January Exclusive - "Alibi" - Part 3

THREE

Yeah. This isn’t right.

Jamie stands at the reception desk, holding Becca’s hand. So he doesn’t wander off, so he doesn’t get lost.

The good news is that he doesn’t need to pee. The bad news is because he wet his diaper like a stupid baby.

That was the plan, of course. Proving he was mentally adjusted. That was the plan.

But it wasn’t his plan. It was Becca’s. She made him do it, she called him cute names and patted his rear. She called him Honeybun. She did all the stuff Daisy did earlier, after the interview, the test, the injection.

And then, instead of Jamie cleaning himself up, instead of him getting dressed and ready to go, Becca took charge. She un-taped his sodden diaper, Jamie catching the flickering look of distaste as she held the soiled garment, before her expression relaxed and she dropped it into the wastebin. As if this no big deal.

She called him Honeybun, she called him sweetie and little guy and cutie. And while Jamie didn’t feel as delirious as before, he wasn’t seeing those shimmering rainbows and unicorns on his diaper and before his eyes, Becca’s tone and language was still disarming, utterly distracting. So he just stood there, dumb and docile, while Becca cleaned his crotch with Wet Wipes, while she got him dressed.

And all of this would be fine, because all of this gets Jamie closer to getting out of here. But while Becca is proving to be an excellent actor, does she have to be this good? Did she have to keep treating him like a toddler when Daisy left the room? Does she have to be all-in?

“I’ve got your paperwork right here,” says the receptionist, an older woman with gray hair tidied into a bun, indicating the plastic binder on the desk. She’s talking to Becca of course, not Jamie. No one here talks to Jamie properly anymore, now that he’s been tested and classified. Even if someone didn’t know the test results, they’d still treat him like a little boy. Because of his outfit. Because of his brand new clothes.

“Thank you,” Becca replies, taking the binder. She looks down at it in mild surprise. “Oh, there’s something on it.”

“Something on it?” asks the receptionist. She smiles brightly at both of them. She could be a grandma, Jamie considers. She must be somebody’s grandma. He feels a faint stab of jealousy. Not his grandma. Does he have one? The answer is murky in his mind, and it’s surely too much hard work to figure it out.

“Just…my hand,” says Becca. She peers at her fingers, and looks as though she’s about to say something and then she just smiles, wipes her hands on her jeans.

“Lots of good information in there,” the receptionist says. “And we’re just a phone call away.”

Becca nods. “Cool.”

“He looks so precious in his outfit,” the receptionist says.

Becca grins. “I know!” She squeezes Jamie’s hand, and maybe the squeeze means, Hold on, it’s just until we get you out of here. Or maybe it means, Don’t you look cute, aren’t you just the sweetest little boy.

Because it’s clear to Jamie that Becca has no intention of doing what he’d asked to. She’s not inquiring about his regular clothes. Not asking about his watch and phone. The things he came in here with? They’re gone, replaced with clothes sized for an adult but styled for the youngest of children.

He stands there in his diaper, red corduroy overalls and white top with matching red piping. There’s a pacifier clipped to the bib that Jamie can’t bear to keep in his mouth, so it dangles from a ribbon clipped to the bib of his overalls.

Maybe Grandma…the lady who looks like a grandma, maybe she will come around her desk and give Jamie a cuddle, maybe she will kiss his face and pop the Binky in his mouth. And he’ll let her. Because since wetting his diaper, since seeing the rainbows and unicorns, Jamie feels helpless. It’s only Becca that can get him out of here. And if they stay here much longer, what then?

But a plan is a plan, no matter who came up with it. Becca was correct about the wet diaper; as soon as Daisy saw it, drooping between Jamie’s legs, she seemed satisfied. She seemed delighted. Which is why they’re getting of here. And why Becca is so damn cheerful. She’s smiling at the receptionist as if this is real, as if she’s excited about taking her special boy home.

Thanks for the plan. Thanks for the humiliation. As soon as they leave the Clinic and get in the car, Jamie can tear the pacifier clip from his overalls, as soon as they get home he can remove the hideous outfit and scrub himself clean in the shower.

A bath, maybe. A bath with bubbles.

Do they have bubbles? He’ll ask Becca. He wants to ask her right now, but…not, that’s silly. He keeps thinking silly thoughts, because he’s so tired. Forget the bath. Later for bubbles. He just needs to sleep. They can get home and then he’s going straight to bed. And no story. He doesn’t need a story. He doesn’t want Becca to sit down and read him a silly story because he’s not really a little boy.

There. That’s settled.

“Of course, the most important thing is liquids.”

Jamie looks at the receptionist. She’s been talking, she’s been going on and on. But she wasn’t talking to Jamie, she was talking to Becca.

“Liquids,” replies Becca, “Got it.”

“Next 72 hours,” says the gray-haired lady, who looks as though she must bake wonderful cookies, who looks as though she gives the best hugs. “Flush the rest of the virus out of his system.” She winks at Jamie. “Because you’re already so cute, but we don’t want you getting even littler do we, no we don’t.” She nods at him. “Because you’re a big boy, not a baby.”

Jamie nods back automatically, his head feeling as though it’s operated by someone else. “Bih boh,” he agrees.

“That’s right,” Becca says sweetly, and she strokes his hair.

So they all agree. Jamie’s a big boy. Jamie needs to drink lots and lots. Jamie is going to need plenty of diapers.

“Well,” Becca says finally, after some more talking with the lady, after forever, with Jamie starting to pull on her hand impatiently, stepping from one foot to another. “Better get this guy home.”

“Of course!” the receptionist says. And then she points at a doorway between reception and the exit. “But don’t forget your prize.”

Jamie’s eyes widen in surprise. They won something. Is that what they came here for? Have they been playing a game all this time? That makes sense, because he’s been pretending. He’s been putting on an act, a display that’s been getting easier, because he’s had so much practice today. And because he wet his diaper and saw the rainbows and unicorns.

“We let all our special people choose a prize before they go.” The nice old lady smiles at Jamie. “A reward for being so brave!” She gives him a sympathetic look that makes Jamie think that perhaps the lady pities him. She shouldn’t, of course. Because this is all made-up. It’s just a game.

“Just down there?” Becca says.

“That’s right, ma’am.” She winks at Jamie. “Just one prize, but it can be anything you like.” She turns to tell Becca, “Something age-appropriate of course. And we’ve got him at around 24 months.”

That’s a lot, Jamie thinks. A lot of months. So it’s okay, he’s not that little. Just because he’s wearing a diaper, just because he’s got a special outfit.

How many years is that? Another murky answer is somewhere in his head, and if Jamie tries hard enough, he could find it. But not right now. Not when he’s still so sleepy and slow. He’ll ask Becca they’re in the car.

Bubbles! He’ll ask about bubbles as well. And stories.

Jamie grins at the old lady, and when Becca tells him to wave goodbye, he’s happy to comply.

“Keep up the fluids,” the receptionist calls after them.

“Got it,” Becca replies, and she takes Jamie down the hall at a good pace, Jamie feeling the thick diaper rustle and rub between his legs, until they find the door on the left.

They enter the room, and Jamie is sure they’ve left the clinic and have gone straight into a toy store.

“Wow,” he says, with the door closed behind them. He laughs, pointing at all the toys and games that line the shelves. “What’s the street value on all-“

And then Becca’s hand is over his mouth.

“Hmmphh!” What’s the big idea?

Becca puts her face next to his. “You have to keep pretending,” she says urgently, and the perky brightness has left her whispered tone.

She takes her hand away, and Jamie pouts. “I just-“

“They have cameras,” says Becca. “I saw them in the exam room and I see them in here too. They’re everywhere. You’d have spotted them too if you weren’t so…” She looks into his eyes. “You’ve been acting kind of out of it.”

Jamie hangs his head. Yes, he’s been confused. There’s something wrong with his head, and something distracting that keeps him from trying to fix the problem.

“Look.” Becca hugs him, and then whispers in his ear. “I don’t know if they have microphones as well, but we better not take the chance. So we do what the lady said.” She puts the binder down on a table laid out with drinks and snacks. “Pick you out a toy and then we get out of here.”

Jamie nods.

“And you have to do what I say,” Becca says, which is both absurd and also the most sensible idea. She nods at him with satisfaction, the plan in place. “Because I’m big,” she says, tapping her temple, “and you’re…” She sniffs. “I’m in charge.”