3. Rejecting Precautions

Zandra descended the stairs, her footsteps light and quiet. The memory of Jay's mockery still hung in the air like a lingering scent; although she was glad to note that a honeysuckle and lavender candle on the landing had banished the literal scent of urine from her room. The weight of Jay's words and the unspoken concern in her mother's eyes had settled upon her, casting a shadow over her usual enthusiasm. But Zandra was determined to start the day anew, to push aside her worries and focus on the day ahead.

Her outfit was a carefully curated blend of conformity and individuality, a testament to her desire to blend in while still asserting her unique style. She wore the standard school uniform – a crisp white blouse, tailored grey trousers, and a burgundy tie – but she had added a touch of personal flair with a pair of bright red Jeri Smunk sneakers and a delicate silver necklace that her grandmother had given her. It was a subtle statement, but one that she saw as a constant reminder of her maturity. Now she would use anything she could get to help her feel like she was still an adult.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Zandra was greeted by the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of the washing machine. Her mother, still in her nightgown, stood by the machine, carefully loading the soiled sheets from Zandra's bed. Zandra's heart sank. The sight of the laundry was a stark reminder of her vulnerability, a signpost telling the world that she wasn't as grown up as she wanted to pretend.

A wave of guilt washed over Zandra as her feet touched the hardwearing carpet of the hallway. She'd woken Mum up early to deal with her problems. And of course, there was a knock-on effect in practical terms as well. While they were awake, it would be easier for Mum to prepare her a packed lunch, a common cost-saving measure. But after a rough morning, Zandra found that she was already looking forward to a small indulgence at lunch time; maybe a basket of the extra-crispy chicken nuggets from the cafeteria to share with Dell. They were a guilty pleasure for her, but she knew she couldn't justify it to herself if Mum had already made something.

Zandra found herself hoping that somehow the laundry would take too much time or something, so that she would be free to indulge herself just a little. And she immediately felt guilty about that, because she was already making Mum do a gross extra chore. It would be terrible to wish for it to take longer; and Zandra immediately tried to convince herself that the thought had never crossed her mind.

"Morning, sunshine," Mum said, standing up from the washing machine as it started to fill with suds. "Feeling a bit more human now?"

"Y…yeah," Zandra mumbled. She still felt bad about what had happened, and she was determined to make sure it didn't happen again, but she was at a loss for anything she could actually do. The only thing that came to mind now was trying to forget all about wet sheets, and to get back into the routine of her normal life. She was coming to the end of her eighth year of high school already; it was something she was already familiar with, and there was nothing particularly scary about another two years of the same. It was just the thought that everyone would see her as a child again; she didn't want to deal with that. But she knew she could. Like Jay, in fact. He'd been treated like a little kid when he first started at university, and he looked more childlike even than Zandra. But he'd decided to grow a beard, and now all he had to worry about was a flurry of new jokes every time some popular fantasy franchise introduced another bearded dwarf character.

"Coffee?" Mum asked, and pressed a mug into her hands. Zandra held it up and inhaled the bitter aroma, instantly feeling a little more human. Black coffee with honey and lemon; more bitter than her usual choice, but it was also explicitly not a drink any child would consider. And now Zandra was sure that her mum knew exactly what she was feeling. "I think it's a little early for breakfast yet, or you'll be hungry before lunch time. Let's talk a little first."

Zandra nodded, her heart filled with a mixture of relief and guilt. She was grateful for her mother's unwavering support, but she couldn't help but feel like she was letting her down. She followed Mum into the study, where Dad would sit on Sunday nights to watch the sportsball while he pretended to work. It wasn't somewhere the rest of the family went often, and Zandra immediately thought that Mum wanted to know that Jay wouldn't overhear them when he came down. That was a little reassuring as well; Zandra really didn't want to face her brother again until she'd had a chance to vent to her friends about his attitude.

"Now," Mum said, sitting down at the desk and shepherding Zandra towards the firm leather couch with a wave. "Now you're a little less emotional, I think we need to talk. Your brother might be insensitive and tactless, but he could also be right about some things."

Zandra's heart sank. She'd been hoping that she wouldn't even have to think about the wet bed again, but she knew that she couldn't escape from her problems so easily. And she knew that Mum only wanted what was best for her, which explained her making so much effort to have this conversation where nobody else would hear. But the last thing Zandra wanted to hear was that Jay was right about anything, especially when his main contribution had been telling her she was a baby.

"I'm not a baby!" she protested.

"I know, honey." her mother said, her voice gentle but firm. "And I'm not going to say that. There are lots of reasons this could be happening that are unrelated to your age or maturity. I know this is a difficult thing to deal with, and I know you're not to blame in any way. But I do think we need to make efforts to manage the problem."

Zandra nodded, her eyes downcast. She felt a wave of shame wash over her. She didn't want to be a burden to her mother. And she appreciated that Mum was talking to her calmly, rather than putting her down for something she had no control over.

"I'm going to see a doctor," she said. "Again. I mean, years ago they said that it could have been some kind of infection or something causing it. The tests were negative then, but maybe something's changed this year."

"That's a good start," her mum said. "Do you know when you'll be able to speak to someone?"

Zandra hesitated then. She knew that this wouldn't be seen as an urgent problem, and she couldn't afford priority treatment. She'd thought about it the last time she woke up to wet sheets, but had never actually got as far as making an appointment.

"It'll probably take a month before the first appointment," she sighed. "I should have booked last time, I guess."

"You said you were going to."

"I know. But… if it takes a month before you get any help, well… I thought it would have gone away on its own by them. A doctor can't test something that's only happened one time, can she?"

"I understand, honey. But it would have been better to book. Just in case. Can I trust you to actually make the call this time, or should I do it?"

"I will," Zandra said. "I promise I will. This time." But memories of the last time she had said those words only made her feel worse about her current situation. She hadn't taken responsibility at all, but she was determined that this time would be different. And she hoped that her mum could hear the new determination in her voice.

"That's good. But I think we also need to take some more immediate steps. I think we've still got the waterproof sheets in the attic, from the last time you had this problem. I'm going to dig one out today and put it on your bed, just in case. So there's no risk of the mattress being ruined before you can see the doctor."

Zandra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Mum was trying her best to be understanding, but waterproof sheets were something that little babies needed. Not nineteen-year-old almost-adults. 'Adulteens', she thought, the word the media had coined for those who were now in a new intermediate space between teenagers and adults.

"I can't!" she said, "I'm not a baby! Please, I promise…"

"Zandra, you're a very mature young lady," Mum said, almost the opposite of what she had expected. "But one sign of responsibility is not making promises you can't keep. And taking sensible precautions even if you don't want to admit there's a problem. Can you do that?"

The words cut deep, but Zandra could see that her mother was right. Protesting and saying everything was fine was exactly what a child would do. The adult way was to recognise problems and fix them, even if it wasn't a pleasant experience.

"Okay," she said. "I guess it's not a big deal. Not like…" she shuddered as she thought about Jay's words earlier. "At least you're not threatening me with nappies again." She took a deep drink from her coffee, and the mixture of bitterness and sweetness helped her to feel a lot more awake.

And then there was a long silence. The sense that there was something else to say, and Mum didn't know how to say it.

"No," Zandra said. "No, Mum, you can't even think that…" Her voice trailed off when she saw how Mum was staring down at her own coffee cup, unable to meet Zandra's eyes. This was hard for her too.

"It's not like that," Mum said eventually. "But I'd like you to consider those things. Absorbent sleep shorts, I think they call them now. Just to cut down on laundry until this problem is over. I promise, I won't say anything to your brother. It can be our little secret, and am sure you understand it can be a lot less embarrassing than the alternative."

Of course Zandra could see that. And she'd seen the advertisements on TV, with happy girls going rock climbing, dancing, or winning at debate club to show how mature and independent they were. The messaging was that SleepSafe was there to let you be an adult, as if it would hide all those childish problems. Zandra sighed. She knew it was the sensible option, and that the advertisers knew their intended audience. These were nappies designed for mature young women whose bodies hadn't quite got the message. But they were still nappies, and that meant she couldn't bring herself to consider the possibility.

"No!" she said, aware just how childish she sounded, but unable to stop the words tumbling out. "No, I'm not wearing nappies. No way. I'll do the laundry, I'll take care of it all myself, I promise, and it probably won't even happen again, anyway."

"Okay honey," Mum said. "I'm not forcing you. But I do think it's a good idea. And… Well, you know me and your father are going to California Greenfest soon?"

Zandra nodded, a little off balance thanks to the sudden pivot in the conversation.

"Well," Mum continued. "You'll probably get in to see the doctor before we get back. And then we can follow whatever advice the doctor gives. If your little problem doesn't strike again before then, on the other hand, we can assume that it was just a temporary thing and is done with. But, if your problems end up impacting the rest of the family before then – if you don't show the maturity to do your laundry promptly, or if it's interfering with our plans, then I think I will have to insist. Is that reasonable?"

Zandra blinks, and tried to force back the threat of tears. Mum actually wanted to put her in nappies? Like a little baby? But then she thought about it, and she forced herself to accept that she was being given a chance to prove herself. A rubber sheet would protect her mattress, and if she couldn't stop it happening again she would have to wash her own pyjamas and sheets. The threat of the nappies – or 'Protective Sleep Shorts', as if changing the name could make them less embarrassing – was just hanging there if she failed to take responsibility. And she knew herself well enough to be sure that it would make her remember.

"Okay," she said. "But I won't need them. And please don't tell Dad about this?"

"I won't, dear. He'll love you just the same anyway, you know? But deal with your own messes, and your father never needs to know."

Zandra felt just a little relieved then. And she could at least cheer herself up by realising that they'd been talking there for quite a while. The mug in her hands was cool now, and all the coffee was gone. That meant there probably wouldn't be time for Mum to do a packed lunch before she had to run for the school bus. She could enjoy pizza for lunch today, or chicken. But looking at how bright it was outside, Zandra thought that they might have to rush to fit in a proper breakfast.

They arrived back in the kitchen, and Jay was standing over the table with a skillet in his hands.

"I did bacon," he said. "And pancakes. And… maybe a little too much scrambled egg. Want some?"

Both women agreed enthusiastically, and Zandra wondered if Jay was trying to make up for his earlier attitude. Even her plate arriving with bacon and eggs arranged to make a smiley face, with a ketchup moustache, couldn't dampen her mood. Before long she was full of food, and raring to go for the day ahead.

And then she glanced towards the kitchen counter, where she saw two packages wrapped in paper.

"I made packed lunches for you both," Jay said with a smile. "One for Mum, and one for the baby." Zandra stared at the small oblong he handed her, feeling what was probably a bundle of sandwiches and a packet of corn chips inside, as well as a hard shape that was probably a bottle of cola. Simple lunch, same as always. Zandra knew she couldn't hold it against him; he was actually being helpful. Even if she was sure that the Disney stickers and 'baby Zan' written on the outside of the package were the only reason behind his kindness.

She resisted the temptation to take her cafeteria payment card as well; she didn't want to be tempted. He'd done something for her, at least, so now she knew the best way to show her maturity would be to accept the lunch and pretend it didn't bother her at all.

"Thanks," Mum said. "You're an angel, Jay. Always so thoughtful." But Zandra saw his smirk as she hurried to the bus stop; and she knew that she would spend the day resenting her brother's apparent show of kindness. He knew exactly how to get her thoughts all twisted up, so she didn't know if it was reasonable to be angry or not.