Done Adulting Vol. 2 Ch. 13

Jamie had been hungry when Becky got back from the store and had talked her into letting him nurse just a little, promising it wouldn’t spoil his appetite. Now she was preparing dinner, and he was sitting on the back porch in his beach chair with his feet propped up on a partially deflated beach ball and thinking he’d be pretty good at island living. He could picture himself relaxing in the sand and maintaining a low-grade buzz of breastmilk and frozen cocktails made with fresh fruit and little juice, giving up shoes, and never wearing a closed shirt again. Maybe he could even sport a sarong, and a tattered straw sun hat. It was a nice fantasy.

“Knock knock!” Kim called from the screen door of the porch, her family in tow.

“Be right there,” Becky said from inside. “I was just about to get the grill started.” None of Kim and company caught sight of Jamie in his chair, low as he was to the ground. Another human could have easily missed him. Jamie sized them up: Kim’s husband was a large big, overweight, and he seemed to have not shaved since their arrival, whenever that was; Chelsea was dressed head to toe in pink and had her hair in pigtails, reminding Jamie of Angelica from the TV show Rugrats; and Kim’s son looked to be about fifteen and not all that enthused to be roused from whatever he’d been doing. Jamie made no effort to make himself known, feeling mellow and happy to be overlooked.

Becky and Amanda emerged from the bungalow smiling. Becky was a good host, always was, and Jamie was sure if they’d been at home he’d have been out of the way in the playpen while she fussed around doing last-second touches until Amanda rescued him. He looked at the screens surrounding the porch and wondered if he wasn’t in a different kind of playpen, one he’d selected after Becky had let him toddle off with warm milk in his belly.

“Hi,” several said simultaneously. Amanda set a pitcher of lemonade on the table, and Becky offered her hand to Kim’s husband.

“Carl,” the man said, “and this is our son, Davis, and Chelsea.” The kids said hi.

“Ya know, I don’t think we remembered to introduce ourselves this afternoon. I’m Becky, and this is my daughter, Amanda, and of course you know Jamie,” Becky said. Chelsea turned toward Jamie with an overly enthusiastic smile on her face. Jamie indicated no emotion and settled deeper into his chair.

“Hi, Jamie,” Kim said with a baby wave. “Remember me?”

“O, I guess I should have told you,” Amanda said. “Jamie isn’t regressed.”

“Really,” Carl replied in surprise. “That’s a rarity.” Carl looked at him with interest. “Is he, uh …”

“He just had a little milk. Always makes him a little …”

“Stoned,” Davis finished the sentence of Becky.

Jamie saw Davis look to Amanda for a reaction and blush when his mother admonished him, “Davis, we’re guests. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“O, don’t worry about it. I know it kinda looks that way, but it just makes him very mellow for about twenty minutes, like all littles. But it’s good for him. Gives him strong bones for when he plays hard. Please, sit.”

Becky started the grill and Amanda went back inside for more glasses and a platter of fruit, cheese, and crackers. After she came back out and set them on the table, she walked over to Jamie and got down on his level. “You’re not still zonked, are you?”

“No, just happy here.”

“Not in a party mood?”

“Not yet. I just need a minute.”

“Come sit in my lap when you're ready.” She kissed his forehead and went back to the table. Davis managed to sit next to her and was silent, looking at her and then turning his face away when she looked in his direction, the very picture of a smitten teenager. Chelsea sat on the edge of her chair and stared at Jamie. All nine feet of her looked ready to jump down and run over. Jamie was wary of her if only because she could hurt him easily without meaning to.

Ready for some cheese, Jamie heaved himself out of his chair, stretched his arms and back, yawned, and walked over to Amanda, who saw him coming and reached down for him without breaking eye contact with Kim.

“Ya know,” Kim said, “I’ll admit I was worried when I found this little guy. I was wondering who lets a little run off by himself, but it makes sense now that I know he’s not regressed.”

“He can do everything an independent little can,” Amanda explained. “He just chose to not be independent.”

“Sorry again for going into your house,” Jamie said. “They all look alike.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carl said. “I’m curious: why not regressed?”

“I didn’t want to be.”

“How do you guys feel about that?” Kim looked embarrassed at her husband’s personal questioning.

Becky spoke up for them. “We love that about him. It’s a lot more rewarding to know him the way he is.”

“I’m endlessly fascinating,” Jamie quipped with a carefree shrug. I can’t help it, he thought.

“And he’s the most sarcastic little in Itali,” Amanda added.

The conversation shifted to more mundane topics, and Jamie caught Davis sneaking peeks at Amanda. Jamie wasn’t bothered by it – the boy was just a teenager – but he decided to have fun with it. He caught Davis’s eye, made a show of a big yawn, stretched his arms wide, and settled into Amanda’s breast as though he were exhausted, his smiling face toward Davis as if to say, look what I get to do and you don’t. The boy frowned and looked away. Jamie felt gratified.

“Do they normally get that sleepy when they’re not regressed,” Kim asked. Jamie bit his lip; Manda could feel him silently laughing.

“I think it’s more they need more sleep as a species,” Becky explained, “and the days in their world are shorter than ours. Plus they play hard.” Becky checked the grill and decided it was hot enough for food. “Be right back.”

“Let me help you,” Carl said. The two of them came back with trays of raw food. Shishkabobs with steak and shrimp, corn, hotdogs.

“I wasn’t sure what your kids might like,” Becky explained. “Do you like shrimp, Chelsea?”

“Sometimes. Can I hold him when she’s done,” the girl asked.

“Honey,” Kim said, “we talked about this. He’s a person just like you.” If the distinction between littles and bigs and rights and consent and free will were not clear to Chelsea, Jamie could sympathize. After four years, it still wasn’t clear to him. After all, he was a person; she was a person; they all were, but that didn’t mean they were all treated the same.

“But she’s holding him,” the girl said in response.

“She’s his person,” her mom explained. Jamie, Amanda, and Becky politely ignored the exchange.

Jamie wasn’t sure what he wanted more for dinner. He was like Chelsea – sometimes he wanted shrimp, but sometimes he couldn’t stand it. Amanda stood up with Jamie and set him on his feet. “We’ll get the plates and what not.” The two of them went inside, closing the door behind them to keep the air conditioning in.

“That boy has a crush on you,” Jamie said.

“You’re not jealous of a teenager, are you?”

“No. It was just an observation.” Amanda handed him a stack of paper plates and plastic utensils. No need to be fancy for dinner at the beach.

“Are you afraid of that girl?”

“You’d get nervous too if someone twice your size declared they wanted to keep you.”

“It’s weird she doesn’t seem to understand littles. Maybe she’s just big for her age.” As babies and toddlers, amazons tend to see littles as peers. Then in the early childhood years, they find out they’re not peers and come to the conclusion littles are subordinate to bigs, a dangerous phase as they can easily hurt littles unintentionally when trying to get them to do things they don’t want to. By late childhood, around nine or so, they start to grasp what littles are. Until then, they have a hard time distinguishing between littles and pets.

“Maybe she’s never been around us,” Jamie conjectured as Amanda got the cold dishes from the fridge and put serving utensils onto the pile in Jamie’s arms. “Ya know, where I’m from the only tongs that big are in blacksmiths’ shops.”

They went back outside, and Davis helped put things on the table. Jamie opted for a little bit of everything. He especially liked corn cooked on the grill, and the steak was good. He ate around the shrimp, and Amanda was only too happy to eat them for him.

After dinner and before dessert, they walked back to the surf to watch the sun begin to set. Carl tried to strike up a conversation with Jamie. “So … enjoying your vacation,” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jamie replied, “You?”

“Ah, week in the summer here, week in the winter skiing. Break from work, keeps the family happy.”

“Sure.” Jamie realized he had nothing apparent in common with the man. Five years ago they could’ve talked about work, paying bills, weekend hobbies. Now, their lives and identities had little in common with each other. “Chelsea is, uh, sweet, it seems,” he tried when he saw her staring at him and holding her mother’s hand.

“O, yeah, she is. Can definitely have her moments, though.”

“Kids …” Jamie had quite a few inane conversations in his past, often the result of being forced to socialize with someone who had as few social skills as he had.

“Well,” Carl said.

“Yeah,” Jamie replied, and they walked back to the group.

Jamie was admiring the sunset when Chelsea spoke to him. “Hi!”

When he realized that was all she had to say, he said it back. “Hi.”

“Can I pet you?”

“I’m not a pet,” Jamie said patiently. Amanda watched from above.

“I know. You’re a little.”

“You don’t ‘pet’ littles. You wouldn’t like it if a stranger petted you, would you?”

“I think I would. Our cat likes it.”

“Who’s ready for dessert,” Kim asked, and they went back to the porch. Jamie was glad someone had interrupted the not-quite-conversation. He didn’t want to be rude, and more importantly, he didn’t want to hurt a kid’s feelings. It was not the first time he’d found himself stuck talking to a kid who was fascinated with him, and just like then, before his adoption, he was aware there was no graceful way to tell a kid to shoo.

Jamie was back in Amanda’s lap with a bowl of ice cream in front of him. The conversation turned to plans for the rest of their respective holidays. Jamie was ignoring Chelsea on his left and listening to Becky on his right. He turned his head to get another spoonful of ice cream and got jabbed in the face just below his nose with a spoonful of it. “Ow!”

Kim was on her feet and around the table instantly. “Chelsea!” The girl started crying. Jamie wiped his lip.

“Lemme see,” Becky said and leaned over to make sure Jamie’s face was uninjured.

“I’m fine,” he said, and Becky checked anyway. It hurt, but it was fine.

“I was just trying to feed him,” Chelsea said through her tears. Kim was discreetly lecturing and comforting her daughter, her lips close to the girl’s ears. Jamie appreciated that. He knew she was probably embarrassed and definitely afraid she was in trouble, which she was. No need to add on to that by scolding her so that others could hear.

Kim picked the girl up, and Carl stepped around the table. Davis, who’d not said five words in two hours, looked bored and fed up with humoring people by the mere act of being near them. Teenagers are teenagers everywhere, Jamie mused.

“Alright,” Carl said as he took his daughter from Kim, “I think this is a conversation we can finish at home.” He apologized, thanked all three of them, and left, and Davis followed.

“I’m so sorry,” an embarrassed Kim said. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“She just loves littles and doesn’t get to see them much. Thank you for being so patient with her.”

“Well,” Jamie said, “she’s very young.” What else was he going to say?

“Let me help you clean up. It’s the least I can do.” The three bigs cleaned up dinner while Jamie climbed on to the couch with his ice cream. It felt late. Amanda came to take his bowl when he was finished. When they were done cleaning up, the three women came back to the living room, and Becky and Amanda sat on either side of him while Kim sat in the chair opposite.

“Kim has something she wants to ask you,” Becky explained, “and you can say yes or no. It’s up to you.”

“Okay,” Jamie replied feeling like he’d been put on the spot.

“You seem like a very good and patient person, Jamie,” Kim began. “I know Chelsea is immature for her age. We’ve explained littles to her many times, and she has a very hard time understanding. Do you think, seeing as we’re staying right next to each other, with all of us there being very careful, she could spend some time with you while we’re here?”

Are you fucking serious, Jamie didn’t say out loud. He appreciated her problem, but it was her problem, and the request seemed like the kind no good person would say no to. Jamie doubted she was clever enough to have thought that far ahead, but she had laid an ethical trap, one that would make Jamie seem like a jerk for avoiding.

“Does she have a learning disability,” Jamie asked before answering.

“How could you tell?”

“I used to work with kids.” He glanced at Becky and Amanda, who were looking back at him with neutral expressions. “Look, Kim, I’m sure she’s a very sweet girl, really, and as a little, I appreciate that you really want to make an effort to help her understand us. I really do. But,” he sighed, “I’m not comfortable with that.”

“I understand,” Kim rushed to say. She was embarrassed, had been embarrassed to even ask but didn’t want to pass up the opportunity.

“It’s not because she has a disability,” Jamie said. “It’s …” How do I say this politely? “I’m just … I’d rather not.” Leave it at that.

“Really, it’s okay. I felt awkward even asking.”

“You did it for your daughter. You should never be ashamed to ask for that reason,” Jamie reassured her.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” That seemed to make her feel better.

“And if we see each other on the beach, don’t be shy about walking over.”

“Thank you.” There was an awkward pause. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Goodnights were said, and Kim departed. Jamie laid back against the couch. “Can we take that walk tomorrow, Manda.”

“Sure. Ya pretty beat?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask why you said no,” Becky said.

“Are you disappointed,” Jamie asked.

“No, not at all. Your choice. I wanted you to make your own choice, or I wouldn’t have let her ask.”

“I just didn’t want to. I’m not a teaching tool.”

“Good for you.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t that long ago that you would’ve said yes just because you’d feel guilty for not saying yes. You set a boundary. I’m proud of you.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“Do you feel guilty about it,” Amanda asked.

Jamie sighed. “Not really. I don’t think it would have helped. And besides, I’m retired. Plus I didn’t want to. That’s a valid reason sometimes, right?”

“Right,” Becky said. “Who’s ready for bed?”

“Me.”

“Almost me.”

“I am,” Becky said. “Share my bed with me tonight, Baby Bear.”

“Mhmm”

“Okay. Let’s go get you into your jammies, and then we’ll come back and say night-night to Manda.”