Across from me sat my wounded boy. His injuries, decades old, lay on display along with his aching soul.Come on, Ryan. Stop hiding.
“Because in your house, I matter. I mean something to someone.” He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and looked me in the eyes. “In your house, I’m loved by someone. I think about it every day. And it hurt when you said that I misunderstood.”
I loved this young man dearly. He is willing to show me his wounds and where he hurts. Ryan doesn’t always know what will make him feel better, but I do. And I am more than willing to patch him up.
“Now, let me tell you why I told you that you misunderstood. I had told you that I’dlovefor you to be in my house. Notlike, Ryan. When you asked me if Ilikedyou at my house, that’s when I said that you misunderstood. I don’t mean for the night or an extended weekend. I mean forever. I would love to collar you and have you live with me.”
His eyebrows raised and he lowered his head briefly. Ryan brought his head up without me having to ask him to.Good boy.
“Is that heart of yours pounding away?” I asked.
His smile and nod was enough of an answer for now. I knew he was nervous.
“Have I scared you away, Ryan?”
“I’m still sitting here,” Ryan replied.
“You are my brave, brave boy. Whether or not we are at my house, your house, or out in public, you matter to me. You mean more to me than you realize, and I love you.”
The fire was out in his eyes, and in its place was a wounded soul that I would spend my life repairing. I wanted to reach out and touch him but I knew that I couldn’t. Not because of me, but for his comfort. Even though his anger had been scaled down, I knew him well enough to know that his head was still moving.
“What are you thinking, Ryan?”
“The part about you wanting to collar me and make me yours.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ryan. The day you crossed the threshold into my house when I began working with you, I knew you would be mine. You already are mine. Just because we don’t have a collar for you yet, doesn’t make it any less real. But I know what the meaning of a physical collar does for you. I see it pass over your face every time I put the play collar on you, and I see the longing on your face each time I remove it.”
“I like it. I never thought that I would, or that it would mean so much to me. But it makes me feel…loved,” Ryan concluded. “Wanted…like I belong, he added.”
“Those are things you haven’t experienced before.”
He shook his head to agree with me but then elaborated.
“I hadn’t experienced them until you, and I don’t want to lose it, or go back to not having them.” Ryan reached for his glass of Coke, took a quick sip, and when he pulled the glass away from his mouth, he added, “Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense, Ryan. I understand completely and can promise you that you won’t lose it. I won’t allow it.”
It was sad to me for a man in his thirties to have never experienced these deeper connections. I’m not even talking about with a sexual partner, but to grow up feeling hated, and unwanted for anything other than a means to make money and be hurt. Actually, Ryan had grown up in some of the cruelest living situations I’ve ever had the knowledge of. Ryan could have gone along and become what his brother had become, but instead, he took a very unknown path that led him to me.
I could tell by the way his eyes darted around the table that the wheels in his mind were still moving.
“Relax, Ryan. I am very well aware that all of this needs to move at a pace that you’re comfortable with.”
That seemed to calm him down and the smile that I love appeared across his face. I motioned with my head at his plate and encouraged him to finish his lunch. I watched him as he ate and had been pleased that he hadn’t balked at the idea of eventually living with me. The sooner I could get him under my roof, the better off he would be. The better offIwould be.
Various retired athletes stopped by our table and chatted briefly with us. I mostly sat back and watched Ryan smile and talk baseball with several of them. One former Major League Baseball coach commented on Ryan’s USC baseball t-shirt, and they began talking about the coaching staff at USC when Ryan was there. The former coach revealed to Ryan that the coach that had been at USC while Ryan was there had passed away a number of years ago. I could see the surprise and sadness pass over his face as he heard the news. It was a little later while we were combing the aisles of the trade show that I brought up his former coach. I was addicted to learning everything about Ryan.
“Was the coach that passed away one of your favorites?”
“Yeah, he was awesome. He was the head coach.”
Ryan paused to stop and look at a USC table. I understood why Ryan felt comfort with USC and clung to his t-shirts; it was his ticket out of an imaginable hell. I purchased a USC mug, a baseball that was stamped with the USC Trojan logo, and a wool pennant. This wasn’t one of the cheap felt pennants, but a wool one. Ryan laughed as we walked away from the table.
“I can picture you sitting outside on your patio drinking your coffee in it,” he teased.
“I plan to. Call me a fan,” I replied.
“Where are you going to put the pennant?” he asked.
