The Weekend Visit, Part 21

There was no good answer to Kate’s exasperated question. The ‘when’ was impossible, as it was going to look bad no matter what I said. Instead, I tried to explain with the ‘why.’ Reminding her of the rule she had so sternly enforced earlier, I said, “You said when the pacifier was-”

“Your pacifier,” Kate instantly corrected me, “It’s just like your diapers, Annie. When you use something, it’s yours. Start over.”

There was no time to argue. With everything else I had to get through, I couldn’t exactly deal with even more unfair and barely logical semantics, “You said-”

“Don’t forget, brat. You’re twelve. Speak like the immature little sister you are, or don’t speak at all. Can you handle that, or should we put your pacifier back in?”

“No!” I exclaimed. When Kate narrowed her eyes, I realized that I had already screwed up. Overcorrecting in a flash, I smiled and forced out the most awkward giggle of my life. “Like, no! I meant, like, remember what you, like, said? When I, umm- when I’m, like, using m- my pacifier . . . like, I can’t, like, talk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kate replied. Her completely normal way of responding made me feel even more ridiculous about the way I was stuck trying to explain the problem. “We’ve been over this. But that’s not what we’re talking about, Annie. I asked you a question. Have you just been walking around in wet diapers?”

Making a conscious effort to split the difference, as I was never going to say what I needed to say if I was stuck inserting ‘like’ between every single word, I took a much needed beat before replying, “I, like, wanted to tell you,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that my blush was going to persist until we got through this, “You said that I, like, wasn’t allowed to talk.”

She gave me a long look before eventually giving a small scoff, “And you took that to mean that you should wet yourself and not say a word about it this whole time? Nice try, Annie.”

But- but that was the truth! “But, you said, like-”

“Did I tell you to have another accident in your diapers, sis? Yes, or no?”

“No,” I muttered. Of course not, “But-”

“So, which is it? Did you wet yourself on purpose, or are you really a diapered little brat who wet herself instead of asking for a bathroom break?”

“Neither! I tried to tell you that I needed to go. You, like, kept me at the obstacle course instead.”

“Uh huh. So it’s my fault you wet your diapers again? Or do you think that you need to work on your communications skills, little sis? And on holding your bladder for more than thirty minutes, of course.”

“Kate! It’s not like that. You know I don’t-”

“Know that you what, Annie? That you don’t need diapers? I’m not so sure any more. It’s not really a prank if you actually use your diapers over and over. Or is this your way of getting back at me? Wetting your diapers intentionally, to get back at me? Believe it or not, Annie, I don’t really mind changing you. You’re barely bigger than most of the girls I used to babysit.”

What was she talking about?! I would never willingly use my diapers in such a way. Just so she could deal with the inconvenience of changing me? No matter what, it would always be worse on my end. “I didn’t use them on purpose!” I insisted.

“No? Then I guess that means you had a daytime accident in your diapers,” she concluded, “Admit it, Annie. The sooner you own up to it, the sooner I can change you.”

“It’s- it’s not like that!” I tried to explain. Although at its simplest form, it kind of was. Instead of making it a few more minutes, I ended up having an accident in the middle of that obstacle course. And now that Kate had cut me off again and again to frame it from her point of view, it was tough to deny her point. If I didn’t use them on purpose, then what other explanation was there?

“Your choice,” Kate shrugged, “If you don’t want to be honest with your favorite sister, then we can always head back. Clearly you don’t mind wearing wet diapers, and it would be easier to change you at home anyway.”

That was what did it. We were so close to the bathroom, and I couldn’t bear the thought of staying in the sagging diapers for what could potentially be hours. “O-okay,” I muttered, glancing away as I steeled myself for a bigger confession than she was asking for, “I had a daytime accident.”

“In your diapers?” she clarified, “Be specific, Annie, or I’ll start recording again.”

Speaking of motivation. Right away, I corrected myself. “I, like, had a daytime accident in my diapers. And, umm . . . ” I had to say it. I had to. She was going to find out one way or another, and it would be a hundred times worse if I kept it to myself only for her to open up the diapers and see the mortifying mess anyway. My cheeks felt red hot as I practically whispered, “And I didn’t just wet myself.”

It took Kate a moment to process what I was implying. When she connected my embarrassed expression with what I couldn’t bring myself to directly say out loud, she gave me the most incredulous look. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” she flatly said.

I couldn’t believe it, but I actually missed the way she had been treating me on the drive to our cousins’ place. Where she was excited and amused about how she had been able to expand the pull-up dare into a situation that was more and more difficult for me to get out of. Now she was acting more serious and judgmental towards everything, as if this was less of a joke and more of a series of unbelievable annoyances she had to deal with. We both knew I wasn’t actually twelve and didn’t actually need diapers, yet Kate was only leaning harder into the false reality I was stuck in. Except how was I supposed to assert anything, when she was finding out about the second mess that she had taken no part in orchestrating? And the third mess total, which was almost more humiliating.

Before I could shake my head or find the words, Kate reached under my skirt and felt the sag of the diapers herself. “Seriously, Annie?!” she exclaimed, “Wetting yourself is one thing. You’ve always been the weakest link on road trips; I don’t see how the mall would be any different. But this? God, how old are you?!”

“I’m sorry!” I blurted out, without even thinking about it. I didn’t know what else to say. There really was no excuse. Not only had I somehow had the horrible accident without managing to hold out just a little longer, but I had once again ended up in a scenario where Kate found out about it far after it actually happened. Minute to minute, it had made total sense to wait for the right moment. Now that those minutes had added up, however, this probably looked just as bad as yesterday evening.

“You still expect me to believe that you don’t need your diapers?” she pointedly asked, before taking my hand, “Come on. Let’s get you changed. Again.”