FicWad

As the days went by Dirty and I grew more and more used to each other.

I played a lot with him, tried to make him feel comfortable. I think I was beginning to become an expert on today's action figures and afternoon cartoons. He would explain the names of his super heroes, pointing out their special powers, their day-time jobs, practically their entire history to me. Then he would arrange little scenes, telling me what my character had to do and say. This was dead-serious to him.

He dived into his own world, where he felt safe and sound. I was just a visitor there, glad he let me stay every so often.

Sometimes I couldn't help but question the point in trying to "fix" him. It was not like he was dangerous to anyone the way he was. I've seen kindergarteners who were more of a threat to society than him. Of course, there was one big problem...

"Millie, why can't I stay with Mom and Dad?" he asked me while I was zipping up his jacket. We were about to head out to the park.

I had dreaded this question ever since he had been put into my care.

It wasn't only that his mother apparently didn't want to have anything to do with him now that he needed support again (shortly before the regression he had just moved out), it was also that in Dirty's six year-old mind his parents were still happily married.

They had separated when he was 12, gotten divorced two years later. How much contact his father still had with his ex-wife and his son, I didn't know. I guess the fact that I hadn't been given the man's phone number spoke for itself.

His mom called me about once a week, probably to soothe her guilty conscience for abandoning her son like that. I didn't want to judge but it made me angry. She mostly asked if he was causing me any trouble and if he was "getting better" yet.

Of course, he saw his psychiatrist on a regular basis but his mother's wishful thinking and belief in that kind of speedy covery was just utopian. I told her his condition was unchanged and pointed out that it would probably be beneficial if she came to see him once in a while but she always said she was too busy.

I couldn't imagine the pain the she must be feeling about her son's regression. But I also couldn't imagine how a mother could push her own child away like that. Even if the conventional progression in nature was for the parents to have to take less and less care of their offspring, at least in the human species, having a son or daughter equalled a life-long responsibility. At least to me.

I guess it was easy for me to talk though, because a) my parents have done nothing but support and help me out no matter how old I got and b) I did not have any kids of my own.

"Are they mad at me? Did I do something bad?" Dirty's voice reeled me back into the present.

I was fast to shake my head in negation. I grabbed the keys off the key rack on the wall and softly pushed him towards the door.

I was beyond the point where it felt odd to brush the hair of somebody who was close to my own age and probably even taller then me, or pick out the clothes they would wear the next day. To do all the little things for them that children usually learned along the way unless their development had been put to a halt either by nature or external force. But I would never get beyond the point where I felt helpless when a little boy, no matter how old he looked, asked me why his parents wouldn't want to be with him.

As we took the steps down onto the pavement his hand grabbed mine and his eyes were searching mine for the answers that unfortunately I couldn't give him. Probably wouldn't want to give him, even if I had them.

"Hey, you make it sound as if you didn't like me..." I pouted. It was worth a try.

"Millie, you're awesome... but tell me why Mom and Dad are not with us!"

I should have known better than to try to get a kid off a subject by faking hurt. As much as he was friendly and lovable around me, his mind was still too young to make him realize that other people had feelings, too.

"Your parents are really busy at the moment, Dirty. And they asked me to take care of you. They want you to have lot of fun, you know? I love playing games, that's why you're staying with me."

This was very poor on my part and therefore I was more than relieved when he accepted that as an answer. For now, at least.

"I love games, too!" he yelled and tugged at my hand. "Hurry, hurry! You can push me on the swing."

We usually went to the playground at times when I knew there wouldn't be a lot of people around. I didn't care about the looks we got but I wasn't sure what would happen if Dirty had to face mean comments.

After I had been pushing the squealing man for a good five minutes - I was glad that the board of the swing was attached to two very strong metal chains - a short blonde boy came over to us.

"Hi, I'm Bradley. Can he play with me in the sandbox?" he looked at me with impressive blue eyes.

I turned to Dirty, "Do you wanna go play with Bradley, Dirty?"

He looked a bit clueless. I've learned that he was quite shy around people he didn't know, apparently even kids his mental age.

"Okay?" he shrugged and jumped off the swing. "You're not going away without me, are you?"

I laughed lightly, "No, I'm staying right here. I'll be watching you from the swing, alright?"

"Alright, Millie," he grinned.

"Cool, let's go!" Bradley ran off towards the sandbox, Dirty on his heels.

Watching them play, I leaned back on the swing and pushed myself away from the ground. There was a girl with a middle-aged woman who had stared at Dirty and me earlier. I didn't take it personally, they didn't know any better.

Half an hour later I was still sitting on the swing, staring into the void, my eyes directed at the ground. I heard footsteps advancing towards me. A few moments later I saw two pairs of sneaker-clad feet coming to a halt before me, an adult one and one of a young kid.

"Millie, can Bradley come visit me at home?"

Two sets of eyes looked at me, pleading.

I got up from the swing, "Um... sure."

It sounded like a good idea to me. It must be pretty boring to hang out with me all the time. Plus, I could probably get Dirty to finally clean up his messy room if I allowed it.

I looked around. The playground was deserted except for the three of us.

"Say, isn't your mom or dad around?"

I had to make sure that his parents were okay with this.

Bradley pointed at a building across the street, "I live right over there. See, that's my dad at the window."

I saw a man in one of the windows at ground level who was staring at us, he looked pretty shocked. I guess I couldn't blame him, it must have looked suspicious to have two grown up people hanging out with his elementary school-aged son.

"Bradley!" he yelled.

"I'm coming," the boy screamed back. "Hey, come, meet my dad. Then we can ask him when I can come to your house!"

Dirty grabbed my hand and we followed his new friend.

Five minutes later I was talking to Reese, Bradley's father, privately. The two boys had headed inside to get something to drink. Very soon it had become obvious to the parent that Dirty wasn't actually an adult and I took advantage of the fact that we were alone to elaborate on that a little more. I wasn't giving away any kind of private information, of course. I just tried to convince him that Dirty wouldn't harm his own son in any kind of way.

In the end we arranged that Bradley would come over to my place next week. I also invited Reese so he could have an eye on the boys. I sensed that he didn't feel too comfortable about it. Yet, I found it was pretty cool of him to agree to the whole thing. A lot of people wouldn't.

As we went home Dirty was hyper about having found a new friend. He went off about how he and Bradley had dug for dinosaur bones in the sandbox.

I had so smile widely. He was such an entertaining guy.

"I like you, Dirty," I sighed and ruffled his hair. He was just slightly taller than me.

He grinned, "I like you, too, Millie. Can we have cookies for dinner tonight?"