Time Is A Flat Circle [complete] -- (Author) Aki

[llsadmin]

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Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 26, 2019 at 12:32 AM
Content: (( ITT: I try my hand at an ABDL short story, about my character in the ABMud. I'd love your comments and feedback.
It won't be terribly long, but cw: divorce, parents fighting. ))

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Chapter One

[End of quote]

Present DayA gust of wind tousled the young man’s hair. Leaves tumbled to the ground, a splash of orange against cloudy grey sky. He crunched one under his boot as it landed on the patio, causing the old porch swing to creak more. The wood, warped slightly under years of weight, and splintering on the handles from all the hands that touched it, was nonetheless the most welcome feeling in the house to him at the moment.

“Toshio?” A woman lingering at the threshold called. “I need you to get the rest of the things from the attic.” She said to him in Japanese. She wore a stony expression, her face turned downward into a quiet, tired frown.

Toshio pretended not to hear her. He’d been watching the neighbor kids snatch up sticks from the drying grass and attack each other like swordsmen. One of the little boys, maybe six or seven, let out a war cry as he dove into a pile of leaves, swinging his weapon downward into it at an unseen enemy. Toshio's mouth crooked upward.

“Toshio.”

He stole another few seconds of watching them play, before shoving himself up out of the swing and throwing the screen door open. All five feet of Hana Moriko glowered up at him, locking her brown eyes with his green. The warning was clear: I don’t care how old you are. Knock off the attitude before I knock it off for you. He stared her down for a tense moment, then dropped his shoulders, and she dropped her glare.

“Honey, I know you do not want to do this.” She sighed, in English this time. “But we cannot afford this place anymore.”

No matter how many times she explained it, a tiny, ridiculous part of him still felt compelled to chain himself to the porch. He imagined himself facing down a platoon of bulldozers, the last stand against this injustice. He knew the house wasn’t literally getting knocked down, but it certainly felt like it. Everything he wanted to say caught in his throat. He moved around her, as peaceably as he could. She watched him go.

The attic was disgusting.

Every other breath sent Toshio into a sneeze. The dust bunnies up here had had years to breed, and they hopped across his shoes with every step. Barely any light filtered in through the vent on the far side of the room, and the one unfortunate time he decided to stand up straight, he was rewarded with a solid knot on the top of his head.

There weren’t as many boxes up here as he thought, but even one was more than he wanted to carry. He shuffled over to the collection, eyeing them. “Photos.” He mumbled the contents as he read the Sharpie scrawl. “Records.” He popped open a box labeled “toys” and was disappointed to find what must have been his mom’s porcelain doll collection from when she was a little girl, carefully cradled in yellowing sheets.

The next box was marked “Toshio”. He peeled back the clear tape and opened it up.

It was a collection of his old clothes, from at least ten years ago. A faded T-shirt with dinosaurs on them was folded neatly on top. Underneath, more shirts and sweaters; several pairs of jeans with grass stains and holes; ratty tennis shoes bearing race cars that, upon further inspection, still lit up faintly at the heel when given a firm smack against the floor. Toshio smiled at that. He continued his exploration.

A school uniform, from before they voted to allow students to choose their own clothes. A mismatched selection of socks bearing rallying cries for the Republic and the Empire alike. And under it all, a single light blue pull-on diaper, with Buzz Lightyear soaring on the front.

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September, 2009
His face was hot with tears. It kept happening. It just kept happening.

“You’re six years old, Toshio.” His teacher had said to him quietly. “You should know how to use the potty by now.”

He knew that. Of course he knew. It just kept happening anyway.

“Ew!”

“He peed himself again!”

“Toshio’s a baby!”

“That’s enough.” His teacher had intervened, chiding the other students. But without a further word of comfort, she ushered him out of the class to walk alone, dripping, to the office. He had heard her sigh quietly as the door was closing—a sound he wasn’t meant to hear, but heard anyway. His shoes squished. He walked to the nurse on tiptoes.

The look on the nurse’s face was as friendly as it had been, but with more concern than before. “Did you at least try and make it to the bathroom this time?” She had asked him.

Toshio shook his head. “I didn’t know I had to.” He had choked out honestly, from behind his tears. It had all just come at once: it wasn’t, then it was. How could anyone expect him to get a handle on that?

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. “Okay. It’s okay. Just, sit down on the bed for a minute, and I’ll call your mom.” She left the room. He didn’t sit down; it would just remind him of how wet he was. He resolved to stand there, trembling, until his mom came to get him. Again.

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Present DayToshio taped the box back up. His stomach twisted itself into a knot at the sight of the diaper. After a few seconds of deliberation, he untaped the box again, and buried it under the rest of his clothes before attempting to fix the tape. The dust and age had taken its toll, though, and it would no longer stick. Of course it wouldn’t.

Why would his mom save that? It was probably an accident. For several years, he recalled faintly, there was no pair of real underwear in the underwear drawer of his dresser. The diaper had probably gotten swiped up when his mom boxed up the rest of his clothes. Or it had fallen into another drawer and wriggled itself under a shirt.

He wanted to throw it away. He wanted to burn it. Not just the diaper, but the whole memory of it. He wished he could tear the years he had to wear them off the calendar. He crouched there in the dust, glaring daggers at the box.

“Toshio!” His mother’s voice washed up from the floorboards. “You’d better not be playing on your phone up there.”

He tore open the box once more. Making as little eye contact with it as possible, he fished the diaper from under the clothes. The soft, fibrous feel of it twisted his stomach into knots again. He lobbed the diaper into a cobwebbed corner. It could stay there. And he could get in the truck in a few days and leave it there forever.

He hoisted the box up and walked back down the stairs.

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Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 27, 2019 at 2:25 AM
Content:

Chapter Two

[End of quote]

September, 2009“It’s been every day this week.”

Toshio turned the lollipop this way and that, watching the fluorescent light reflect off its slick surface. It was one of those sugar-free ones, with a flavor only reminiscent of cherry. He supposed he liked it.

“Well, wetting the bed is not all that uncommon in children his age. One in four children experience it. The problem usually goes away on its own.”

“Yes, but it’s been during the day as well. Every day now. They sent him home from school and they won’t let him back without a note.”

He nudged the laminate tile with his shoe and watched his heel flash bright red. One day, he supposed, he could get a job as the maker of the lollipops that they hand out to kids at doctor’s offices. The first thing he would do is stop making them with that flavorless, powdery coating. Did they really need that? And, of course, start making them with real sugar.

“Before we start looking at medical reasons, sometimes these things can happen in response to stress.”

“Stress?”

He kicked the toe of his shoe against the tile again, and again, over and over. Harder and harder.

“Has anything happened at home recently?”

Present Day
“Wait, wait, wait, one more time!” Toshio exclaimed around laughter. He scrambled to pick up the apple and collection of forks that had clattered to the floor and rolled under his feet.

“We got this, we got this.” One of the other boys encouraged, accepting a fork from Toshio. He quickly pushed his bangs out of his face, adjusted his glasses, and watched the girl in a hoodie and messy bun tap away at her phone from her place, standing at the edge of the table. From the far side of the restaurant, a server shot them an irritated glance. On the one hand, they were picking up their mess, but the motley crew of teens were definitely not being quiet.

“Okay. Take eighteen. Don’t screw it up.” Sophia said, and held the phone up again. A blonde girl at the head of the table jammed a fork into the apple and held it ready, waiting for the music to start.

She said she wanna dance
But she don’t know how to (woah!)

One by one, they tossed the apple to each other by the fork, and the waiting recipient had to catch it on their own fork. They did their best to time it with the beat of the music, but that could be slowed down or sped up in editing.

I’m iced out, ooh,
Lookin’ like a star (woah!)

Toshio felt the apple nearly slip off the tips of the fork before he readjusted so it would pierce through. Phew. It wouldn’t be him that messed this one up. He waited for the beat and flipped it over to Justin, the boy who dropped it before.

I’m Steph Curry, when I hit the three,
I hit the (woah!)

Justin flipped the apple—pierced with seven forks—over Toshio’s head, where a waiting Lexi standing behind him caught it on her own fork. Lexi, all freckles and braces, struck a final pose in time with the last “woah”, and cheered along with everyone else.

Their server, an older woman, came over with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Alright, now that we’re done, please, don’t make me kick you all out.” She admonished the group. She slid over plates of burgers and seasoned fries to each of them and walked away. Lexi took her seat, and Sophia took hers, next to Toshio. For a moment, the group was blessedly silent as they shoved food into their mouths.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” called Sophia, the camerawoman, “to the traitor.” She gave Toshio a playful smirk, which he responded to with a rather rude gesture. He couldn’t help but smile, though. “May he enjoy his new friends way less than us.”

“Oh, please,” Toshio fired back as they all raised their paper soda cups. “Like I’m not coming back in two years.”

“Are you really?” Lexi asked him. “You’re already planning on moving back?”

“As soon as I turn eighteen.” Toshio replied, taking a drink from his own cup. He’d thought about this course of action since the For Sale sign went up. He’d need a job, he decided, and a place to live, but he would have to as an adult in any city. “I’d rather live here with you guys than anywhere else.”

Justin reached over and placed his muscular hand on Toshio’s slender one. With a mock sniffle and a forlorn look, he wailed quietly, “Then we can finally be together?” Toshio snickered and rolled his eyes, and slapped Justin’s hand away. “Come on, man.” Justin continued. “We’d make beautiful mixed babies.” Toshio pelted him with a fry.

They all continued their chatter to the background music of Elvis. The 50s-style burger joint was the most crowded place around after school: cheap food right around the corner. All walks of high school life flooded to it, and he and his friends might as well have their own table reserved for them at this point. At the other side of the table, the blonde girl—Amelia—interlaced fingers with her boyfriend and attempted to force-feed him a fry. Sophia documented everything; with every picture she took, Toshio felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as it was sent to him.

He was going to miss this.

The pattern of vibration in his pocket changed from Sophia’s picture marathon to a more rhythmic one; someone was calling him. Toshio wiped salt and fry grease onto his jeans and fished his phone out.

Incoming Call: Dad

He froze.

Too late, he realized he needed to answer it, and he missed the call. “Um. I’ll be right back.” Toshio stood up, nearly tripping over his chair on the way out the door. Sophia, who had seen the whole thing, frowned as he watched him go, but didn’t follow.

Crisp air filled his lungs as he stepped outside. A few swipes, and a brief moment’s hesitation, and the phone was ringing.

“Hey, bud.”

An awkward pause hung in the air for the briefest of seconds before Toshio responded. “Hey, dad. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to call and say hi.”

“Oh, uh. Hi.”

Another pause.

“Hey, so, how’s school?”

“Fine.”

“Fine. Good. Yeah.”

“Um, dad, I’m kind of out with my friends, so—”

“Oh, no, yeah, hey. Go have fun. But, I heard you guys were moving?”

Toshio grimaced, but a rock in the pit of his stomach seemed to lessen its weight a little. He had wanted his dad to know, and he was glad he didn’t have to be the one to tell him. Did Mom? That wasn’t likely, but the thought was worth entertaining.

“Um, yeah. I was going to text you. To Bakersfield, but. How did you…?”

“I saw the sign driving by.”

“Sorry I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, bud. Your mom would have had a field day if you did.”

Toshio didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He sat on one of the cold benches of the outdoor tables.

“Listen, hey, go spend time with your friends. Maybe I can swing it with her that we can see each other before you go. Movie and ice cream, you know?”

“Yeah.” Toshio agreed, but not with conviction. Which was well enough, because conviction was absent in the voice on the other end of the line as well. They both knew it was unlikely.

“See ya.”

“Um… bye.” Toshio let his dad be the one to hang up. He watched the screen idle out of the call window, and eventually go black, allowing him to see his own expression flicker as he tried to get ahold of himself. For not the first time, Toshio weighed the option of telling his mother about the call against the much more peaceable—yet dishonest—option of “forgetting to”. He felt his own heart beat in his chest.

“Toshio?” Sophia’s messy bun preceded her head as it poked out the door. Toshio looked up at her, and she saw the expression on his face. Wordlessly, she walked out and sat next to him. After a long moment, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He rested his head on her shoulder.

October, 2009The two shrieked as they ran into the ice cream shop. The man shook his jacket out a bit before entering; the little boy stood in the doorway, shivering. Thunder crackled in the sky.

“What kind do you want?” The boy’s dad asked. Toshio, through chattering teeth, responded, “Ch-ch-chocolate crunch.”

They were the only two in the shop, and for good reason. The gangly young woman behind the counter looked incredulously at the pair, but her paycheck depended on her not being sassy to the only customers to walk in all day. She couldn’t help herself, though, from politely commenting, “Interesting day for ice cream, huh?”

“Why break tradition?” Toshio’s dad flashed a smile back at her. “Let’s see… two scoops of chocolate crunch, and two hot chocolates, for good measure.” He passed her the bills, received the treats, and sat down with a still-shivering Toshio.

“Th-th-thanks.” Toshio took the ice cream before the drink, as one does. He took a bite, and blew out an experimental breath. Darn. No ice breath powers. The boy finally relented and took a grateful sip of the hot chocolate.

“Did you like the movie?” His dad asked, around his own sip of cocoa. His usually styled hair was falling out of place from the rain.

“Uh, YEAH.” Toshio chirped, life breathing back into him at the memory. “But I want it to rain meatballs in real life because then it wouldn’t be cold, it would be HOT because spaghetti is hot and”

Toshio’s dad just sat back and let Toshio talk, just content to see the little kid feel relaxed enough to ride the runaway train that was his imagination. They sat together and relished the time-- dad checking his watch and sipping at his drink, neglecting the ice cream; Toshio intentionally smearing the ice cream around his mouth and admiring his beard in the reflection of the napkin holder.

“Well, I think it’s about time we got you to your mom’s-- uh, home.”

Toshio’s heart sank. “Aww.”

“Yeah, aww. But, hey. Same time next weekend.” His dad paused. “Hey, you should, uh… try going to the bathroom.”

An arrow of anxiety shot through Toshio. He had forgotten to, again. And that meant he might have had an accident, again. It was his job to remember, and in the excitement of the day, he didn't. “I’m sorry I’m sorry—"

“Toshio, Toshio,” His dad instantly replied, in a quiet, soothing voice, reaching out toward him. “It’s okay. Let’s just go try. Come on.”

Toshio stood up and shuffled to the bathroom, with his dad walking with him. With a little effort, Toshio muscled open the door while his dad waited outside. It was pitch-black. He felt around a little frantically for the light switch. Toshio wasn’t afraid of the dark; just the monsters that lived in it sometimes.

The boy stopped in front of the toilet, bit on his lip, and wriggled free of his jeans.

The pull-up was wet. The little green spaceship that was the wetness indicator was gone, and the diaper was sagging. He felt the tears already coming. The rain had made him wet all over; he couldn’t have told the difference. He should have remembered.

There was a knock at the door. “Tosh. You alright in there?” His dad’s voice called.

“Um…” He didn’t want to say it out loud. For a long moment, nothing happened. He just stood there. But then, his dad came in, freshly soaked from the rain. He must have ran back to the car, because he was holding Toshio’s Pokemon backpack. He fished through it, pulling out wipes and a clean, folded new pull-up.

His dad knelt down next to him, not caring about the dirty floor.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He said, giving his son a hug. “It happens. It’s okay.”

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Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 28, 2019 at 4:01 AM
Content:

Chapter Three

[End of quote]

September, 2009“Akachan ja NAI YO.” Toshio screamed at her. I am NOT a baby.

“Toshio,” His mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you are not a baby. It is not about you being a baby. It is about you staying dry.” She sat with her hands folded at the dining room table, while Toshio threw himself to the floor.

“All the kids at school will make fun of me!” Toshio wailed at her.

“They do not need to know.” She said to him. Her brow was furrowed in concern, but she remained resolute. “I spoke with your teacher, and the principal, and the doctor. Until you stop having accidents, this is what we have to do.”

“OMUTSU HAKANAI.” I am not wearing a diaper. But even as he screamed it at her, even at six, Toshio knew that when his mother spoke, it was law. Hana stood up and took the package of pull-ups in one hand, and stood over her son, holding out her other hand for him to take.

Present DayThe clouds gave way to the sun by the time Toshio got back to his block. He decided to take a walk while his mom took a nap. It was hard to be in the house with the walls so bare. Even the rugs were rolled up now, so every footstep echoed.

His foot kicked a stick as he walked. He recognized it as the neighbor kid’s makeshift sword, and before he knew what he was doing, he was brandishing it himself. It almost perfectly straight and a solid weight to it. Good choice, David. He swung it a few times and smiled.

His gaze landed on the For Sale sign, dangling in the breeze. It was so tempting.

“What’cha doin’ there, Jedi Master?” Sophia called from his porch.

Self-consciousness came rushing back in, and he tossed the stick away. “Oh, uh. Hey.”

“You were going to beat the bejesus out of that sign, weren’t you.” She smirked, leaning against the wooden railing.

Toshio chuckled. “Mm. I could. And then I’d get beat with the same stick.”

“She’s five foot nothing, man. And you’re a Jedi Master.”

“There’s a Sith Lord joke in there somewhere, but I’m afraid to make it.” Toshio took the steps two at a time and looked at Sophia. She had her hair down in a braid today, and very little make-up.

“Please, I’ve never once seen Hana hit you.” Sophia said.

Toshio broke his gaze off her lips and sat down on the creaking swing. “She hasn’t. She doesn’t need to, she’s got the Look.”

Sophia sat down next to Toshio, leaning herself into him. Her hair tickled his nose as she laid her head on his shoulder, but Toshio tried to pay it no mind. He wanted to hit pause, to take in every detail of that exact moment. The way her hand curled into his. The smell of her shampoo. How their breath synchronized.

“Let’s get on a bus and run away.” Sophia mused.

“We tried, remember? When we were thirteen.”

She giggled at that. “And we didn’t realize it was just a local bus that went in circles. Wasted four hours.”

“I didn’t think it was a waste.”

Her green eyes tilted up to meet his. “Wow. That was a pretty good line. You’re really in your feelings about all this.”

Toshio sighed through his nose. “I just… moving. Dad calling. Seeing all my shit, my childhood, you know, just thrown in a box. I didn’t know it could do that. Just be… thrown in a box.” He trailed off.

“You need cheering up.” Sophia chirped, sitting up. “I brought you something. Well, some things.” She reached over and pulled out a paper grocery bag, plopping it on his lap. Toshio peeked inside and pulled out the first thing he saw.

“That,” Sophia explained, “is a framed picture of me. It’s so you can keep it on your nightstand in Bakersfield, so I can always watch you and you can feel my judging stare when you bring another girl into your bedroom.”

Toshio rolled his eyes, but smirked and put that aside. The next thing he pulled out was a blank envelope. Inside it was a gift card with a picture of a train. “That has enough money to buy a one-way ticket back here. So you can visit me. Sorry I didn’t have enough to make it round trip. Figure it out.”

“How about I let you use it to come to Bakersfield and you just never leave?” Toshio asked. Sophia gave him a complex look, somewhere between “good joke”, “but I’m actually down, though”, and “it would never be allowed to happen”. Toshio pulled out the last gift.

It was an old stuffed rabbit.

“Oh…” He gasped.

“Do you remember it?”

Toshio nodded. “I, um, it was mine. I gave it to you when—”

“When you stayed the night for my birthday party.” She finished for him. Seven or eight kids, crammed in sleeping bags under a “tent” of couch cushions and sheets in the living room. “I was terrified of the dark, my night light had burned out—”

“And I gave it to you because he kept people safe.” Toshio turned it this way and that. It was more tattered than he remembered, from all the years Sophia must have loved on it. But the brown rabbit was still the same soft, floppy-eared companion he remembered.

“And in the morning, you said that I could keep him, so I would never forget you.” She smiled faintly. “Which was a weird thing to say, because we were in the same class, but I thought it was nice, so.” She thought for a moment, then nudged him in the ribs. “Then you wet the bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toshio grimaced. He remembered that well. All too well.

“Anyway. You get him back, and you can keep him. So that you’ll never forget me.”

His heart broke. She kissed him.

October, 2009Toshio looked at himself in the mirror. And he was looking at a baby.

His jeans were thrown to the corner, soaking wet. He’d secretly torn off the pull-up he was sent to school with and threw it in the trash, and suffered the logical consequences. It had been weeks since his mom brought the diapers home, and he had raised an unholy rebellion about it.

He had expected punishment when his mom picked him up. He had expected the end of the world. What he got was a gentle hand holding his all the way to the car, into his towel-covered booster seat. He got the same gentle hand guiding him to the bathroom with a new set of jeans, a pair of underwear with Power Rangers on them, and a pull-up.

“If you do not want to wear the diaper, I will not force you anymore.” His mom had told him. “But that is the choice you must make for yourself. I know why this is happening, Toshio,” She continued, her voice wavering, “and I am trying my best, okay? I…” She thought better, and cut her last thought off.

“But you have a job to do as a big boy, you have to take care of yourself. So you choose. You wear the pull-up and stay dry,” She had said, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve, “or you go to school without one, and try your best, but you know what that probably means. I will tell your teacher. But I cannot fight you anymore.”

Those words stuck with him. They were big words. He’d been in the bathroom for a long time, after she left him in there and closed the door. He heard his mom in the kitchen, clattering some pans together, and then he heard her walk up and stand on the other side of the door for a moment, and then leave.

He wasn’t crying. He was looking at himself wearing the pull-up.

He didn’t want to wet his pants at school anymore.

When he opened the door, he saw his mom breathe a sigh of relief. She embraced him, then, into the biggest hug he remembered ever getting from her. It knocked the wind from him. It scared him to see her this way.

“Honey,” She finally whispered into his ear. “I am proud of you.”

“Am I a baby now?”

She shook her head. “No. You made a big boy choice.” She pulled back and looked at him. “They are made for big boys. If they were for babies, they would not fit. And look. Will you have wet pants anymore?”

Toshio’s mood shifted from embarrassment to contemplation. She tickled his sides a bit. “Will you? Are the kids going to see that happen? Or will they see a big boy?”

She continued tickling him. He finally cracked a smile, giggling. “A big boy.”

“Sou da ne." That's right. "So go put some pants on. They are safe now. You are safe.”

Present DayToshio lay in his bed, staring at the bare walls. He held the stuffed rabbit tight against his chest, breathing in the scent of it. It had that semi-sweet, slightly musty smell of old things loved by kids.

It was all falling away. Every moment of his life, his entire childhood, was slipping through his hands. Like trying to grab smoke. He gripped the rabbit tight for fear that he, himself, might also slip away, his battered heart reaching out for an anchor.

He looked up to the ceiling, toward the attic.

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Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 28, 2019 at 7:24 AM
Content:

Chapter Four

[End of quote]

Present DayToshio ran his thumb over the front of the folded diaper. It was soft.

He didn’t know what possessed him to get it from the attic. He felt like a goblin, hoarding the last remnants of his childhood; the rabbit, the pull-up. He might have even gone through the box of clothes, but it was already loaded onto the truck. He didn’t want to leave the diaper here. It felt wrong to let it stay buried in the dust.

There was a knock at his bedroom door. Toshio shoved the diaper under his blanket.

“Toshi?” Hana peeked in. “Ocha o mottekita.” I brought tea.

“Domo.” Toshio accepted the mug, and Hana sat down next to him on the bed. She chose a spot close enough to send a spike of anxiety through him. He wasn’t sure how she would respond to seeing the pull-up, but he’d rather not find out.

She looked at him for a long while. “How… are you doing?” She asked him.

“Fine, mama.” He nodded.

She frowned, then shook her head, sipping her tea. “If there were some way we could stay, you know I would do it. When the shop closed, I tried to find another job that paid as well. It is just so expensive here. Bakersfield… well. Won’t it be nice to live with your cousins?”

Toshio nodded again.

She took his hand in hers, and bowed her head a bit to kiss it. Patting it gingerly, she said, “Yurushite kudasai.” Please forgive me. She stood up, and began to walk out.

“Mama?”

She stopped.

“Um… dad called.”

She sighed through her nose as silently as she could, which wasn’t silently enough for him not to hear. She sat back down. “What did he want?”

“To say hi.”

“He knows we are moving.” She hazarded the guess. Toshio nodded. “That is… fine. He is your father. He should know.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

“It would be fine if you did.”

“Would it?”

Hana peered at her son for a long time. “Toshio-kun…”

“He wants to see me. Before I leave.”

She pursed her lips, and lowered her head. Then, finally, she stood up. “I will think about it.”

Toshio swallowed the argument before it spat itself out. He didn’t get to sixteen by picking fights when he knew it was better to let it be, for the time being. The argument they had when she learned he’d given his dad his phone number was one for the history books.

He listened to her walk downstairs, then pulled out the diaper again.

He was never much of a Toy Story fan, so the only connection to Buzz Lightyear he really had were the years he had to wear them regularly, joined by his friends Woody, Lightning McQueen, and Mater. The green spaceship in the circle made him recall a curious mixture of pride—when he would look down to see it still there—and anxiety, from when he would see it had disappeared.

He was being stupid. This was, he thought, the stupidest thing he’d ever done. But he kicked off his pajama pants, and pulled down his underwear.

Pulling the diaper on felt like remembering the words to a song he’d hadn’t even thought of in years. It felt like stepping into an old classroom. It should have, he thought, felt weirder than it did, though he did maintain that he was being stupid.

Especially when it got to his thighs and he started to hear it tear.

No. No, no, no. He stopped moving.

Of course it wouldn’t fit, idiot, he chastised himself. You were six. God, what are you doing? He paused for a moment, and then kept going, slower this time. He took his time to stretch out the sides carefully, to pull it up evenly. Eventually, he had managed to cover everything.

It was… Yeah. Stupid.

He looked ridiculous. The thing was about to burst off him. He looked down at himself and laughed, the first uninhibited laugh he’d had in weeks. Here he was, nearly a grown man, wearing a Disney pull-up. If his mother walked in on him right now, she’d have him committed.

So why was he so comfortable in it?

He carefully placed himself back on his bed, covered himself up just in case, and felt around for the stuffed rabbit, settling in. Just laying there. Moment by moment, he felt the self-consciousness fade, and give way to something else. Comfort. Security. A sense of familiarity that he realized he’d been desperately, desperately craving; not from the diaper specifically, but it was certainly doing the trick.

He didn’t want to take it off.

But he turned over and, with the new pressure, one side finally gave way and popped off. Toshio ran his hands over his face and chuckled. Of course. Of course. He stood up and tore the rest of it away, chucking it into the small trash can next to his desk, and slipped his underwear and pajamas back on, glad that his moment of lunacy had passed.

He crossed the room to flip his light switch, and threw himself onto his bed.

July, 2009
“DAMN it, Hana.” His father’s voice boomed from downstairs. “I’m not talking to you about this anymore. If you don’t believe me, that’s your problem.”

“Of course I do not believe you.” His mother’s soft, precise voice cut through. “I caught you. I saw your messages.”

“It was an accident. She didn't mean to send them to me! You’re twisting it, like you do everything else I say. I’m DONE.” Something heavy slammed against something else.

Toshio was hiding under his bed. The silence that followed was almost worse than the yelling. He thought he heard his mom say something else. He heard the door open, then slam shut, then open and slam again. They had both walked out.

He bolted. He tore downstairs, through the living room, and out the back door before his family had a chance to come back inside. He slipped through the loose board in the fence. Darkness covered his flight to the playground on the far side of the park behind his backyard. He sat on the swing, clutching the chain.

His hands were shaking. His stomach rolled.

The only thing he could hear was the sound of liquid dripping as it fell from his pajamas, onto the sand.

Present DayToshio woke up clutching the rabbit. His hands were shaking. His stomach rolled.

His bed was wet.

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 29, 2019 at 3:26 AM
Content:

Chapter Five

[End of quote]

September, 2009“Mrs. Moriko?”

“Ms.”

“Ah, my apologies. Please, come in.”

Hana stood up and followed the nurse through the double doors. The walls were painted in cute, pastel colors, bearing cartoon characters she was not familiar with. Toshio probably knew. The nurse led her down a few halls, past the consultation rooms that she’d spent so much time in with her son in the last month. She was grateful that he was at school today; every visit here with him was a war.

Hana was led to a small office, with a large window on the far wall covered by blinds. Dr. Henderson, a man in his late 50s with large, thick-framed glasses, smiled at her and gestured for her to have a seat as he finished speaking with someone on the phone. She bowed her head and did so.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Thank you.” Dr. Henderson hung up and immediately started flipping through the small mountain of files stacked on his desk. “Ms. Moriko, thank you for coming in. How are you doing?”

“Well. Thank you.” She did her best to give him a pleasant smile.

“Good to hear. And Toshio?”

She deliberated on that. “The same. Accidents once or twice a day. Wetting the bed every night.”

Dr. Henderson frowned in sympathy. “Sorry to hear it. Are the diapers working for you?”

“For my washing machine, yes.” She jested, trying to add some levity. “But, he hates it. We argue constantly.”

“It will take some adjustment. Just be patient with him.” Dr. Henderson advised, and Hana nodded. Easier said than done, of course. “I received the results of his tests.” He passed her the packet of paperwork he was holding. “They all came back negative, which is good. There’s nothing medically wrong. No infection, no signs of abnormal growths, no developmental issues.”

Hana puzzled her way through the documents, flipping through them and attempting to make sense of the English medical jargon. She prided herself in being an intelligent woman, but America had been full of humbling experiences. “I don’t understand. If there is nothing wrong, then what is happening with my son?”

Dr. Henderson opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, trying to find the words. “I, ah, believe we discussed this before. I think Toshio is suffering from post-traumatic stress.”

“Post-traumatic…?”

“From what we discussed, you and your husband have had some very strong encounters in the last few months, and Toshio has been listening to them all.”

The words were a hammer to her gut. The doctor continued, "Experiences like this in early childhood can have an adverse effect on their emotional..." He continued on, but her brain had momentarily stopped translating. She covered her mouth with her hands.

“Musuko o kowashita.” We broke our son.

“Pardon?”

Hana lowered her hands and looked up toward him, not quite meeting his eyes. “It is our fault?”

Dr. Henderson gave her a long, sympathetic look. “Children are resilient. I think, with the right guidance, Toshio will come around. I would like to recommend a family psychologist. I have a few excellent colleagues that are very familiar with these situations.”

She nodded.

We broke our son.

Present DayKnock knock knock.

Hana’s door creaked open. Standing there in her nightgown, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked up into Toshio’s face, confused. “Toshi? What’s… oh.”

Toshio stood there in her doorway. He wasn’t dripping, but his pajamas were soaked through.

He’d been crying, but he made sure to knock that off before summoning the resolve to knock on his mom’s door. He’d gone through literally every option in his head. Secretly washing his sheets and pajamas were out, since the washer and dryer were already unplugged and relocated to the living room, ready to be put onto the truck. He could throw them away, but he’d have to explain where his only set of sheets disappeared to. There was also the train ticket Sophia had bought him; maybe he could flee the state.

No. There was only one real option.

“Toshio, what… what happened?” She looked him up and down, incredulous. “Did you… did you?” All he could do was nod. She let out an exasperated breath. For a long moment, all she could do was cover her eyes and shake her head.

If he dug a hole and got in, he couldn’t feel lower than he did then. He’d been in this exact spot so many times: at this doorway, soaked. But it’d been years.

“Nande kou nanda?” He heard her mumble under her breath. Why is this happening?

“It was an accident, mom.”

“Sixteen year olds do not just have accidents. Last time… this cannot happen again.” Toshio lowered his head. He had expected to hear all this, but it still hurt.

“It won’t,” Toshio promised, but the look on her face was resigned.

“Just… we need to sleep. We have a lot of packing to do.”

“Mama, I… I don’t have sheets.” He reminded her.

He watched the reality of the situation settle into her features. For the first time in almost eight years, Hana had to think about wet sheets, wet pajamas, keeping her son and his room clean.

“Okay. Put your sheets and pajamas in a bag. We will take them to the laundromat in the morning. You can sleep on the couch, I will go clean your mattress. Please put a towel down.”

“A towel?”

“In case it happens again.”

“A towel under me? Mama, it’s not going to happen again!” But Hana shook her head curtly, the law passed. Toshio felt his face flush red, and he stormed back into his room. With as much force as he could muster, he kicked off his pajama pants and underwear and stood there, fuming.

He caught a glimpse of the torn diaper in his trash can. He walked over and picked it up. For not the first time in 24 hours, he felt six years old again. Before his mom could come in and see it, he shoved the diaper deep into his backpack.

What the hell is going on with me?

Morning rose. The towel underneath him stayed dry, but in fairness, he also never fell back asleep.

Getting up from the couch required acrobatic precision. His living room was a maze of boxes and unplugged appliances, the most key of which being the coffee maker. He loved coffee, but settled for tea. As the kettle heated up, his mind continued to spin.

What happens next?

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one driving him to this breakdown he was having. And it was a mental breakdown, he had concluded on that couch. What else could it be?

His mom came down the stairs, still maintaining poise and elegance, even with the dark circles under her eyes. She joined her son at the counter. “Ohaiyo.” Good morning.

“Ohaiyo.”

“Did you sleep well down here?”

Toshio shrugged. “Kind of.” He lied. “Mom, I’m sorry about—”

“There is… no need to apologize.” Her voice was curt as she cut him off, but softened around the edges to become a tone of comfort as she continued speaking. “It was an accident.” She looked up into his eyes, and rested a hand on his cheek.

“Mama…” Toshio took her hand in his. “It won’t happen again. I promise.” This was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to wear that diaper, yes, but not for it to go this far.

She smiled faintly, but not in a way that said she believed him.

The laundromat was comfortably warm. A few older women were at the industrial washing machines, sorting their loads. One sat on the bench with a horde of magazines and crossword puzzle books. Toshio agreed to do his own laundry as Hana broke some bills down to change.

“The towel?” Hana noted as Toshio shoved it in. “Did you…?”

“No!” Toshio replied. The haste of his answer made her raise her eyebrows. “No, really, mama, look. It’s dry. It's just dirty, I pulled it from the hamper last night.” She looked at it to be sure, then nodded. They sat down on the bench and waited for a long time, in silence.

Finally, Hana spoke.

“It started the first time,” She said, “when your father and I split. And you ran away. Do you remember?” She spoke in Japanese; she defaulted to it when it was nobody else's business. Toshio swallowed, nodded. “We found you, and you were so… terrified. And you kept having accidents after that. Over and over, we went to the doctor’s, and it got worse and worse. And do you know what the doctor told me?” Toshio shook his head. “That our fighting had given you post-traumatic stress.”

Toshio stared down at the tile.

“Your body could not handle the stress of us fighting. The doctor said the accidents were caused by the anxiety it gave you.” She shook her head. “A part of me… a horrible part of me wanted to believe you were just sick, so that I did not have to accept responsibility. I could just give you medicine and it would be fixed. That my choices weren't what…”

He threw his arms around his mom, and held her as she cried. The lady on the bench across from them did her best to pretend not to watch. Far-flung memories began to bubble to the surface. The “doctors” that must have been therapists. The incident in the park. His parents’ horrible fights. The puzzle pieces began to form themselves into a cohesive picture. “So… because I’m worried about, well, the move, and dad…”

“Yes.” Hana looked grateful he'd come to the conclusion on his own. “He also said that... that the anxiety may keep manifesting, maybe in different ways, as you grow, because of the-- the damage that had already been done.” She choked out. "But you were supposed to outgrow the accidents."

Toshio watched the sheets spin. He didn't feel shocked, or hurt, or betrayed. It felt like the truth. Like his truth.

“So it might keep happening.”

“I hope not, Toshi, and we can find a doctor as soon as we get to Bakersfield if it does. We will figure this out.”

“… Can we go get diapers?”

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 29, 2019 at 5:15 AM
Content:

Chapter Six

[End of quote]

November, 2009Toshio tugged at his mom’s hand, silently pleading with her. She stood firm, staring him down. When her patience finally ran out, she knelt down to his level and hissed at him in rapid Japanese, “You acting like this is drawing more attention than anything else. Stop it.”

“Please, everyone will know they’re for me, please, I don’t want to go down there.” His voice rose in volume with every word. But Hana had had enough; she scooped Toshio up and placed him in the shopping cart in one fluid motion.

The little boy wailed bloody murder all the way down the diaper aisle. She threw a box of pull-ups and a case of wipes in the cart. She’d learned to buy in bulk, to minimize these episodes in what had become the tragic comedy of her life.

Present DayToshio and Hana stood next to each other in the diaper aisle, looking at their options.

There was the brand that he wore when he was a kid, the ones that tore on him. Now, of course, they featured a new cartoon, with dogs wearing police and fire uniforms. They had already entertained the notion of adult diapers, but when it came down to it, though he was taller than his mother now, genetics had cursed him to still be too small and slender for them. It was back to the kids’ aisle.

He felt stupid again, because after everything that put him there, standing there filled the hole in his heart. The powder-sweet smell, the vivid colors. Lighthouses in a storm.

They found the perfect brand. They were pull-ups, targeted for older children and teenagers who wet the bed, but he was in the weight range for them. A small part of him was happy they had cute space and star designs, even if the aesthetic of them was somewhat more mature.

While his mom looked at the rest of her shopping list, Toshio picked up a pack of wipes and showed her. She nodded, and he put them in the cart. Then, he picked up a bottle of baby powder. That, she frowned at.

“You do not need that.” She told him in Japanese.

“I used it before.”

“That was when you wore them all day, every day.” Toshio gave her a quizzical stare; she gave one back. “… Toshio. This is only to make sure your sheets stay clean until we finish the move. That was the idea, right?”

“Mama, I—no, but what if I--”

“Toshio,” She frowned at him, not letting him finish. She grabbed him gently by the arms, but looked up at him very seriously. “It is not like it was before. You are sixteen now. You were right when you said it was one accident. I am not sending you to your new high school in diapers over one accident.”

“Mama! I don’t— I—” He took a second to compose himself. “I don’t want to have an accident during the day. Not even one. Please, just until I’m sure it’s not going to happen. Please.”

The lack of sleep was starting to show on her face. She threw up her hands in forfeit. “However you are comfortable. But this is not forever. And no powder. You do not need to walk around smelling like that. If you cannot keep yourself clean at sixteen, you deserve the rash.”

They paid for their things, and walked out, with Toshio feeling like he'd almost pulled his parachute too late.

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 30, 2019 at 3:46 AM
Content:

Chapter Seven

[End of quote]

April, 2010“I have a right to my son.” Daniel snarled at her, leaning against the doorway, towering over Hana.

The stench of alcohol washed over her. She did not flinch. Through her healing lips, she locked eyes with him. “Not anymore.”

The police officer stood beside her, waiting, watching.

Present DayToshio looked at himself in the mirror. He drank in the moment, tracing the line where the diaper’s waistband met his skin with a finger.

Nothing else would be the same after tomorrow, but this could be. He had his own money from working over the summer. He could buy his own. He could do this forever.

They had spent the rest of the day in a final packing frenzy, and Hana let Toshio have the first shower. He had to get dressed eventually, though. He slipped on a shirt and a pair of jeans, and an oversized hoodie bearing the name of his favorite Japanese rapper. He walked downstairs slowly, feeling the familiar rustle of the diaper against his pants.

Hana stood in the kitchen, her hair pulled back with a bandana to keep the sweat off her face. Her arms were crossed, her expression stony. She was trying very hard to avoid looking at the man in the leather jacket, standing in the living room. His short, greying-blonde hair matched his close-cut beard.

Dad.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.” Both his mom and dad chided him, at the same time. Hana rolled her eyes and busied herself with wiping the counter.

“What are you doing here?”

“I called him.” Hana said, cutting off whatever Daniel was about to say. “Be home by six.” She slapped the towel down onto the counter and went upstairs. They both watched her go.

Toshio looked from her to him. Daniel offered a shrug. “Hey.” He sighed.

“How is it?”

“Bomb.” Toshio replied from around a mouthful of rice and fish. Since his dad was buying, of course he’d ask to go to the most expensive sushi restaurant around. Too old for a movie and ice cream? His dad had asked. This is the best movie and ice cream. Toshio had insisted.

“Hey, how’s, uh, what’s her name?” Daniel asked, as he attempted to manipulate his chopsticks.

“Sophia. Dad, we can get a fork.” Toshio told him, trying his best not to sound patronizing.

“No way, man, I got this. Yeah, Sophia. How’s she doing?”

Toshio nodded. “Good. I saw her the other day. We’re, uh. Gonna try the long-distance thing, I guess.”

“No way. You guys are still together? That’s awesome, man.” Toshio showed him a picture of the two of them, prompting surprise at how big she’d gotten. Daniel finally, finally managed to pinch a slice of sashimi. “Long-distance is killer, though. Good luck.”

“Yeah.” Toshio paused, in the space between politeness and not really wanting to know, but asked, “Are you, um. Do you have a, uh,”

Daniel chuckled and shook his head. “Uh, no. No girlfriend, no wife. I did, for awhile. It didn’t work out either.” Toshio didn’t know what to say to that, so he filled the void with spicy tuna. “I’m taking some time to figure myself out, you know. I haven’t traditionally been the best boyfriend. Or husband.” The implicit or father hung in the air. “Went to rehab. Went to therapy.”

“Therapy?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, man, it’s been good. It helped me a lot. Well, you remember how much it helped you when—” He paused. Evidently, he didn’t know how much he was allowed to talk about.

Toshio busied himself by pushing together a little rice mountain on his plate. “When I went to therapy?”

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed. “Do you remember doing that? You were really young.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember some. Not everything. It’s been coming back to me, though.”

“… Toshio, what happened between me and your mom—”

“Don’t. Please.” Toshio cut him off. “I can’t. Not right now. Someday I might want to, but not today. Okay?”

Daniel put his chopsticks down, clearly wanting to keep talking. Toshio wondered how much Hana had told Daniel about what happened to him, when it all went down. It was his mom that took him to all the appointments, stayed up with him when he woke up crying in the middle of the night, tried to sweep up the shattered remnants of what was once their family. His dad was gone. To where, he wasn’t sure, but he had a pretty good idea.

He loved his dad, but Daniel didn’t know Toshio’s life. Toshio didn’t know whether he wanted him to. But they had half their meal left; Toshio needed to contribute something to the conversation.

“I’m having a hard time with the move.” Toshio stated, matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s any consolation, so am I.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s got you down about it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Everything. I’m… scared.” It was only then, after he shifted uncomfortably in his chair at such an honest declaration, that he remembered he was wearing a diaper. He did his best to keep his face from flushing.

Daniel picked up his chopsticks again and chuckled. “It’s funny. You used to be the most fearless kid.” He took another bite of sashimi. “You remember you broke your arm jumping off the slide at the park?”

Toshio rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“You weren’t afraid of anything, man. You’d take yourself out on walks around the neighborhood. You talked to every stranger you met. You wanted to ride that giant roller coaster, and you didn’t even have the training wheels off your bike yet. I mean… man.” He sighed. “I’m not going to win a lot of points with this one, I just. You know, what happened? You were never afraid of anything, but then…”

Toshio pierced his roll with his chopstick and shrugged. “I guess you taught me.”

Daniel looked as if he’d been slapped. It had come out of Toshio’s mouth before he could catch it, and it made him sick to hear himself saying it. They sat silent for a long time.

“I’m sorry.” Toshio finally said.

Daniel shook his head. “Don’t be. I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

A waitress came to clear some plates away; Toshio gave her a polite nod but didn’t break eye contact with the soy sauce. “Toshio… can I give you some unasked-for fatherly advice?” When Toshio didn’t immediately shut him down, Daniel said, “I know it feels like the end of the world right now. Believe me, I’ve come face to face with the brink plenty of times. But even though you feel like it does, the world doesn’t end. Being a man doesn’t mean not feeling afraid. It’s being so afraid to do something that you piss yourself, and then you do it anyway.”

Toshio rubbed at his eye with an oversized sleeve. Daniel got the check. They drove home in silence, but Toshio gave his dad a hug before watching him drive away.

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: Aki
Timestamp: Nov 30, 2019 at 4:16 AM
Content:

Chapter Eight

[End of quote]

March, 2003The man in the leather jacket and the woman in the long, flowing dress walked hand-in-hand up the walkway. She cradled her bulging stomach with her free hand, caressing the bump. The couple beamed at each other, and the man reached into his pocket to pull out a single key, the realtor's tag still attached. They kissed and walked in.

Present Day
The truck's exhaust curled into the frigid air. Hana was having one last conversation with their neighbor, an elderly woman in eternal hair curlers.

Toshio didn't wake up dry. He'd known it as soon as he felt the diaper sag between his legs as he turned over, in his makeshift bed on the floor. In a panic, he'd patted down the front of his pajamas, but found no leaks. The diaper had done its job. At least for now, at least at night, he really did need them.

He stood up and tore it off, and threw it in the grocery bag he'd pulled out so he could throw it away outside. He wiped himself down and threw that in the bag as well. He didn't have time for a shower, so he pulled a quick selection of clothes from his suitcase and started to throw them on.

He paused as he reached for another diaper.

This would be the last time he cried over this move, Toshio promised himself, even though he knew he was likely to break it. Here he was, at the end of the world. His dad's words played in his head on repeat.

He threw the clean diaper in his backpack, next to the stuffed rabbit, and pulled on a pair of underwear. It was there if he ended up needing it, but he supposed he could take a chance.

He could try.

He gathered his things, locked the front door behind him, and got in the truck.

The End

[End of quote]