Michelle laughs

“Oh my God,” Michelle laughed. “Did I scare you that bad? I’m so sorry, Lexi. I didn’t mean for you to wet the bed. Haha. I guess that means we need to buy you diapers. Can’t have you wetting the bed with me in it.”

Alexa wasn’t laughing. Her eyes remained locked on the wet spot not knowing what to do. She felt so embarrassed to be caught in such a humiliating predicament. To be wetting the bed at 22. It was unheard of. “I’m sorry,” Alexa whispered.

Michelle stopped laughing. “Huh? Alexa? Are you okay?”

Michelle noticed Alexa was holding back tears, her eyes watering. “I’m sorry…” Alexa kept whispering. “I didn’t mean to… I… Milly…I’m sorry…”

“Hey, wait a second,” Michelle said, suddenly she felt guilty for laughing. “Alexa… it’s okay… it happens.”

“NO!” Alexa yelled. “It doesn’t! Not at 22 years old!”

“Alexa…”

“I’m a baby! Go on and say it, Milly. I’m a baby! A big fat baby!” Alexa cried as she let her tears start flowing.

“Hang on,” Michelle said as she immediately took Alexa into her arms, not caring about the wet spot. “You are not a baby. You’re my best friend. And we can figure this out together. There’s nothing wrong with wetting the bed. Okay? And there’s nothing wrong with needing diapers.”

“But…” Alexa cried. “But I’m a baby!”

“Shhhh,” Michelle said. “You’re not a baby… you just need some help. How long has this been happening? When did this start?”

Alexa sobbed. “It never ended,” she cried. “Every year it’s the same thing. Every Christmas…. I… I regress… no matter what I do… I wet the bed… I act like a b-baby…”

“Okay… so something about Christmas makes you feel youthful,” Michelle said. “Maybe that’s normal.”

“It’s not normal!” Alexa yelled. “Name one person who wets the bed at 22 let alone during Christmas.”

“Do you wet the bed during any other time?” Michelle asked.

Alexa blushed. “S-sometimes… but Christmas is the most consistent. It doesn’t matter what progress I make. It’s always the same.”

“Have you talked to a psychologist?” Michelle asked.

“No, why would I? I’m not going to tell some stranger that I a 22 year old wet the bed but only during Christmas,” Alexa said.

“And why not? You could be suffering from some kind of dissociative disorder,” Michelle said. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Know that I’m crazy? Be locked in some psychiatric ward?” Alexa mumbled.

“You’re not crazy… you just need some help,”Michelle said. “Did something happen to you when you were younger? Something significant? During Christmas?”

“I dunno…” Alexa said. “I guess my parents divorced… but that happens all the time. It’s not like my step parents are evil or anything.”

“Really?” Michelle said. “So your stepmom has never punished you or your stepdad has never…”

“I have two stepmoms,” Alexa corrected.

“Oh, okay. Then has either of your stepmoms ever punished you?” Michelle asked.

“I guess my stepmom on my dad’s side would sometimes spank me for wetting the bed…” Alexa said. “But that was ages ago.”

“But that could have caused some trauma,” Michelle said. “Especially if you only wet the bed during Christmas. Are you sure nothing happened? Nothing that you’ve buried in your noggin?”

Alexa shrugged. “I… I don’t know. I don’t have that good of a memory. Besides I’m sure if something happened I would remember.”

“Or your brain is trying to protect you from remembering,” Michelle said. “Look, let’s just get you cleaned up and then we can continue talking. Why don’t you go take a bath.”

Alexa nodded. “Okay…”