✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

80. My Christmas Morning

This chapter is dedicated to Dewayne, with thanks for all your support :)

"But you said it was an infection," Trish Naylor asked, after a pause long enough that I was starting to wonder if she was still there. "If it's lasted more than a few weeks she should see a doctor, and–"

"No, it was better. But since then, I think..." I paused a little then. I needed to finish what I was saying, but I also needed to know that she wasn't going to share it with her daughter. "Can you promise this doesn't go any further? I want to set your mind at rest, I can tell you're worrying as much as I was. But I swore I wouldn't tell a soul, and you know Tess. She'd put herself through hell if she realised you heard about this, after she's been trying to convince you she's mature for so long."

"Of course! Her happiness is my only concern. How can it be okay, if she's still... you know?"

"She was better. But it still happens occasionally. She won't see a doctor about it, she says she'll handle it herself if I ask. But if I help her, treat her like a child just for an hour or two, she's happy to accept it. I think... I've asked Ffrances what's her professional opinion, and she says it's better not to make it a big psychology thing. But she hasn't disagreed."

"With what?" I could tell she was impatient now; I'd put it off for long enough.

"I noticed that now, it's usually when she has a big test at school, or when the bully's been picking on her –" I heard a brief gasp there, and interrupted my stream of thought for a moment. "She mentioned a girl called Mindy, I don't know the details. But I know she's got friends who have her back. But it's those times. When she's stressed about something. Or if she's been doing really well, but you can see the cracks start to show because she's setting such high standards for herself. The times when she might want to take a break and just be pampered for a couple of hours, if she'd allow herself to admit weakness."

"You think she's faking?"

"No. Well, probably not. I think she can't bring herself to admit she wants to be treated like a child, after so long demanding the opposite. But she knows on some level that if something happens, and it's not something she can control, then she doesn't have a choice. It's no reflection on her, it's just something that happened, and she doesn't fight being treated like a kid when it does. I don't know about the cause... I know she's been taking sleeping pills occasionally, and I'm pretty sure she discussed it with the doctor first. Not waking up when she should might be... or maybe it's even lack of sleep, or stress itself, that's causing the problem. But she doesn't want to see a doctor again, and she's always happy to be treated like a baby. I did wonder if it might be a subconscious signal, showing us that she wants to be a child even if she can't admit it to herself. Or just a side-effect of the pills, and she's found the silver lining. There's no way to know whether it's deliberate on some subconscious level, but I wouldn't stick my nose into something that's clearly helping. Better to just... well, roll with it, I guess. Until she's confident enough to admit what she really wants, or until she doesn't need it anymore."

"I guess," she murmured, but I could tell she wasn't quite so confident that she understood the situation. "But does she want us to, like, talk down to her like a child?"

"I wouldn't think so. There's no way she would expect you to follow the same pattern. Which confirms to me that it's not something she's consciously choosing. You said she's in the shower, right? Is it morning there? I'd say that by the time she's ready for the day, she'll only be embarrassed about it. Best not to mention it, you don't want her to feel like she's being judged. But if it happens again, you could try treating her like a child and see if she responds positively. Just for an hour or so."

"That seems reasonable. But I'm hoping it wouldn't happen again. It could just be a coincidence, while we were up later than usual last night."

"I hope so. But it's something to consider. I wouldn't push her, not at Christmas, but if she's enthusiastic about a little break from responsibility, I think it could be healthy for her."

We closed out the pleasantries, and I begged Trish again not to tell her daughter that she had phoned me. I needed Tess's trust, I told her, because there was no way she could accept support with her repressed childish side if she thought I had shared her secret. And that much was true; I was sure she could hear the worry in my voice. After a few minutes she hung up, and I smiled just a little.

It was late now, but I couldn't go to bed right away. I was messing up my own sleep cycle, but I knew I could get it back in order after a couple of days. I pulled up a comedy show on TV, and waited with the smell of hot coffee wafting through from the machine in the corner.

It was about half an hour before my phone chirped. Tess, of course. She started out with small talk, asking if we had any plans for today. She was better than I was at keeping track of time zones; I guess she'd had a lot more experience of her friends being in a different part of the world each time she moved. But perhaps she wasn't used to being on the other side; or assumed that my being online meant it wasn't nearly four in the morning here. I answered, told her a little about Tess's volunteering. It was frustrating typing so much on my phone, and I let myself slip into what the kids these days were calling "text speak". I still hadn't gotten XV to work on my computer, so I could only type at the speeds an on-screen keyboard would allow.

She denied having an accident when I subtly raised the subject. I didn't know if she was just shy, or was testing to see if Trish and John had actually contacted me. I didn't know what they would have told her, either, so I didn't say anything. My best guess was that Trish would follow my last advice and say nothing; so even if Tees knew they'd called, she would assume I hadn't heard what happened. Or that I'd respected her privacy and told them to let her deal with it herself. Well, that wouldn't be a problem. I asked her if she wanted some help; she hadn't asked me for a trigger in quite some time, so I suggested that it might be a good idea to help her stay dry.

There was one setback I had never expected: She said she didn't think it would work over an online messenger, and expressed disbelief that I could trigger her without actually being there. That confirmed for me that she really didn't know we had already tried it; the amnesia part of Ffrances's suggestions was close to perfect. If she'd just told me that she didn't remember, I would have been sceptical. But doubting such a fundamental part of the process, as if we'd never had this conversation before? I didn't think Tess had that much deception in her.

I told her again that messages could work if she thought of them when she imagined being told something, and suggested that we could try it. There was some pause, but she agreed. And then I did my best to help her avoid embarrassment with her family.

"You must not have an accident tonight." I typed, proofreading the single line a dozen times to ensure there were no mistaked, and there was no way it could be misunderstood. And a second later, with the message set to delete itself from her history after five minuted, I added: "But instead you'll be surprised to have an accident tomorrow night after getting ready for bed, like a little baby."

"Thanks," her response was a single word, and I was sure that she would follow my instructions to the letter. I only hoped that she was smart enough to take precautions, so that she wouldn't end up embarrassing herself. I really didn't want her parents to learn how much of a baby she wanted to be, but there was only so much I could do to help her if she wasn't going to help herself.

When it became clear that she was no longer paying attention to her phone, I plugged mine in to charge and headed off to bed.