Abby?” She turned toward me for a second, and then flinched with a sharp intake of breath. She made a little mewling sound and closed her eyes tight, making the tears spill down her cheeks.

         “Can we stop soon,” I asked loud enough for Susan to hear me, even if it did maybe wake the kids.

         “In about ten minutes,” she said back, “we’re stopping for lunch. I reached over and rubbed Abby’s back for her, and she took the corner of the blanket and bit down on it. I’ve had one UTI in my life, knock on wood, and I vividly remember the complete misery of sitting on the toilet, desperate to pee, hardly able to, and then how horrible it felt to actually do it. Abby tells me that’s a bad case, but she also said she’s had worse. Anyway, watching her, I’m pretty sure that’s what she was going through.

         The kids did wake up when Susan got off the interstate. She took us not very far down some country highway and pulled into a state park. “There’s your aunt and cousin,” Susan said as she parked. It’s not polite to toss small children out of a car, but seeing how ready Abby was to get out and how slow the two of them were getting out, I’d have done it if they weren’t my best friend’s siblings. Once they were out of the way, Abby bailed out of the van on the side her aunt and cousin were not on. I looked behind me and grabbed her backpack.

         “You okay,” I asked when I got out. She nodded and at me and sniffed back a runny nose. “I think the bathrooms are over there.” She took her bag and didn’t even turn around to start walking when she froze. She scared the crap out of me with the way she sort of yelled without opening her mouth. No one heard but me since they were on the other side of the van. “Abby?” She just held her breath for a second. “I’m getting your mom,” I said.

         She shook her head and then opened her eyes again, “Don’t. It just hurts is all. I need to …”

         “Go,” I said and walked over to Susan, who was about to get the cooler out of the car. I still hadn’t said hello to Lisa or Allie yet, which was kinda rude of me, but in solidarity with my friend, I’d chosen to pretty much ignore Lisa. I’m actually fine with Allie – she’s genuinely nice, if, again, weird – but I was just distracted. I saw her wave at me, but instead of waving back I leaned in close to Susan and said, “Abby is really sick.” She stopped with the cooler.

         “What’s the matter?”

         “She was crying in the car, and she just, I don’t know, sort of froze and screamed a little. I think she …”

         Susan shook her head. “Poor thing.”

         “Yeah.”

         “Well, there’s nothing I can do for. She has the medicine she needs. Did she go to the restroom?”

         “Yeah, down there.”

         “I’ll go check on her.”

         “I’ll make the kids’ lunch,” I offered.

         “Thanks, sweety. Glad you’re along.” She went one way, and I took the cooler the other and finally said hello to Lisa and Allison. We made small talk while I fixed the kids their sandwiches, or rather, Lisa made small talk with Ryan and Emma. That’s another of things I just don’t get about Lisa, how she can be such a bitch to Abby but so good with Ryan and Emma.

         Maybe she was the same with Abby when Abby was their ages, but listening and watching her, she was asking them about what they were excited about and what they were gonna do and what sand toys did they bring, and both of them were enjoying it and Lisa sounded totally genuine. You can tell when an adult is just talking with little kids to be polite and when they actually enjoy it, and Lisa enjoys it. Maybe there’s more to Abby’s history with Lisa. I know enough about Lisa to know she thinks kids should be spanked when they make poor choices, which is enough to make me not like her, but it’s not like she’s a bad mom or aunt or child hater, at least not that I ever saw. And then there’s her relationship with Abby. And her own daughter. The woman is just weird, and frankly, I’m with Abby: I could’ve done just fine without her coming on our vacation.

         “Where’s Abby,” Allie asked.

         “The restroom. She’s … here she is,” I said when I saw her and Susan walking back. “I made you each a plate,” I said as they sat down. Abby walked past me and put her backpack in the van before coming back. Maybe I was being paranoid or just primed to be defensive, but I could’ve sworn Lisa gave her a dirty look. When she came back to the table and took off her sunglasses, her eyes were definitely red. Not puffy, but either she’d been crying or had the worst case of allergies anyone has ever had.

         “You okay,” I whispered when she sat down next to me.

         “Yeah. Thanks for making lunch.” I couldn’t help it and reached out again and rubbed her back a few times. She tried to participate in the conversation for a few minutes. She didn’t eat even half her sandwich and put her sunglasses back on. She mostly focused on her water bottle. It was freaking me out a little, because she seemed so much worse than she had when we left. I mean, I thought now she was taking some meds she ought to be feeling much better, but I guess it takes longer than a few hours to start to take effect.

         “I’m going to back to the car,” she said after everyone was done eating.

         “’Kay,” Susan said. “I’m gonna let the kids play on the swing set for ten more minutes, and we’ll get back on the road.” Abby eased herself off the bench and went toward the car, and Susan looked after her for a moment and went to join Allie at the playground with the kids, leaving me with Lisa. I was feeling acutely protective of my friend, was biased against Lisa anyway, and there we were probably for the first time ever alone. Awkward.

         “It was nice that you could come on our trip,” Lisa said. Well, let’s back that up and rethink the use of the possessive. Petty, I know, but I was upset, and an entire summer of Abby complaining about her aunt had me primed to think the worst. I didn’t really believe Abby’s conspiracy theory, but regardless, what I kept coming back to was, Lisa isn’t nice to my friend. Period.

         “Well,” I said, “we’ve gone on this trip together every summer for seven years. This makes eight.”

         “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

         “Your first time at the lake?”

         “Yes, actually.”

         “Hmm.” How’s that for some stilted conversation. I’m fully aware of how stupid it is to feel possessive over a vacation spot, but whatever.

         “Is everything alright with Abigail? She looked like she’d been crying when she came back with my sister.”

         I didn’t know what Lisa knows about Abby’s health problems, but it didn’t really matter. It was none of her business, so I just said, “She’s having a rough day. I’m gonna stretch my legs a bit before we get back in the car. Excuse me.”

 

 

[Alex Bridges]

Chapter 22 (Susan)

 

         I stuck my head in the car before we got back on the road and asked, “You still doing alright?” Abby nodded, and I climbed in the backseat with her. “Lemme feel.” I put the back of my hand to her forehead. “Your fever has gone down, mostly. Your stomach alright? You didn’t eat very much.”

         “It’s fine. I’m just not hungry. I’m gonna try to sleep some more.”

         “Want anything stronger than melatonin?”

         “Like what?”

         “I have a trazodone in my suitcase. It’s for sleep.” I’m not in the habit of offering my daughter prescription drugs, so let that be a sign of either how sick she was or how bad I felt for her or both.

         “I think that would help, actually.”

I went around the back and fished in my suitcase for my medicine kit. Not the easiest pill to break in half, but I managed and I put half in my pocket and gave her the other half, “You feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“No.”

“Good. You should be taking those antibiotics with food, so if you can you should eat something. There’s some crackers in the cooler if your tummy gets upset. Here,” I said and handed the pill over the seat. “It shouldn’t make you woozy or anything.”

“Thanks.” She swallowed it with another long pull on her water bottle. It’s a good thing my daughter likes cranberry juice.

“Be sure to keep drinking, and if you need to stop just say so. Don’t think you have to, ya know … but don’t feel bad if you need to either,” I rushed to say. “You wanna go try before we go?”

“I’m good.” She made the same sleepy face she’s been making since she was a month old, and the way she said it was the same as when she was a toddler. It made me a little misty.

“I’m sorry, baby. Crummy start to the trip,” I told her. It can be so infuriating arguing with her sometimes, like that morning, but you can’t stay mad at your kid when she’s sick. I don’t understand why she was such a pill that morning or why she was being the way she was in general, but as much as I wanted to drop kick her butt into the neighbor’s yard four hours before was how much I wanted to make it all better.

“I’ll probably feel better when I wake up. That was probably the worst of it.” My daughter hides her feelings, so it’s always hard to know how she’s really feeling. If she was crying earlier, it was because she was in serious pain. I also hoped that was the worst of it, and she usually does feel better within a few hours of starting antibiotics and taking AZO. That stuff works fast, but it’s still over-the-counter.  

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“No. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, sweety. I’ll wake you up when we stop again.”

Taylor joined me in the front seat, and traded off driving after our next stop. What an understatement to say I was nervous having this little girl responsible for all three of my babies on an interstate, but I got used to it after a while. The kids were absorbed in their tablets, and Abigail slept through almost the entire rest of the drive, and it was a chance for me to get to know Taylor better. I mean, she practically grew up at my house, but that doesn’t mean you know your kid’s friend.

There’s that natural pattern to talking to kids, or young adults, and I don’t know when it finally switches over, when you start to have truly adult conversations with your kids and their friends. I suppose it happens to everybody at a different times. Anyway, we started talking about college, naturally, after dinner, on the final leg of the trip.

“You getting any closer to picking a major before the next semester,” I asked her.

“I decided to apply to the Child Life program,” she told me.

“Really? Those are hard programs to get into.”

“I know.”

‘I’m sure you’ll get in. Those are such hard jobs, too. I mean the work, not finding one. We can use all we can get.”

“You know about child life specialists?”

“I think that’s the coolest job in the hospital. It wasn’t really a field when I was your age. All the ones in our hospital are such cool people.” Really, they are. Working in healthcare in general is difficult, but the child life specialists are a different breed. I have to maintain a good bedside manner and do my job well, but I mostly deal with adults, and most of them are older. It’s sad at times, but as rewarding as child life can be, I just couldn’t handle it. Back when I was in nursing school, so many of my classmates wanted to be in the maternity ward or the peds unit. Not me. I just couldn’t handle such sick kids. I’d have burned out within a year. It takes a very special kind of person to be a child life specialist, and Taylor was going to be great at it.

“It doesn’t bother you,” I asked, “the sad parts of the job?”

“It might. I guess I’ll figure it out, but when I was shadowing last semester in the hospital, it just seemed like something I want to do. It’s …”

“Hard to explain?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said.

“It’s not all sad,” I said.

“No, not at all. But when it’s sad, it’s very sad. I saw a little of that, but, I don’t know, I think that’s why it’s worth doing.”

“I think you’d be great at it. You’re great with kids.” I turned around to see if they were asleep. “Emma worships you. All last August after Abby left for school, she wanted you to come over.”

“Aww.”

“I tried every which way to explain it, but she didn’t see why you couldn’t come over just because Abby wasn’t there.”

“I wish you’d have texted me. I’d have come over. And I’m happy to babysit when school starts up again.”

“I’ll take you up on that. I think Ryan is gonna be crushing on you hard, too.”

“Ha! I don’t think I’ve ever been anybody’s first crush. He’s a sweetheart.”

“Around you, maybe. I don’t envy him starting sixth grade next year … I’m not so happy with him growing up anyway. Emma’s gonna be a kid for a few a more years, but Ryan’s about to be a tween. And then, oof. I’m not ready for another teen.”

“You did great with the first teen you had,” Taylor told me. I’m not sure why, but coming from her, that was one of the nicest compliments I’d ever gotten

“That’s … thank you. Though sometimes I wonder.” I shouldn’t have said that, I know. I really, really know, and I regret it, but for some reason, I’m not sure, Taylor was just sort of disarming that day. Maybe the way she was looking after Abby that morning. Or maybe how tired I was. Or maybe I needed to unburden myself.

“She’s doing fine. A rough entry into adulthood, but she’s still just nineteen. So am I, by the way,” Taylor reminded me.

“It’s been a difficult summer with her home.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“We’ve just fought a lot. She’s actually probably been in less trouble this summer than any summer since middle school, but she’s just been bickering so much. Like this morning.”

“She says so, too. I’m honestly not sure why.”

“At first I thought it was just the adjustment, but it’s almost July.”

“She just wants to show she’s independent.”

“By arguing with me over almost everything?”

“I don’t get it either. She’s not like that with anyone else. Maybe … I don’t know.”

“She’d have been grounded for most of her time home, the way she’s been acting.” That just popped out, and then in the long, long awkward silence that followed, I realized I just opened up a can of worms.

Tentatively, Taylor said, “You know she, um, she’s told me about the, uh, agreement you guys have.”

“I know.”

“Can I, um …”

“What,” I asked.

“What the fuck made you agree to that? I mean, I’m sorry, but your sister and niece are out of their fucking minds, and I don’t care what they say, I think your sister especially is a goddam fetishist who should be fucking ashamed of herself, and your niece is either in need of some serious fucking therapy or is one too. I just … there.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry for swearing.”

“You’re not a kid, and you’re not my kid. Swear all you want,” I said. Another long silence. The sun was almost down, which helped because I didn’t want to look at her. She kept her eyes on the road, and I just sat there. I wasn’t going to defend my sister. I love her, and I’m not so ready to condemn her as Taylor is, but if Taylor isn’t entirely right about Lisa’s motives, she’s right that something is wrong in that house, and I do think my niece needs some therapy. I love Allie, but just the past six weeks had made it clear to me in a way that hadn’t been so clear before that something was just wrong with the way she went along with her mother. “You’ve been holding that in all summer, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s not at you, by the way; I think it’s weird, but I don’t think you’re like your sister … but I think I mostly get her motives, as screwed up as they are.”

“Abby isn’t ready to be on her own yet,” I said. I thought a lot about this over the past few weeks, and I know Abby doesn’t get this, but I do. “She thinks she’s been on her own because she was away at school, but that’s not the same thing. I mean, you know how shortsighted she can be sometimes.”

“I know.”

“And, she doesn’t … she doesn’t even take good care of herself and it worries me so … she should’ve gone to the doctor two days ago. I don’t … Scares the shit out of me sometimes.” I think I shocked Taylor with my language; certainly caught myself off guard.

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Taylor said.

“I know she does! That’s what makes it so frustrating sometimes. I … two reasons.”

“What?”

“Two reasons why I agreed to this stupid arrangement. I wanted her home, for one. I wanted her back home with me, in our house for the summer. There’s not … there’s not much of that left. And two, I don’t think she’s ready to be completely on her own, even if it’s just for the summer. Living with roommates for the summer … Shelby? God forbid. She wasn’t going to move home unless I didn’t enforce any rules; she’d have figured something else out.”

“And you didn’t just think to have her move home and let her do her own thing? If she screws up, not ground her?”

“I’d like that, but … I don’t think she’s ready for that either. Maybe I’m wrong. I hoped I was, but then this summer … she got arrested. She was shoplifting again. And the way she’s been arguing constantly. She even snaps at the kids sometimes. I saw it a little bit over Christmas and again at Spring Break, and I decided she needed structure, that we all did. I wanted her home, she wanted to be home, and the only way that would work is if there were rules and consequences. I don’t think I was wrong, the way she’s been this summer.” Any notion I had that I was wrong evaporated when I had to go pick her up at the police station.

“I don’t think so either. At first I did, but I get it now. She does need rules still … And it makes sense, sort of, what the two of you are doing. To be honest, when she first told me, but just before she told me she agreed to it, I was ready to call the cops.”

“Heh. Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

____________

 

We’d swapped so I was driving again, and my kids probably think I’m a sentimental fool, but I love the lake. I rent in the same neighborhood and sometimes the same house, and I love getting to the neighborhood and rolling down the windows. I love how dark it is out there, and how yellow the street lights are. I love the sound of the cicadas. I love the smell, so humid and earthy.

I always drive very slowly into the neighborhood, just taking it all in. Drives the kids nuts when they’re actually awake for it and ready to get out of the car, but I love it. It’s like a little transition. The journey is over. We’re here. Creeping along over the gravel road, our headlights cutting through the darkness, the tall grass between the houses. The porchlight on at the driveway. I hope my kids come back here every summer of their lives. I hope they drive into the neighborhood just the way I do, like their mom.

We made more pit stops than Lisa and Allie, not surprising, so they were settled in when we got there. It was close to ten. We left late, but really it was the extra stops for Abby that I think added an hour to the usual twelve. The kids and Abby were out cold. “Can you help me get ‘em in the house,” I asked Taylor.

“Of course. Same bedroom as last year?”

“Yeah.” Stepping out of the car feels great after a long drive anyway, but again, stepping out in the lake air. It’s like ocean air without the salt, which makes it even better. I slid open the passenger door, and my almost-tween woke up looking bleary eyed.

“Are we there,” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s pretty late, so straight to bed.”

“Okay.” When he doesn’t argue about bedtime, that’s when you know he’s tired. Maybe also a sign of tweendom, because when he was little he’d come out of the car on these trips way past his bedtime and ready to bounce off walls.

“She’s totally out of it,” Taylor said as she unbuckled Emma.

“I’ll take her.”

“No, I got her. It’s okay.” Ugh, so sweet to see Taylor hold her like that as they went inside

“I’ll bring their jammie bag in.” Mom trick #47: on long car rides, put their jammies and bedtime stuff in a separate bag so you don’t have to deal with their suitcase until morning. “You awake back there,” I asked Abigail. I got no response, so I naturally went in after her.

“I’m awake,” she said, before I got very far.

“Well, ya coming out?”

“I just need a minute.”

“How are you feeling? You seemed better at dinner.”

“I’m fine. Good. I just … have a cramp in my leg. Go ahead.”

I don’t know where my daughter got it in her head that she’s a good fibber, because she isn’t and never has been. Like she really thought that was at all convincing. It irritated me, honestly. No, angered me. I got back out of the car ready to get the kids’ bag and let her deal with whatever the problem was herself. And then I don’t know exactly where it came from, but I was back in the car and sitting next to her and, I hate doing this, raising my voice a little, but I didn’t mean to.

“Abigail, I’m fed up with you not asking for help or accepting help when it’s offered, and we are done with it, do you understand? Done. I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing, but it stops right now. I’m a nurse. I’m your mom. I’m not putting up with this anymore. Not for tonight, or this week, or the rest of this summer. You are going to ask for help when you need it, and you are going to accept it when I offer it to you. Do you understand?”

Her body was turned away from me, but she turned to look at me, and she looked surprised, first of all, and angry, which I was plenty used to by that point of the summer. One thing that for sure was not going to happen was she was not going to start arguing with me, so I cut her off before she even got an angry word out with, “No! Do you hear me? No!”

Her eyes filled up, and her lips quivered, and she just went to tears. I went to hug her, and she pulled away a bit, but I wasn’t having any of that either. Once I had her, she put her head on my shoulder. She only needed a moment to calm down. “Tell me what’s wrong, honey,” I asked when she did.

“I’m … I leaked. My … I’m all wet.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her, and gave her a kiss. “But that’s not a big deal.”

“I’ll clean it up. I just didn’t want anyone to see.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re sick.”

“I know, but … still. And Aunt Lisa is in there.”

“It’s okay. Here, sit up for me.” I let her go, and she turned so I could see the back of her skirt. At least she chose a dark skirt. Sort of, anyway. Had it been a light color, it would be stained orange-red from the AZO, and she could say she sat in juice or something. That skirt would be a write off because that stuff doesn’t come out. So the dark skirt could be salvaged, or least maybe it could, but it didn’t look all that noticeable.

“Well, just walk right in front of me, and we’ll go straight to the stairs,” I said.

“Okay.”

She followed me out of the car, and I took one look at the upholstery. It would be stained, but it was dark, and at least some of it would wipe off. I don’t know if it’s dye in the AZO or that’s just the color it has to be, but it really is vivid. Bleach doesn’t work on it. She had her bag, and I said, “I just gotta get the kids’ bag from the back.” Standing there waiting for me, she looked just awful. Really, she looked like she had a miserable day and needed a full night’s sleep even though she spent almost the entire drive asleep. “Ready?”

I did my best to stay as close as possible to her in case Lisa and Allie were downstairs. I could at least try to block their view. Poor Abigail was practically shaking, and I know it wasn’t because she was worried about Allie seeing. I mean, I know she didn’t want her to, but Allie knew most of what there was to know about Abby’s nighttime problem, and I never asked what she may have learned while she was staying over, but I did know that Allie had kept my daughter’s issues to herself. I’m pretty sure Lisa just assumed Abby had been dry at night probably since she was six, when I stopped talking about it with her. She didn’t have any good advice anyway, and it just seemed like it was time to stop talking about it outside immediate family unless someone actually needed to know.

We got inside, Lisa and Allie were in the kitchen, and we did have to go through it, but I stayed right on Abby’s heels, and we ignored them, frankly, and when we got to the foot of the stairs, I said to Abby, “Go straight to the shower. I’ll get your bag and put it in your room.”

When she was a few steps up, I saw how wrong I was. Outside, you couldn’t easily tell her skirt was wet. Inside, in the different light, it was obvious in the back. She was soaked almost to the hem. She trudged up the stairs, and then Taylor was there. She gave Abby a once over and said nothing, and Abby headed straight for the bathroom. Taylor came down the steps.

“She doesn’t look so good,” she said. A blessing, because if that was her comment it meant she couldn’t tell how wet Abby was from the front.

“She’s feeling better, but she’s very tired.”

“The kids are, too. Emma’s asleep again.”

“I guess it’s not so important they brush their teeth tonight. I got their PJs.”

I started up the stairs, and Taylor said, “I can put them to bed. Why don’t you sit down for a moment? You … Sorry, I didn’t mean … You just look beat is all.”

I was, suddenly. “Thank you. Tell them I’ll kiss them goodnight before I go to sleep.”

“Will do.” She took the bag, and as only a healthy nineteen year old can at the end of a thirteen-hour car ride, she bounded up the steps. I went back to the kitchen.

“Everything alright,” my sister asked me.

I sighed. “Fine.”

“Doesn’t look it. You’re running your hand through your hair.” I couldn’t help but give a little chuckle at that. Lisa turned to Allie and said, “Since we were little girls, that’s been her tell. When she’s exhausted, she runs her hand through her hair.” Sisters know these things.

“Who can blame her,” Allie said. “Long day for everyone. Can I get some things out of the car for you?”

“I’d appreciate that. It’s unlocked …” When she got to the door, I added, “There’s a mess in the backseat. There’s nothing back there, but just leave it be. It’ll stain your clothes. I’ll take care of it … Oh, there’s a blanket back there. Just leave it.” I fell more than sat onto one of the barstools around the kitchen island. Lisa poured me a glass of something and slid it over. Lemonade.

“Seriously, though,” she said, “what’s wrong? Has Abigail been that much trouble today?”

“What?”

“At lunch, at dinner, just now.”

“Why … why would you think she was being a trouble?” Why does she always think my Abby is doing or has recently done something wrong?

“Because the two of you have been five minutes behind everyone else today, and then when you catch up you look tired, and she looks like she’s been crying. Or at least she did at lunch and just now. Figured you’ve been lecturing her all day or something.”

“She’s sick. She’s not in trouble. She’s just sick.”

“Again? She was sick at her birthday party, too.”

“Same thing. Different, I mean … she got better, but it’s the same thing.”

“But … why is she crying? Is she okay?” Allie was making a pile by the door and kept eyeing us with each trip, but she didn’t stop to listen in.

“She’ll be fine in the morning. She just needs some real sleep and another day with her meds, and she’ll be fine.” Lisa reached over and put her hand on mine. She doesn’t do that very often, get affectionate like that.

“Susie?”

“What?”

“Is she okay? She’s a bit old to be crying just because she’s sick.”

“It hurts. That’s why she was crying. I think she’s fine, but it just hurts a lot … I’m gonna go check on her. Thanks for being concerned, but … it will upset her if you ask her about it.”

“You’re scaring me a little.”

“It’s fine. She’s just got an infection again. We’re gonna go to the doctor when we get home and try to figure out why she keeps getting them. She needs her clothes.”

I did feel so tired. I got her suitcase. We had some stuff delivered ahead of us, so that helped. Allie had been kind enough to put the one with Abby’s name on it in her room. I put her bag on her bed and opened it up, got some things for her to sleep in, and there was Taylor again when I turned around.

“They’re down,” she said.

“Thanks so much, sweety. You’ve been a lifesaver today.”

“Anything else I can help with?”

“You’ve done enough … well, Allie is bringing things inside. If you can give her a hand while I get Abby situated. And then, seriously, let’s all call it a day.”

“Definitely,” she said, and disappeared, and I was kinda glad to see the pep was gone from her step. Just gratifying that the nineteen-year-old was out of adrenaline, too. Abigail would be pretty upset if she saw me just, then, too, because I didn’t even notice I was standing there with a diaper in my hand until after Taylor went downstairs. I hadn’t even asked if Abby was okay sharing a room with Taylor. They always had on these trips, but Abby always wore a pull-up then. I guess I should’ve asked or offered to share a room with Abby and Taylor could have the master.

I closed the door behind me, thinking once more about how discreet we’d need to be all week with Lisa and Allie in the house, and knocked on the bathroom door. At least Abby and Taylor had a bathroom to themselves. I didn’t hear any water running. “I got your jammies when you’re ready,” I said.

“Just a second,” she called back. I heard a flush, and then the sink. I sat on her bed. She was wrapped in a towel when she came out.

“You look better,” I said.

“That skirt is ruined.”

“No one saw, though. How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I’m clean.”

“Does it hurt still?”

“Just a bit.” I handed her a tee shirt and turned around.

“You can turn around,” she said. The towel was around her waist now.

“I’m gonna help you get ready for bed, okay?” She just nodded. I wanted to, and she looked like she would fall asleep again as soon as her back hit the bedspread. I opened the diaper and laid it out on the edge of the bed so she could sit right on it with her legs over the side. A trick I learned as a nurse, for patients who are more mobile. She sat down in the middle of the diaper. “I meant to ask you, are you okay sharing a room with Taylor while we’re here?”

“She knows what I wear to bed,” Abby yawned.

“You can share with me instead if that’s more comfortable.”

“It’s fine. Mom,” she prompted me after a moment.

“Sorry. You look a little irritated down here.”

“It’s the AZO. It wouldn’t come all the way off.”

“We should have stopped more.”

“It always does that. Could you, please?”

“Honey, have you been …”

“Yes,” she said, sounding on the verge of getting upset again, the angry kind, and it snapped me out of it, and I taped up the diaper.

I let out a short sigh and ran my hand through my hair again after pressing my palm into my eyes. “I’m sorry. Can I …” I was about to say ask, and then I just decided to. “Do you dribble like that all the time?” I looked at the towel on the floor. Sure enough, there was a red-orange dot about an inch around.

“No. I’ve never done that before.”

“When did it start?”

“Last night.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Here. Sit up.” I held out my hand and helped her up. “Here’s some shorts. You warm enough?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna sleep in my bed tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to check on you in the middle of the night and don’t wanna wake Taylor.”

“Where is she?”

“Bringing things in.”

“I should help.” Not that she made a move to, or that I would have let her, or that she wouldn’t probably have gotten to the door before realizing she was about to go traipsing through the kitchen in her nighttime undies and that shorts the didn’t hide them. “Are the kids still up?”

“They’re down for the night. You just need to go to bed. C’mon. I got another diaper out of her bag and her bed pad. I brought along some A&D ointment for Ryan, who gets a rash from his swimsuit, but that would be doing double duty if Abby needed it, which she didn’t look like she did.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For helping me today.”

“It’s what moms are for.”

“I’m sorry for … being such a … I’m sorry.”

“We can talk more tomorrow. You look like you’re about to crash, and you need to do it in my bed. Did you take your pill?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright. C’mon.” I stuck my head out the door. “The coast is clear.” We walked down the hall to the master bedroom, and once we were inside, I closed the door. Abby stood there with her arms folded over her chest and waited for me to turn the bed down and get her bed pad situated. I steal them from the hospital from time to time, truth be known. And then she got in, and I pulled the covers up.

“Goodnight, baby.” I gave her her goodnight kiss.

“Goodnight, Mommy.” And then she was out before I even got to the light switch. I owed two more babies goodnight kisses, and then I was done. I needed to shower, and I knew by the time I did that, I’d be ready to pass out, too. I went downstairs, got my bag, said goodnight to Lisa and Allie, thanked them both, thanked Taylor again, reminded myself to not let her spend a dime on this trip and to buy her a nice present, went and gave Ryan and Emma their kisses, and then headed for the shower.

Tomorrow would be a better day, so help me god.

[Angela Bauer]

Alex, a billion thanks for two such marvelous updates. This is an entertaining series.

I am so glad you continue writing about this when you are inspired and in the mood!

[Alex Bridges]

Well, it's write or proof read, and I just wanna write, so I'm sure there are mistakes, and o well. I gave at the (home) office.

________

Chapter 23 (Abby)

 

My first thought on waking up was, well, that sucked. I did feel better, though. Not a hundred percent, but my tummy didn’t hurt and my fever was completely gone. I felt tired but not exhausted.

Mom wasn’t there and it felt kind of late, but my phone was in my room. I listened at the door but didn’t hear anyone, so I tiptoed to my room just as I was. Dressed in my PJs, but not in PJs that hid what I was wearing, which quick glance showed was that horrible orange. You’ll never find me peeing in a pool when I’m on that stuff.

My phone said it was after 10. I hadn’t slept in like that since the semester ended, thanks to Ryan and Emma. I sat down on my bed and texted Mom to see what was up. Those lake houses are so big, they really have incredible acoustics. I heard her phone ding downstairs, and a second later I heard, “On my way!”

“Morning,” I said as Mom came in my room.

“Morning. How ya feeling,” she asked and made straight for me, putting her hand on my forehead. “Fever’s gone.” She sat down next to me

“Much better. Still kinda tired, but nothing hurts. Where is everyone?”

“At the water. I figured you just needed to sleep.”

“Thanks. And thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“You’re welcome. What do you wanna do today?”

“Take it easy. Clean up.”

“That’s a good idea. I also don’t think you should get in the water today.”

“I know. Though I’m already on antibiotics. But I know the drill,” I sighed. Even when I’m not getting over an infection, I’m so prone to them I take even more are than most women in showering very thoroughly after swimming, even in a pool. I had no problem staying out of the lake for a day if it meant making me better sooner. “Why didn’t you go down?”

“Wanted to be here when you woke up, and since you can’t go in the water, I thought maybe you’d want to go into town with me.”

“Sure.”

“We need groceries, and I thought we could get lunch, just the two of us, but if we have to go soon.”

“Let me clean up.” The shower felt incredible, even better than the night before. Teeth brushed and hair combed, I looked like a person again. Getting dressed, though, I had a hard time making a choice. Panties were just a nope for the day, probably for the week, and I was probably for the first time undecided between a diaper and a Goodnite. It’s one thing to leak when coughing or picking up something heavy, but yesterday was the first time I’ve ever just dribbled. Like, continuously, a tiny bit at a time, all day. Of course it was because I let the infection get so bad, which, I don’t know why I did. Sometimes they go away on their own. Sometimes they start out minor and seem like they’re going away and suddenly they’re terrible.

I was pretty sure I was done with that, and it didn’t feel like I’d be rushing to the bathroom any more than I normally do. But then I thought about what if I do need to change. I’ve never actually had to deal with changing a Goodnite in public, and that’s the tricky part because they have to come off over your feet, obviously, and the thought of taking my shoes off in a public restroom – gross.

I improvised. I put on two Goodnites. If one got used, I could tear it off and pull the other up and never have to put feet to floor. You’d think there’d be a better solution, but it still wasn’t as thick as one of those diapers Mom bought. I think they’d be sweaty, too. I picked out a skort to wear and put on another long tee shirt.

Mom gave me a once over when I got downstairs, or at least I thought she did, and I made myself another bottle of cranberry juice with the very last of it, took my antibiotic, and we were on the road. I gotta say, I hated the idea of getting back in the car, but then who doesn’t the day after a thirteen hour road trip.

“I’ll clean up the back when we get back to the house,” I said.

“I took care of it,” Mom replied.

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have to do stuff like that.”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

“Did it come out?”

“Well, enough of it did.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you hungry for?”

“Anything. I’m starving.”

“You barely ate yesterday.” We didn’t talk much in the car. I love the lake, and I like that we come back to the same place every summer. I’ve always wanted to travel and see places, but I like having a familiar place, too. The drive into town is the same one every year: across the bridge, and you can see the big hotels and marinas along the main channel, and down around a big state park we sometimes go hiking in, and then to this crossroads. Make a right to go to the mall and a left to go into the old downtown, which actually isn’t old at all. It just looks like it.

What I don’t like is how crowded the place is. All the rentals are like ours: Saturday to Saturday. Must be kinda weird living in a seasonal town like this and seeing it empty out for all of an hour once a week until the next ten thousand people arrive. And where do they all go Sunday morning, like we were? The grocery store. We passed it right up.

“How’s this,” Mom asked as she pulled into a spot a couple doors down from a café. Just like the rest of the town, meant to look old and old fashioned, but the sign on the town common where they have the evening concerts says “1996.”

“You’re quiet this morning,” Mom said after we’d ordered.

I shrugged. “Still tired.”

“You’re not that tired. Your eyes got their spark back. That’s how I can tell. Can we talk about yesterday?”

“What about?”

“Why you didn’t tell me you were sick until yesterday morning.”

“I took care of it. I went to urgent care.”

“About two days after you should’ve. Why didn’t you go earlier?”

“Sometimes they get better on their own,” I said a little defensively. “And you’re not supposed to be on antibiotics all the time, right?”

“How often is this happening?”

“A … few times a year.”

“How often,” Mom asked, getting a little impatient.

“Maybe … every other month. But they’re not all bad like that.” I was expecting her to be angry, but instead she got this look on her face like I’m a pity case.

“That’s …” She paused and shook her head and reached across the table for my hand. “That’s too often. That means something is wrong.”

“I’ve gotten these all my life.”

“Not six times a year. You …” Now she sounded a little angry. “Do you understand that the infection can go backwards? If you don’t treat it, it can go to your kidneys and make you really sick? Like, hospitalized on dialysis sick?”

“It’s never gotten that bad.”

“How would you know, sweety? You can’t wait two whole days while it gets worse, and let your doctor worry about how often you’re on antibiotics. That’s they’re job.”

“I just don’t like going to doctors about this.”

“Which is why …” She paused and closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna talk about this if you’re gonna be like that,” I said.

“I’m just worried, and this is partly my fault. I’m angry with myself for not doing something sooner.”

“Like what?”

“Like dragging you to a specialist, which I would’ve done if I knew how bad this had gotten.”

“Yesterday was really bad. It’s not like that normally.”

“Well, like I said yesterday, you are going to a specialist, and we are going to talk about this, and you are going to let me help you, so there.”

“O …kay,” I said.

“So what else,” she asked.

“What else what?”

“What else is there to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Like other than the infections, how bad have your other symptoms gotten? Taylor told me why you’re wearing that watch.”

“I didn’t tell her why,” I complained to no one in particular.

“She figured it out.”

“It’s just a reminder. I’m supposed to go often anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but do you need to? How many times a day do you go?”

“I don’t keep track.”

“Guess.”

“Well, what’s normal?”

“Eight.”

“More than eight,” I said, glad the place was crowded and no one could hear us. “More like …” I tried to think. “It depends on the day. Sometimes maybe twelve, sometimes more like, maybe twenty.”

“Does it ever hurt?”

“No, not unless I’m getting an infection.”

“When you have to go, is it urgent?”

“Sometimes. I don’t wait long. On some days if I’m going a lot, it does feel really urgent right away.”

“Are you making it to the bathroom?”

“Can we … if I’m gonna see a doctor, can I just tell her about this?” I guess that just told her the answer. “I mean, maybe once a week I don’t,” I said to clear that up, “but can we just wait, and I’ll tell it to the doctor?”

“Fine. That’s fine.” The waitress came back with our food, and Mom got her silverware out of her napkin, and she was so clearly wanting to say something while she mixed her salad.

“Ask,” I said with a sigh.

“The Goodnites, during the day. Is that for the once a week?”

“It’s … yes. And for … some days when, when I have to go a lot, it’s … they’re in case, but also sometimes I do … when I sneeze and stuff.”

“Okay. Okay,” Mom said like a motivational coach or something. “Well, we’ll find a doctor – one you like – and they’ll help us figure this out. We’re gonna beat this thing.”

Mom says that a lot, that phrase. Ryan’s dyslexia, Emma’s trouble with fractions. For as long as I can remember, we were gonna beat whatever was wrong with my system. I actually hate the phrase because it implies, I don’t know, that some miraculous success is around the corner. Ryan has some great study strategies and gets help in school. Emma mastered adding fractions. My problem only got worse, so as long as she was insisting I tell her stuff, I told her, “Could you please not say that?”

“What?”

“’We’re gonna beat this thing.’ I just …” I wasn’t sure how to say this. For one thing, let’s just be clear that she’s there for emotional support, but it’s my body. There’s no “we” in beating this. “We’re not,” I said.

“Well…”

Not in a mean way, but I cut her off, “This isn’t going to get cured. When you … it makes it feel like losing when you say that because it’s never happened.”

“Honey…”

“This is just … it’s easier to just accept that it’s never gonna get better. Not entirely anyway. It’s less … you can’t learn to live with stuff if you don’t just accept it.”

“But it can get better.”

“Maybe.”

“It can get at least a little better. I’m saying that as a nurse, not your mom.”

“Okay,” I said, deciding not to argue.

“If we can get the infections under control, just that might help some of the other stuff … how’s your tuna?”

“It’s good. Not fishy.”

“Good. Can we talk just a little more about it?”

“I guess,” I said, trying to keep from getting an attitude.

“What can I do to help?”

“Like what?”

“Like, do you need anything? Anything to help you manage it better?”

Well, I was planning on coming back into town with Taylor and taking care of this, but I wasn’t planning on spending the money, and I don’t have much of that, so I may as well ask while she was feeling generous. “I didn’t bring enough … for day time.”

“We take care of that at the store.”

“And since my leggings, skirt, and the short I wore last night all have great big orange stains on them, I’m short an outfit and pajamas. Maybe something to wear on the beach.”

“You need a swimsuit?”

“I was just thinking a wrap or something. A little less obvious than tying a sweatshirt around my waist.”

“That’s the kinda thing that makes me think you’re not telling me everything.”

“What?”

“If you’re that …” She paused and lowered her voice. “If you’re that worried about an accident, then are you telling me everything?”

“I just meant … yes, okay? This week I am because I’m sick. I … I’m …”

“I’m a nurse for goodness sake.”

“You’re my mom. I’m … I can’t tell, but I think I’m still, ya know, like I was after the shower last night.”

“Oh. And that’s never happened before?”

“Not like that. It’s probably just because I’m sick. It’s already better than it was.”

“Probably. If it doesn’t clear up by tomorrow, though, I’m going to call someone at work and see if that means you need to go get checked out sooner. That shouldn’t keep happening now that you’re on antibiotics.”

“What could that mean?”

“Perhaps just that the antibiotics aren’t helping enough. Let’s see how it is tomorrow. You ready to go?”

__________

 

         I had a feeling we’d be making more than one trip to the grocery store this week. It looked like a lot of food, but there were five adults and two kids to feed. And for the record, I’m smart enough to know that the checker at the store, especially on a Sunday in a resort town, is way too busy to pay attention to what’s she’s scanning and even if she weren’t, no one is going to connect a bag of Goodnites to me. I was more worried about when we got back and sneaking them inside, but I stashed them under a seat to get later. I brought ten with me, which would normally be enough for ten days, but that was before I knew I’d be wearing at least four of them before the day was over.

         Mom being Mom, she had the idea to get a few other things just in case, over my muted protest, but I couldn’t really complain because I’d use the stuff, and once the little shoulder bag was done serving as a diaper bag for the week, it was still a cute bag. Better than carrying a purse, which I pretty much never do.

         On the way back, I finally had to ask. Not that it was really bothering me, but it was a teeny bit. “Did Aunt Lisa say anything last night?”

         “That she was worried about you. I didn’t give her any details beyond you were sick again, but that only got her more worried, so I just told her we’re going to the doctor when we get back and not to ask you about it.”

         “What’d she say?”

         “When I said not to ask? Nothing, I don’t think. I went back upstairs, and then you came out of the shower.”

         “Hmm.”

         “’Hmm’ what?”

         “Nothing.”

         “You know if you cop an attitude from the start of the week the two of you aren’t going to get along.”

         “She’s copped an attitude about me since I was five!”

         “And I’ve told her already this summer to just give us some space …”

         “You know at some point she’s going to …”

         “What?”

         “Say something. About something. Anything. She always finds something if I’m around her long enough. She’s the most critical …”

         “Language,” Mom gently reminded me before I got the next word out. “We talked about this before we left. Same rules apply on vacation, even if you are sick.”

         “I know. I just … I’m not a little kid.”

         “I know you’re not.”

         “She doesn’t.” Which, come to think of it, makes some sense. If she treats me like I’m five, she treats Allison like she’s nine. “I’m going to be patient with her,” I said, like we had also talked about before we left, “but if I end up just ignoring her all week, don’t tell me I have an attitude. It’s a choice; it’s ignore her or get angry at her.”

         “And I’ll stick up for you … She really was worried last night.”

         “What’d she say?”

         “She asked if you had been in trouble all day …”

         “See? She just jumps to conclusions.”

         “She just saw the two of us were alone a lot and that you had been crying. She thought I was …”

“I know what she thought, Mom.”

“Hey, don’t cop an attitude with me yet, either.”

“Sorry.”

“… And I told her you were sick, and that you were crying because it hurt so much, she got worried. She really does care about you.”

“I know.” Which doesn’t make it better. It makes it more complicated. How is it that someone who cares about you can be so consistently mean? And she doesn’t think she’s being mean. People like that never do. It’s like gaslighting, except gaslighting is on purpose.

“Just do your best with her, and don’t lose your temper, and I’ll referee,” Mom said. And I don’t get why she invited her. She knows we don’t get along, and she knows she’d have to referee at some point, so why invite her? Does that sound like a relaxing vacation? And I get that Mom has trouble sometimes standing up to her big sister, but I’ve never thought much of Mom’s refereeing skills.

“Maybe you should just tell her,” I said, without thinking it through.

“Tell her what?”

“What’s wrong with me. What I’m wearing.”

“Why would you want me to do that?”

“So you can tell her to not say a single word about it, because if she figures it out on her own and says something I’m probably gonna lose it.”

“You really want me to?”

“No.” Mom gave me a little punch on the shoulder.

“Cheer up. We’re on vacation, it’s gonna be fun, I’ll worry about your aunt, and you just be on your best behavior and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?”

“For bringing us up here. Shopping. Worrying about me.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” she said as she parked the van. As expected, Ryan and Emma came running off the porch hen we pulled up. You can’t fault kids for getting excited about junk food; it’s the only drug they’re allowed to have.

“We found a frog,” Ryan was so eagerly waiting to tell me before I was even out of the car.

“You did?”

“It’s huge,” Emma added, holding out her hands.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s inside,” Ryan said.

Cue Mom, “You brought a giant frog in the house?”

“It’s in a box on the porch,” Allie said as she came out. “You feeling better,” she asked me.

“Yeah. Much. Sorry I was noncommunicative yesterday.”

“No worries. What’d you guys get?” I grabbed my bags from the swim shop and the incredibly overpriced boutique that says incredibly average quality clothes (thanks, Mom!), and handed inside, while Mom orchestrated the unloading of the groceries. I would’ve helped, but I needed the bathroom. I think I deserve a little credit for never having used that excuse to get out of something before, but I could see why some people would assume I did. So not that I meant to, but I flew by Aunt Lisa again as she was greeting me.

As long as I was upstairs, I gathered up my clothes from yesterday and the towel from last’s night shower, and my bed pad. AZO never comes out, but I guess I feel some kind of obligation to try. Which reminded me to ask Mom what she did with the blanket from the car. I did have to greet Aunt Lisa, though, so like Mom said, I just tried to be nice.

“Hey,” I said when I got back downstairs with my laundry. I piled it by the stairs for the time being, carefully wadded to hide the stains and the bed pad. “Sorry I walked right by you.”

“It’s okay,” she said and held out her arms. I gave her a hug because, ya know, you pretty much have to, though I actually get a little miffed when people insist on a hug from a kid. My grandma on my dad’s side used to do that, and it drove me nuts. Like, seriously, leave my brother alone; he doesn’t wanna hug you, ya creepy old bag. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, still a little tired, but much better.”

“You had me worried. Doing laundry already?”

“Just what I was wearing yesterday?”

“I have some things to throw in. Let’s make a load,” she said as she started to turn to head down the hall to her room.

“No! I mean, I need to use bleach.”

“Oh, no worries then. You gonna come swimming with us this afternoon?”

“I’m gonna come down to the beach, but I’m not up for swimming today.”

“I’m sorry. Tomorrow then?”

“Probably. Just trying to take it easy today.”

“See,” Ryan said from behind me. I turned and found a giant frog kinda close to my face, but like I didn’t see that trick coming.

“Ya trying to scare me,” I asked him.

“It scared Aunt Lisa.”

“Because it’s gross,” she said from behind me.

 “It’s a pretty cool frog, Ry, but it probably wants to go back where it came from,” I said.

“It came from the backyard.”

“Can I go put my laundry in, and then you can show me?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Wait for me on the porch.” He walked back outside with that poor thing wanting the hell out of his hands.

“Gross,” Aunt Lisa said.

“Big sister duty calls,” I said, and gathered up my laundry. With my luck, the dye would come out just enough to turn the dark orange on my stuff into a dark orange on one part and a light orange everywhere, but it was already ruined, and who cares about a hotel-quality towel anyway.

It only took two minutes, and I had to pass back through the kitchen, and someone had been too kind and too thorough and had the bag from the grocery store with my stuff in on the counter. Mom obviously hadn’t noticed, or she’d have taken care of it, so maybe Aunt Lisa hadn’t either even though she was helping put stuff away. As nonchalantly as I could, I took it and went back upstairs and put it in my room, trying not to wake Taylor, and back downstairs, my heart beating hard the whole time. It’s not like you can ask, hey, did anyone see what was in that bag?

So I tried not to think about it and went to go find out where frogs come from.

[TheJ]

6 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

“Well, what’s normal?”

“Eight.”

Damn... I really need to up my fluids game.

I'm a fan of your dialog writing. It sounds natural and flows naturally. You'd think it's easy to write conversations, given that people tend to have those on daily basis, but getting it right and captivating for the reader can be difficult to accomplish. You have done just that and I admire it.

[Sarah Penguin]

Thanks for the pile of text Proof reading is for english professors   By which I mean paid professionals

[Angela Bauer]

Hi, Alex, thanks for continuing this story so very well. All days with a fresh update are excellent!

[bruce_wayne (27dl)]

@Angela Bauer i live in glendale!

i tried to shoot you a message, but it says you're not accepting any

[YourFNF]

On 8/12/2019 at 8:28 PM, Alex Bridges said:

Chapter 3

 

This is fascinating from an ethics and psychology perspective on the one hand, she did ask for this. I can't come down with my usual hard stance on corporal punishment because she is a consenting adult.  On the other hand there is a distinct social power imbalance in the relationship. My mom was like that on swearing for longest time and truth be told I never got. I guess you could call it a cultural difference. Although it does seem to speak to a certain authoritarian mindset. Feeling that any outburst from your child, even when they're adult has to be met with punishment and correction. It doesn't seem emotionally healthy. Then again that could just be the anarchist in me who is skeptical of the value of punishment as a concept.  Fascinating read though. ?

[YourFNF]

On 8/16/2019 at 10:05 PM, Alex Bridges said:

Chapter 6

 

 

 

I guess I never understood growing up how Allison could not hate Aunt Lisa. I damn near hated Aunt Lisa, and she never hit me. It always struck me as odd – I could never fully wrap my head around it – that Aunt Lisa could spank Allison to blubbering tears, and Allison would sit up and wrap her arms around her mom and that would be that. She wanted to be comforted by the same person who caused her the discomfort, and a heckuva lot more more than discomfort, right away. I still don’t understand it. But I at least empathized with it now because I was in that position myself. I didn’t understand that, either. But as much as Mom had treated me, frankly, unfairly that day in basically blabbing to Taylor and, yeah, maybe a timeout did help me to cool it but it did not have to be bare, I wasn’t mad at her.

So I stood up and hugged her and she hugged me back.

Really torn on how to feel. My parents could be over bearing but they weren't even half this controlling and I left first chance I got. Admittedly this person doesn't seem to have my moms massive queerphobia so... and the solo act hasn't exactly worked out very well for me. I just don't like how her mom treats every disagreement as a challenge that needs to be smacked down. I definitely had enough of that shit from my folks.

On 8/18/2019 at 12:35 PM, WBDaddy said:

At this point I'd be withdrawing consent.  Over a credit card?  Really?

Yeah same.... ?

[YourFNF]

On 8/30/2019 at 4:33 PM, Alex Bridges said:

Chapter 11

y that Taylor wasn’t as shocked as I would’ve been if it were her. She didn’t grow up in a spanking household, either. Was she not shocked because she thought this was good for me? If so, that would basically make all the important people in my life unanimous on the idea that I still needed to have rules and boundaries and punishments for when I violate them, and this with my nineteenth birthday around the corner.

 

Friend is surprisingly chill. Yeah the main character can be a bit impulsive, immature and rude but honestly most of her behavior doesn't even seem that egregious. Like staying out late at 19 I wouldn't even classify as a problem.

[Alex Bridges]

29 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Friend is surprisingly chill. Yeah the main character can be a bit impulsive, immature and rude but honestly most of her behavior doesn't even seem that egregious. Like staying out late at 19 I wouldn't even classify as a problem.

It’s a fetish story, silly. Ya gotta embrace its reality and run with it.

And she did agree to rules and consequences. In a way, it’s not the substance of the rules she breaks but that she breaks them at all after promising not to.

[WBDaddy]

1 hour ago, Alex Bridges said:

It’s a fetish story, silly. Ya gotta embrace its reality and run with it.

Yeah, but it's also something that speaks enough to us all that we comment on the realism of it, which you should count as a success, especially in this little niche.  

I mean, I dunno, spankings were a regular and very unwelcome part of my life for the first decade plus of my existence, halted only because I grew big enough to be able to physically stop the person who did them.

Doesn't make this story less intriguing or fascinating to me.  Doesn't make it triggering either, just gives me a perspective that might affect the suspension of disbelief.   

[YourFNF]

17 hours ago, Alex Bridges said:

It’s a fetish story, silly. Ya gotta embrace its reality and run with it.

And she did agree to rules and consequences. In a way, it’s not the substance of the rules she breaks but that she breaks them at all after promising not to.

I am the queen of over analysis *snaps fingers*. All bow before my hot takes. ??

[Alex Bridges]

2 hours ago, YourFNF said:

I am the queen of over analysis *snaps fingers*. All bow before my hot takes. ??

I mean, I also get kinda caught up and think that while it’s great the woman in the video just happened to stop by to fix my pipes that she’s got the wrong kind of wrench and should show some proof of insurance, so I get where you’re coming from.

[YourFNF]

On 3/11/2020 at 9:25 PM, Alex Bridges said:

Chapter 20 (Abby)

“Sure we can.”

I wished her good night and told her I loved her, and she said it back. Allie was right, and as much as I hate admitting it, none of it was as embarrassing as it would’ve been a month ago. That’s kinda the scary part. It means it’s becoming normal.

Honestly at this point I would just tell her. "Mom I'm an adult, there's nothing ethically wrong with swearing. You could argue about using it at people but really that just comes down to not loosing it and screaming at people. I refuse to accept a punishment when I've done nothing wrong. I understand it upsets you and that's why I try to minimize it around you but I'm going to have to draw a hard boundary on this. I love you and want to stay close despite our differences."

 

Fuck I wish I would have had the wisdom and courage to have convos like that with my mom when I was a teen or like some of Abbi's convos with her mom TBH. I doubt it would have saved our relationship, but I would feel a lot better about myself ?.

TBH i wish my mom and I talked half as much as Abi and her mom when I was in my teens.

 

Ch. 21 update.

Taylor is definitely favorite character. I really like seeing her perspective

[YourFNF]

On 4/28/2020 at 10:22 PM, Alex Bridges said:

“What the fuck made you agree to that? I mean, I’m sorry, but your sister and niece are out of their fucking minds, and I don’t care what they say, I think your sister especially is a goddam fetishist who should be fucking ashamed of herself, and your niece is either in need of some serious fucking therapy or is one too. I just … there.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry for swearing.”

 

Damn..... Taylor coming for my job with some nuclear hot takes ??

[YourFNF]

On 4/29/2020 at 11:08 PM, Alex Bridges said:

Probably. If it doesn’t clear up by tomorrow, though, I’m going to call someone at work and see if that means you need to go get checked out sooner. That shouldn’t keep happening now that you’re on antibiotics.”

 

“What could that mean?”

 

“Perhaps just that the antibiotics aren’t helping enough. Let’s see how it is tomorrow. You ready to go?”

As much as I have a problem with her mom's authoritarian tendencies, I really miss having someone to take care of me like that, not going to lie I'm 25 and I could still use a lot of of help. My parents and I didn't have the best relationship once I hit my teens but they still tried. It just wasn't enough with a lot of distance forming on both ends.

Wow this is going to be one of those introspective ones isn't it? ?

[CDfm]

I just got caught up on this story. You are doing a wonderful job writing this. I don’t mind spankings, in fact I spanked all four of my own kids. I do have an issue with how the spankings are given though. I have had a long career in law enforcement. Several years as an investigator and I can tell you that the worst cases are those involving children and child abuse. You even alluded to the fact that parents shouldn’t spank when angry and that their hand will start to hurt during a spanking. Those are two reasons why you should never use a tool to spank with. Even if you don’t think you are getting angry a little slip like a curse word slipping out can change that. If you are using your hand it getting sore is a great reminder that you are going to far with the spanking. You need to stop before you hurt the person. A hairbrush or spoon doesn’t feel anything. I was happy to give this a like and I hope to see more of it soon. 

[Alex Bridges]

An update on why this is stalled

Hi all,

I’ve been putting my main effort into my other story, I’m Not A Little Girl, because that’s where my creativity is flowing. I have other stories likely to take precedence over this as well.

That said, I will get back to this, and part of that includes a major rewrite. I need to remove references to Abby’s siblings, which means reworking parts of the plot, and then this will be continued most likely on Patreon. Naturally, rewriting isn’t the most fun thing to do.

In the meantime, once I wrap up INLG I will be focusing on two efforts: Done Adulting Vol. 3 and writing more short stories and one-offs. If you read my shorter stories, you know that most of those involve more spanking and are often kinkier. 

Examples include How Good A Girl Is Nicki and The More Things Change, both on my Patreon.
 

I hope eventually all of these short stories will also be audio stories.

[Guilend]

35 minutes ago, Alex Bridges said:

An update on why this is stalled

Hi all,

I’ve been putting my main effort into my other story, I’m Not A Little Girl, because that’s where my creativity is flowing. I have other stories likely to take precedence over this as well.

That said, I will get back to this, and part of that includes a major rewrite. I need to remove references to Abby’s siblings, which means reworking parts of the plot, and then this will be continued most likely on Patreon. Naturally, rewriting isn’t the most fun thing to do.

In the meantime, once I wrap up INLG I will be focusing on two efforts: Done Adulting Vol. 3 and writing more short stories and one-offs. If you read my shorter stories, you know that most of those involve more spanking and are often kinkier. 

Examples include How Good A Girl Is Nicki and The More Things Change, both on my Patreon.
 

I hope eventually all of these short stories will also be audio stories.

I can wait for Done Adulting 3. I also enjoy your short stories. I'm a big fan of spankings and kinkier lol