Carrie giggled. She was already laying a plan to do so the very next morning.
“So,” Megan asked her. “You sleep OK?”
“I guess. Why?”
“Is your diaper wet.”
“It is NOW. Turning on the radio like that really startled me.”
Megan sighed. “Would you let it go? Please.”
Carrie nodded and there was a brief silence. “Well?”
“Well,” Megan echoed.
“Aren’t you going to change me?”
“I’ll let you do it yourself,” Megan informed her. “For now.”
She made herself a quick breakfast while Carrie changed, showered and dressed. They then had what was nearly their first clash of the day.
“Nu-uh,” Megan said when she saw what Carrie was wearing.
“What?” Carrie answered. She was wearing black on black, which had been her standard attire as of late.
“You know I don’t care what you wear. But you can’t go into Bledsoe’s looking like Morticia Adams. You’ll scare some of the customers and Vern will yell. Not that he wouldn’t yell anyway….”
“Fine,” Carrie said, biting her lip resentfully. “I’ll go change.”
“I’d better help,” Megan told her. It was more a command than an invitation.
She had Carrie strip down to her diaper and proceeded to dress her as if she was a Gothic Barbie doll.
“First thing,” Megan suggested. “You want to wear panties over your diaper. It cuts down on the noise a little and that’s what people will see if you should happen to bend over or something. Unless, of course, you want to advertise to the world that you’re wearing diapers.”
“No thanks,” Carrie joked. “That’s one ad that I don’t want answered. But…um, your diapers are kinda big on me and all my underwear is too small to do a good job of covering…”
“You can borrow a pair of mine,” Megan offered.
“Thanks.”
Megan then began to go through Carrie’s closet. Each time the girl went through one of her phases, she’d stockpile clothes. Then, when the phase ended, the clothes would be tossed to the back of the closet and replaced with new ones. The amount of attire that had accumulated was startling and Megan was afraid that if she moved in any closer, the closet would swallow her alive.
“Don’t you have any skirts?” Megan asked.
“Of course,” Carrie answered.
“I don’t mean the kind that look like they were once part of someone’s raincoat. I know you have those.”
Carrie sighed. “Check the back someplace, OK?”
Megan didn’t much care for her attitude, but it was too early in the morning for them to fight. After much searching, she was able to procure for Carrie a black skirt, a white button-down shirt and a suitable pair of shoes. A comb of the hair and a few minor adjustments later and the girl looked presentable.
“I have extra diapers in my purse,” Megan told her. “When you need a change, just let me know.”
“OK. I will.”
“Look, I know Bledsoe’s isn’t freakin Disney World,” Megan apologized. “But it’s better than fighting with Steve and getting yelled at by mom for having the music on too loud and not doing your chores.”
“You’ve got that right,” Carrie answered. “And just to let you know, I don’t mind helping out.”
“That’s good,” Megan told her. “Because I’ll be putting you to work.”
“Oh,” Carrie replied, clearly less than enthused.
Megan again noted her attitude and winced. When had her sister gotten to be like this? Or, perhaps it was she who had changed.