The Gift

Chapter 3
Lily

Chapter Description: The photo with the bubble bath

Cringe. We both got a little carried away.

Method acting? The heat of the moment? Whatever the reason, I wasn’t expecting to end up with a wet diaper. I sure as hell didn’t expect Lucas to poop in his.

I think back to when I wrestled with Lucas, when I sat on top of him and stuck the Binky in his mouth, when I cuddled and stroked him. 

Seriously, what happened? Was dressing up like our toddler selves enough to make us think and behave like actual two-year-olds?

I sit across from Lucas. No more cuddling. We can barely look each other in the eye.

I think back to my Etsy order. The onesies and diapers weren’t cheap, made-to-measure. The store catered for role-players and adult babies - the seller even had hypnotic mp3 files that promised to take away the listener’s bladder control.

I made a point of telling the seller that I wasn’t an adult baby, that I wanted to pose with my twin brother and recreate childhood photos for our father’s birthday. I just needed outfits and some props. She responded by throwing in the pacifier, rubber duckies, and even the beachball at no extra price. At the time, I was ecstatic.

But what did I really buy? Did the Etsy seller send me hypnotic onesies, or a mind-controlling pacifier?

That’s crazy. That’s impossible. I made sure that we took off our pajamas anyway.  We’re just in our diapers. Our icky, soiled diapers.

“That was cringe,” I say.

Lucas giggles. He’s always been the sillier one, if I’m honest. That’s why I’ve taken charge most of the time.

He’s still holding the Binky, and he wriggles his toes, just like he used to when he took off his feetie pajamas as a little boy. He looks distracted, he looks like he wants to take off running around the house.

I take the pacifier, toss it back into the tote and say, “Let’s get serious.”

“Sowwy,” Lucas lisps. He twists his lips. “Sorry.”

“We have to get cleaned up.”

My brother nods more emphatically. As if he’s just remembering that he’s wearing a poopy diaper, he rests his hands in front of his crotch. It’s a weak attempt to cover up his diapered condition, and it does nothing to disguise the nasty smell.

“We still have to take the picture.”

Lucas groans. “Don’t want to. The jammies are too hot.” There’s a whiney tone to his voice.

“We won’t do that one.” I don’t want to put my onesie back on either. Although, a part of me does. A little part of me wants to be all pink and fuzzy and wait for Mom and Dad to get home so that they can clean up the mess. Because isn’t that their job?

I give my head a shake, feel the wiggle of my pigtails. I tell myself to stop thinking about fuzzy onesies, especially the kind that comes from an Etsy seller that also happens to produce hypnotic mp3 files.

“We have to take some kind of photo. The bath one, maybe.” I tap my chin with my finger, remembering how good it felt to suck on the Binky. Missing that Binky, more than a little bit. I feel distracted, dissatisfied, and more than a little anxious.

“But it got so weird,” Lucas protests. He points at me and then himself. “It’s weird right now!”

True. I’m sitting across from my brother, naked from the waist up, and wearing a wet diaper. This is not a moment I’d want anyone to walk in on. I think back just a handful of minutes, to holding and stroking Lucas, petting him and cooing at him like one of my old dolls, and I feel the blush rise in my cheeks.

I harden my jaw. “The quicker we take a photo, the quicker we can get back to normal. I’m not going through whatever we just went through and coming away with nothing!”

Lucas squirms on his rear, obviously uncomfortable. “But…” He gives me a begging look that I remember so many times from our childhood. When he was tired, when he was bored. When he wanted the game or chore to end. “Lily, we tried, okay? But this is crazy.”

I shake my head, and I’m once more reminded of the pigtails I took pains to arrange in the bathroom. I touch them with my fingers. Not a look I would try back at school, but if I was wearing my special jammies, I would look cute. I would look adorable. I imagine surprising Daddy when he comes home, I imagine running into his arms, and I get a warm feeling inside.

“You got a strange look on your face,” Lucas says. “What are you thinking about?”

I clear my throat. “Lucas, we came this far. I know things got weird, but if we’re sensible, it won’t happen again.”

Lucas looks down at his fingers. “I’m all gross,” he says. That whine in his voice makes my teeth hurt.  “And I look like a dumb baby.”

“Hey, me too!” I give what I hope is a persuasive smile. Rhetoric is a big part of what I study at school, it’s all to do with getting other people to do what you want. And a big part of rhetoric is providing the facts. “We’re not babies, not really. Really, we’re big, right?”

Lucas nods, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “’Cause we go to uni…univer…to school.”

I giggle. “That’s right,” I reply. My brother’s so silly sometimes. “We’re only visiting here, ‘cause you moved to Cinci…Cincy, and I moved to Columbus, and we came home to visit with Mom and Dad. Remember? They’re coming home soon, and in a few days it’s Dad’s birthday. And then it’s Halloween, and then Thanksgiving, and then… “

I wiggle my eyebrows for the winning holiday. “Christmas!”

Lucas’ face brightens as that idea lands. “Fire,” he whispers.

“That’s why we’re dressing up and pretending,” I go on, getting into the swing of my rhetoric. SI remember now, there’s three parts: ethos, logos, and pathos. The words sound funny in my head, greasy, as if I can’t quite nail them down. But really, it’s about sounding like you know what you’re talking about, about making a connection with people.

Lucas has always loved Christmas, and even though he’s big now, I know he still gets excited about it.

I say, “We’re pretending to be little, so we can make an old photo for Daddy. ‘Cause Daddy got sick, and we want him to feel better on his birthday.”

What’s wrong with Dad? The exact nature of his illness isn’t clear to me, but I know it it’s something big. Something that needs a real special gift, so Daddy knows how much me and Lucas love him.

I can picture the look on Daddy’s face when he sees the funny photo! He’ll laugh and he’ll gives us kisses and cuddles and tickles, and he’ll probably think it’s the best gift he ever got.

Isn’t that what Mom said on Labor Day?

He’ll love it!

I smile. “For Daddy’s birthday,” I say emphatically.

“For Daddy,” says Lucas, and I know that part of my rhetoric has landed even better than Christmas. Lucas loves Daddy. “So, he can feel better soon.”

“That’s right,” I reply. “It’s just for pretend.” I wiggle on my butt, showing off my silly diaper. “We’re not really babies!”

Lucas giggles as well, and then he nods. “We’re big kids.”

“Right.”

Lucas pokes at his own diaper with a bemused expression and then points at the discarded onesies. “Do we gotta wear our jammies again?”

I shake my head. “No.” I got carried away with the silly pajamas, I’m not going to let that happen again. “I got a better idea.”

“Huh?”

“We’re both messy,” I say, although really, I only got a little wet while Lucas went poop, but I don’t want to make him feel bad. “If we do the bath photo, we can get clean at the same time.”

Lucas makes a perfect ‘oh’ of understanding with his lips. “Bubble bath!” he shouts, and then he blushes. “Bubble baths are fire.”

I nod. “So, we take off our messy diapers, and then we run our bath, and then we take our picture. Okay?” I hold out my hand for Lucas to shake, because I want it to be serious and not babyish like before. I want the thing called ‘ethos’.

Lucas shakes my hand and looks me in the eye. “Bet.” He gets to his feet, pulls at his diaper which looks so full, it might just fall to his ankles. He rubs at his eyes. “Um…who’s making…who does the bubbles?”

Good question. I realize abruptly that Mom would normally run our bath. I shake my head at that idea. Mom’s not here, and besides, we don’t need Mom. As I keep reminding myself, we’re not really toddlers, we’re just pretending.

I see Lucas’ uncertain expression and I do what I’ve always done; I take charge.

I give him a firm look. “Don’t go anywhere.” I go to the tote and retrieve the bottle of Raw Sugar bubble bath I picked up from the Walgreens on Cemetery Road. I go to the bathroom, plug in the stopper, and turn on both faucets. I flip open the bottle, turn it up-side down, and take just a teensy bit of satisfaction in squirting thick blue liquid into the tub. In seconds, the bathroom is filled with the scent of cherries.  

How much should I use? Again, I wish Mom was here to help with part. I know that we need plenty of bubbles, so we don’t show our private parts in the photo, so I just keep squeezing until the bottle’s empty. That should be enough.

I pull at the tabs of my diaper and let it fall down. I pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the smell of pee, I roll the diaper up and realize it belongs in something we don’t have – a diaper bin. I take it back to the bedroom and place it beside the tote.

Lucas points at me and giggles. “You’re all naked!”

I roll my eyes and then point to the bathroom. “Go wipe yourself off so we can take our bath.”

Lucas looks utterly confused. “But…the bath…”

I shake my head. “You’re not getting in the tub with a poppy butt!” He looks stung, and I feel kind of funny, standing there without my clothes on, bossing my brother around.

I soften my tone. “Wipe as much off as you can, okay? You don’t have to be perfect.” (Although, obviously, I would prefer it if he was).

He nods, mollified. “Okay.” He sniffs the air. “I can smell the bubbles!”

He toddles away, and I give him a couple minutes to clean up his mess. I stand in the bedroom, and I again miss my stuffies. Did we really give all of them away? Every single one? Even Mister Bear?

The idea makes my eyes sting and my stomach hurt. And then I remember…I took Mister Bear to school!

I sigh with relief, but that feeling is cut short by the belated realization that I just stood in front of my brother, completely naked, and all he did was giggle at me, like it was funny.

Do I look funny? Do I look silly?

Lucas can be such a little kid sometimes.

I look down at my chest, my hips and the parts in-between. I don’t look like a baby, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure I’m all grown-up, which manages to feel good and scary at the same time. Either way, as I listen to the tub filling in the bathroom, I know I’m plenty old enough to run a bath.

I walk through to the bathroom, and I groan at the sight of my brother standing at the toilet, reaching around his back with a handful of toilet paper, rubbing at his rear.

How gross! What a mess he’s making! The smell is still there, despite the pretty smell of the bath bubbles – I can’t stop smelling the poop.

“Flush it, at least,” I tell him sharply, staying in the doorway.

He does as he’s told and then turns and pouts. “It’s not fair, I can’t reach!” He holds out a fresh wad of toilet paper. “Can you do it?”

I make a disgusted face. “No way! Your mess, you can clean it up.”

Oh, that smell! I wish Mommy was here to fix this!

I walk carefully past Lucas, worried that he’ll reach for me with his icky, poopy fingers, and turn off the faucets. The bath looks plenty full.

“It won’t come off,” Lucas whines. He bats at the dried smears on his thighs.

I look him up and down. He’s not completely clean but I don’t want to take all day. “You’re good enough. Come on.”

He sticks out his bottom lip. “It’s itchy,” he says.

I sigh. “You’ll feel better once you’re in the bubbles.”

I enter the tub first, remembering how it used to be tricky to get in when we were little, Mom or Dad lifting us over the edge. It’s easy now because we’re big. I sit at one end, letting Lucas take the end with the taps.

The bubbly water rises, and I gasp when Lucas gets in, bubbling water splashing over the edge. “Careful!” I cry. “You’re making a mess!”

Lucas frowns. “Not my fault.” He sits down across from me, splaying his legs so that his feet come around my hips. I roll my eyes at the sudsy water on the bathroom floor.

“You better clean that up later,” I say firmly.

“Not my fault,” says Lucas again, and his face brightens. “’Cause it’s physics.” He smiles proudly. “We learned that at school. Cause the water and me, and you, it…” he wrinkles his nose the way he always does when he’s trying to explain something complicated.

“Fine,” I say, “It’s physics.” I bring my knees up to my chest, party to make room and partly to cover my breasts, at least a little. Why had I thought this was a good idea? An acceptable idea? We barely fit like this, and it’s…strange. I rest my hands on my knees. “You’re the physics expert, big deal.”

Lucas nods. “It is so a big deal. Physics is everything! He waves his hands, sending a spray of bubbles to me, the tiled wall and the floor. “My teacher…my professor says- “

I hold up a hand. “Great. You know all about it.” I point towards his crotch, hidden by water and bubbles. “Get busy washing, mister, I don’t wanna be in a bath with a stink-monster.”

Lucas pouts. “I’m not a stink monster!”

“I’m just teasing. But you should get cleaned up.”

He sniffs. “So should you. You wet your diaper, remember.”

“Fine, we’ll both get clean.” I reach for a yellow sponge and clean around my legs and in-between. My skin feels slimy, and I wonder if I used too much bubble liquid.

I wet my face with cupped hands of water and it’s soothing, calming, to feel the warmth and smell the cherries.

I open my eyes and sigh. I know for a fact that Lucas has more work to do than me, but he’s not washing; he’s distracted by the water on the floor. He’s probably distracted by the ‘physics’. He’s such a silly boy!

He glances at me. “Are we gonna get in trouble? It’s kinda messy…”

I laugh out loud. Since when does Lucas notice a mess? And then I see his worried expression and I shake my head. “I don’t think so. It’s for Daddy, remember.” I nod, my confidence growing. “Mommy can help.”

Lucas smiles, his expression relaxing. “Mommy always helps,” he agrees. He skims the top of the bubbles with his hands, and then he scoops a handful of bubbles and places it on top of my knees.

“You got snow,” he says, giggling.

It’s silly, but I think it’s funny as well. I scoop my own bubbles and put some on his feet, his toes peeking out of the water beside me. “You got snowy toes,” I announce, and then we’re both giggling.

“It’s all physics,” Lucas says, looking a little more serious. “My teacher says if you don’t understand physics, you don’t understand the whole world.”

I give Lucas an indulgent smile. “Is that right? So, you know everything in the world?”

He shakes his head. “I mean…” His brow wrinkles again with the effort of thinking and explaining. “It’s about how stuff moves…and what moves stuff.” He holds a fresh scoop of bubbles in the palm of his hand. He grins. “Sometimes they move fast!” He takes a deep breath and the blows, sending a mess of bubbles that land on my breasts.

He squeals with laughter. “You got snowy boobies!”

And that’s funny, until it isn’t. I scowl at him. My brother, who doesn’t have ‘boobies’. Who’s just a boy. A boy with broad shoulders, sure. A boy with big muscles and a flat belly, but still just a boy.

“You’re so immature,” I tell him. “You’re not even clean yet and I’m not helping you.”

Lucas sticks out his tongue. “I don’t need your help.” He grabs the sponge and suddenly starts squirming in the water, rubbing at himself.

“You’re being too splashy,” I say.

He replies, “And you’re too bossy.” He tosses the sponge in the air and we both watch it come back down with a splat on the water. “You don’t know the world,” he says haughtily. “’Cause you don’t know about gravity.”

I glare at him. “I know words…I know about persuasion – which is why you always do what I tell you.”

“I don’t!”

I smirk. “You really do. It’s all reh…” I frown. What was the word? And then I remember. “It’s all red trick.”

“Huh?”

I sigh. I can feel the parts of my body above the water starting to sweat. I think I made the bath too warm. “Doesn’t matter. Are you clean?”

Lucas looks down at himself, as if he can inspect his body through all those bubbles. “Yeah,” he says, with more confidence than he deserves.

“Well then,” I reply. “Photo time.”

He blinks in surprise. “Oh, yeah! The photo!”

“You need spiky hair.” I reach over and shape his hair with the bubbles, tongue peeking out of the corner of my mouth as I concentrate. “There,” I say, “Perfect!”

We grin at each other. It’s a good moment. We are twins, we are always each other’s best friend and that will never change.

Lucas reaches to touch the top of his hair.

“Careful,” I say, “don’t squash it.” I smile, remembering. “You had bubbles in your mouth. In the photo. Like you were eating them.”

“Yummy bubbles,” says Lucas, and he giggles. It’s obvious, he won’t be able to resist repeating the act. Sure enough, he takes a small scoop of the bath water and licks it gingerly with his tongue.

He screws up his face. “Yuck!” he exclaims. “It’s all soapy!”

“Oh, Lucas,” I say, and he’s such a silly boy but I love him.

We look at each other, and I don’t know who feels awkward about it first. But I realize how close we are to each other, how naked we are with each other, and Lucas is looking away and so I do as well.

“We better take the photo.” I reach for my own hair and pull out the ties. I don’t have pigtails in the picture.

Lucas nods. “You need a duckie,” he says. “Dad put a duckie on your head.”

I groan. “I left the duckies in my room.” I tilt my head at Lucas. “Go get one.”

He looks indignant. “That’s your job!”

“What? I’ve done everything!”

Lucas shakes his head. “I don’t wanna get out, it’ll be cold.” There’s the return of his whiney voice, and I rub the sides of my jaw.

“Whatever,” I say, “I’ll do it.” Which means I have to get up and Lucas will see all of me. Even if I’m covered in bubbles, he’ll still see me.

“Don’t look,” I say.

“Look at what?”

“Me.” I wait until he closes his eyes, screwing them tight like when Mommy washes his hair, and he doesn’t want shampoo in his eyes. I get up, pushing on the sides of the tub, and then stepping carefully over the side. My feet are slippery on the tiles. I definitely used too much bubble bath, and I forgot to put the mat down. Again, I wish Mommy was here to help.

“Don’t look,” I tell Lucas. “Count to ten before you open your eyes.”

I walk carefully out of the bathroom and feel better once I’m walking on the carpet. Lucas sounds funny when he counts. Clumsy, as if he’s having to work hard.

I think that maybe doing the bubble bath was a mistake, that we’re being silly like before. I remember sitting on top of my brother, both in our fuzzy jammies, I remember putting the Binky in his mouth and watching his eyes go glassy and dumb.

I won’t use the pacifier again. Even as I see it in the tote. Even as I know it would make me feel more comfortable, less weird about standing in my bedroom, naked but for the slimy, slippery bubbles.

“Ten!” Lucas shouts from the bathroom. “Ten, ten, ten!” And I think about counting and playing hide and go seek. I smile. I could hide in my room; I could climb into the tote and pull the lid over me.

But that wouldn’t work. Silly. The tote is clear plastic.

And then I feel a hard bump of anxiety in my belly. Because we’re not playing hide and go seek. The counting was about me being naked, and I’m in my room, dripping on the carpet and starting to shiver in the cold after the warm bath, because I’m supposed to bring a rubber duckie.

I reach into the tote (which I can now see would be impossible for me to fit into, I’m much too big) and pick out a duckie.

I hold it in my hand, I hold on tight, as I think about my messy morning, about how ever since Lucas arrived, nothing has gone according to plan. Because he’s messy. Because he’s silly.

But it’s okay. I’m in charge. I’ll make sure we stay sensible

I walk out of the bedroom and through to the bathroom which is steamy and smells of cherries. I see Lucas and I laugh at the expression on his face. He looks so serious, so thoughtful, but he’s also got the silliest of hairstyles. All spikey!

I almost laugh out loud, but I manage to control myself. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, I don’t want to point and giggle, especially with how serious Lucas seems.

“Sorry about dragging you,” he says. “I know you’re smart. You’ve always been better with words.” He shrugs. “I’m just a dumb jock.”

I giggle. “With spikey hair!”

Lucas laughs as well, reaching to touch his mohawk which has started to droop.

“You’re not dumb,” I say softly. Because he’s not. He’s just silly sometimes. I grip the yellow bath duckie and remember that sometimes, I’m silly as well.

“I’m just interested in case and effect, you know?” Lucas takes the sponge and wrings out the water. He lets it spring back to size on his palm. “It’s gravity, it’s energy, it’s…” His face brightens. “It’s even sound!”

I step towards the tub. I should get back in. Where it’s warm and bubbly. Where we can have wriggle around in the water, and where we can take our special photo of course.

Lucas says, “Like when your phone buzzes to wake you up in the morning.” He drops the sponge and grins at me. “Do you see the sound when it happens?”

I frown. “No.”

“Right,” he replies, “But you hear it, you…” He looks so cute, trying to find the perfect words. “You experience it,” he says slowly, working through the syllables. He laughs, clearly delighted with his example. “If it weren’t for physics, Lily, you'd sleep in. You’d be late for class!”

The idea makes sense – Lucas is so smart sometimes! – and I’m glad that Lucas isn’t whiney anymore.

He sounds better now; he sounds like a big boy.

I hold the duckie, I squeeze it between my fingers, and all of a sudden, I find it hard to hold onto Lucas’ ideas about physics, about sound and energy.

How does it work? Does Lucas wake me up in the morning? The idea feels slippery in my head, like it wants to leave, and I’ll be left without smart ideas, I’ll be just a girl standing on a wet bathroom floor, all naked and shiny and showing off my boobies…

I squeeze the duckie again, hoping for a squeaky noise, eager for a quack. I’m disappointed when there’s no sound, just a soft hiss of air against my palm.

Lucas looks at me and smiles. “You found it,” he says.

Found what? I blink.

Oh. The duckie. I hold it up and peer at the yellow plastic. Why did I go and get it?

To play with? To play in the bath with brother?

Lucas beckons me with curled fingers. He looks a little impatient. “Get back in, we’ll take the shot.”

I look questioningly at my brother. The shot?

And then I blush to the roots of my hair. No. Silly Lily. For the photo. For Daddy. I clear my throat. “Got it,” I say. But really, I haven’t got it. Because my head is mixed up, my brain is messy. And now, I’m afraid.

Lucas grins. “Put it on your head,” he says, “Just like Dad did.”

For Daddy. A gift for Daddy.

I stand at the tub, and I place the duckie on my head, and I stand as still as I can, so the duckie doesn’t fall off. It’s a balancing act, it’s like a dance class from years and years ago, but I’m not trying to stand on one foot, I’m just trying to keep the duckie from falling.

“You got it,” Lucas says.

I sigh happily. It’s like magic, I’m not afraid anymore. There’s something about having the duckie on my head. Something that makes my scalp tingle and the space between my ears feel all warm and melty.

“That’s awesome,” says Lucas, beaming. He points up at me, and he says, “Dad’s gonna love this.”

“I wanna see!” I shout, and I turn to look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I want to see who I am, but the mirror is covered in steam, which makes me a smudgy mystery.

“Fell off,” Lucas says sadly.

I squat down to retrieve the duckie. I put it back on my head, stand up straight, and I giggle, because Lucas keeps smiling at me.

I giggle harder. I put fingers in my mouth. They taste a little soapy, but I don’t care. I ask around my fingers, “Daddy love it?”

“Sure,” says Lucas. “He beckons me again. Come on, Lily, the water’s getting cold.” And then he frowns. “Ah crap, we forgot the camera!” He looks up at me. “Where’s your phone, Lily?” His nose wrinkles. “Where’s mine?”

I suck on my fingers, shake my head. I don’t know where the phones are. Do we really have phones? Aren’t they for big kids?

Lucas waves at me. “Lils? Earth to Lily? Where’s your phone? And why are you sucking on your fingers? That’s not part of the photo.”

I look down at him. My silly, bubbly brother. And I look down at myself, which makes the duckie fall from my head. I grab at it; I hold the duckie against my chest. I nod with satisfaction. “My duckie,” I murmur.

“Gonna make a picture for Daddy.”

“Lily,” says Lucas softly. “You’re sounding kinda…” He gets to his feet, and I can see all of him, all of his muscles and bubbles and bits.

He looks at me with a concerned expression. “You feeling okay?”

I nod. “Uh-huh!” I suck harder on my fingers and keep hold of my duckie. “Take a picture,” I say, even though my tongue is being lazy. Tay-kuh pik-shuh.

Lucas looks impatient. “We need a phone, remember?”

I look back at my brother, I see the steam rising from his skin, and I feel a panic, just like I did on the first day of school before Lucas held my hand and made me feel better. If I didn’t have my special duckie,

I might get panicky because I don’t know where my phone is, and I must have one. Because I’m a big girl, I’m a big girl just like Lucas is a big boy, and-

The duckie helps. The duckie in my hand helps me have the best of ideas.

“Lily,” says Lucas. “I think it’s happening again.” He reaches for me but I take a step back, almost slipping on the tiles.

My mouth opens. I’m so silly! Of course I know what happened to my phone.

“Give me the duck, Lily, give me- “

“Daddy tookit!” I blurt.

I laugh at Lucas’ confused expression. “Daddy done a scavengy hunt!”

Lucas shakes his head. “No, Lily, that’s not- “

“Hundred!” I throw the duckie at the tub, the duckie wants to swim, and it bounces off Lucas’ chest before falling into the bubbles. I giggle, remembering the rules. “You gotta count to hundred!”

“Huh?”

I rush out of the bathroom. “Gonna find phone!”

I’m the best at scavengy hunts. I can find the phone first because I’m such a smart girl!