Austin doesn’t argue and we get to cleaning. Austin makes a pit stop at the TV to pull up his music playlist so it isn’t just silence while we work. I take my time, keeping my promise to be careful with the pictures as I move them to spray and wipe the shelves. The lower two aren't bad, but the top one has a good layer of dust. Which would make sense because even I can barely reach it without a step ladder.
The photos are cute. One is early in Austin and Paul’s relationship. I recognize the pond behind them as the one where all the ducks live. The city even built little houses for them when they stopped migrating as people started feeding them on a regular basis. Another is of the two of them celebrating a birthday. I’m in the background of that one, but I don’t remember the person we were celebrating. The cheap party hats and smear of icing on Austin's face tell me what it was though.
The third one, up on the top shelf, is of Paul and Austin at what appears to be a tattoo shop. Austin is the one getting the tattoo, but Paul’s shoulder is in the frame. He got the tattoo two years into their relationship. It was Austin’s favorite flower but there were little dots and lines in two half circles on the upper and lower side of the flower. Neither of them would ever say what the design meant.
“Hey, Austin?” I turn around and hold the frame up. “What was the significance of the tattoo Paul got in this picture? He never did tell me.”
Austin’s smile holds a reverent feel and his own hand travels to graze down his chest. I remember a flash of the tattoo I’d seen the other day. Maybe it's the one he was getting in the picture?
“It’s a private thing between us,” Austin finally says. “Maybe one day, though, I’ll tell you. I just— I want to keep that to myself for now.”
“Of course,” I say. I can’t lie; that comment has me curious. I look at the picture a moment longer before putting it back on the shelf. I finish up the other side in a few minutes and straighten the little figurines that line the fireplace mantle before turning back to Austin. He has all of the books stacked neatly around him and is spraying the bottom shelf. I offer a bit of advise to him. “If you want to start at the top, that way any dust that falls doesn’t go back on the clean shelves.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. I was just already down here.” I step over to him and hold out a hand to help him back to his feet. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to go check on the food. Then we can eat and focus on the rest of the cleaning tomorrow. Sound good?”
“Are you okay if I have some Little time tonight still?” Austin glances over at me and then back to the task at hand.
“Of course, Austin. I told you, as much as you need. I can sort through things on my own if you want.” If it’s going to be too hard for you, is what I don’t say, but I think he understands.
“Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll react when we start going through things. It might be one of those fluid days for me, slipping in and out. I don’t even remember half the things I have packed away. It’ll be fun to go back through the clothes, though. I know there’s a few things I’d like to pull out for myself.”
“That is one hundred percent okay with me,” I say earnestly. Austin's tone is definitely hinting at excitement the more we talk about going through the things in the extra bedroom. And I can’t lie; I’m excited at the prospect of playing that Daddy role for a few days instead of just a couple of hours this weekend.
The cornbread is cooked perfectly when I pull it out of the oven and I make sure to turn everything off. I scoop two ladles of the chili into Austin’s astronaut bowl and plop a piece of cornbread on top. I do the same for myself in a glass bowl and grab two bottles of water.
“Dinner is ready whenever you are,” I call across the house. There is a backdoor off the far side of the kitchen that leads to a small patio and a decent backyard. There is a chain link fence around his property but not much privacy from his neighbors on either side. There’s a tree that looks like it creates a nice, shaded area in the summer.
“I’m almost done putting these back on the shelves. Give me just a minute.”
“Take your time, Austin.” I sit down and watch him gently lift two or three books at a time, using both hands, and place them exactly where they were on the shelves. Once or twice, he wipes the cover or spine of one book before placing it back. When he finally turns back toward me, he’s smiling and I return it easily. “Feel better?”
“I do,” Austin says. “I know I’ve been avoiding it, so thank you for pushing me to get it done. Thank you for helping.”
Austin sits at the table where I placed his food. The table is longer than wide, with two chairs on the sides and one each at the head and foot. I’m sitting in a side chair and Austin sits in the chair with his back facing the living room.
“This looks amazing. Smells good, too.” I grab my cornbread and crumble it over the chili, using the spoon to mix it all together. “Ugh, Daddy used to do that too.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I mentally slap my palm to my forehead. “You don’t like your food touching. I’m sorry, I completely forgot.”
“This is fine,” Austin says quickly. “Soups and chili I’m not too weird about because I like to dip my sandwiches and stuff in them. But other meals like chicken, mashed potatoes, and such, yeah.”
“I’ll remember that next time,” I promise.
Chapter Five
Icanfeelmyselfslipping into Little space easily around Remi. It feels natural. And that kind of scares me. Sure, he’s been around when I was Little before and that is probably helping the situation that I know him. Add the fact that I haven’t properly let my Little side show like this in years. I’ve missed the freedom that comes with it.
I don’t know how much time passes, but dinner was cleared a while ago and I think a whole movie has played in the background. Remi changed from his work clothes to his own, casual clothes he’d packed before he left home this morning and sat right on the floor with me while I piled all my stuffies around. I changed my clothes again, too, back into the giraffe onesie. It's the only thing I didn’t pack away when I moved in here.
“Okay, so let me get this right.” Remi points to each of the animals as he continues speaking. “Pam-da used to date Elle,but they broke up because Elle was in love with Barry. And now Koka the koala is interested in….?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. I’m sitting crisscross no more than a foot or two in front of him. He is in a similar position, leaning back against the couch. “No, Remi. Pam-da and Elle are married. And now Koka and Kola, both koalas, can be married too!” Koka is the one I bought for myself, while Kola is the one that Remi got for me.
"But what about Barry? Maybe they can be a threesome? They're all bears, right?"
I look at the animals, contemplating how they would all work together with no one being left out. "Koalas aren't bears, Remi."
