Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 43

The next day was spent in preparation. Becky had considered throwing an end-of-summer party, but she decided not to. She didn’t want it to seem like a momentous event. Just another day, followed by another and another. The logic – live today like tomorrow will not be so so different – made sense to her, and she worried making a big deal out of it would only make the day to follow more daunting for Jamie, and for herself.

By late afternoon, Becky and Amanda turned to getting themselves ready. Jamie crawled up the steps, still the easiest way given how tall and wide each riser was, and went into Amanda’s room, where she was packing her backpack.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She picked him up and placed him on her bed. It was one of his favorite places. He grabbed a pillow, big enough to be a body pillow for him, and pulled it under his chin.

“Nothing at all? Did you cease to exist for a moment and then come back? Because I bet we could make a lot of money doing that on street corners.” She was putting pens in the little loops in the front pocket of her bag. She had her headphones, a bottle of some medicine, and a phone charger in there. When her bad joke didn’t even get a dismissive eye roll, she knew something was up. She put her bag on the floor and laid down next to Jamie, her face to his, and stroked his hair. “C’mon. There’s nothing you can’t tell your big sister.”

“I won’t know anybody.”

“Not right when you get there, but by the end of the day you’ll know lots of people.”

“But what if none of them want to be my friend?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because …” Jamie always had grappled with this. He was too shy to approach people; too awkward to make small talk; too awkward to flirt. He’d made exactly one friend in college, and they’d lost touch. He’d dated one woman, and it didn’t last long. And that was the social peak of his life. In a work setting, he could turn on the professional charm; he was somebody there, not just some random person but someone with expertise and skills. He didn’t have to make small talk; he didn’t have to feel shy. But he never made friends with his coworkers.

“I don’t … I never learned how to make friends, as an adult. Not really. I guess Cheryl was the first friend I’d made in almost ten years.” And he’d walked away from that.

Amanda edged closer. “I’m your friend. Mom is your friend. Jane is your friend. Laurie and Danny are your friends. Mel is your friend. Donna desperately wants to be your friend.”

“They don’t count,” Jamie said before realizing what he was saying. “I mean, bigs don’t count. Bigs are going to be friends with any little.” It had been that way for Jamie as a kid. He was friends with more teachers than peers. Even as an adult, he had made a stronger social connection to his boss than to the people his own age.

“Rosie is your friend. Any one of those littles you play tag with would be your friend.” True, Jamie knew, but it was still somehow different. He’d been introduced to Rosie. He was popular in the game of tag because he was the best at it, a low bar considering how many of the littles’ velcro shoes kept falling off. He wouldn’t be the best at everything at daycare. He’d just be the new kid.

“I’ll be the new kid. Everybody will know each other but me.” Everybody hates the new kid, at least at first, because they’re an outsider. The group protects its own by driving away the other: adults do it, school kids, chimpanzees, even birds.

“You won’t be the only new kid. And besides, you have a big advantage.”

“What’s that?”

“You aren’t regressed.” Jamie didn’t think that was an advantage. He thought it would be easier if he were regressed, not as aware and with lower inhibitions. There’s a thought, Jamie said to himself, I just need a few stiff drinks.

“You get to be the cool little, the one who knows stuff. The one who can do more stuff.”

“I just think that makes me …” He paused.

“What?”

“I just think that makes me pathetic.”

Not the word Amanda was expecting. She wanted to embrace him, but she knew he needed space to talk about these feelings. And he needed to talk about them; she couldn’t make them go away for him.

“What makes you think that,” she asked.

“All the regressed ones … they need that kind of care and attention. I’m a grown man just being treated that way.” He shook his head. “Even if bigs don’t judge me for that, other littles will.”

Now she could pick him up. He didn’t resist. He was chest down on top of her with her arms crossed around his waist. “Do you trust me, Jamie.”

He sensed a lecture coming. “Yes. You know that.”

“And you know that I’d never do anything to hurt your feelings?”

“Never.”

“I think that Eric was bad at making friends. I think Jamie is great at making friends, especially little friends. Has any little you’ve met not been nice to you?”

“Well, no, but...”

“And do you know why? Because you’re so nice to them. You help them have fun. They look up to you.”

This next part was harder, something Amanda and Becky both said in so many words, but that Jamie hadn’t understood, or at least not accepted. She wasn’t sure if he would take it the way it was intended.

“And Jamie, those other littles get treated that way because they need to be, and they need to be because they’re littles. You … no one treats you as though you’re a little. They treat you the way they do because you are a little, too. No little will judge you for being a little; no big will judge you for it, and if someone does, fuck ‘em.”

Jamie looked up, surprised. “I’m allowed,” Amanda said, “But don’t tell Mom. The point I’m trying to make, and not doing a good job of it, is you be you. I love that person; Mom does, too. This,” she kissed him on the forehead, “is who you are. It’s not pretend. It’s who you are. Do you believe that?”

Still looking downtrodden, Jamie didn’t have the energy to say yes just to make her happy. “I want to.”

Amanda sighed. “C’mon.” She stood up from the bed and took him with her to the mirror on the closet door. She pointed to her reflection. “Who is that?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “That’s you.”

Amanda pointed to Jamie’s reflection. “Who is that?”

He rolled his eyes again, impatient. “That’s me.”

“Who are you?”

“Jamie.” The point was obvious. He didn’t need a locker room pep talk.

“You’re sure? You’re sure that’s Jamie? It’s not Eric?” Jamie felt like he walked into that. “Eric would get judged for being treated like a little. Jamie is a little.”

Amanda turned away from the mirror and looked at Jamie face to face. “Eric doesn’t live here, and you shouldn’t compare yourself to Eric. I love you, Jamie. I met Eric; I liked Eric; I even loved Eric. But you, Jamie, shine so much brighter, and everyone who meets you sees it.

“It’s okay to be Jamie; it’s okay to need the love and attention and care that Eric didn’t. Eric even knew he needed it, and that’s why he came here. You be Jamie, and don’t ever, ever, ever be ashamed of it.”

She paused and looked at him. Over the top, perhaps. A little too much like a school counselor giving a group talk on bullying. But she meant every word. If Jamie kept comparing himself to Eric, he’d never get past thinking of his new self as an affectation or of the changes in his life as temporary and pretend. This was Jamie’s life; there was nothing pretend or temporary about how Jamie and Amanda and Becky felt about one another. This was life at its top. There was so much to love and like in Eric. Yet even the former Eric liked Jamie more; Amanda and Becky liked Jamie more; and so would everyone. Amanda was sure of it.

Jamie wanted to be sure of it too; to know it and feel it, to will himself to feel it. Maybe he could later, if he tried, if enough other people could show how much Jamie was worth loving. Love justifies us; Jamie the little knew that, even if not consciously. “I’ll try,” he said.

Amanda figured that was the best answer she could get today. It would just take time and love until Jamie only saw Jamie, only felt like Jamie, was wholly comfortable being Jamie and being seen and treated like Jamie.

“That’s my good boy,” Amanda said. She hugged him tight, part reward and part she wanted to. She always wanted to.

“Manda? I’m still scared.”

“I know you are, buddy.” She kissed him again. I’m scared for you, too,she thought, but she’d never say it to him. “Let’s go pack your bag for tomorrow.” She carried him downstairs to his room, talking along the way.

“May I take my bear?”

“Yes. You may have to share it with others, though.”

Big head shake. “No way,” Jamie said. Never mind, not happening.

“You don’t want to share your bear?”

“No.” Hell no! Regressed littles and my bear? Why not just pour juice on it, let it ferment in the sun for a few days, and run it over with the lawn mower?

“Well, that ruins my plan.”

“What plan?”

“I was going to ask if I could borrow your bear.”

“What for?” Jamie was suspicious. What did she want with his bear?

“I was going to ask if I could sleep with your bear tonight. Do you think I could if you came, too?”

Jamie loved that idea very much. Very much.

“I’d like that.” He smiled. She sometimes took a nap with him. How good it felt to have her warm body against his and her protecting arms around him.

They reached Jamie’s room, and she set him on the changing table while she packed his bag.

“And you know, Jamie, I’m a little scared, too.”

“About me going to daycare?”

“No, about me going back to school.”

“Why?” It wasn’t her first year of school.

“Because it’s a new year.” She put two whole outfits into his bag, plus enough diapers for the week, the coloring book he hadn’t started yet, his own bottle and formula, his pacifier, and a book she’d picked out for him, a gift for his first day.

“I think you’ll do fine,” he assured her.

“Probably … buuuut … it might make me feel better if … nah, never mind.”

“What? Tell me.”

“Well, if you promise to keep an open mind. Can I take your bear to school with me tomorrow, to protect me? Just in case?”

A conundrum. What if something happened to his bear? But he did trust Amanda more than anyone. And if it would help her … “You’d just carry my bear around all day?”

“I’d keep him in my backpack.”

“But it’s dark in there. And how will he breathe?”

“I’ll leave the zipper open a little. And if he gets hungry, there’s a bunch of places on campus. What does he eat?”

“Um … salmon.”

“Then he’ll love the sushi place. Do you think he can make it all the way through class without needing the bathroom?”

“O, he has a very strong bladder. He hasn’t peed once since I’ve met him. Been holding it the entire time.” Amanda lost her poker face; he was too cute and too funny.

“Then it’s decided. It’ll be good to have someone to take notes for me, too, in case I decide I need a nap.” She zipped up his bag. “I think that’s everything. Wadduya want to do now?

“What’s Mom up to?”

“Why don’t we go find out?”