Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 3 (Patreon)

“So that’s everything. You passed the Adoption Agreement Test, you’ve provided us with all the paperwork we need on your finances, and all you have to do now is decide if you want to go through with this. If so, just sign the consent form and the forms turning your property over to us in the event of adoption,” the agency attorney said.

Cheryl interjected, “You don’t have to decide right now. You can take your time.”

“I’ll do that,” Eric said. “Um, I’ll make a decision by Friday.”

“You don’t need to put a clock on it if you don’t want to, except if you don’t decide within 60 days we have to start the process over,” Cheryl said.

“I understand,” Eric replied. He was suddenly feeling hot and nauseated. Papers in hand, it had gone from being a decision to make later to the biggest decision he would ever make, the decision that precluded all other major decisions for at least 10 years. Career, marriage, family. Everything on hold for at least a decade, and maybe forever.

Eric walked to his car, leaned against it for fifteen seconds, took in a deep breath, and said, “You got stuff to do tonight and tomorrow’s a work day. Get going.” And so he drove off to do his errands and prepare for his tomorrow.

______________________________________________

“Eric?” It was Cheryl’s voice on the other end. Eric remember it.

“This is he,” Eric answered. He was in his cubicle at work, and he had no intention of making others aware of his plans. Or what might be his plans. He got up and started walking toward an empty conference room.

“I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Do you want to meet up, just to talk?”

“Uh … sure. I can come to your office on...”

Cheryl cut him off. “How about something more casual? Can we meet for dinner tonight?”

“Sure, that’s okay.”

“Great. Just text me where you want to go. Say seven o’clock?”

“Uh, yeah, seven is fine,” Eric replied, not yet in the conference room. He hung up.

“Got a date tonight? Someone old or someone new,” Kima asked as she passed by.

“Uh, new.”

Eric chose the bar and grill near his house. He had been feeling like staying close to home and enjoying his regular haunts lately, and they had good food. A bit loud for his taste, but not so bad as most of the restaurants in the area. He arrived first; Eric always arrived first. He waved to Cheryl as she came in. It looked as though they had both come straight from work.

“Nice place,” Cheryl said as she sat down, “Why’d you pick it.”

“It’s one of my favorites. Creature of habit, I suppose. Used to be kinda lousy, but they redid the menu and got a better supplier. Best place to get good bar food in the area, anyway,” Eric said. He was feeling talkative. Usually a guarded person, between his usual tiredness and stress and the anxiety of this decision, he didn’t have the energy to filter himself.

“You a sports fan,” Cheryl asked, glancing at the thirty screens playing four different games.

“Not really; I go to a couple home games every year, but I don’t follow it closely. Actually wish we could ask if they could turn it down.”

A twenty-something waitress approached with her pen ready. “Do you know what you’d like?”

“Um, sure … why don’t you order first …” Cheryl said as she glanced over the menu.

“I’ll have the friend chicken sandwich, no tomato, and a side of fries is fine,” Eric said, ordering his usual.

“And I’ll have the … Portobello burger, also fries,” Cheryl said in return. “Whatcha drinkin’ there?”

Eric swirled his drink and watched the trails on the glass slowly making their way back to the surface. “Bourbon. Did you want to order a drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have a glass of the house red, and water is fine for me, too,” Cheryl answered. The waitress collected the menus and went off to place the order. The pair made small talk while they waited and small talk through dinner: how was your day, did you see that thing on the news, seen any good movies lately.

Once the plates were empty and the restaurant a little less crowded, the two nursed their second drinks and came back to the reason they were together.

“So, what have you been thinking,” Cheryl asked.

“I’ve been wondering why you asked me to dinner, mostly,” Eric replied.

“Honestly, I’ve taken an interest in you. I want to help you make the right decision for yourself, if you want my help.” Cheryl had moved herself to the corner of the booth and was leaning against the wall, one leg propped on the bench.

“And what do you think that is?” Eric wasn’t used to being on the client side of the table, not in a long time anyway. He understood how it could make people feel defensive.

“I don’t know.” Cheryl paused. Perhaps it was the second glass of wine, or perhaps she was too tired to be coy either.

“You know, we get a few basic types of clients: fetishists. Those are easy to spot; they’ll turn over their property on the spot. People fighting aging at any cost, but you’re too young for that. People trying to hide from debt or a legal problem, which we know you’re not. And … well, you told me you wanted to do this because you couldn’t stay here. You never told me why you wanted to go there.”

Eric leaned back into the corner of his bench as well, not looking at Cheryl but not looking away either. His face looked pained.

“I guess …” Eric sighed, and dropped his head down to his left, looking at the seat next to him while he spoke. He held his breath, quickly inhaled, and starting talking again, a little louder than he should’ve, a mannerism a therapist had picked up on once.

“I guess if I’m honest with myself I think it’s a good place to run away.” A hint of contempt came out with it. Cheryl caught it and remembered the adage ‘anger turned inward is depression.’

“There are a lot of places you could run away to here,” Cheryl replied. “Why not move? Why not leave the country?”

Eric didn’t answer right away. He had briefly considered that, but it didn’t interest him. “Because wherever you go, there you are,” he finally answered.

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“It means that … Anywhere I go here, I’m the guy who ran away. The guy who couldn’t deal. I can go anywhere on this planet and be someone else to everyone but myself. Run, but can’t hide”

“So how is there different? I don’t understand,” Cheryl replied. “Aren’t you also ‘you’ there?”

“Maybe. I guess there is the closest a person can come to starting over. Still be me, but get a little closer to being someone else.”

“On your preferences form you didn’t want to be regressed or lose any of your memories. Wouldn’t that be truly starting over? Why not pick those?”

Eric downed his drink, even though he’d been sipping at it since the waitress set it down. Again he looked down, exhaled, but this time he threw his head back up, eyes to the ceiling and and the faintest sheen of water coming over them.

“I grew up in the system. That’s why I decided to become a social worker. It was just … a few people helped me, whether they really cared or not, they helped me. Do you know the percentage of people who grow up the foster care system that go to college?

I could’ve ended up like everyone else I knew. Some of ‘em … the world forgot about most of them almost as soon as they existed. Like my kids … I’m running away, but … but I’m not forgetting them.”

Cheryl wasn’t sure if Eric was a narcissist or just had a martyr complex. “Eric,” she said softly, “I don’t think any reasonable person would blame you for walking away from the job. You’ve done more than most people ever will. In your life, have you ever put yourself first?”

Eric sat up a little straighter and looked at Cheryl, visibly uncomfortable with the question.

“What do you mean?”

“Has anyone ever taken care of you? Have you ever put off someone else’s needs to take care of yourself? I … please don’t think I’m mean, but do you really think you need to feel this much guilt for deciding you don’t have it in you to save the world?”

“Well, I feel it anyway,” Eric answered back, the back of his head returning to the back of the booth.

Cheryl straightened herself up and leaned across the table, taking Eric’s hand.

“I’ve never met someone who deserved a fresh start more than you. Think of it as a reset button. Think of it as a chance to get perspective.”

“So you’re saying you think I should do it?”

“I’m saying,” Cheryl said softly, “that if that’s your only reason for hesitating, then for once in your life do what you think is best for yourself first.”

Eric held his breath to hold back the sob. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the tears off his face and sat upright to turn away from the rest of the patrons. Cheryl squeezed his hand and pushed his water glass toward him.

Setting it down after a swallow, Eric changed the subject. “What’s it really like there?”

“Its … it’s … there’s a lot of ways to answer that.”

“Well, what are the people like?”

“In Itali, like us in most ways. Bigger, obviously. They’re smarter than we are. If we’re the smartest animal here, we’re the second smartest there. They live longer than we do, but littles live longer there than they would here, too. No one is sure why. Partly because they have better technology and medicine, and partly because we live safer and healthier lifestyles there, but something also to do with time being different there.”

“If they’re so smart, how can so many people in that dimension treat us the way you read about?”

“Bigs in general? Look who I’m talking to. You know better than me what people are capable of. In some countries there, we’re chattel – if someone wants you, they can take you. In others, we’re not even chattel; chattel is too valuable to be disposable.

Itali, though, is a lot like here. If you went over there as a regular person, you’d stand out. There’s not even 300 of us living there independently. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they know we’re not as smart as them, but there’s this … gentle condescension, if that makes any sense.

If you go over as an adoptee, you have the rights of a minor, and they’ll treat you like one. It’s like … they’re not pretending.”

“What do you mean?”

“They see us as children. We’ll never be as big or as smart as them. By their standards, we’ll never grow all the way up. It’s not a game where they pretend you’re not fully capable of functioning in their world; they actually see you as not fully capable. Not in the way they think of it.

If they’re pretending, they’re pretending independent littles can function just like bigs can.”

“Sounds like colonialism,” Eric quipped.

“Yeah, but in this case the people who go consent to it.”

“Do you think they’re right, that we’re not as fully capable as them?”

“In their world? Maybe. I don’t think it matters, though. People who adopt themselves out aren’t doing it because they want to be just like bigs. Or if some do, they’re mistaken. That’s why we had you take a test on the adoption agreement. Informed consent.”

“Why do they want us? What’s in it for them,” Eric asked. “It sounds like we’d just be a burden to them.”

“Ever taken on a responsibility because it made you feel good to do it? Why get a puppy when it’s so much work? Why adopt a child when you can have your own? Why have your own when you can have none?

And there is something else that no one really understands. They’re parental instincts are … intense around us.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think even they know. Every single thought and emotion you or I or they have ever had is just an electro-chemical interaction in the brain, right? I guess we just trip their wires,” Cheryl said as she sipped the last of her wine. “And because they don’t see us as ever growing all the way up, that never goes away. Even if you want to age out at ten years and stay there, you’d always be their little in your big’s eyes.”

“I never got that,” Eric whispered.

“Sorry?”

“I said, ‘what do I tell people here?’”

“Who do you have to tell?”

“Um … coworkers, I guess. I never did make friends in this city.”

“Tell them you’re moving and put in your notice. Why?”

“Because … because I feel like there’s something wrong about this. It feels like … like giving up,” Eric shrugged.

“On your kids?”

“No, I mean, giving up on adulting. Admitting you can’t handle it. Giving up … giving up your own … personal sovereignty.”

“Eric, you can handle anything you want to, and I say that having met a lot of people who couldn’t. As for the rest, you still have personal sovereignty. Maybe not all of it. But it’s your choice to give it up. And in ten years, it will be your choice to take it back.”

“Do people come back?”

“Some, not many. It’s a hard transition back, much harder than going there. If you thought stepping into adulthood was hard the first time … But people do, and they manage.”

Eric leaned back again and turned his eyes up. Cheryl recognized he was contemplating.

“You think I should do it,” he asked quietly.

“I think only you can answer that. I can’t validate that decision for you,” Cheryl said. In fact, she wasn’t allowed to say yes. She was allowed to say no, and she often did, but the agency rules didn’t permit saying yes.

“I’m scared. I thought I was past the point of being scared for myself.”

Cheryl stepped out of her side of the booth and sat down next to Eric, putting a hand on his knee.

“Eric, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Will you come visit me?”

“I’d really like that.”

______________________________________________

Three weeks later, somewhere else…

“Mom, what about him?”

“I thought you didn’t like this idea?”

“Well, if you’re going to do it anyway. Look,” she said as she passed the folder to her mother, “I think we can help him.”

Eric is a kind and gentle little who’s had to take care of himself all his life. As an adult, he chose to help other people who grew up like he did. He has made the decision to adopt himself out because he has become overwhelmed with the emotional responsibility of his work yet feels unable to simply walk away.

Eric has struggled with depression and anxiety, but he is doing well. He exhibits some signs of post-traumatic stress disorder and will likely need therapy to come to terms with his past.

Eric has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and guilt. He will likely have difficulty adapting to his new role and surrendering his responsibilities, but we believe with love he will come to accept and cherish his new life and family.

We are looking to place him with a family who understands Eric’s emotional needs and is willing and able to help Eric overcome his trauma and become the happy person he has inside him.

Eric is a generous and sweet little boy. He will return the love he receives many times over.