I slide down the slide and just sit there for a minute. Where are these kids’ parents? Do they even have parents? It’s sad, really, to watch this. “So this is why there aren’t any kids playing here. Their parents don’t want to have to explain that, I suppose.” That’s my best guess anyway.
“Thing is,” Brock says, “kids wouldn’t even notice. The parents would, though. And what do we have here?” he says, and I look up to see a police cruiser coming through the park. When it gets close, the officer puts down a window and waves.
“See any activity here today?” the officer asks.
“Yes, sir. Two boys.”
“Yep. That’s what I figured. Thank you.” He puts his window back up and waves as he drives away. But in a few minutes, both cars come back and drop off the boys, and out of nowhere, the police cruiser appears again, its lights flashing but with no siren. Two more pull up in under a minute, and both boys, plus the occupants of the cars, are hauled into the back seats of the cars and away they go.
I sit there for a minute, stunned. Finally, I manage to squeak out, “Thank you for being a good daddy.”
“Come here.” He holds out both arms and I run into them. It hurts to see kids doing things like that. At least I have someone who looks out for me. Who looks out for them? He kisses away the tears that have escaped my eyes and smooths my hair. “Want to play for a little while longer?”
I shake my head. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
“I understand. How ‘bout a milkshake?” I nod and sniffle. “Okay. Let’s go get a milkshake and then we can go home. I know you’re upset, but this is a beautiful park. I think we’ll come back here. Want to?” I nod. “Good. Let’s go.”
He holds the door for me and I climb inside the car. Once he’s got my seatbelt buckled, he climbs in and away we go. It’s such a pretty day, and I’m hoping we can do some other things outside today. “Hey, could we have a cookout tonight? On the grill? With hamburgers and hot dogs?”
“Sure! That sounds good! Let’s stop at the store.”
I look in the vanity mirror on the back of the visor. “Maybe I should take my hair down, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. That might be a good idea.”
The milkshakes are delicious. We get them at a quaint family drive-in we found when we first started looking at houses on this side of town, and they hand-make them. Oh, they’re so good! Then we stop at the grocery and get dogs, buns, ground beef, sliced cheese, potato salad, baked beans, all the things we need to have a cookout. Even root beer! Daddy hates root beer, but I love it.
When we pull in the driveway, I look around and that woman’s not outside that I can see. Good. I really don’t want to mess with her. We carry everything inside and put it away. There’s still about two hours until we need to eat, so I sit down and play with some snap-together blocks while Daddy reads a magazine. Then I climb up on the sofa, put my head in his lap, and take a nap.
When I wake up, we start pulling things out of the refrigerator and he goes out to heat up the grill. He has a big gas grill, a very nice one, that I bought him for his birthday one year while I was still working. I’m not allowed to use it, though, because I could get hurt, but I can help. I like to turn the dogs and burgers on it.
The smell of cooking meat fills the air and my stomach starts to growl. Oh, I can barely wait! Dogs with mustard and ketchup and relish―yum! They’re almost done when I hear, “Oh, hello! There you are!”
We both spin and there she stands, some kind of container in her hands, and I realize it’s a cake plate. “Oh, um, hello,” Brock squeezes out.
“Hi there! I made this for you. You know, sort of a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift,” she says, shoving it toward me.
I suppose the polite thing is to take it, and I say, “Well, thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.”
Her smile is wide and goofy. “Oh, I know, dear, but I wanted to! Someone should welcome you. Are you getting along okay? About all unpacked and in good shape?”
“Yes, ma’am. We don’t have much more to do,” I tell her as Brock goes back to the burgers and dogs. If they burn because we’re entertaining her, I’ll be pissed.
“That’s great! So if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m right down the street. Just come right on down,” she says, and I nod, thinking that if I wanted to talk to someone, it most certainly wouldn’t be her.
“That’s very nice of you. I’d love to invite you in, but right now we’re getting ready to eat dinner,” I tell her. That’s convenient enough.
“Oh, yes! Wouldn’t want to disturb your dinner. Take your time getting the cake plate back to me. And hope to see you again soon!” I watch as she turns and wanders away, disappearing around the corner of the house.
“Oh, lord,” Brock mutters. “We don’t need her poking around here.”
“I know. Last thing I want,” I echo.
“And now a cake. Wonder what kind?” he says.
“Why, Brock Owens! You don’t give a shit about her, but you want her cake!” I say with a laugh.
“Yup! I’m a cake whore, what can I say?” he says, laughing, and kisses me. “Open it up. What kind of cake is it?”
I balance it on the little table we have sitting there by the grill, snap open the lid, and take a sniff. “I think it’s lemon.”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but since it was free, I’ll give it a go,” he says with a smirk that tells me he’ll eat half of it if I don’t watch him.
“I bet you will. Let me get rid of this and I’ll come back and help you,” I tell him, wandering toward the house with the cake plate.
“Don’t eat it all before I get some!” he says, laughing loudly, and I hold up the cake plate and act like I’m taking a big bite out of it. That makes him laugh harder.
Dinner’s all finished before I take the lid off the cake plate. “Oh, this is pretty, isn’t it?”
Brock shrugs. “I don’t give a damn what it looks like. I just want to eat it!” He cuts me a conservative wedge and plates it, then hands it to me, but I slide it to him along with a clean fork. “Looks good.” I watch as he takes a bite, a delicate movement that makes him look sort of girly, then closes his mouth around it and closes his eyes. “Oh. My. God. This is delicious. You’ve got to try a piece, angel.”
“Okay.” He cuts me another wedge and I pick up my fork. One forkful and I know he’s right―it’s scrumptious. “Wow. She may be a lousy neighbor, but she can sure as hell bake!”
“Language,” he says, and just as I’m about to apologize, he says, “No. I don’t blame you. It’s that good.”
“Yes. It is,” I throw back, licking frosting from my lips.
“They’re supposed to be here to start our fence Monday.” Brock takes another big bite of cake before he says, “I’ll be glad when the fence is up. She gives me the creeps, sneaking around like that.”
“Yeah. It’s kinda scary. I don’t like it one bit,” I tell him, then take another bite of cake.
Once the fence is up, we can have the equipment put together and installed. And I’ll have my own little slice of heaven right here in our backyard.
I love Sundays. They’re full of so much possibility. Today’s no exception. There’s a munch for ABDLs―that’s “adult babies and diaper lovers”―and Littles about forty-five minutes away at an old National Guard Armory building across the county, and we’re going. I can barely wait. It’s always nice to be with people who are like us.
Daddy picks out a nice outfit for me, something he really wants to see me wear. My worry, of course, is getting from the house to the car without someone seeing me, and of course, the someone to whom I’m referring is Gloria. I can’t afford to get too close to her―we ate half that cake last night because it was so delicious. We’ll both be buying new clothes if she gets too chummy with us.
I’ve got on a pretty blouse with short, puffy sleeves that have a band around the bottom of them, and a Peter Pan co
llar. It’s white and trimmed in hot pink. My skirt is hot pink plaid, and I have a can-can petticoat to wear under it. Oh, and white bobby socks with hot pink bows, and a pair of hot pink Mary Janes. They’re adorable, and I can’t wait to wear them.
Daddy fixes my hair for me before we go. He puts it up in high pigtails, and he ties ribbons over the ponytail elastics and then braids the pigtails with the ribbons in them. The way he does it makes me look beautiful. This time, he lets me carry my little kitty cat purse. It’s shaped like a kitty’s face and has little eyes and a nose and whiskers. It’s so cute. I put my hairbrush and my lip balm in it, and some tissues. That’s about all that’ll fit in it. It’s very, very small.
Before we leave, he says, “Angel, come here. I’ve got something for you.” I love presents! I hope it’s a good one. He pulls out a small, flat box and hands it to me. “I had this engraved for you. I hope you like it.”
Inside the box is a bracelet, a pretty silver bracelet. Engraved on the front of it are two words: Daddy’s Lily. I gasp when I see it because it’s so beautiful. “Oh, Daddy, I love it! Can I wear it, please?”
“Of course! That’s why I decided to give it to you before we leave. I want you to wear it so everyone can see that I take good care of you and love you.” He helps me with it and it looks gorgeous on my arm. “Oh, babe, that looks nice.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you, Daddy! You’re the best daddy in the world,” I tell him and give him a big kiss.
“Ready to go?”
I nod. “Yeah! I’m ready! This’ll be fun!”
Before I go out, he steps out the front door and looks around. When he turns and nods, I dart out the door right behind him and run to the car, jumping in like I’m stealing it or something. But I’m pretty sure no one saw me.
We drive for what seems like forever. Twice I ask, “Are we there yet?” and he growls at me. I mean, I think that’s a valid question, but he doesn’t like it very much. I should probably quit asking.
The car finally stops in front of a big brick building that looks slightly rundown. “This is the place,” he says as he parks. “I hope you enjoy this.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will! I can’t wait to play with the other Littles,” I gasp out. It’s been too long since I’ve been with other Little girls.
There are more people here than I ever dreamed there would be. Five girls are jumping rope double-Dutch style, and I’d love to try that, but I never learned how. A whole group sits off to one side in a big circle, and it takes me a couple of minutes, but I realize they’re coloring. How cool! There’s some finger painting going on in a group near the kitchen area, and someone’s mommy is doing a little craft lesson with papier-mâché. And I’m sort of overwhelmed. “Don’t be shy, baby. Do you see something you’d like to do?”
“Um,” I say, looking around. “I like the papier-mâché. Could I do that? Will they let me?”
“Let’s go see.” He takes my hand and leads me right up to the lady who’s doing the craft lesson. “This is Lily, my Little girl. Is it too late for her to get in on the fun?”
“Why, absolutely not! You come right on in here, honey!” she sings out to me. “I’m Miss Martha. Everyone, this is Lily and she wants to play. Bonnie, David, could the two of you scoot apart a bit and let her in?” She points to a space between two other Littles and I wiggle into it. David smiles at me. He looks like he might be in his late twenties and he’s got on a polo shirt, shorts, and sandals. Before I can speak to him, Miss Martha brings me a lump of papier-mâché and I start smashing on it. I have no idea what I’m making, but I like the way it feels in my hands.
Bonnie loans me some little things they’re using to make patterns in the papier-mâché, and I make something that looks kind of like a pot and kind of like a plate. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m having fun. When we’re finished, she shows us how to press our names into the bottoms of our projects with a toothpick, and then tells us to be sure to pick them up before we leave. According to her, in five days they’ll be all dry, and we can paint them with craft paint and seal them with polyurethane. I’m sure Daddy will know how to do it.
Bonnie invites me to come over to another place and play house with her and David. We have baby dolls and we’re mommies, and David is the daddy. He has a briefcase. It’s really an old purse, but it works fine. We cook on the pint-sized stove and have a tea party with our dolls. All of a sudden, I’m sort of afraid, and I look around for Daddy.
He’s sitting at a table with some other daddies and a couple of mommies, laughing and talking and appearing to have a really good time. I’m so glad. He works hard and he doesn’t get a lot of down time, plus he takes care of me, so it’s good to see him having fun.
We’ve been here about an hour when I hear a voice say, “Okay, everyone, listen up. Let’s all gather around and talk about why we’re here and things we know that are going on.” It’s a big guy, and I recognize him―he was at a munch we attended about two years ago a couple of towns over. His Little, Marcy, is standing a few feet away. “So I’m glad everyone could come today. This is the biggest crowd we’ve had. I have to say, Pamela and her group did a great job of getting the word out. Let’s hear a big round of applause for them!” Everyone claps. I look over at David and he’s picking his nose. When he looks up, his mommy catches his eye and scolds him with her frown, and he drops his head and mopes.
The man, whose name is apparently Bob, tells everyone about a few new books that are out for Littles and their families. Several people contribute names of companies they’ve bought items from, like adult baby clothes and large-scale nursery furniture. They talk about how the fetish community is crossing over with us and what that means. It’s just general housekeeping. I look around and see several of the Littles nodding off. I guess it’s their naptime and they’re not home to nap, so they fall asleep. One girl starts to cry, and her daddy comes over, picks her up, and holds her on his lap while the grownups keep talking, and she leans into him and falls asleep, sucking her thumb. I look for Daddy and finally find him looking back at me. When our eyes meet, he smiles, and I can’t help but smile back. He’s so handsome and so sweet. I’m the luckiest Little there.
When the grownups have finished talking, there’s refreshments. I have some tiny chocolate candies, some cookies, a chocolate chip one and a peanut butter one, and a small glass of milk. I wish it was chocolate milk, but it’s not. Sometimes Daddy makes me strawberry milk, and I really like that, but they don’t have it. Some of the Littles want a fruit drink, but I like milk.
After the refreshments, they have a drawing for prizes! My new friend Bonnie wins a book, and a boy named Foster gets a basket full of all kinds of candy. There are lots of other prizes, and I win a real piñata with candy in it! I’ve never had one before. A girl named Mandy wins the big prize: A bike! Wish I’d gotten that one.
They give away prizes to the grownups too. There’s a furry paddle for spanking a Little, and a basket full of coffee, tea, and pastries, and a baby book for them to fill out on their Little. There are also five copies of a book on disciplining Littles, and Daddy wins one of those. And they made it so that nobody can win two prizes. I think that’s pretty fair. In the end, everyone goes home with something, if it’s nothing more than a tube of bubble stuff or a coffee mug.
I hate to leave. It’s been a lot of fun to be with other Littles. Bonnie asks her daddy if we can have a sleepover sometime, and he and Daddy exchange numbers so we can have playdates and get together sometimes. They live pretty close to us, so I’m hoping we’ll see each other again soon. The man who’s running everything says there’ll be a meeting with playtime every month. That makes me really happy.
Before we leave I give Bonnie a big hug and she hugs me too. She says she has a dog and she wants me to come over and play with it. I really want to. It would be nice to have another Little to play with sometimes. It’s hard being an only child.
8
Gloria
I’ve been
watching out the window all day. I saw those Owens people leaving right after lunch, and the woman was kind of hiding behind the man. They almost ran to the car, and I couldn’t see what she was wearing, but it looked sort of odd from here. When they come back, I want to be sure I can see them so I can see what’s going on.
Russell’s been gone most of the day. He said he was going to the hardware store and then down to the farm store to look at sod. For some reason, I don’t believe him. What could he possibly be doing at the store all day? Probably ran into someone he knows and they’re standing around shooting the breeze. Wish he’d come home and trim the shrubs. They’re getting a bit wild-looking.
I’m dusting the table in front of the big window when the Owens’ car pulls up. I’m trying very hard to see, and it’s really difficult from where I’m standing. Once again, he’s between her and me and it makes getting even a glimpse almost impossible, but I can say that her hair was put up funny, like in dog ears or something. You know, perky pigtails. Strange. With ribbons maybe―even stranger.
I decide I’m going for a walk. You never know what you’ll see when you go for a walk. It’s late in the day and most everyone is home now. Some people are grilling in their yards or on their driveways or wherever they have their grills. The Millicans look busy, out working in their yard, pulling weeds and trimming shrubs and low-lying tree branches. “Looking very nice!” I call out. They both turn, smiling, then stop smiling and wave. What’s that about? You’d think I’d done something to them.
That guy with the long hair―I think his name is Davis―just pulled up and he’s got pizza boxes in his hands. I guess I know what they’re having for dinner!
There’s a small dog wandering down the sidewalk and I hear a woman calling out, “Chester! Chester, where are you? Little shit. Chester!” She rounds the corner of the sidewalk as I get close, and it’s that McAllister woman. “Oh, hello,” she says as she passes me.
Lily and Brock at 343 Harper's Cove Page 4
