“You never let me down, Ryan. You make me so proud; you are so willing to try things,” I whispered.
“But I still failed.”
“You didn’t fail. Do you understand me, Ryan?”
I felt Ryan nod his head before he said, “Yes, Russell.”
I needed to get him away from so many eyes. As I let go of him and guided him to the table with his clothes, I glanced at the crowd. Many had begun to move on, including a pair of eyes that I wasn’t entirely sure if I saw for sure. I scanned the people as they were passing by, looking for the body those eyes were attached to. They were unmistakable eyes. Eyes that I had once been very used to looking in.
Focus on Ryan.
“You’re doing fine, Ryan. There’s no hurry,” I reminded him as he tied his boots.
My eyes skimmed the crowd, looking to see if I had really seen her. When I glanced down at Ryan, he was opening and closing the fist of his left hand.
“Is your hand bothering you, my boy?”
“It fell asleep,” Ryan said from his crouched position.
“Come, let’s get you something to drink, Ryan.”
When he stood, I put his left hand between mine and rubbed my hands over his. With my hand on the back of his neck covering his play collar and his hairline, I guided us to the bar and ordered two bottles of water. I led us to a leather loveseat and thought it would be a good place for Ryan to relax and settle down. And I needed the alone time just with him as well for the aftercare.
Ryan was very fidgety at the couch. It was almost as though he was afraid to sit there. I had tried to put my arm around his shoulders, but he couldn’t settle down.
“Ryan, no one here will judge you for being next to me or receiving aftercare. Now settle down.”
He finally slumped back on the couch and without having a meltdown, he let me put my arm across the top cushion of the couch. After several minutes of silence and an empty bottle of water in his hand, Ryan turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, Ryan?”
“Being rowdy and not cooperative. And weird about you wanting to give me care.”
I loved this man. Ryan always comes around. I nudged him closer by playfully slapping his shoulder. I dropped my hand from the back of the couch cushion to rest against his bicep when he leaned his side against mine
“I accept this apology. Now, tell me about the nightmare last night.”
Ryan began to tell me about being young and in trouble for fighting with his brother. As “punishment” his father whipped him with wet dish towels. I have heard many of Ryan’s accounts of being whipped with either wet washcloths or dish towels. It never gets easier to hear, nor say, I imagine.
I had pretty much pieced together the trigger tonight. I knew from other recollections, Ryan had been hit nearly everywhere with wet rags. I believe that tonight was triggered by the flogging to the backs of his legs. Even though I’ve flogged the backs of his legs before, the nightmare was still fresh in his head.
“When are you going to let me take you home with me, my boy?” I said quietly and kissed the top of his head.
As I thought about how I could get Ryan to relax over the idea of sleeping in my bed every night, he made a move that warmed my heart. Ryan took hold of my hand that had been on his bicep and guided it to his abdomen. He maneuvered his hand underneath mine and then hooked his forefinger around mine. Though subtle to many, it was bold for him.
But that wasn’t the only bold move. The woman with the very familiar eyes boldly pulled a chair over and sat down across from Ryan and me. She ignored the obvious fact that I was providing aftercare, which stunned me.
“Hello, Russell,” she smirked.
