September Exclusive - "Drop-Off" - Epilogue

When Toby gets home from work, he finds two girls waiting for him on the porch. Both wearing pajamas designed for the under-fives. Both wanting to show off their daycare masterpieces they painted. Both wanting hugs from Daddy.

He picks up Debbie, swings her around, as he always does. He makes a show of comparing the painting with the evidence outside. “That’s our house, and you painted our car too, that’s awesome.”

“Blue,” Debbie says with conviction. “The old car was red.”

“You did such a good job.”

Toby earns a squeeze for his praise, young arms around his neck. And then words whispered in his ears. “My one’s better than Gracie’s.”

“Sure,” Toby whispers back.

“’Cause Gracie’s just a baby. A naughty baby.”

Toby suppresses a groan. Is that what Gracie is? For now, forever? He had better change the subject.

“So, shall I take your picture to work, or should we hang it on the refrigerator?”

Debbie purses her lips thoughtfully, and then says, “Frigerator.”

“Gotcha.” He kisses his daughter’s cheek. He lowers he to the ground and sends her through to the kitchen with a playful swat on her butt.

And then he hugs Gracie.

It’s not like Friday night. It’s a different kind of hug. Because she’s still adult-sized, but her expression, her smile, her body language is all that of a toddler. Younger than Debbie. Not even close to his precocious daughter.

He hugs Gracie, feels her warm breath on his neck, and then he pulls back, looks into her eyes. “Have a good day?” he asks because what else can he say? Did you mind being turned into a moron? Are you okay that your sister turned your brains to mashed potato?

“Ook,” Gracie says, holding out her crumpled artwork.

Toby complies with the request. While Debbie’s painting was recognizable, Gracie’s is a blurred mess. Proof positive of her mental condition.

“Beautiful,” Toby says, his mouth dry. “Good job,” he finishes hoarsely.

Gracie beams at the praise; she’s beyond trying to read his mind, she’s been reduced to the simplest of thoughts, and as he looks at her, Toby is momentarily jealous. But then he remembers what his wife had told him earlier in that harrowing phone call. You’ll need to help me change her. Maybe you’ll like that, you were obviously desperate to get her clothes off before.

“How long?” Toby had asked when Faith had told him what she had done. How long, perhaps meaning how long would they have to care for the infantilized woman, or how long would the mental changes last.

Faith had left him hanging on the line for a few, curdling seconds, before replying, “As long as it takes for you to never think of her as desirable again. I told you, Toby, there are lines in the sand.”

“But we barely did anything. We didn’t-“

“There are lines, Toby. You can’t cross them. And neither can my sister.”

Sure enough. Toby had thought on the drive home, that he would take the chance alone with to ask, Are you faking it? Is this an act?But as looks into Gracie’s face, at her innocent, ingenuous expression, he knows without doubt that he doesn’t have to ask.

Toby accepts another hug from new, hopefully temporary daughter. “Good girl,” he says softly, and yes, it’s easy enough to talk to her like, to treat her like a younger version of Debbie. And when she plants a damp kiss on his cheek, Toby pats his sister-in-law’s diapered rear and knows that any attraction he had for her is long gone. But he will have to love her, protect her from monsters, because that’s what fathers do.

And it won’t be forever, surely.

“Come on, sweetie,” he says, taking Gracie’s hand. “Let’s go see what Debbie and Mommy are up to.” And with that, he takes her back inside.

THE END

"When Grace drops her niece off at a new daycare, she's surprised to find a blankie, stuffie and even diapers reserved for her as well" - Sebtomato