Done Adulting Vol. 1 Ch. 26

Jamie didn’t know what to say or how to act with a regressed little, nor was he sure what about a regressed little made him so uncomfortable.

Perhaps it was the notion that while he could very clearly see the difference between a regressed little and himself, many and maybe even most bigs would see him as being essentially the same, or at least could see him that way if they chose to. Already Jamie had seen how bigs treated him when they thought he was regressed, and they had continued to treat him almost as poorly after being told otherwise. And it wasn’t even poor treatment in the context of a regressed little; for a regressed little, it was normal and even endearing treatment. It was only poor if, like Jamie, the little was entirely unregressed.

What Jamie felt, and what he didn’t like, was a sense of superiority over regressed littles, not that they were in some way inferior, but only that if he wasn’t in some way above them, then the bigs who had treated him poorly had done nothing wrong. He didn’t want to feel superior to anyone; it wasn’t in his nature to have such an ego. He had always made humility a policy, a way of working with all manners of people who practiced all manners of living, to be able to help them without judging. Jamie didn’t judge Rosie, but neither could he see her as an equal, so he thought, without thinking less of himself.

Jamie responded by assuming the same mannerisms he found so unappealing when directed at him. “Hi, Rosie,” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, “I’m so glad to meet you. I would love to play with you. Can you show me how?” All three bigs awwwed in unison.

So Jamie found himself seated in the sand listening to Rosie instruct him on how to make a pile of wet sand. It was, if nothing else, familiar. He’d worked with young children, many of whom wanted to show him something, and he did it with feigned enthusiasm and asked questions he knew the answer to and generally humored them because it made them feel good about themselves and like they had a friend, which they did, though a different sort of friend than perhaps they imagined. He remembered also that when playing with a young child, the game is whatever they want to play. So they made a bigger and bigger pile, and the tools that would have made it something else were left to the side; she was happy having a pile for a castle.

Inevitably, Jamie found himself bored and longed to get in the water. He wasn’t sure how to excuse himself, though. As an adult, he could always just decide the game was over and graciously extricate himself. As a little, could he do that without disappointing the three bigs, or would that be considered unkind? And more importantly, what aobut Rosie’s feelings? Fortunately for the moment, the issue resolved itself.

“The sun is moving, kiddo. Let’s get some sunscreen on you.” Becky helped him onto her chair and sat behind him as she applied the lotion to his entire body save what was covered by his bathing suit. Jamie felt he could have made a day of just being massaged with suntan lotion, even though the stuff was so heavy and thick he knew it must be SPF100. Becky stuck a cap on his head.

“Do you want to play in the water?” That was better than the massage.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright; let’s get you ready.” O yeah, Jamie thought, the swim diaper.

Becky got off her chair and motioned for Jamie to lie down in her place. Looking into the sky was too bright, and Jamie lifted the hat and placed it over his eyes to block the sun.

“Are you feeling shy,” Becky asked when she saw. “Amanda, do you mind sitting on the other side of Jamie so he’s a little less exposed?” Amanda moved over while Becky rustled around in the pool bag.

“Ready,” Becky asked, though it wasn’t a full-fledged question. It was just the outline of a question because Becky didn’t wait for an answer before pulling his swimsuit off his ankles, leaving him in just a diaper for dozens of people to see.

His diaper was removed without Becky or anyone else taking note of it still being dry, and a swim diapered was threaded up his legs followed by his trunks. The swim diaper was so much tighter, but also thinner, though Jamie knew that would only last until he got in the water. He pulled the hat from his face and looked around. There was no crowd watching him. He thought he could see someone getting similar treatment down the beach.

Becky held out her hands to help Jamie sit up. He started walking toward the water. As though he were about to walk into traffic, Jane reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not yet, buddy. You have to go with one of us.” Fair enough, he thought, though he was not amused. I bet I can swim better than any of them.

“And we need these.” Jamie turned back around to see Becky holding an inflatable ring and water wings. He wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed, more angry at them, or more angry at himself for not seeing this coming. He wanted to throw a genuine tantrum; the first time he had looked forward to doing anything, and it was being taken away from him. That’s not swimming, he thought. That’s not even floating; that’s bobbing. He drew on his patience and managed to keep control of himself, and he remembered what Becky and Amanda had both said: trust them and behave yourself.

“C’mere so we can get these on you.” Becky sounded so chipper. It was difficult to be mad at someone who was so chipper all the time and clearly meant well. The fact that it was difficult only added to Jamie’s frustration. If he considered it, it wasn’t even Becky per se; it was being over-mothered. He had envisioned someone who mothered him by taking an emotional toll off of him, not someone who mothered him by placing so many, and such strict, restrictions on him. From the diapers to the crib to her habit of feeding him unless he specifically asked her not to, the irritation was adding an emotional toll where none had been before. Of all the ways Jamie didn’t feel himself here, some good and some bad, the one that concerned him most was how often he felt angry.

It was a different kind of angry than the kind that drove him to adopt himself out, just one emotion among many that drove him. Being angry on behalf of others felt righteous but draining. This just felt draining. The things he used to be able to do – be patient, reason with people – were proving largely ineffective in his new world.

For all the progress Rebecca had made with Jamie, and she had made good progress, the floaties undid a lot of it. No one had asked him if he could swim, though Becky knew he loved water; she had asked him that, and he had told her so. At worst, Jamie thought she was doing this because she thought it was cute; at best, it was because she assumed swimming was one more thing he couldn’t do. The word trusthad been thrown at Jamie a lot – from Cheryl, Becky, and Amanda – and what he needed was some reciprocation. Her need to feel he was safe was coming before his need to actually be safe.

His arm hanging in a water wing, each breath from Becky just irritated him off more. At least her giant lungs made it a quick task. He looked at Rosie; Jane was getting her ready in the same way. Rosie looked delighted. That irritated Jamie as well. It wasn’t her fault; he just wanted her to be as indignant as he was, if only to have someone else agree with him.

The five of them walked toward the water – well, three walked and two waddled while holding plastic rings around their waists – and stepped into the surf. Jamie tried to concentrate only on what he was feeling on the outside.

The sand at the surf gave way with each footfall, and the water leveled it again, a few waves enough to erase any evidence he was ever there. Once past his ankles, the pressure of just a few inches of water was greater than his. The sand was hard; it didn’t give way with each step; it hardly acknowledged Jamie was there.

The water wasn’t cool; it was warm from a summer’s worth of sunny days. The foam obscured the sand through the water, and when they got deep enough it cleared so he could see the bottom, just a foot down, and he could see the sand was not all white. Some was black, and the waves above formed natural patterns in it, the black grains being lighter than the white or the other way around, reflecting the curl and drift of the surf.

And the smell, that smell of the sea, that remnant smell of the primordial. That smell you taste, that green smell of water full of life. A smell you can feel when the salt sticks to your skin and stays in your hair, that smell you take home with you. That bloody smell when it fills your mouth. That burning smell when it finds your eyes. If you ever find yourself far from home, go anywhere to the sea, and some deep part of you will recognize that place as home.

Jamie tried to take all that in, but his mind couldn’t hold the thought. Instead he felt the seams of the inflatable scraping against his skin and rubbing his armpits raw, and he heard Rosie squealing in a way that’s only barely cute in very young children. Without looking, he saw eyes on him, expecting something, probably a similar reaction from him, he thought.

They waded out until the bigs were just past waist deep, leaving the littles with their feet dangling above the bottom. Rosie dog paddled in circles. Jamie bobbed. Even if he had taken for granted that this was what he needed to wear, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Grabbed suddenly from behind, before he could realize it, Jamie was out of the water and quickly back in it with a thud that forced the ring up into his armpits. The bigs were laughing, and Rosie was squealing, “Do me! Do me!” Jane picked her up and threw her, and she landed laughing happily. Becky picked her up and threw her back. Jamie was airborne again, thrown by Amanda back to Becky, who immediately threw him back.

Startled as he was the first time, the sensation of breaking the water, feeling the coolness of the air as it rushed around him before his toes broke back through the surface – Jamie couldn’t remember the last time someone had tossed him in the water this way. He thought to himself it was kind of fun, and soon he was laughing too. And when all three bigs had tossed him several times, and they were too tired to hoist him so forcefully just once more, Jamie actually felt disappointed. The fun didn’t last all that long; it never does. The stubborn part of Jamie didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed himself anyway, just in a different way than he’d hoped.

“Who’s ready for lunch,” Becky asked, a little out of breath. Taking Jamie’s hand, she towed him back to where he could stand, and the five of them walked out of the sea.

Once out of the water, Jamie noticed that he didn’t feel waterlogged with the swim diaper, but he was definitely soaked and felt the tight garment rubbing between his thighs. He recalled the rash he used to get from being in a wet bathing suit almost every summer day and wondered how someone could possibly avoid that with one of those things on.

There were chairs for Jane, Becky, and Amanda. Littles, Jamie assumed, are expected to sit on the ground. But Amanda sat down next to him anyway and opened a package of pureed fruit, handing it to Jamie along with a spoon.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah. I … Yeah.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

She nudged him with her foot. “C’mon, what?”

Jamie didn’t know what to say. At what point does a request cross the line between a request to do something differently and rejecting what bigs saw as being in his own interest? The thing he had been told to stop doing so often, in other words. Probably not one request, but Jamie didn’t want to stop at one if he got a no. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much he had asked that, having begun doing differently, Becky or anyone else had acquiesced to.

On this point, Jamie was feeling like he deserved to insist, and maybe even blatantly disobey. No one had told him what the consequences of that might be, but even so.

“I want to go swimming,” he said.

“Right after lunch we can go again.”

“No, I mean, I can actually swim. I want to swim.”

“So, go ask her.” Her eyes pointed to Becky.

“And if she says no?”

“Then you and I will take a walk and do it anyway. But only if you ask her”

As a foster kid, Jamie had always been afraid to ask for anything. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful or greedy. He rarely asked for anything. “Will you come ask her with me?”

“Nope. Gotta do this on your own, but tell her I’ll go swimming with you.”

Sighing, Jamie nervously walked over to Becky, who stopped talking with Jane. She saw he looked tentative. “What is it, pumpkin?”

“Um … Can I go swimming?”

“Sure! We can all go when we’re done with our lunches.”

Jamie’s impulse was to feign and smile and say thank you, but he forced himself. “Um, that sounds fun too, but I mean, I want to actually swim, without the water wings. I know how … I’m actually really good at it. Promise?” That sounded more pitiful than he meant it to.

Becky’s impulse was to kindly say no. How did she know if he could really swim? He was so small. Some other day, in a pool, maybe he could try.

“Amanda will go with me.”

Becky looked behind Jamie to see Amanda looking at her with a neutral expression. Amanda looked back hoping Becky would do the right thing without her having to explain it first. Trust me, trust Jamie, is exactly what she didn’t want to have to say; she wanted Becky to figure it out on her own.

“Okay. But stay close together.” Becky said it looking into his eyes and then much more deeply into Amanda’s.

Amanda smacked her hands together to remove some crumbs and took a long pull on her water bottle. She walked up to Jamie; Rosie took no notice of what was going on.

“C’mon.” She held out her hand, and the two of them walked back to the surf.

Jamie was almost waist deep, deep enough to float if he lay forward, when Amanda stopped. Hard as she tried not to be, she was nervous. He said he could swim, but so did people who could barely keep their heads above the water. Still, Amanda told herself, you’re here and a lot bigger than he is; if he really can’t swim, he won’t get far and it will be easy to pluck him out of the water.

Becky and Jane watched from their chairs. Becky had both hands on the arms of her chair, ready to jump and run.

Amanda let go of Jamie’s hand. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jamie thought. “Um, Amanda? Could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

Jamie felt the weight of the swim diaper and figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. Putting his thumbs on the waistbands of his bathing suit and swim diaper, he said, “Hold these,” and in one motion pushed them off, dove forward, and threw himself under. He didn’t hear Amanda laughing or Becky shouting, and if he had, he would not have turned back.

Pushing off the sand, Jamie came up between the waves and threw his shoulders forward in a butterfly, dropping his head down to crash through the breaker, kicking his feet in the shallow-deep motion of the stroke and letting the movement carry from his toes up, his body undulating like a cracked whip until the momentum and his muscles lifted his shoulders back out of the water and he threw his arms forward again.

The very effort and motion felt wonderful. Jamie hadn’t done anything strenuous in he didn’t know how long. He didn’t realize how stiff and tight his back and shoulders were until he forcefully opened them up with each stroke, taking at first three then two then one stroke for each breath as he became winded, when he went deep and dolphin-kicked so fast and low to the sand he pulled it along with him in his underwater wake. The salt burning his eyes, the exertion grabbing at his lungs, the diffuse daylight through the water, the near-complete silence. This felt like home; it looked like it too. Anywhere there is saltwater, he thought, is home.

Back above, Becky walked to the water and up to Amanda as casually as she could, but she wanted to run, and she wanted to start lecturing her daughter. She held it back, though her tone said most of it. “That’s not staying close, Amanda.”

Amanda let it go. “Look. We couldn’t catch him if we wanted to.”

They couldn’t. They were big, and they were strong. Jamie was small, and he was fast. Jamie was the rabbit turned fish. He really could swim, swim better than either of them.