No Such Thing As A Hollywood Ending

chapter 50

Jessica sat on the soft play mat, surrounded by brightly colored blocks and soft toys. Her tiny hands fiddled with one of the wooden blocks, a pink one with the letter "A" painted on it, but her focus wasn't on the toys. Instead, her gaze kept drifting over to Madeline, her twin sister, who was happily gnawing on a block as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Jessica sighed, her tiny chest rising and falling dramatically. She didn't understand it—how could Madeline possibly find enjoyment in something so... mindless? The block was wooden, rough on the edges, and utterly tasteless. There was no intellectual satisfaction, no creativity, nothing to explore except a basic, primitive urge to put things in one's mouth.

"Madeline," Jessica said softly, trying to keep her frustration in check. "Can't you do something else? Anything else? There's no fun in chewing on that block."

Madeline just gurgled in response, her drool-covered block still clamped firmly between her gums. She looked at Jessica with wide, innocent eyes, completely unaware of her sister's growing frustration.

Jessica sighed again, this time louder, and tossed the block she'd been holding to the side. "I don't get it," she muttered under her breath. "How is this fun?"

She crawled over to Madeline, trying once more to engage her in something that felt more fulfilling. "Here," Jessica said, picking up a plush toy in the shape of a bunny and wiggling it in front of Madeline. "This is more interesting. See? You can pretend it's real. It has ears and everything."

Madeline blinked, momentarily distracted by the wiggling bunny, before her gaze went right back to her wooden block. She grabbed it, trying to shove it into her mouth with even more enthusiasm than before.

"Ugh," Jessica groaned, sitting back on the mat, feeling the weight of her helplessness. "This is pointless." She wanted to do something more stimulating, something that didn't involve chewing on things or staring at bright colors like she was expected to as a baby. But no one seemed to understand her.

It wasn't just Madeline who didn't get it. Henry and Lucy didn't understand her frustrations either. They kept treating her like she was just an ordinary baby, even though she had clearly demonstrated that she wasn't. She wanted to read, to explore ideas, to learn about the world in a way that matched her mind, not her tiny, underdeveloped body.

She glanced toward the bookshelf across the room. There was a chapter book she had spotted the other day—a simple story about animals. It wasn't exactly thrilling, but it would do. Anything would be better than these blocks.

Jessica crawled towards the edge of the play mat, her little hands and knees moving quickly. She'd just reached the bookshelf when she heard Henry's voice.

"Jessica, what are you doing, sweetie?" he called from the couch, where he had been watching them play.

She hesitated, her tiny fingers almost brushing the spine of the book she wanted. "I... I just wanted to read," she said, turning to look at Henry with wide, pleading eyes.

Henry walked over, scooping her up effortlessly and carrying her back to the mat. "You're too little for chapter books right now. You could get a papercut, and we don't want that, do we?"

Jessica's tiny face scrunched up in frustration. "But I won't! I know how to be careful!"

Henry smiled at her, his tone gentle. "You're still a baby, Jessica. It's not safe for you yet."

As he set her back down next to Madeline, Jessica felt a swell of anger and frustration welling up inside her. She wanted to tell Henry that she wasn't just a baby. That she understood things—complicated things. That she could be careful and responsible. But none of that mattered. All anyone saw was a helpless little infant.

She looked at Madeline, who had now moved on from chewing on the block to batting at a mobile hanging above their heads. Madeline seemed so content, so at peace with her surroundings. Jessica couldn't help but feel a little envious. Maybe life would be easier if she didn't think so much. If she could just be like Madeline and find joy in the simple things, like chewing on a block or batting at colorful objects.

But she couldn't. Jessica knew too much, thought too much. She was stuck in this small, fragile body, unable to do the things she wanted or express herself in the ways that made sense to her.

"I feel so... trapped," she whispered to herself, her tiny hands curling into fists as she looked down at her chubby fingers. "I'm just... helpless."

The realization stung. For all her intellect and understanding, she was still physically limited. She was still dependent on Henry and Lucy for everything, from feeding to changing to even picking up a book.

Madeline gurgled again, her hand now reaching out to grab Jessica's foot playfully. Jessica looked at her sister, feeling a pang of frustration but also something else—a faint sense of guilt. Madeline didn't know any better. She was just a baby, after all. A normal baby, doing normal baby things.

Jessica sighed, letting her hand rest on Madeline's. "I guess we're both stuck in this, huh?"

Madeline babbled incoherently, her eyes bright and joyful, and Jessica managed a small smile in return. Despite everything, she loved her sister. It wasn't Madeline's fault that she couldn't understand.

As the day went on, Jessica tried to settle back into playing with the toys, even if they bored her. She didn't have much choice. For now, she was stuck being a baby, even if her mind was screaming for something more. And no matter how much it frustrated her, there was little she could do about it—at least for now.