October Exclusive - "Tone" - Part 3

Tom sits in the backseat of his own Ford Escape. Obviously, he’s not driving. That’s Grandma’s job. He cuddles the brown teddy bear he had woken up from his nap with. (“A bear for my favorite bear!” Grandma had cooed).

“Soon be home with Mommy,” says Michelle, pulling out of the driveway. If Thomas were paying attention, he’d notice that the car turns left onto Suffolk Ave, not right, and five minutes later Michelle drives past a Chinese restaurant before parking outside a building with an orange awning.

As the car comes to a stop, Tom finally notices their location. “Where we?” he asks, his language such a chore since waking up that most statements have simplified to a manageable two or three words.

“We,” begins Michelle grandly, “are at the ice cream store!” She twists in her seat and points at the Baskin Robbins sign. And then she gives a little shrug. “We’re also at Dunkin Donuts.” She grins at Tom. “What are you in the mood for? Ice-cream or donuts?”

Tom grins back. “Ice-cream!” He doesn’t blush at his poor diction. I-cweam!

Michelle nods. “Ice-cream it is.” She gets out of the car and pulls open Tom’s door. The cool breeze reminds Tom that it’s fall, but that makes ice-cream seem like even more of a special treat.

“Now, your teddy had better stay in the car, we don’t want him getting covered in sticky ice-cream.”

Tom feels a whisper of rebellion. Isn’t it his bear? Isn’t he allowed to decide? But then he remembers that Grandma is in charge, until they get home and then Mommy is. Besides, there is nothing more alluring to Tom than the praise he receives from Michelle. The sweet-toned compliments and pats.

He sits the teddy bear on the seat. “Stay there,” he orders. Stay dere. He gets out and automatically takes Michelle’s hand. “Good boy,” she says, and Tom feels the familiar tingle in his mind, as well as a warming tingle between his legs, reminding him of the weight in his bladder. He hasn’t wet himself of course, because he’s not a silly baby, but he will need to go potty soon. Maybe very soon.

For a moment, Tom is tempted to boast to Michelle that he’s still dry, which is true, and which might prompt Michelle to check, placing her hand against Tom’s padded crotch in the most pleasing way. But such an act, although it would feel nice, would be embarrassing if the ice-cream store customers saw it. After all, they don’t know that Tom only wears the special underwear for just-in-case. They might think he’s a silly baby who wets his diaper!

And so, they walk to the entrance without checking the state of Tom’s bladder control.

“Look at you,” says Michelle as she holds open the door, “In your special outfit, everyone will know what a cuddly bear you are!”

Her voice drips with condescension, and Tom beams proudly. He knows that bears are the best. A couple of hours before – before lunch for example, before Tom’s excellent nap – he would have felt shy about his outfit. But now, he mercifully lacks the self-awareness to understand that he is a grown man dressed like a toddler. Michelle has added shoes and socks to his outfit, but Tom is still showing off his thick briefs. And really, there’s nothing wrong with showing the world that he loves bears.

Customers stare at Tom’s attire, and while Tom translates their looks as admiration or jealousy, Michelle is quick to give the Baskin Robbins team member a meaningful look. “I brought Thomas here for a special treat,” she says in that tone people use when talking of the mentally disabled, “he’s a very special boy and so deserves a very special ice-cream.”

Tom hears the tone of Michelle’s voice, and he grins in response. Again mercifully, her meaning goes right over his head. Beaming at the young woman behind the counter who is regarding him with a look of gentle pity.

“Hey there,” says the girl sweetly, “hey sweetheart.” She manages a smile. “What flavor can I get you?”

Michelle squeezes her son-in-law’s hand and says brightly, “Go on, honey, tell the scooper what kind you want. You can have any flavor you like.”

Now, Tom’s feelings of pride are replaced with a sense of awe. There are so many different ice-creams. Too many to count! The excitement and uncertainty renew the pressure on his bladder.

“Grandma,” he stage-whispers urgently, “gotta go potty.”

“There’s a restroom,” says the scooper, looking to be helpful.

Michelle gives her a look that seems almost annoyed, before shaking her head and smiling at Tom. “We don’t use the public restrooms, sweetie. All those icky germs!” She brings her face next to his and says softly, “You can hold ‘til we get you home to Mommy, right? Because you’re such a big boy?”

Her tone suggests that Tom is anything but, but he nods and grins proudly, even as he steps from one foot to another in a juvenile potty dance. “Uh-huh,” he mumbles, “Gonna wait.”

“Good boy,” gushes Michelle. She points at the display of ice-creams. “So, which one do you want? Just point, honey, I know you can’t read the words.”

Tom nods. Of course, he can’t read. He gazes open-mouthed at the selection. And for a moment, he’s sure he can’t decide. There are too many choices! He’s going to stand here forever, and all he’ll have to show for it is a puddle of urine at his feet.

But no. He’s a big boy. Even if can’t read. Even if he’s here with Grandma, being taken by the hand so he doesn’t get lost.

And suddenly, the answer is obvious. The perfect flavor is right in front of him. Tom points enthusiastically. “Grandma, I want that one!”

If the scooper is surprised, or disturbed, by the name Tom gives Michelle, she doesn’t show it. She smiles. “That’s my favorite, too!” She nods with theatrical approval and says slowly, as if addressing the most idiotic of people, “It’s got cake pieces and frosting. Like you’re eating a birthday cake!”

Michelle laughs. “How perfect!” She points at the cones. “And can you put it in that one, with the sprinkles?”

The scooper nods. “One ‘Icing on the Cake’ in a fancy waffle cone,” she announces grandly. She winks at Tom. “Coming right up!”

The ice-cream is ready in seconds, and then it’s in Tom’s hands. Michelle pays, and Tom doesn’t even imagine the possibility of him reaching for his wallet. Good thing, since his days of having a wallet are long gone.

Tom doesn’t care about money. He just cares about ice-cream. The store itself might just melt away to nothing and Tom wouldn’t notice. He licks at the treat with enthusiasm, and just like his understanding of wallets, Tom forgets all about manners, with ice-cream running down his chin and onto the front of his bear shirt.

“Better take some of these,” Michell says drily, grabbing napkins from the dispenser. “Come on, Thomas, let’s get you home.” She shepherds Tom out of the store and back into the car.

Buckled into his seat, Tom continues to work on his ice-cream, with scant regard for the sticky mess his hands will leave on the upholstery of his car. Because it can’t be his car, not anymore. All he owns, all he needs is the rapidly diminishing cone in his hands.

Michelle doesn’t get back onto Islip Avenue. Not yet. She keeps the car in park, and instead makes a call on her phone.

Tom doesn’t find that interesting until he hears a familiar voice.

“Tom! Oh gosh, Tom, what are you…oh, Tom.”

He looks up to find Dee’s face, courtesy of a video call. She is staring at him with a shocked expression, while Michelle helpfully holds the phone.

Tom kicks his feet and grins from the back seat. “I got ice-cream, Mommy! I got sprinkles!” Ah goh i-cweem, moh-mee! Ah goh spih-kuth! He points the cone towards Dee’s image, succeeding in dripping more of the ice-cream onto himself and the car.

Dee doesn’t look impressed. On the contrary, she looks horrified.

“Mom!” she cries. “Mom, what have you done?”

Michelle turns the phone around and smiles at her daughter.

“I told you I’d take care of this,” Michelle says calmly, “and all the preparation has been worth it. This is what we’ve been working for. Thomas has forgotten his silly idea about you moving to Texas.” Her tone changes. “All he’s got in his silly head now is sweetness!” She looks back at Tom, who crams the remains of the waffle cone into his mouth, giggling as he sprays crumbs and debris around him.

“This isn’t…” begins Dee, and then she groans as Michelle turns the camera so Dee can see her husband. “This is too much. I wanted you to help change his mind, that’s why I agreed to have that weird music on at night. I had to listen to it as well, I was sick of it! But Mom, I didn’t mean for you to…” She looks at Tom with a stricken expression. “He looks like a…oh Mom, you gotta fix this, I can’t…Mom!”

“Mommy,” Tom mumbles cheerfully around the food in his mouth, “gotta go potty.” As he swallows the last of the ice-cream, he is freshly aware of the urgency between his legs.

But both women seem to ignore him for a moment, as Michelle turns the phone so she can see her daughter. “I know this is further than you wanted to go.”

“Further than-“ Dee begins.

“But I like him this way,” says Michelle. Her tone is calm, matter of fact. As if she’s discussing the possibility of changing Internet service providers. “He’s just a sweet little idiot, and he loves his grandma.” She nods. “And he loves his mommy too.”

“Wait,” says Dee urgently, “you can’t seriously be- “

“It’s good that you listened to the music,” Michelle says. And it’s now that Michelle changes her tone, making Tom’s ears prick with interest as she says brightly, her voice gushing with honey-dipped condescension; “Cause you’re such a good mommy, Dee. You’re the best mommy, and you love your Thomas, don’t you, you love your baby boy!”

She turns the phone back so that Dee can see her husband, and so that Tom can see his wife, just as Dee’s own expression changes from horror to confusion, and then from confusion to delight. Because Dee can see Thomas. And she loves her baby.

“There you are!” Dee coos. “There’s Mommy’s good boy!” She waves with fluttering fingers. “Did Grandma get you a special ice-cream? Did you eat it all up?”

Tom bounces in his seat, waving back at Dee and giggling. And it’s now that he forgets about going potty, letting go of his bladder and filling his thick, padded under with warm urine.

“Nummy, Mommy!” Tom reports, eager to give his vote of approval for the Baskin Robbins visit. Five-star review, if he could still count to five. He waves and giggles as he wets himself.

Michelle looks back, clucks at the spreading dampness with an indulgent smile. “Looks like someone needed his just-in-case.”

Dee nods, gazing at Tom with a mother’s love. “Silly bear,” she gushes. “Did Thomas make a mess for Mommy to clean up?”

Tom sucks on his fingers, his mind only simplified further by two women using the infantilizing tone. He waves bye-byes to Mommy and then she’s gone, promising to return as soon as Grandma drives her baby home.

For the 20 or so miles back along Southern State Parkway, Tom is content to listen to Michelle’s patronizing chatter, clutching his teddy bear and babbling his responses. When Michelle announces that Tom will surely need to wear lovely thick diapers day and night, the man can only agree. Because Mommy and Grandma know best, right?

He prattles and giggles, sitting in the warm wetness without a care in the world. He laughs when he catches Michelle’s eye in the rear-view mirror, babbling adoringly at the woman who has reduced him to dependent idiocy. He couldn’t be happier with how his day has gone, and he can’t wait to be home with Mommy.

THE END

Tom is confused when his mother-in-law tells him to wear a nappy for the car ride; or has he always had to wear them just in case? – Byron