Game Room not Baby Room

“Welcome to my man cave,” Bob said, leading Dave in.

“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “You really did a lot of remodeling in this old bedroom. How big is that TV?”

“Seventy-five inches!” Bob said. “With a full surround sound system. Of course, every game console from this generation.”

Dave looked at the art on the walls and gaming collectables on shelves. “This is pretty impressive.”

“I’ve dreamed about having a room like this since I was a kid,” Bob said, taking a seat on his recliner. He offered a controller to Dave and gestured toward the other empty recliner.

“Bob?” yelled his wife from downstairs.

“Amy?” he yelled back.

“Can you help me carry in the groceries?”

Bob sighed. “Dave’s here,” he yelled. “I’m showing him my game room.”

Dave said, “It’s okay. I can wait a bit.”

“Nah,” Bob said. “She’s just frustrated that I’m having fun. Also, she’s not the biggest fan of my redecorating.”

“Bob!” she yelled.

“I’m busy,” he yelled.

“She sounds upset,” Dave said.

“It’s the room,” Bob explained. “She wanted this to be a baby room.”

“And, you didn’t?”

Bob gave him a disgusted look. “Like I want kids. I told her I was open to it while we were dating, but, I mean, come on. I’m not giving up all my free time to wipe the ass of some crying brat.”

Dave frowned. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” He walked to the door.

“Where’re you going?” Bob asked as he loaded up a game.

“I’m going to help out your wife,” Dave said. “I’ll be back with snacks when I’m done.”

“Bring some beers, too,” Bob added, leaning back in his recliner and elevating his legs.

Dave walked off, and Bob started playing. It did not take long for him to become lost in the action of shooting zombie hordes. This was what he had wanted, this room, this man space, his place to play and find freedom from the hassles of adulthood.

***

Sure enough, Bob felt more relaxed and refreshed as played on. He started to feel like he did back in high school, getting home and lounging in front of the TV. Dave had been all but forgotten at that point.

There was a knock on the door. “Bob?” said Amy.

“Yeah?” he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Are you going to just spend the whole evening playing video games?” she asked, with barely suppressed contempt.

“That’s the plan,” he said, launching a grenade into a crowd of zombies and watching the explosion of body parts and organs that erupted from it. “Yeah,” he taunted the monsters. “Eat that!” He cleared his throat, as his voice was sounding a little croaky.

Amy sighed. “Fine. I guess you can waste your time however you like while your parents are away.”

Not really listening to her, he replied, “Oh, Amy, can you get me a drink and some snacks?”

“Aunt Amy,” she said, correcting him. “And, you’re old enough to get them yourself.”

“W-what?” he asked, realizing what she had said. “Did you say ‘Aunt?’”

“I said you know where the fridge is. Go get it yourself.”

“Uh,” he said, pushing aside his confusion. “Okay. Fine.”

She started to walk away, but turned back. “Oh, one more thing. A friend of mine is stopping by for dinner, but you don’t need to join us if you’d rather stay up here. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Bob said, turning his attention to assaulting a boss monster.

To his relief, she walked off to leave him alone with his game. With her gone, he could focus on just having fun, losing himself in the action. It was so invigorating. Honestly, he had not felt so excited by a game since he had been in grade school.

***

Bob started losing life, struggling to kill zombies as his fingers and thumbs fumbled to find the correct buttons. Somehow, the controller seemed more unwieldy in his hands, as if it had grown larger all of a sudden. Whatever the reason, it was harder to handle. Maybe the time had come to give his fingers a little break. He saved his game, setting down the controller. Then, he sat up and lowered his legs.

When he got to his feet, it became clear that the controller was not the only thing that seemed bigger. The whole room appeared to have grown a little taller. Looking around, he noticed a bed, a simple twin mattress on a box spring. Somehow, it must have been snuck into the room behind him while he had been playing. Many decorations and shelves had been secretly removed at the same time, leaving the place looking more like a kid’s bedroom than a game room.

“What is going on?” he wondered and gasped, hearing the childishly high tone of his voice. “What the hell?” He asked, gripping his throat, feeling no sign of an Adam’s apple and no hint of beard stubble. “Oh no!” he said, running for the bathroom to use the mirror.

However, Bob ran straight into something solid in the middle of the hallway. Bouncing off, he stumbled backwards, nearly falling. Despite feeling stunned, he kept upright and steadied himself with a hand against the wall.

“Hey, there,” said the enormous man who had blocked Bob’s path. “Sorry about that. You alright there, little guy?”

“What?” Bob asked, recognizing the voice.

“I’m Dave,” said Bob’s old friend. “I’m a friend of your Mom. She said you have quite an impressive gaming setup in your bedroom. I thought I’d come up to say ‘Hi.’”

“Dave!” Bob said, feeling relieved to have a friend to turn to, even if he found Dave’s relative size to be somewhat intimidating. No doubt, Dave would help him figure this out. “It’s me, Bob. I don’t know what’s going on, but… I mean, look at me! I need you to help me figure this out.”

“Whoa,” Dave said, holding up his hands. “Slow down there, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I’m a kid!” Bob cried, his voice squeaking. “Just, look what happened to my game room!” He led Dave back through the door.

“Wow,” Dave said. “You’re mom was right. This is very cool.”

“‘Cool?’” Bob replied. “Are you kidding? You were just in here. You saw what it looked like. It’s all different. I’m different. Look how young I am.”

“You look pretty grown up to me,” Dave said. “You’re a third grader now, right? Getting very mature.”

“I’m an adult!” Bob asserted. “We’re the same age. Don’t you remember? You’re my oldest friend.” He could feel tears forming in his eyes as his hopes of getting help faded.

“Oh,” Dave said, seeming to have figured something out. “I see.”

“You do?” Bob said, feeling a glimmer of hope.

“So, Bob,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. “Remind me where we met.”

Bob sat down beside him on the bed, feeling less aware of their size difference while they were both seated. He started to describe how they met in college, how they got jobs at the same company, how Dave was the best man at his wedding. Dave listened to it all, nodding along as Bob went.

“And now…” Bob said, wrapping it all up. “I just suddenly became a kid again. I don’t know why. I’m really scared.” Again, he felt tears forming in his eyes.

“Hey,” Dave said, putting a comforting arm around Bob’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

Something about Dave’s bigness and his protective attitude reminded Bob of his own father. He recalled being sad as a little kid and feeling consoled by his father’s hug. With that sense of support from Dave, Bob silently allowed himself permission to let out his emotions. He began sobbing, abandoning all pretenses of adulthood. Tears streamed down his face as he cried and wailed, sniffling and hyperventilating.

***

“What’s the matter?” Amy asked, entering the room.

“I’m not really sure,” Dave said. “He was just telling me a story about being a grown up, but then he got really sad all of a sudden.”

Bob’s vision was still blurred by tears, but he could hear something wrong. His own moans had risen to a higher pitch, and the sound of Amy and Dave’s conversation seemed to come from even higher above him than he would expect.

“Oh, my little man,” Amy said, and Bob felt an enormous pair of hands grab him, firmly but gently and lift him into the air.

Bob was so stunned by the sensation of being lifted off the bed that he forgot to keep crying and instead wiped his eyes to see what was going on. Looking down, he realized that a seemingly giant Amy was holding him in her arms. He turned his attention to her face, seeing the concerned expression there.

“Mommy?” Bob said, surprising himself. He had intended to say “Amy.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Do you need a potty? Did Dave scare you?”

“Wut?” he asked, wincing at the sound of the babyish voice coming from his mouth. He looked down at himself, seeing his hands looking pudgier and noticing something soft around his hips. A diaper? Pullups? Either possibility would be terrible. He doubted he could be more than 2 years old now. Confused, he asked, “Why’m I so widdle?”

“You’re my widdle baby,” Amy said, smiling at him. “But, you’re getting bigger and bigger everyday.”

Bob shook his head. Everything she had said was wrong.

“Ah’m not uh baby,” he explained. Then, looking around the room, seeing only toddler toys and furniture, he asked, “Wut happen to mah game woom?”

“This isn’t a game room,” Amy corrected him. “This is the baby room, your room.”

“No,” he said, feeling the tears returning. “Put me down, pwease.” He squirmed in her arms, threatening to drop to the floor.

“Whoa. Hold on!” she said, lowering him to her feet.

As soon as Amy let him go, Bob started running for the door, trying to escape this cursed room. However, he only made it a few steps before he lost his balance on his toddler legs and stumbled to the carpet. Again, despair got the better of him and he started crying.

***

“Uh oh,” Amy said. “Looks like someone needs a fresh diaper.”

Once more, Bob felt a giant pair of hands lift him. Then, he was cradled in Amy’s arms. Only now, she felt even larger, and he felt even weaker.

“Ah ma,” he said, slurring her name with his clumsy infant lips.

“Mama’s here,” she said and gave him a quick sniff. He noticed the odor coming from his diaper as well as the warm squishy dampness.

She lay him on a changing table that had appeared in the room and set up her gear to replace his soiled diaper.

“Would you like me to help?” Dave asked.

“You don’t have to,” Amy said.

“I don’t mind,” he said.

Amy smiled at him and said, “Sure, let me walk you through it.”

Bob could only lay there and watch as the two of them worked on removing his diaper and cleaning up the mess on his skin. Dave did most of the work while Amy supervised.

Bob thought that he should be saying something to Dave, but what he needed to say seemed too complex for his mouth to articulate. Even the thoughts he wanted to express seemed too big for his infant mind to process. He knew that something was wrong. He remembered this room being different, better in an important but inexplicable way. He remembered being big and having a lot of fun in this room. Now, everything had changed, and that was wrong, somehow. It was all wrong. If only he could make sense of these memories…

When the fresh diaper was successfully fastened in place, Dave asked, “How did I do?”

“That was excellent for a first try,” Amy said, grinning.

“I’m sure I’ll get better the more I do it.”

Amy lay Bob down in a crib and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He looked around, finding jail-like wooden bars surrounding him and a mobile slowly spinning freely above him, far from his reach. That bit of motion kept his attention, more than their grownup conversation.

“I was wondering,” Amy said.

“What is it?” Dave replied.

“You don’t mind dating a single mom, do you?” she asked. “Be honest with me.”

“Not at all,” Dave said. “I love kids.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him.

They kissed.

“I’ll go make us some popcorn,” Amy said, releasing him and walking to the door. “Come join me for some TV after you get cleaned up.”

“Sure,” Dave said and watched her walk away.

Bob looked up at Dave through the bars of his crib, still possessed by the nagging but vague notion that he had something important to say, something he needed Dave to know, but he could not figure out what it was. Like the mobile, the full idea felt just out of his feeble reach.

“Goodnight, old pal,” Dave said and shut off the lights. Then, he walked off to wash up and join Amy downstairs.

Bob lay in his crib, staring up at the mobile, sucking his thumb, feeling like he had just lost a game he did not know he had been playing. Some stubborn part of him wanted to make sense of it all, but his baby brain was too weak to think it through. All those grown up memories and thoughts no longer fit within his little head, so, being useless to him now, he started to let them drift away. At the same time, he felt that all the crying had worn him out. Soon enough, he succumbed to the needs of his tired baby body and drifted off into dreams.