All The Small Things

140

"Baby, when were you little last?" Jacob asked, seemingly out of nowhere. I mean, we weren't talking about it before. I don't mind him asking, though.
"It was like 2 weeks ago. It was about the time of your birthday,” I answered, truthfully. He sighed and told me that if I wanted to, I didn’t have to fight against my regression just for him. I shrugged and laid my head on his leg, again tired from working my shift. Today was stupid. I had to do double what I normally do since half our staff called out, and it was a Friday. I was overstimulated and had been since 2 p.m., but I more importantly was feeling clingy. It was a sorta odd mix. I really didn’t like the idea of being touched by anything right now, but I also craved to hang onto him and be coddled. I honestly think if anything else happened, I would’ve screamed until I made myself deaf and coughed up blood.
“Babyyy,” He sweetly said, dragging out the vowels and causing me to remember we were actually having a conversation.
“Hm?” I hummed, rubbing my eyes. Jesus christ, it can’t be that late. I know it’s dark outside, but it’s literally almost winter, so that tells me nothing at all about the time.
“You want me to hold you?” He asked, causing me to genuinely contemplate that question. Did I want him to do exactly that? Yes and no. Maybe if he just didn’t hold me too tight, it’ll be fine.
“Um… Yeah,” I finally decided, sitting up and climbing into his lap.
“You don’t have to say yes, Bubba. You can tell me no,” He reassured me, but I had already made my choice. I just nodded and held onto his shirt. He smiled and cooed at me, making me whine.
“Noooo, ’m not a baby” I whined, feeling a tantrum on the verge of happening.
“Luca,” Jacob warningly said. I pouted and listened to him warn me about behaving. “You know better than to throw a fit right now.”

Before I could decide whether or not to, Jacob’s phone started blasting his ringtone. I quickly covered my ears and tried to peek at who was calling, but he picked up too fast for me to do that. I could very faintly hear someone on the other line talking about an appointment. I kind of impatiently waited for the call to be over to start quickly questioning him about it.
“Who?” I asked, shifting in his lap.
“The therapy office. You, sir, have an appointment on Monday with Justin at 9 a.m.” He told me, making me frown a little. God, 9 a.m. just sounds so early.
“Meaning that you also need to go to sleep,” He continued, scooping me up and carrying me to bed. He dropped me down onto the mattress and gave me PJ pants. I had to ask for help changing into them, but I eventually fell asleep while Jacob spooned me.

I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but nights before or after my therapy, memories pop up in my dreams that I completely blocked out. They don’t even have to be negative memories, even though almost all of them sure aren’t positive. And I had one that night before my appointment. I was 10, and Lila was 2, almost 3. Even in the very worst parts of Momma’s addiction, she never got mad at Lila like she did me. She only ever was upset with me. I was sitting on the floor, my back in a corner, and my action figure in my lap. I still never went anywhere without him. I still tried to sit in corners. I still knew not to change the channel. I did my best to connect with Lila, but the way the rules changed for her always upset me. Mostly because the rules that Momma would bend for her were a million percent set in stone for me. Lila was a toddler, so obviously, she liked toddler shows. I still did too because they were predictable, and I knew exactly what the end would be like, to an extent. I didn’t hear the exact show she wanted, but Momma did. I just knew she wanted to change one of hers. I shook my head at her because I still didn’t fully understand Momma made exceptions for her.

“Luca, you do not parent her. She’s got a mom and a dad, so there’s absolutely zero fucking reason for you to try and do it,” She scolded me.
“Come here, Baby,” She cooed at Lila, her tone doing a 180 turn. I reluctantly  let go and let Lila wobbly make her way over to her. I didn’t know what to do after, and was trying to figure it out, so I stood up. But then she started getting mad at me.
“Sit the fuck down. Right now. I don’t care where, but you need to move,” Momma demanded. It was almost worse when she didn’t yell at me. I mean, obviously I didn’t like being screamed at, but I at least knew what to expect when she yelled. I was hesitant about what to do, but she wanted me to move right when she asked. She grabbed my shoulder and forced me to sit on the ground in front of the couch.
“Momma, don’t shove!” I exclaimed. We were constantly reminded to be nice, don’t push, don’t name call, and other general guidelines in school and I took them seriously. She didn’t answer me, just re-lit her cigarette. She wouldn’t do actual drugs with Lila around, but with me, it was apparently different.