✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

51. My Little Victories

I was making sandwiches when Tess bounced down the stairs. I barely heard her move; I probably wouldn't have known she was there if the house hadn't been so quiet. I thought I might be starting to recognise her mood from her footsteps; on the few occasions I'd seen her drifting into little headspace, she clattered down the steps like a drum roll. But this evening her movements were light and rhythmic, like she was dancing to whatever tune was playing in her head. It was good to know she was happy.

I glanced up at the clock, but I already knew it was late. I could get a late start in the morning, but I would be meeting with three important visitors back to back; hence the packed lunch like I was in school again. I went back to arranging cold cuts carefully on a slice of bread, and wondered if Tess was here to ask me for something, or just to pick up her bedtime flask.

There were no drugs in the flask tonight. Two weeks had passed since the last time my little one had needed pharmacological help to help her overcome her nervousness. She had other methods now, and she was already getting used to them. Every two or three days, she would ask me to tell her she wouldn't have an accident, and so far that's the instruction I'd given her every time. She needed to know that the hypnosis was working, and she needed to have confidence in it, so that my plan would work in the long term. Just once or twice, on days she hadn't thought it necessary to ask, I had told her that she would have an accident instead. I had half expected her to argue or protest in some way, but she acted as if I hadn't said anything, and showed no sign of remembering the instruction in the morning. It had worked flawlessly, and I knew that soon I would be able to bring her accidents back up to their previous frequency.

"Sandwiches?" Tess asked. "Going to be a little kid on your lunch break, with a Captain Kairo lunchbox?"

"It's a busy day. No time to queue for tacos. And I told you already, I'm not going to regress so far again. I had a little curiosity, but I think you enjoyed that day more than I did. Maybe one day, not so young, with a little more discussion about what to expect..."

"Right," she nodded, and took her flask. I didn't say anything more. I wanted to make it easier for her to ask, because the more often she did, the faster she would get used to it. But that wasn't what she had in mind today.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with being a little childish," she said with a shrug, and that made it even harder to contain my annoyance. More than anyone, I needed proper respect from my little. "If that makes you comfortable, I mean. But if you're being a kid, can you help me to act my age? I mean, tell me not to... you know. And then I'll get to bed right away, so little Gabby isn't up past her bedtime."

My fist clenched automatically. There was no way that was fair, I'd been a baby once for a couple of hours. I wanted to yell, but I was too mature for that. It wouldn't help me at all, I needed to show that I was mature and responsible. And if I said that kind of teasing was out of line, I knew that would have to go both ways. I could put up with a few harsh words from my little one if they would make it easier to convince her of how little she really was.

"Don't worry about me, I'm not the baby. And sure, if you want. You're going to have an accident tonight."

She nodded and chuckled, as if she'd just got away with calling me a baby. She didn't argue at all, and didn't repeat her request or complain about being denied. Just hurried up the stairs, with me waving after her like a real child.

* * *

"Morning, baby girl," I smiled at Tess as I slid a pancake onto her plate. She took it with a little giggle. That mannerism made her look so much like a child. More so than her baby face, or even her small stature. It was the carefree smile that made her the perfect little, and I was glad that I had been the first to see that I could bring out this side of her.

"Morning!" she mumbled, her mouth already full of pancake.

"Did someone have a little accident last night?" I asked, and again her expression told me everything I needed to know. This time it was the blush that answered my question, and the studiousness with which she was staring at the food on her plate a moment later.

"Baby?" I repeated, almost daring her to get angry. I knew I shouldn't be harsh, but her words from the night before were still in the back of my mind. On some level, perhaps, I wanted her to know that things wouldn't go well for her if she wasn't polite to me. But at the same time, I didn't want to yell. I wanted her to accept this side of herself, and I couldn't let my own feelings get in the way of that.

"No," she mumbled, then swallowed the bite that was in her mouth, and clarified: "How did you know?"

"Magic," I answered. "Feminine intuition, maybe. They say that mothers can have special powers to know when their baby is comfortable, so maybe I inherited some of that."

"You're not my mommy."

"I know," I whispered, and tried not to let her see how much those words could hurt. I told myself that I could be a caregiver even if I wasn't 'Mommy'. There were plenty of nannies and aunties out there who had just as much love from their littles, and a word didn't matter. But hearing her put it so bluntly, like she would never even consider changing her mind, wasn't quite so easy to take. "But I'm looking after you, aren't I? So maybe I care about you enough to tell when something is wrong."

"Okay. But I'm a big girl. I don't need any help, I... I just didn't think to ask last night. Maybe I should have done. If I can predict better when I might..."

"I know, baby." She was starting to feel uncomfortable, I could tell that. And more than anything I wished that she didn't have to feel bad. But the only way I could see to get rid of her self-doubt was to push her through the discomfort, and help her to accept that she was a natural little. "Don't worry, I'll try to help you if I can. It's nothing you need to worry about."

While she finished her breakfast, I kept on thinking about the pacifier in the kitchen drawer. How would she react if I gave it to her now? She would look so adorable, I was sure, but that might set her trust back another few weeks, and I couldn't afford the delay. Not if I wanted her to find her headspace before that creepy older boy got his hands on her. No, that could wait. But I knew she would accept it sooner or later.

"Is something wrong?" I asked her when she came down again a few minutes later, all cleaned up and with her makeup on. The childish skip in her step had already faded. It would take a lot of work before her headspace lasted all day, and it was hard not to push her to learn faster.

"I don't want people to think I'm a baby," she mumbled, but still didn't get mad at me for using the word. That was progress, of a kind. "I don't want Spike to think I'm..."

"They won't. Trust me. Do you want a lift to school? So you're not riding the bus, and you can have a little more time to compose yourself before you see your friends?" She nodded, and I picked up my bag ready to go. She'd mentioned the boy already, and that meant I might have to accelerate my plans a little more than I had expected.