“Do you still see me as a kid?” I blurted. Why I chose that particular question out of the million others that were running through my mind, I had no clue.
Zeek grimaced slightly as he slouched against the back of the couch in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. Dropping his head against the back cushion, he turned just his head to face me, studying me silently. Silence reigned for several minutes and I began to wonder if he was going to answer at all.
“In a way,” he finally murmured. Pausing, he stuck his tongue between his teeth before continuing. I couldn’t explain it, but that small action stirred something in me that I’d been fighting against for years. “You are a few years younger than me, yes. But I know you aren’t a kid. That’s just what I decided to call you before I knew your name.” He shrugged. “It sort of…stuck.”
I dropped my eyes from him in embarrassment.Oh––I guess that makes sense.
“You don’t like me calling you that, do you?”
“Makes me feel…I don’t know. After everything, you know….” I didn’t know how the hell was I meant to explain something to him that I didn’t even understand myself.
“I’ll try not to call you that, then,” he managed before another yawn overcame him. “Sorry. It’ll probably take me another day or two to bounce back.”
“I should probably go.”
“Stay,” his voice was soft, almost pleading. I looked back up at him and searched his eyes for something. What, I couldn’t be sure.
“I don’t really want to be alone right now.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” I agreed, more than fine with that idea. “Does…sub drop happen a lot with you?” I questioned, daring to meet his tired gaze.
That earned me a simple head shake. “No. I mean, it happens easily if I allow it. The only person who knows how to avoid pushing me that far is…. Well, I’m kinda ignoring her right now.”
“Destri?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know I should probably call her later. At the very least to thank her for coming to help me.”
“Yeah, she’s not exactly happy about your little outing.” That was putting it mildly.
Zeek grunted, letting his eyes slide closed.
“Oh, that reminds me, I need to put more lotion on your back. She was pretty adamant about making sure it was done after your shower.”
He peeled his eyes open, then nodded. “If I can move, sure.” I stood to get the healing cream while Zeek worked on flipping himself around so that he was lying lengthwise across the couch on his stomach.
“Why do you like…pain?”Was that even the right word?
Thanks to Eli, I somewhat understood the dynamic of a daddy/little relationship. What I couldn’t understand was why a person would willingly put their body in the hands of another for the sole purpose of causing pain? Especially with our history.
“It calms the thoughts in my head.” His voice was slightly muffled against his forearm. “It helps me cope.” While I understood the thoughts that could plague one’s mind, the reason for the pain still didn’t make sense to me.
“None of the meds the psychologist prescribed me helped. It only dulled it so that things weren’t as bright. The pain helps keep my thoughts under control. And I don’t need it all the time. Usually, only need once or twice a month.”
I didn’t say anything as I knelt on the floor beside the couch and squirted some lotion on one of the larger cuts. Which, thankfully, looked less red than yesterday. Zeek let out a hiss of surprise as I began gently rubbing the lotion into the warm skin of his back.
“I started therapy again this month,” I explained, careful not to put too much pressure on his wounds. Despite the damage, his skin was surprisingly soft. “But I also know it’s not necessarily for everyone.”
“I tried to stick with it.” Zeek shrugged dismissively while peering up at me. “You can put more into rubbing, you know. I’m not fragile.”
“Why didn’t you keep going? To therapy, I mean?”
Another shrug followed. After a moment, he responded. “The guy thought he knew everything and that shoving a wad of pills down my throat would cure me of my issues.”
“Maybe a different therapist, then?” I suggested. “Mine is nice. She listens.”
“Nah––I’ve got my vices. I’m good.”
“Yeah, like almost getting yourself killed,” my words came out grumbled and filled with something akin to anger.
