Oliver's Diapered Summer

Chapter 2: Devil's Tea

Oliver was good at hiding. Unlike his other male classmates, all of whom seemed a bit drenched in toxic masculinity, (almost as drenched as his trousers, you could say) Oliver preferred the flight to the fight response. Which was why he was currently in his locked bathroom, sitting in the bathtub, failing at biting back his tears. He wasn't really sure what had provoked the crying, a symptom of his life so far and its being void of embarrassment this huge. The poor kid had never been humiliated before.

He heard the knock at his door and the "Hey, Olive. You in there?" He had expected. If the deep voice hadn't made it obvious enough the speaker was his dad, the use of his nickname, "Olive", surely did. "Go away," Oliver sniffed wretchedly, shocked by how small his voice sounded. "Listen, bud, I wanna talk about this. You gave me and your mother quite a scare." Oliver didn't reply. Part of him knew he should. His father was worried, meanwhile he was sitting in his bathtub crying with soaked pants like a little baby. But that was mainly the reason he didn't want to come out; his father seeing him this way would add insult to injury.

His dad sighed from outside the door. "Oliver, I won't push you, but we need to talk about this eventually." Oliver wiped his eyes with his sleeve, sniffed again, and stood. He made his way to the locked door, giving it one last moment of thought before he opened it. His dad staring at him with pity written all over his face was enough to make Oliver want to go back to hiding in his tub. "So, what happened out there, huh, bud?" His dad questioned, avoiding the sight of Oliver's wet pants.

Oliver thought about what to say. Should he lie? Maybe I spilled my drink on myself? He pondered, before remembering his glass had been empty. (And that wouldn't explain his behavior very well, to be honest.) Oliver came to the conclusion that, considering he had never lied to his parents before, he should come clean.

"Dad," He began, face burning. "For the last few days I've been having trouble with my bladder. This time while we were saying grace I couldn't hold it in anymore and..." Oliver stopped, the tears coming back. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. Oliver's father seemed concerned and a bit embarrassed, which Oliver didn't blame him for. "Let's go tell your mother, okay? We can solve this mystery." Oliver nodded solemnly as they walked off to find his mom.

Oliver's mother was in Amanda's room, preparing her for bed. Dad left him outside the door and said something to Mom. His mom talked softly, and Oliver assumed she was saying goodnight to his sister, before she exited the dark room and closed the door softly behind her. She looked at Oliver with that same piteous expression, and Oliver didn't like it any better on her than he did Dad. Mother took him gently by the shoulder and guided him slowly back to his room while his father explained the situation. She nodded understandingly, but was clearly troubled by it all. Finally, they reached his room.

His mother stopped and opened the door. "Go in there and take a quick shower, put on some pajamas, and let us know when to come in. Oliver, defeated, just nodded and entered his room. He did as he was told, not without tears, and finally let his parents in. They led him to his bed where they sat on either side of him. "We were talking while we waited," His father began. I know, Oliver thought. I heard you. "And we realized that all we've been drinking lately is sweet tea." His mother took up explaining the next part.

"The secret ingredient in my tea is a plant called horsetail. We grow it out back and I put in our sweet tea because it's good for bloating," She looked pointedly at Father before continuing. "It can make you pee like a racehorse though! That could be what's triggering your bladder issues. When did this start?" Oliver thought back, relieved there could be an explanation for all this. "Tuesday I think? Today's Thursday so it's been two days." His parents' expressions melted into relief. "That's when you made the fresh batch of tea we've been drinking this week," His father said, turning to his mother. She nodded, sighing. "I thought I put too much horsetail this time around. I need to be more careful, hun," She said apologetically to her son. Oliver nodded, not trusting his voice.

Although it was good to know the fiasco hadn't been caused by anything serious, or most importantly, permanent, he was still terribly embarrassed. Now there was an explanation, but that didn't change the fact that he had wet his pants. He hadn't done that since he was a three year old. His mother planted her hands on her thighs and heaved herself to her feet. "I'm gonna go dump out that devil's tea," She proclaimed lightheartedly. His father followed after and through his bedroom door, not without casting one more awkward glance at his disheveled son.