Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 41

It was the first day of the weekend before school started for Becky and Amanda. The two of them and Jamie were finishing their breakfast. Becky knew something was up with her little and daughter. Neither looked happy. Becky assumed it was the prospect of not getting to spend the entire day together soon.

“What do the two of you want to do today? Let’s do something we haven’t done yet.” Becky tried to sound chipper, as though she, too, wasn’t unhappy with going back to work and putting Jamie in daycare. “Any ideas?”

There were none forthcoming in the few seconds after she said it. Instead, there was a doorbell. They weren’t expecting anyone. Becky got the door.

“Marsha, what an unexpected surprise! Come in.” Amanda heard her, grabbed the nearest dishrag, wiped off Jamie’s face, did her best to comb his hair with her hands, and moved him from his regular chair to the highchair, strapping him in for good measure.

“What’s going on,” he whispered.

“That’s your caseworker,” she whispered back.

So, he thought, what did we need to do all that for?

Rebecca stepped out of the door and allowed Marsha to come in. “Good morning, Miss Webb. How have you been?” Pleasantries were exchanged.

“Is everything alright,” Becky asked.

“Everything is fine. This is just a regular home visit. Has to be a surprise, remember?”

“Of course. Please, come into the kitchen and meet Jamie – awake this time.” Becky chuckled and hoped she didn’t seem nervous. She had nothing to hide, so why was she nervous? “Jamie, I’d like you to meet Marsha. She’s from the agency. She’s your caseworker here.” Becky introduced an amazon wearing clothes halfway between Saturday casual and business casual, pulling off neither look, with a large bag in one hand and a smile that said, I’ve been trained to be friendly and non-threatening and it didn’t work.

Is that what I looked like, Jamie wondered. As a social worker, he must have done hundreds of these home visits in his years on the job.

“Nice to meet you, Marsha,” Jamie greeted her.

“Hello, Jamie. It’s so good to see you again.”

“We’ve met?”

“When you were in the hospital. O, what a pitiful thing you were.” Jamie was having a hard time reading Marsha. It wasn’t clear whether she saw him as Jamie or as the average little. Her voice went both ways; her body language was consciously trying to express openness, but she seemed about business too.

“Marsha is here to do your first home visit,” Becky explained. “Please, have a seat.” Marsha sat down in Jamie’s chair.

“That’s right, Jamie. I’m just here to see how you’re doing. We’re just gonna talk for a while. How does that sound?”

Talking for a while or you talking to me like … a foster kid, he thought. If life is a cycle, Jamie’s was now halfway through the second go-round. He remembered these visits from his childhood; he remembered these visits from the other side of the table. The last one had only been a few months ago, and now he was back on the other side of table again.

“That’s fine.” Jamie tried to sound neutral. He had forgotten, somewhat, how intimidating these visits could be. Here was someone who had come to pry into his life, and though she had good intentions, that was no guarantee of a good outcome. He’d been moved from one home to another as a kid when he didn’t want to go. He was never told the reasons. He always wondered if it was because he said something he shouldn’t have and how his life may have turned out differently had he stayed. Maybe he would have been adopted; maybe he never would have wound up in a group home.

“So, I’m going to talk with Rebecca and Amanda first, and then you and I will talk. Is that alright?” The question was for all of them. Jamie knew why: so that if the bigs told any lies, Jamie might say something to make those lies apparent. He looked at Becky and Amanda, who were doing their best to look calm, unconcerned, and unresentful. They knew they had every reason not be those things, but those were feelings they had to consciously remind themselves they didn’t feel anyway.

“Sounds good to us,” Becky said.

“I’ll go get Jamie situated,” Amanda offered. She quickly made him a bottle of water, subconsciously choosing a bottle over a cup to seem more doting in front of Marsha. She unbuckled him and carried him to the living room. She wasn’t sure if she should just send him to his own room. Would it be leaving him unsupervised if she didn’t put him in his crib?

She put him in his playpen. “Sorry, but you’re gonna have to hang out in here. You got what you need?” He had a blanket and his coloring book.

“May I have my bear?” He knew he didn’t need to feel nervous or resentful either, but he did. He wanted his bear.

“Sure.” She was back in a moment with the bear. Before leaving him, she bent over into the playpen to kiss the top of his head, then turned to go back to the kitchen.

“Manda?” She stopped and turned. “It’s okay. Promise.”

She walked back to the playpen and whispered, “It’s my job to make you feel safe, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’ve done this before.” Another kiss, and Amanda went back.

“Sorry,” she said as she closed the pocket door, “He wanted his bear.”

“Not a problem. Your mom and me were just making small talk. So, why don’t you start just by telling me how things have gone since Jamie got here.”

Becky led the discussion with Amanda chiming in. They talked about his first moments waking up, the first couple of days, him telling them about himself. Their first day out, the doctor visit, the little bumps those entailed, making sure to downplay Jamie’s outbursts but also sticking up for him.

They talked about the day at the beach; Becky wasn’t sure how to handle that, remembering the reaction of the woman on the beach when Jamie had swum on his own. She elided the truth. Becky talked about what a good swimmer he was; she left out the part about how far out he’d gone and that he did it alone.

They talked about the park visits, how Jamie played with Rosie and let the slower kids win. Becky did mention the bigoted woman and how she had decided not to tell Jamie about her. She talked about her preparations for daycare.

“Thank you. That’s all very helpful. Can you tell me more about Jamie himself? What he’s like?”

Sure, Becky thought, ask the most complicated question you possibly could.

Becky tried to answer first. “I guess, first, he’s a very old soul. It surprises you sometimes, the things he says, a lot of wisdom, little or not. I love that about him; I’d hate to see him lose that, even though I do want him to be a little more … carefree. I think that’s why he’s very … independent minded. He’s not regressed, as you know, so he … he needs to be treated appropriately for a little who has all his … faculties, I guess is the right word.”

Amanda tried to explain better. “Like when the nurse treated him like he wasn’t even there, Jamie let her know he was there. He doesn’t like being talked to as though he were regressed, and he hates being treated like it.”

“But he’s accepted a lot of things that come naturally to regressed littles,” Becky explained, “Like he loves taking a bottle from either of us, and he does use his pacifier when he wants to, usually at bedtime. He’s virtually attached to his teddy bear half the day. He’s really starting to open up and embrace his life here.”

“He really is just the sweetest, sweetest boy. If you show him you respect him and care about him, he’ll dive right into your lap. He’s my snuggle buddy.” Amanda’s voice made clear how much she meant every word. Even the last part, though she knew it wasn’t true last night, not that she’d tell Marsha.

“His caseworker on the other side mentioned some emotional issues. How is that coming?”

Amanda felt most ready to answer that, and Becky thought so too. “A lot of that has to do with his history. He grew up without a family, as you probably know, and he carries a lot of guilt about people he feels he’s failed. When he first arrived, he was … It was all very fresh. The leaving only made him feel guiltier. He got sad very easily, and he still does cry easily. He … I wouldn’t say he has anger management issues; he does have some anger, mostly with himself.”

Amanda paused and considered. “Right now he’s doing really well. He hasn’t talked about that stuff in a while. He’s been doing a really good job of staying calm and thinking through his words and actions when he gets angry; I’d even say he doesn’t get angry at others very often. I think that was more of an adjustment issue, suddenly having the freedom to let negative emotions out that he had to hold in before.”

“So you think he’s getting better,” Marsha asked

Amanda nodded a few times, looking at but eyes not focused on the table in front of her as she started to answer. “I think he’s getting better at managing those feelings. I think a lot of that has to do with there being so much newness in his life that he doesn’t have to deal with those memories and feelings because he’s so focused on adjusting. So we know all his history and trauma haven’t gone anywhere … And maybe when things settle down a lot of that might come back to the surface.”

“Rebecca, anything to add?”

“No. I think Amanda covered that very well.” She was proud of her insightful and empathetic daughter.

Marsha nodded. “How do you plan to address that?”

Becky and Amanda had only talked a little bit about this. “We want to get him settled in daycare and get him into that routine. Then we’re going to take him to see a therapist. We’ve been looking, but it’s hard to find one who has experience with unregressed littles.”

Amanda added, “And we make sure he knows that he can tell us anything, and that we’ll always listen, and that we love him no matter what. And we show it every way we can.” Her eyes got misty.

Becky took over, “Very slowly, we’re helping him discover who he really is. We think the more he can learn to trust us and depend on us, the easier it will be for him to let go of some of those negative emotions.”

“But we’re moving at his pace,” Amanda added. “We’re not going to force anything on him. We want him to grow into his … ‘littlehood’ his own way and in his own time.” But that’s not what I did when I didn’t tell Mom he can control his functions, she thought. She felt guilty.

“Thank you for all that,” Marsha said. “I think I’m ready to talk to Jamie, unless there’s anything else you want to tell me.”

Becky shrugged and Amanda nodded. “I think that’s everything.”

“Great.” Marsha folded the tablet she’d been taking notes on. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll talk to Jamie in his room.”

“Of course. He’s in his playpen in the living room, and his room is down the hall to the right.”

Becky had a sudden thought. “I’m so sorry; I have no manners today. Can we get you anything? Glass of water?” Map back to where your own business is, Becky said to herself. She knew that wasn’t fair. Jamie was Marsha’s business, and Becky knew that was the right thing, in fact the only way adoptions could be done safely without Itali risking turning into one of the countries where littles could be so badly mistreated.

“No, thank you very much. I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me?” Becky and Amada stood, and Marsha went to the living room.

“How do you think that went,” Becky asked in a hushed tone.

“I don’t know. I hope we didn’t make him sound like some angry basket case.”

“I think it’s probably good to show we know he has his struggles and we’re helping him through them.”

“Yeah. Still. I just hope the part she heard most was how much we love him and what a sweet boy he is.”

Jamie worked on his coloring book and thought back on his experience with home visits from both sides, when he was a child and when he was a social worker. He knew parents and foster parents sometimes lied, sometimes to hide something they rightly feared becoming known, more often because they were afraid of something being misinterpreted or taken out of context or because they made assumptions about what caseworkers would think of as good and bad.

He knew kids sometimes lied, sometimes because they were afraid of the parents or foster parents, more often because they had stability in their lives and didn’t want to risk it. He’d had that mentality sometimes: this isn’t perfect, maybe not even good, but it’s the devil you know. Jamie always hoped as a social worker he’d found out who was trying to hide bad acts, but it was, by definition, something he could not know. Right then in the living room, his instinct was to say anything that would maintain the stability he had worked so hard for.

Marsha appeared above the playpen. Twelve feet tall and quiet like an upside-down mouse, he mused. “Hey, Jamie. You ready for us to talk?”

He sighed quietly. “Yeah.” Let’s do this, he thought.

“What did you draw there?” He showed her his coloring book. “Wow! Such a good job staying inside the lines.” He’d have taken umbrage at the implication, but the book was so intricate and the cells so small it was difficult to stay inside the lines. She picked him up, and he managed to snag his bear. He expected to be put down, but instead she carried him on her hip to his room and patted his diaper to check it. Ya know, he thought, I wouldn’t carry you without asking first, or touch your butt. Instead of pouting, he put on his I’m-so-happy-to-be-here-please-don’t-make-me-leave face.

In his room, he sat in his recliner, and she sat in the rocking chair. They went through the same list of questions he had gone through so many times before. They might as well have read from the same textbooks in graduate school. He knew what she was going to ask. His answers were honest, but he downplayed the rough bits. As to how he was feeling emotionally, he simply answered, “Better.” Did he want to elaborate on that? “No.” For a woman who hadn’t made the best first impression and been awfully presumptuous in carrying him, she talked to him now like the unregressed little he was.

“Jamie, my next two questions I want you to answer especially truthfully. And remember, I’m just here today to get information, okay?” He nodded, not that the implication of ‘today’ was lost on him.

“How do you feel about Rebecca?”

He took a deep breath. “We had a bit of a rocky start. She and I didn’t exactly understand each other at first. Her instinct was to … treat me more like a typical little. I mean, I’ve never doubted that she loves me; she’s always done what she thought would keep me safe and make me happy. And I do feel safe with her. And she makes me happy. I’m glad we found each other.” He smiled and nodded to no one, just thinking of serendipity and the work Cheryl had put into bringing them together, and Amanda’s desire to help a stranger whose story she read in a file.

“It was just at first, a little too little, I guess. But that’s gotten much better. We’re on the same page now, I think. And she really stands up for me now, if anyone makes the same mistake she made at first.”

“What do you think helped her to change her perspective on you?”

“Amanda.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I just know. Amanda got me pretty much from the start. She’s been my advocate all along. I think she and Becky have had a couple long talks that helped Becky see me more for who I am.”

“Tell me more about Amanda.”

He smiled and let out a single laugh. “She’s …” His smile faded, and his eyes felt just a little wet. “I’d be lost without her. She’s … always listened to me; always been kind to me; always reassured me. She’s … She’s been right about everything so far. When I don’t understand things, or when I’ve gotten upset, she’s helped me understand … and helped me deal with my feelings.” He paused.

“She sounds like quite a big sister.”

Jamie didn’t hear her. “That first night here …” It was a terrible and wonderful memory. How intensely he remembered it. He took back the memory and heard his own sobbing and whimpers; he felt the rocking motion; he felt the warmth of her again; he remembered each word; he remembered that, in his lowest moment, she had made him feel safe and loved; he remembered the softness of her on his cheek and the strong grip of her arms holding him as though she’d never let him go; he felt her shirt wet with his tears; he remembered her scent; he remembered her kiss.

His voice broke, and he fought to hold in his tears. “She … I couldn’t be here without her. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not for a minute.”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Marsha didn’t interject. “She and Becky – they’re a team. I need both of them … I like needing both of them. We’re a team.”

Marsha made sure he was finished before she spoke again. “You love them.”

Jamie smiled and sat back up, sniffing back a runny nose and wiping his eyes. “Yes. Both of them. Very much.” Not that it didn’t feel odd to him somehow, that he could love two people he’d known for such a short while, but with the intensity of the adjustment they were going through came intense feelings.

“We can go back out, unless there’s anything else you want to say.”

“No. Thank you.”

They stood to go back to the kitchen.

“What’s that on your wall?” She was looking at the finger board.

“O, that’s a puzzle Amanda hung there.”

“How does it work?”

“Ya know, I haven’t solved it yet.” So one lie.

Jamie walked back to the kitchen with Marsha, who smiled reassuringly and told them they’d be very pleased with her report.

Becky saw her to the door. In the kitchen alone with Amanda, Jamie a little sheepishly tugged on her pantleg to get her attention, and she smiled one of her biggest smiles as she picked him up and hugged him tight. “I missed you,” she said.

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

“You went far enough. I’m sorry, about … you know. I should have said something when I first figured it out.”

“I forgive you. I know why you didn’t.” He left his head on her shoulder; she smelled the same way she had that first night. He had a person, and he knew the way she smelled when he nuzzled into her.

“Manda?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I love you.” The painful sweetness of the words like a stitch through her heart.

“Ohhh, my Jamie. I love you too.”

Becky came back to the kitchen and found her two favorite people teary eyed. “What’s wrong?”

Amanda passed Jamie to her mom, and Jamie put his head down on her shoulder too. As he put his arms around Becky’s neck, Amanda said, “Jamie has something he wants to say to you.”

“O, yeah? What’s that?” She rubbed his back, amused at what seemed his sudden shyness.

“I love you, Mom.”

Jamie’s two favorite people had tears in their eyes. So did he. They were making a habit of teary eyes.