Sticks and Stones
“I’m sorry you don’t like our policies, but that doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole about it.”
The petite woman’s pink lips turned down at the sides as her green eyes bore holes into the tall man standing on the other side of the counter. Her eyebrows drew in tight under her pony-tailed blonde hair that stopped just below her shoulder blades.
“And now I’m going to need to see your manager…” the man paused to read the oval nametag on her red shirt. “Christina.” He smirked, still clutching his slightly battered black wallet. He stood about half a foot taller than Christina, which she figured placed him at just over six feet. His long-sleeved green fleece, topping off a pair of flat-front tan khakis, made him look vaguely like one of the generic models in the clothing ads that packed the Sunday papers at this time of year. His slightly shaggy, sandy brown hair and matching brown eyes didn’t hurt that perception.
In fact, if not for his coffee-stained teeth, she thought she may have recognized him from that week’s Kohl’s insert. But instead of flipping past him on her way to twenty percent off Misses fashions, she was summoning her manager for him. The line of customers stretched away the impulse candy and bookmarks, past the gift card racks and into New Hardbacks, stopping just short of the Employees’ Picks.
Christina glanced left toward her fellow Red Shirt and caught a brief eye roll. It was bad enough that their two seasonal co-workers had called out that afternoon, but that was to be expected during finals week. College kids, Christina knew from experience, had no sense of responsibility, especially when it came to a job they generally took for six weeks to earn extra money for gifts and then “quit” by just not showing up anymore.
She briefly chided herself for generalizing, but at the same time could not think of a single college student…except herself…who had bucked that trend as long as she had worked there. Thank God she had been mature enough to give her notice…in writing no less…when she quit the week before Christmas her senior year. Her supervisor at that time remembered that when she came in to re-apply for the position nine months later. The girls who had called out today would learn their poor business etiquette wasn’t going to do them any favors when they graduated in five months…or a year or a year and a half or however long it would take…and found out there was no such thing as a job with a starting salary of $60,000 a year working two days a week. Indeed, in many fields, there weren’t any jobs, period. And so they would end up putting their newly minted bachelor’s degrees to work at bookstores. Or perfume counters. Or sunny little bistros that paid $2.15 an hour plus tips.
Still, their eventual lesson would do nothing to change the fact that only one person was left to wait on a line of about two dozen people during the Christmas rush while Christina waited in limbo.
“Hi, I’m Gary. Is there something I can help you with?”
The words “Shift Manager” appeared below his first name on his oval badge, which caught a glint from the overhead fluorescent lighting as he reached out to shake the man’s hand.
“Gary, I’m Thomas, and I hate to complain, especially three days before Christmas, but I’m afraid your employee was very rude to me.”
“Thomas, I’m sure we can take care of whatever you need. Christina is usually a very trustworthy employee, and I’m sure we can work this out. Now, what can we do for you?”
“Well, I’m trying to purchase a fifteen-dollar gift card, and Christina here tells me they only come in increments of five and ten. I told her she was in luck because fifteen was an increment of BOTH, and she got very snippy.”
Christina looked at Gary. She knew she would have a turn to tell her side of the story later.
“Well, Thomas, I do apologize for Christina’s behavior today. It’s true that we don’t have fifteen-dollar gift cards, but we do have five- and ten-dollar cards. Would one of each work?”
“I don’t care if you have to give me fifteen one-dollar gift cards, as long as I walk out of here today with fifteen dollars’ worth of cards that I can take home and wrap for my office’s Secret Santa gift exchange.”
“No problem. Christina, can you please ring these up for Thomas?” Gary said, pulling two pre-packaged gift cards from a shelf beneath the counter. “Now, Thomas, is there anything else we can do for you today?”
“Oh, no thank you, you’ve done enough,” Thomas said, flashing his coffee smile. “And I’m really not trying to get anyone in trouble. Everyone gets a little stressed out at this time of year, and I’m sure Christina is normally a very good gir…good employee.”
“Thank you for shopping with us, and please come again,” Christina said, handing him a green bag that dwarfed the gift cards and smiling a weak “because I have to” smile.
A Winter Chill
“He just wasn’t in a good mood,” Christina said, sitting in a blue-cushioned chair with wooden handles in front of the desk in the manager’s office. Gary hadn’t even bothered to put out his name plate, instead leaving it stashed in the drawer with the three other managers’ plates.
“I know, Christina. No one’s blaming you. The guy said it himself; everyone gets a little stressed out at this time of year…meaning him, not you.”
“I told him exactly what you did, that we had tens and fives, but not a fifteen. He made his little comment about fifteen being an increment of both five and ten and wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him it would need to be split between two cards. He just wanted to complain to you and me about something neither of us have control over. Next time, I’ll give him corporate’s number, and he can complain to whoever in New York is responsible for deciding what increments our gift cards come in.”
“It happened more than two hours ago. It’s over now, and your shift’s over. Go home and relax. Only two more days until people quit looking for gifts for people they don’t really like in the first place and don’t know what to buy for them, and then we can go back to our regular fifty customers a day…not counting the ones who come in just to order coffee and use us as a free library, of course.”
“Are you kidding? Those are the ones who keep us in business.”
“See you tomorrow, Christina.”
Christina picked up her purse and walked out of the office. She could already feel the cool air blowing in from the back exit. She always had thought she was lucky working at one of the mall’s major stores…the ones furnished with back doors…instead of a kiosk or one of the smaller boutique shops. Easy in, easy out. There was always something about the employees who had to walk through the actual mall go get to and from their stores. They seemed almost like second-class citizens… though in reality, Christina knew they were no different than her. Everyone was just trying to make ends meet.
She pushed on the long metal safety bar, and the door creaked open. The wind hit her hard, the chill making her glad her car was only a few feet away. Her eyes teared from the arctic blast.
“Hello, Christina. Fancy meeting you here.”
She wanted to run, but she froze, if only for a moment. Her body was paralyzed from the waist down, but her vocal chords weren’t.
“Get away!” She heard the industrial back door echo shut. Too late to turn back. She reached for her keys and made two leaping steps toward the white Honda Accord, the car’s lights now flashing and horn blaring. She felt fingers tighten around her upper right arm as she jerked to a stop with a primal scream.
“It’s OK, sweetie. I’m here to help you.”
Her tears were no longer from the wind. “Get off me you fucking asshole! Please get off of me!”
“Shhh, let’s just go back inside.”
Christina tried to pull away, but his grip…now with two hands…was too strong.
“Don’t try to fight it, Christina. I’m taking control now.” Her body went rigid, then limp, but only for a moment. When she appeared to have regained her strength, they began walking. She was still crying.
“What are you making me do? I don’t want to go with you!”
“It’s OK, Christina, really it is. You work in a bookstore, so none of this should come as a surprise to you.”
“None of what?”
“Surely you’ve heard of Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling has done more to advance the popularity of our kind than anyone since Sir Thomas Malory told the story of Merlin. I’m sure you don’t believe me, but then, you’re walking with me. Against your will, I assume. And being quite calm about it. So there must be some truth to the rumor, no?”
“What are you going to make me do?”
“What do you think I’m going to make you do?”
Christina remained silent.
“It’s OK. I know what you think I’m going to make you do. But you’re wrong. I don’t use my powers that way. You may think I’m an asshole…in fact, you had no problem telling me that in the store, did you?…but I’m really not a bad guy. Certainly not a rapist. I even gave you a little present by not telling your manager what you called me. You still have your job, I assume?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Bold. I like that. My dear, dear Christina, we’re going to do something fun.”
The skin under her eyes was still puffy and her cheeks red as she watched him, still waiting for her answer.
“We’re going to see Santa Claus.”
A Dark Blue Christmas
Christina and her captor remained silent on the way to the big conglomerate of poly-fiber snow, jerky motorized plastic reindeer and white dime store Christmas lights that marked Santa’s place of residence during mall hours. Christina had long thought they should upgrade to a display with a sliding board like the one in that “Christmas Story” movie that aired for 24 hours each Christmas. But she wasn’t thinking about that now.
“What happens after this?” she said as they took their place at the end of the line of parents with screaming elementary schoolers who didn’t really believe in Santa (but were afraid of what would happen if they admitted it), toddlers who did and infants who didn’t really know what was going on.
“After this you go home. I told you, I’m not a bad man. You stole fifteen minutes of my life at the store, arguing over those silly gift cards, so now I’m borrowing fifteen minutes of yours. And getting a little entertainment in the process.”
“Making me see Santa is entertaining for you?”
“I just want to see the look on Santa’s face when we get to the front of the line and he realizes instead of putting up with yet another screaming, squirming brat, he gets to sit a beautiful woman on his lap and talk to her for two minutes about her fondest Christmas wishes. You are very beautiful, you know.”
Christina’s cheeks once again turned red. “I don’t want you calling me beautiful.”
“Maybe not, but I’ve said it, and I can’t unsay it. So I guess it’s out there.”
The camera flashed twice for each child posing with Santa, some more willingly than others, with an occasional sibling duo thrown in for good measure. The line moved faster than Christina would have thought. Thomas had said fifteen minutes, and barring any major delay…gum in Santa’s beard, a camera malfunction, a credit card being declined and a worried mother having to figure out some other way to pay the $29.95 for an eight-by-ten of her kid and a stranger dressed in a red suit…it seemed like his estimation would be fairly accurate.
“I want you to do something for me, Christina,” Thomas whispered. “I want you to think about the last time you wet your pants. Remember it in detail. Think about it, every single thing.”
Christina’s mind went blank for a moment, and then she remembered waking up several days after her twenty-first birthday. She’d had to work on the night of her actual birthday, so she and some friends went out that Saturday. It wasn’t like she had never had a drink before, but now that it was legal…well, it was just more fun. She hadn’t remembered returning to her bedroom that night, but assumed her roommate had something to do with getting her there. She rolled over to go back to sleep and hopefully quell the pounding in her head when she realized something wasn’t right. The bed was cold, almost as if someone had spilled something on it and left it there for the air conditioning to chill. A moment later, she also determined that she was still wearing her clothes from the night before… and someone had spilled something on them, too. Not really all of her clothes. Just her pants… and her underwear. And then it hit her: She had wet her bed. Slowly she got up and started to take them off.
“Christina? Christina! What are you doing?”
Christina blinked as the memory faded. But there was something still familiar about the whole thing. There was a feeling….
The family in line behind Thomas and Christina backed away as the dark patch on Christina’s jeans grew larger and made its way down her left leg. The residual liquid pooled around her shoes.
One of Santa’s “elves” picked up her walkie-talkie from the little shelf by the cash register: “Attention cleanup, we have a Code 20 at Santa’s booth, Code 20 at Santa.”
Christina had called in several Code 20s at her own store…radio slang for “A child has wet his or her pants, and we need someone to clean it up.”
“I’m so sorry! I…I don’t know what…”
“Christina!” Thomas yelled loudly enough so even those at the back of the line could hear. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had to go tinkle? Now someone has to come here and clean this up. You’ve been a bad girl, Christina! And Santa saw the whole thing!”
Indeed, Santa’s lips were tight, as if trying not to smile beneath his fake beard, and his “bowlful of jelly” was shaking.
“Come on, and let’s get you cleaned up. Honestly, at your age!” Thomas led Christina by the hand. She tried not to look at anyone else as they exited the line.
Changing Room
“Where are we going now?” Christina said, walking with her legs close together as her jeans endeavored to rise up and slightly cringing as her left sock squished with every step.
“To get you cleaned up.”
“I thought we were done.”
“Not until you visit Santa.”
“I don’t think they’ll let me sit on his lap like this,” she said sarcastically.
“No, that’s why we had to get out of line. But we’ll take care of it. Care to, as the commercials say, step into the Gap?”
“Um, hello? Not like this.”
“How do you expect me to buy you new pants if you won’t come with me?”
“Do I even have a choice?”
“This time you do. But you’re not leaving until I get to see my pretty little girl on Santa’s lap.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“You told me not to call you ‘beautiful’.”
“Same thing.”
“You’d rather be ugly?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Look, either come in and pick out a new pair of pants and some panties, or I’ll have to do it for you.”
“I’m a size four, medium. Go do what you have to do.”
“And where will you be?”
Christina sighed in defeat. “Where do you want me?”
“There’s a family restroom near Foot Locker. Go inside and take off your wet things.”
“You have a hidden camera in there?”
“Sweetie, if I really wanted to see you naked, I could make that happen right here with no ill effects. But I don’t want to do that. Now please just do what I ask so I don’t have to make you do it.” Thomas waved his finger.
“It’s been more than fifteen minutes.”
“Go now.”
Again under Thomas’ control, Christina began to walk.
“Oh, and Christina? While you’re walking, I want you to do something for me. I want you to think about the last time you wet your pants.”
Christina could almost see it as it happened. She was in bed again, but this time it wasn’t her own; it was her friend Sophia’s. It was Sophia’s eleventh birthday, and her mom had let her have a sleepover. “It worked,” Christina heard one of the girls…Elizabeth, maybe?…shriek as she woke up. Still half asleep, she could feel something was wrong. And then someone ripped off the covers. “Chrissy wet the bed! Chrissy wet the bed!” Elizabeth couldn’t contain her delight. “I told you if we put her hand in water she couldn’t help it! Pissy Chrissy! Pissy Chrissy!” Christina began to cry.
She blinked again, and she was naked. She didn’t even remember walking to the restroom, much less taking off her clothes. She hoped she had at least waited until she got inside to disrobe. And why had she taken off ALL her clothes? She clearly remembered Thomas saying to take off her wet things. Her work shirt and bra weren’t wet, but there they were in a crumpled pile on the floor along with her jeans, underwear, shoes and socks.
She jumped as she heard a sharp knock on the door. “Christina, are we ready to try on your new wardrobe?”
Christina opened the door only a crack and held out her hand. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Oh my, Christina. You have a long history of wetting yourself, don’t you? Well, the outfit I bought you won’t do you any good just yet. Do me a favor and think one more time: When was the last time you wet your pants?”
Christina’s mind went blank for nearly a full minute this time, then she saw something…it was her mother! She was so tall! What was she doing in the bathroom at the mall? No wait, it was their bathroom at home. Their old home. Christina glimpsed herself in the mirror. How old was she? Two, maybe? Three at the most. She didn’t even remember being that young, but somehow she was remembering this, detail by detail, almost as if it had just happened. “It’s OK, honey,” Mommy said. “That’s why you’re still wearing your special big-girl panties. It’s hard to make it every time. Do you have to go poo-poo in the potty before we change you?” Christina looked down. She was in Pull-Ups! She was shaking her head “no” to Mommy when she snapped out of it.
Thomas was standing in front of her. He must have come into the mall restroom while Christina was remembering her accident. But he was so much taller than he had been before!
“Such a good girl!” he said. “I bought you something special to wear when you meet Santa.” He pulled down the plastic changing table and sat two bags on it. Christina’s eyes were glued to him. He opened up one, from Rite-Aid, and pulled out…
“Special big girl panties for Chrissy!”
Just Like Everyone Else
Christina’s eyes grew wide, and for the first time she looked down at herself. How was she even still standing? In place of her grown-up body she found chubby toddler’s legs and even chubbier arms. She looked in the grimy mirror. Her long, blonde hair was now short and curly. In fact, she looked exactly as she had when she and Mommy were just talking.
“No!” Christina lunged out and smacked Thomas’ hand. “No diapers!”
“They’re not diapers, Chrissy, they’re Pull-Ups. And they’ve come a long way since you were a little girl… the first time. Look, these little hearts disappear when you make tinkle so we can see when you need to be changed without even checking your dia…your Pull-Ups.”
“Noooooo!” Christina screamed. “Thomas bad man! No diapers for Cwistina! Make me a big girl again!”
“Chrissy, please, no yelling at the mall. Let’s use your indoor voice.”
“Fuck you!”
“Chrissy, that’s a bad word! A very bad word!” Thomas grabbed the small child by her waist and placed her on the changing table, knocking the bags in the floor. She shrieked as his hand met her rear. Don’t you EVER *smack* let me hear you *smack* say that again! Do you understand me?”
Christina’s face was red and wet as her wails continued. Thomas lifted her back down to the floor and opened the package of Pull-Ups. “Now let’s get some clothes on you so we can go see Santa. The mall closes soon, and we both have to work tomorrow morning, don’t we? Or at least I’ll be going to work.”
Christina laid on the cold, dirty floor and threw a full-on tantrum. Thomas grabbed her legs and managed to tug the Pull-Ups into place, followed by a pair of white tights he plucked from the second bag, marked “Baby Gap.” A red dress with white lace around the neck, hem and arms, and a pair of shiny black patent leather Mary Jane shoes completed the ensemble.
“There we go! That should make a darling Christmas card to send your mommy!”
He left the bags in the restroom as he carried the little girl out screaming. Her sobs didn’t stand out much in the Santa line, where several other toddlers also bawled at the prospect of meeting the big, bearded man face-to-face. Five minutes and two flashes later, the ordeal was over. Thomas handed the elf his credit card and purchased a souvenir photo of the eveining.
Christina assumed Thomas would be taking her back to the restroom until they passed it. “Where are we going? I thought you said after we saw Santa, I could go home?”
“That’s where you’re going. Home.”
“But I’m still a baby!”
“Not a baby, sweetie, just a precious little girl. And I don’t remember ever saying anything about changing you back before you went home. Now, would you like me to drive you there, or do you just want me to drop you off at your car? You can get historic plates by the time you’ll be old enough to drive it again!”
Christina started crying again. Thomas picked her up and hugged her. “Chrissy, Chrissy, wait a minute. Wait a second, sweetie, Thomas was only kidding. I was teasing you. I’m going to make you all grown up again. Just say the word.”
“What word?”
“Please.”
“I’ll say pwease but not ’till Cwistina get cwothes back.”
“Sweetie, we’ve already passed the bathroom where you left them, and your pants are still wet and stinky. Maybe driving home in your birthday suit will teach you how to treat your customers better next time. Unless you can give me a good reason to go back to that bathroom….”
He lifted her dress and pulled down the front of her tights. “Chrissy, I thought we were going to tell Mr. Thomas the next time we had to make tinkles.”
“I didn’t!” Chrissy yelled, stomping her foot.
“Your little hearts say you did. Why don’t we go find out who’s right?”
Chrissy squeezed the Pull-Up between her legs. It was wet! How could she have wet herself without even knowing it? Thomas picked her up. She was so tired. She started sucking her thumb. Wait, why was she sucking her thumb? It didn’t even taste good! But it felt so good. So rhythmic. So….
The Morning After
Christina was relieved to wake up at the beep of her own alarm clock. She wasn’t sure why she’d had such a bad dream. Normally customers didn’t get to her that way…not even the assholes.
She felt so warm under her covers that she hated to even get out of bed… but she knew she had to. Just one more morning shift to get through, and then she’d come home to pack and be on her way to her parents’ house for Christmas. It sucked that she had to turn around and make the four-hour drive back on Christmas night, but she was fortunate to have gotten Christmas Eve off. And at least she had a job.
She had barely shuffled the covers off when she felt something odd…but not unusual. She reached beneath her rear and discovered her dream had been worse than she had thought. All those thoughts of wetting her pants…and her diapers…had taken their toll on her bladder, the contents of which had exited her body sometime during the night, soaking through her underwear, her pajamas, the top cover of her bed and into her mattress.
She jumped out of bed and quickly removed all but her pajama top. She didn’t have time for this! She tore off the covers and placed them with her pajamas in the washing machine. She didn’t like to leave the dryer on when she wasn’t there, but she’d have to take her chances this time. The laundry would be done by the time she was ready to leave for work, and it could dry while she was gone. Her mattress would just have to air dry while she was away for Christmas.
The incident threw her off schedule, and she cursed herself while grabbing a towel and washcloth and heading into the bathroom. She hadn’t made it beyond the doorway when she froze. Sitting on the toilet was a packaged wrapped in green Christmas paper with a candy cane pattern, a card tucked under the big red bow at the top. Christina gingerly approached the present, tearing the paper enough at one end to see a few letters: “tends.” She ripped off the rest of the paper on that side, revealing the product’s full name: “Attends.”
Her stomach seized as she opened the card. A Walgreens gift card hit her foot as it fell out of the envelope, landing with a second, nearly identical card on the tile floor. The only differences were the denominations: one for five dollars, one for ten.
The card itself was a photo card, made on one of those drug store picture machines. The image on the front was Santa, sitting on a faux gold throne with a toddler on his knee dressed in a red Christmas dress with white tights and shiny black shoes. She could barely bring herself to read the writing inside:
“Dear Chrissy,
I suppose you’re upset at me for telling you last night that I was borrowing only fifteen minutes of your time and then keeping you at the mall until closing. The truth is, last night had nothing to do with the fifteen minutes of yours I now have. After reviewing your lifetime’s worth of memories the fifteen minutes I have chosen to borrow are the moments your mother began your potty training process. Please accept this gift to get you started…while I’m sure a mature, responsible girl like yourself will have no problem learning to use the potty like a big girl, I’m also certain it will take more than one package of diapers before you have a “perfect record” again. Hopefully these gift cards will help with your next purchase. Any more beyond that will be your own financial responsibility (a good incentive to start your training now instead of waiting until after the holidays, no?).
Love always,
Thomas
P.S. I’ll be stopping by to see you again this morning. I need to pick up a picture book for the young lady who sold me your Christmas present. I’ll bet you stop having accidents before she learns to read again!”
Christina was crying so hard by then, she didn’t even notice the puddle growing at her feet.
