Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 62 (Patreon)

Dear Cheryl,

I’m sorry I haven’t written more. The days are longer here, but somehow they pass quickly.

I’ve started calling Rebecca ‘Mom.’ I feel that way about her now. The three of us, we feel like a family. We will never be able to repay you for your role in bringing us together. You so perfectly matched us to one another.

Amanda remains my person. She’s my hero and confidante and advocate. She’s not perfect, but she’s mine, and I am hers. It feels like we were meant to be together, and you did that.

Your first letter to me, I’ve memorized some of it. Do you remember what you wrote? ‘I cannot stand the thought of you again without love by your side all day and long night.’ I have that kind of love, Cheryl, because of you.

Amanda has a friend named Mel that I have a crush on. I can’t help it. She has red hair.

I started daycare recently, and it’s been a rough few days. It’s loud! At first there was no one to talk to except the receptionist and the big who looks after me there. I was afraid I’d be bored and alone there, even in a room full of littles.

Then I met a friend. I’d tell you her name, but I don’t think I’m supposed to. For some reason, it’s supposed to be a secret. All I know about her is she had some kind of back surgery and goes to physical therapy a lot. Having her to talk to has made daycare tolerable so far.

I started seeing a therapist. I believe I have you to thank for that, in part. And I am thankful. I’m not sure what the end-goal is, but I’m open to therapy. I do believe, like I always told my kids, talking solves problems. Or at least it helps.

We went to the zoo, and I saw all kinds of new things. Did you know Big Foot is real and that they have pet bears they call ‘dogs’?

There’s more to tell in time.

Cheryl, I miss you. The missing you is getting easier though, and I hate that. I’ve gotten used to a lot, more than I can ever explain. I don’t want to get used to missing you. I want it to hurt, but I hope my being gone doesn’t hurt for you.

It shouldn’t hurt you, for I’m in love with the people in whose arms you placed me. Remember that when times are hard. I’m happy because of you. I still struggle sometimes, but a kind word and a firm hug can dispel much more than I thought possible, at least for a moment, when it comes from the people I love and who love me.

Please tell me, Cheryl, how are you? What are your days like? Are you happy? I think on our reunion. It warms me to anticipate your embrace again. I hope you remember the feel of my arms, as I remember yours.

Your forever friend,

Jamie

______________________________________________

“Manda, can you please mail this for me?”

“Sure, buddy. Who’s it to?” Jamie handed over the envelope. “Ah. Got it,” she said when she saw the addressee. “What are you up to now?”

“Well, I have a business lunch at noon, but I might have to cancel that for a conference call. Other than that, my calendar is up to date, so feel free to drop some time on it if you need to meet about something,” Jamie said with his typical dry humor.

“Does Cheryl know you’re the most sarcastic little in San Siena?”

“She likes that about me, actually.”

“Well, I got nothing to do, and Mom is out running errands. Why don’t we take a walk and drop this off, then maybe find some lunch?”

“Sounds like fun. Can you, uh, change me first?”

“You’re the boss.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Have you ever been tickled while being held upside down by one ankle?”

Jamie decided to pivot to a new line of conversation. “So what do you want for lunch?”

“Thought so,” Amanda responded. She hopped off the couch and followed Jamie to his room. The summer was closing fast. Not many more weekends of warm weather. Even better, though, the autumn. Amanda looked forward to the fall and its crisp air and fun outfits. She especially looked forward to dressing Jamie in flannel and sweaters. She couldn’t help it; she didn’t mean to think of him like a doll, but she so loved making him look cuter than he already was.

Amanda picked Jamie up and laid him on the changing table. “You’re a little pink down here, buddy. Does it hurt or itch at all?”

“Both, a little. Not bad.”

“Well, that’s our fault. I’ll let Mom know, and we’ll make sure you get changed more often until it clears up. Explains it, though.”

“Explains what?”

“I’d be a little grumpy, too, if I had a diaper rash.”

“I’m not grumpy!”

“I said ‘a little grumpy.’ Lift up for me.” Jamie lifted his hips, and Amanda slid the new diaper under him. “Prepare to be slathered,” she said as she held up his ankles and smoothed an extra thick layer of nursery cream on his diaper area. Jamie couldn’t help but move his hips a little in response. “Feels good, huh? Have you ever had a massage?”

“Like from a professional? No.”

“Maybe we can do that after I pick you up one day this month. I know I could use one.” She sealed the tapes on his diaper as a sly grin came to her face.

“What,” he asked.

“I just thought of something new.”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t tell?”

Jamie looked around as if to make sure they were alone. “Sure.”

Amanda bent down as if to whisper something to him. Jamie wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“You listening real well,” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What I wanted to say is pbbbbbbbtttt!” A dirty trick! Jamie squealed at her raspberry on his tummy.

“Manda! Hehehehe! Stop! Hehehehehe!” She relented after three.

“I can’t believe that hadn’t occurred to me months ago!” Jamie’s cheeks spread in his typical contented smile. When he laughed, it was a different kind of smile. The one he gave when he was happy-warm inside was less expressive. The wrinkles at the corner his eyes told more than his lips.

“Better late than never,” Jamie said. “Maybe I ought to return the favor when you least expect it.”

“Guess that makes us ready to go,” she said as she put his shorts back on.

Jamie was getting to enjoy the stroller. He imagined this was what Roman nobility felt like being carried along on litters. They were heading toward downtown with the sun at their backs.

“Hey Amanda, tell me about school.”

“What do you want to know about school for?”

“Curiosity, and because I want to know more about you. Ya know, the you that I don’t see. I don’t even know what you’re studying.”

“Education, like Mom.”

“Why did you pick that?”

“A lot of reasons. It pays really well, it’s secure, you have lots of time off.”

“What about the job itself?”

“I like teaching. I’m not sure I want to teach kids, though.”

“You’d rather teach college?”

“Yeah … though … since you’ve been here I’ve been thinking about switching majors to Little Studies.”

“We’re a field of study?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you … I mean, how … what are they studying about us?”

“Lots of things. Medicine, psychology, education, recreation, social work. There’s even a legal discipline about littles.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

“So I’m taking my first Little Studies course now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s interesting, kinda comparing what I know from you to the class materials.”

“Can I see your textbook some time?”

“Sure.”

“Do I fit the mold?”

“What do you mean?”

“Comparing me – do I fit what they’re teaching you?”

“In some ways. Not many, though. It’s only been a few class sessions. So far the class has only hinted at the idea of unregressed littles.”

“Maybe I should come to class.”

“I did tell the professor about you. He’d love to meet you.”

“I’d be okay with that.”

“And I told him no experiments if I did bring you.”

“Experiments?”

“Electric shock therapy, vivisection, those sorts of things.”

“Har har. Very funny.”

They were in downtown now next to the library. Amanda dropped the letter in a post office box.

“Can we go in,” Jamie asked, nodding toward the library.

“To the library? Sure. I haven’t been in here in ages.” She pushed the stroller up the ramp, and the doors opened for them. She lifted him out, set him on his feet, and left the stroller along the wall with a half dozen others.

“Smells like the libraries back home.”

“Anything you want to look for,” she asked.

Jamie really just wanted to browse, but now that she asked, he considered what he wanted to know. A lot, he realized. For starters, where was he? He didn’t have a picture of his town, region, country, or planet. He didn’t know anything about San Siena or Tosca or Itali. He didn’t know about the people or the culture.

“Can we look at the history section?”

“Of course.” They approached the help desk. “Excuse me, can you point us toward the history section?”

“Sure. See those spiral stairs? Up there. There’s a storytelling session for littles going on downstairs if you want drop him off while you browse,” the librarian replied.

“Actually, we’re browsing for him.”

“O! In that case there’s a more little-friendly history mini-section downstairs, too. Ya know, more pictures you can show him.”

Amanda smiled patiently. “Jamie, what do you think?”

“Do you have any books on unregressed littles?”

“Ohh! Sorry,” the librarian said as she turned red in the cheeks. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“It’s okay,” Jamie said, “There’s not many of us.”

“Sorry anyway. Please let me know if I can help you find anything.”

“Thanks,” Amanda and Jamie said in unison.

The staircase she’d pointed to was a tight, wrought-iron spiral. Amanda had Jamie go first, and she boosted him along the way.

“Little accessibility isn’t a thing here, is it?”

“No. There’s an elevator we could have used.”

Jamie shrugged. They began browsing together and slowly drifted their separate ways until there were a few aisles between them. Books weren’t little-accessible either. To bigs they were the equivalent of a standard paperback. To Jamie they were the size of coffee-table books, but thicker and heavier. He was also limited to the lower two shelves. He spotted a rolling stepladder in the corner and brought it over to a shelf of books on Itali history, locking the wheels in place and carefully climbing up to browse the spines.

He decided to take down one of the newer looking ones. He began to flip through it until his arms got tired holding it, so he sat down on a step and put the book in his lap, getting absorbed in a chapter on pre-historic Itali. The shadow of a big hand fell over the page and pulled the book away. Jamie looked up to see a blue-haired lady with a name tag tut-tutting as she put the book down.

“Honestly,” she said to no one, “so irresponsible. How about I help you find your mommy and help the two of you pick something out?” Jamie she was wearing a nametag. Another librarian. “Like a book on how to be a good big,” she muttered.

Jamie didn’t like being ignored, and her implication about Amanda made him defensive. “Actually,” Jamie grumpily replied, “I was hoping to find a self-help book on how to mind my own business.” It wasn’t that Jamie didn’t understand her heart was in the right place, but she was being rude and was talking like he couldn’t hear her.

Three aisles over, Amanda heard Jamie’s remark and said, “O, shit …” and started to quick step to wherever he was.

“And up on a ladder. Why not just put him on the roof,” the librarian continued. One of those, Jamie realized, you don’t even hear me.

“Manda!”

“Coming!” If I can figure out which aisle you’re in.

“C’mon,” the woman said as she put her hands under Jamie’s arm pits and lifted him off the step. Jamie’s patience for being ignored was getting longer; where his patience ran out was being picked up by a stranger, especially one who didn’t even pay attention to what he said.

“Put me. The fuck! Down!” The F-bomb seemed to catch her attention as Amanda turned the corner.

“Is this your little?”

“Put him the fuck down like he asked, please,” Amanda said with her friendliest unfriendly voice and matching expression. Stunned by her language, the librarian set him on his feet, and Amanda brushed past her.

“You okay, Jamie?”

“Yeah.” Just my feelings hurt, as usual. “She’s one of those.”

“I can see that,” Amanda said, turning to the librarian. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You shouldn’t leave littles alone. He was on the ladder by himself.”

“Thanks, we got it,” Amanda replied. She turned back to Jamie. “Find anything you like?”

“Yes, that one.”

She picked it up. “I’ve heard of this author. He supposed to be pretty good. Informative and tells a good story.”

The woman interrupted, “I think you’ll find that book a bit much for bedtime reading. There’s a little section downstairs. He really shouldn’t even be up here.”

Amanda’s lips thinned and her eyes flashed wider. Wow, you’re still here, Amanda thought. Jamie saw the expression and knew what it meant on her. He reached over and touched her arm.

“Manda.” He shook his head. She let out the breath she was holding and her eyes softened.

“C’mon, let’s keep browsing.” She offered her hand and helped him down. Turning back to the woman, she held out his book and the one she’d found. “Thank you, again. Do you mind taking those down to the front desk for us? We’ll be down when we’re ready. Thanks.”

The woman looked irritated. Amanda wanted to ask her how it felt to have someone ignore you right to your face, but she wanted to respect Jamie’s wishes more. He didn’t want her to, so she didn’t. The two of them walked to another section, and the woman went downstairs with the books.

“Sorry,” Amanda offered.

“Shhh!”

Taken aback, Amanda asked, “What?”

“Shhh! We’re in a library,” Jamie stage-whispered. Amanda didn’t laugh a library-appropriate laugh.

They took the elevator back downstairs and returned to the front desk. The blue-haired lady was gone. The other librarian was still there.

“Find everything?”

“Everything for this trip.”

“You know there are some little books …”

“He can read!”

The woman let out a patient sigh. “Sorry. I meant there’s a section of books from where he’s from down in the little’s section.”

“O! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be. Mildred caught me up on what a ‘rude’ woman and little we had upstairs. I get where you’re coming from,” she winked.

“Sorry just the same. Jamie, want to go check those out?”

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

“Back corner all the way to left.”

“Thanks.”

They walked downstairs through a corridor past darkened doors every forty feet. “Did this used to be a school,” Jamie asked.

“I think so.”

“Looks like it.”

They walked down a wide, short staircase into what must have been the cafeteria. Everything was bright from the walls to the carpet to the books. They turned the corner, and they both recoiled. Storytime was being led by a guy in a clown costume. One little was hugging her knees, frightened, while her clueless big rubbed her back. The rest just looked bored. They walked past the group to get to the back, catching a little of the clown’s performance.

“Woof,” Amanda remarked after they passed, “Someone over there stinks!”

“Yeah,” Jamie replied, “and someone’s got a loaded diaper, too.” Amanda snorted when she laughed.

They found the section the librarian told them about. It reminded Jamie of the book section at a charity-run resale shop. It was mostly board books, followed by a shelf split entirely between John Grisham and Tom Clancy.

“Wow,” Amanda said, “This Clancy guy must be a celebrated author.”

“Yeah,” Jamie responded, “Pudgy white guys in their 50s and 60s who’ve never been anywhere near a battlefield really think he’s the bee’s knees.”

“Sometimes I don’t know when you’re kidding.”

“Yeah ya do.”

On the last shelf in the section was an assortment of authors Jamie had heard of and hadn’t heard of, the grocery-store-quality romance novels in with some of the greats. Twain. Bellow. Whitman. Achebe. Morrison. Walker. Steinbeck. Baldwin. McEwan. Faulkner. Homer. Soyinka. Robinson. Mantel. Coelho. They appeared to never have been opened. Jamie picked a few he hadn’t read before, plus a couple he had.

“Jamie!” Startled, he turned around.

“Hi, Jenny,” Jamie exclaimed, “Manda, this is Jenny, from daycare.”

Manda got down to her level and introduced herself. “I like your dress,” she said.

A big approached. “Mama, this is Jamie,” Jenny said.

“This is the famous Jamie? A nice surprise.”

“Nice to meet you …” Jamie held out his hand.

“Grace. Jenny gushed about you last week.”

“I’m Amanda, Jamie’s sister.”

“I think I remember you from drop off.” Grace made a sympathetic face. “We’ve all had that day. Jenny tells me your brother is a great reader.”

“One of the best,” Amanda replied proudly.

“One of the only,” Grace responded.

Jenny didn’t care much to listen to them banter. “Jamie, will you read to me? That clown is scary and doesn’t read as good. He doesn’t do the voices.”

Grace blushed, “Sorry. I’m sure you guys are in a hurry. Jenny, how about you ask him again at daycare? How does that sound?”

Crummy, Jenny’s face replied.

“Actually, we’re not rushed today,” Jamie said. “Is it okay if I read one story, Manda?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

Jenny handed him her storybook and took his hand, leading him to the carpeted area away from the clown. He sat down and began a story about a cow that didn’t feel welcome at a barn dance because he was too heavy to dance and was worried the chickens and even the pigs would make fun of him. Plus, he didn’t have anyone to dance with. Jamie’s depressed cow voice was spot on, as were his clucking chickens and supportive goats and a dumb donkey. The other littles heard him and left the clown by himself. Jamie felt bad for him.

He paused in his reading and whispered to Jenny, who walked over to the man and led him back by the hand. He sat on the carpet and listened. The bigs smiled at how cute that was and at how Jamie kept everyone’s attention and made them all laugh, even the bigs. When he was done, Jenny’s mom thanked him, and so did the rest of the littles and bigs.

Grace nodded toward Jenny to draw Amanda’s attention to the way she looked at Jamie. “She’s got a crush on him.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“No kidding!”

The librarian behind the counter approached Amanda and Jamie and told them he could come read to the other littles whenever he wanted. She’d post it on the bulletin board if they let her know in advance. Jamie promised he would on occasion. Amanda beamed.

They checked out all of their books from upstairs and down and stashed them under the stroller. The big with the stinky little walked out of the changing room down in the corner, reminding Amanda she needed to check Jamie more often until his rash cleared up.

“How are you pants,” she whispered.

“Damp, I think.”

What does he mean ‘think,’ she wondered. “Let’s go take care of that.”

When he was up on the changing table, Amanda used the time to deliberately follow through on Mary’s instructions. “That was a very nice thing you did.”

Jamie shrugged. “Sorta had to.”

“No, you didn’t. You did it because you’re a sweetie. And inviting the clown over was very kind. That’s one of the things I like so much about you, your kindness; not everyone is like that. I’m proud of you.”

Jamie blushed. “And you were good at it,” Amanda continued. “All those bigs were jealous of me.” She smiled to herself. She knew exactly how lucky she was. “I’m ready for lunch. You?”

“Starving.”

Amanda helped him down, washed her hands, and they left.

They walked a block and had their choice of several restaurants on the same street. Amanda lifted Jamie so he could see the menus by the door.

“You guys imported Tex-Mex?”

Amanda chuckled. “After littles I think it’s everyone’s favorite thing about your dimension. You like it?”

“Uh, heck yeah I do,” Jamie answered as thought the question itself were silly.

They got a booth with a booster seat, and soon there was queso and fresh chips on the table.

“I meant to thank you, Jamie, for stopping me from going off on that woman.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry so many people are like that.”

“I know, they’re just blind and deaf to me because they love littles so much and don’t know any unregressed ones.” Jamie rolled his eyes. Amanda caught the sign.

“Want to talk about it?”

Jamie grimaced and said nothing, though his face darkened. Finally, he asked, “Am I a person here?”

“Of course you are.”

“Why … who treats other people that way? She made a mistake thinking I was regressed. I corrected her. It did zero good. She listened to you when you said literally the same thing I’d just said.” He paused, and Amanda could tell he just needed to rant.

“She treats me like I’m not even making words come out of my mouth and then lays her fucking hands on me like it’s no big deal. And that excuse, that whole ‘little blind’ stuff, is just bullshit. It doesn’t justify the way they treat me. It just proves they’re bigots. They treat me like I’m inferior, like I don’t exist as a person they owe any courtesy to. I’m tired of being the one who nods patiently and says ‘It’s alright. I know they can’t help it.” They’re fucking grown-ups, aren’t they? They can, too, goddamn help it!” He paused again before bringing his fist down on the table.

“I am not an infant! I am not disabled! I am not inferior! And I am not a goddamn puppy they can just manhandle!”

Now he looked done. “Feel better,” Amanda asked.

He breathed out. “Yes.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Let’s talk about it again later.”

“Good.” Jamie rubbed his forehead a moment. “Not gonna let that ruin my day. It’s been great so far. Thanks for taking me out.” He was smiling again. He just needed to get that out of his system. Amanda understood because she wished she could rant for a bit as well, and she likely would when they got home, out of ear shot of Jamie. She knew she and her mother were not perfect, but they’d made a lot of progress, and the excuse they’d make for others was worn thin. It certainly didn’t convince Amanda anymore.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said. “We can stop at the park on the way home if you want.”

“That sounds fun.”