“Do tell,” I said with a smile. I was genuinely interested in listening to anything he had to say. On top of my own desire to hear him, the fact that he was talking about anything was very healthy for him right now.
“When I went into high school, my mom got me a few modeling jobs.” He shrugged and smiled as much as he could without hurting his face. “They earned me some money to buy video games and shit.”
“Very nice, Brandon. What sort of things did you model?”
“Clothing. Jeans mainly. Some swim trunks. I wanted to do underwear because they made more money. But my mom said she didn’t want me involved in that line until I was older.”
We both stood, and I let him go at his own pace to remove his clothes. As he slowly removed his shirt, some of the tape that held a few gauze pads against his body pulled off. I told him not to worry about it because we’d remove those before he got in the water. Each time I saw how much his skin tightly outlined his ribs and hips, I had to concentrate so I made sure my expression didn’t give away my anger over what was done to him. I wouldn’t want him to think it was directed at him.
As he stood naked before me, I took my time removing his bandages so nothing pulled his skin too hard. I tossed all the soiled gauze and bandages away, and then I met him by the tub.
“I suggest sitting on the edge and then swing your feet over into the tub. Then you can hang onto the sides while you lower yourself into the water. It’ll prevent you from slipping and falling as you lower into the tub.”
Brandon nodded and followed my advice as he slowly sunk his body down into the mountain of bubbles. His eyes moved around frantically while his mind processed what he was doing. I remained silent for a few moments and asked him how the bath felt.
“Good,” he said as he looked up at me with a proud smile. “I thought that it would feel really weird, but it’s not bad. It’s … nice.”
Since a number of his fingers were still healing, I offered to help wash his hair as it was one of the more difficult tasks to do in a bath. I could see the apprehension in his eyes and knew it was because he was afraid of water pouring over his face.
“I won’t let any water run onto your face. I promise, Brandon.”
He was listening to me, so I explained that when it was time to rinse the suds out that I would use one of the small paper cups from the sink and pour the water from his forehead backward. I also held up a washcloth and showed him how he could hold it against his forehead to prevent any water from moving down his face. I didn’t dare suggest that he hold the entire washcloth over his face because I knew that would most likely trigger a waterboarding memory.
After he had cleaned the rest of himself, I helped him clean his bruised and cut back. Though he hadn’t complained, I decided that the mesh sponge was too abrasive for his needs right now and lathered up a light blue washcloth. As I moved the sudsy washcloth down his back, I could feel each vertebrae pushing against his skin. I could feel his ribs toward the side of his back, and his shoulder blades protruded so much that it made the space between them concave.
While I washed his hair, he rolled up the light blue washcloth and held it against his forehead. Before I poured water over his head, I announced it and asked him if he was ready. Brandon nodded, and he applied a bit more pressure to the washcloth to make sure that no water would make it past. His eyes were tightly shut as I slowly poured the water over his hair. Each time I refilled the cup, I verbally told him what I was doing and made sure he was ready.
A gleam of pride shined brightly in his eyes as he climbed from the tub. I told him that I was proud of him while I handed him different articles of clothing. Brandon looked much happier overall.
That night I slept in the chair in his room. We kept his door wide open and the light on in the hallway. He was restless before he finally settled down to sleep. I watched him toss and turn, and eventually, he reached for his blanket bear and curled up close to the edge of the bed. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep as soon as I was sure he was asleep.
Abruptly, I woke up to the sounds of him whimpering. His bed was empty, but curled up in a ball, he lay nestled by my feet, just like a puppy. He was still asleep, but it was evident that he was having a nightmare. As to not startle him, I called his name calmly while I gently rubbed on his upper back. He woke up and quickly glanced around the room.
“You’re safe, Brandon. This is my home, and it’s just you and me,” I reminded him while I continued to rub on his back. “Relax, pup.”
Then panic seemed to fade from Brandon’s face, and he rested his head against my leg. He closed his eyes while I rubbed on his back.
“Bad dream?” I asked even though it was obvious.
I wanted him not to feel like he needed to keep this all to himself. I was well aware that he had years and years of stored emotions that probably made him feel like it was strangling him. Brandon nodded and then opened his tired eyes.
“Would you like to tell me about it? Anything you’d like,” I encouraged.
“I don’t know, James. It’s all overwhelming,” he admitted.
“I know, Brandon. I imagine it’s very scary and, as you said, overwhelming right now. But I’m right here for you.”
I let him sit on the floor huddled up to my leg for a little while longer, and then I helped his weary body back to bed. A short time after that, I woke up again to him lying on the floor by my feet. Only this time, he had draped the fleece blanket from his blanket bear over my foot and had the teddy bear head resting against his chest.
“Brandon, my pup,” I whispered as I reached down and stroked his hair.
He’d had years of abuse and torment, and his body longed for someone to touch him. Brandon just wanted, and needed, to be close, but his body needed to be in the comfortable bed. I nudged him awake, and he looked up at me with heavy eyes.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked sleepily.
“Not at all, Brandon. But you need to be in the comfortable bed,” I reminded him with a smile.
Brandon’s stored up emotions for the past three years were slowly starting to spill over. His body quivered and then he reached up to rub his eyes.
