“Brandon.” The moment I said his name, a gut-wrenching sob poured out of him. No longer was his mask in place. The anguish and pain had been much stronger than the wall he’d tried to put up. “Come here, pup.”
I stretched my leg out in front of us on the shower floor and pulled him over it. With him sitting in front of me between my legs, I could keep him still. My heart broke for him. He’d had so many curve balls thrown at him in his young life, and it simply wasn’t fair.
He twisted his body so he could lean his head on my chest. I glanced down at the three places he’d managed to cut himself on his leg. Though the cuts were small, blood left messy trails down this thigh until it ran under his leg and into the water.
“I have you, Brandon.”
I reached for the washcloth I’d pulled from his mouth moments ago and pressed it against his cuts.
“I’m sorry, James. I tried to be strong, but I just can’t.”
“I know it hurts, Brandon.”
“She kept him from me! She lied! She said she didn’t know who my dad was!”
I tightened my hold on him, hoping he’d relax in my arms. Brandon’s tachycardia was something I always considered when he got wound up like this.
“I could have had a relationship with him! He might have cared! Then maybe… maybe I wouldn’t have bought into everything Eli fed me! Maybe I wouldn’t have lost everything! Maybe I could have been like a normal kid and went to college or something. But no! I spent years alone and cut off from the world. And all along, I fucking had a father!”
“I know, pup.” I kissed his head and squeezed his arm, hoping he’d calm down.
“Maybe he would have come to my track meets in high school. Mom never did. She was always too busy. He might have come.”
“I’m sure he would have.”
“I could have had someone to call when I was upset after Mom and I argued, or after I argued with one of her boyfriends! I could have maybe gone to dinner with him, or maybe stayed with him when Mom was going out to parties and shit. I had a fucking father!”
Brandon had worked himself up so badly that he started coughing, and it quickly turned into him hyperventilating.
“Brandon, inhale slowly. Good, pup. Exhale slowly. Good, now again. Inhale deeply, and exhale slowly.”
It took several minutes to get his breathing under control. I slid my hand down to his wrist and pressed two fingers against his skin to feel his pulse. His heart was sprinting.
“Try to relax, Brandon.”
He needed some space to clear his head and digest everything I’d told him tonight. He needed to be able to get so much off his chest, but clearly, he was overwhelmed. And damn me for not knowing better and letting him saunter off to be alone. I reached up and shut the faucet off. I’d only kept it on because the water was warm and Brandon needed the warmth.
We sat in silence for a few more minutes until I could hear his breathing had returned to a calmer state. While the panicked breathing had subsided, the shivering had started.
“Let me get you dry and your leg bandaged up,” I said and then patted his arm. He inched forward some, which allowed me enough room to stand up. I wrapped my hands around his upper arms and helped him off the floor of the shower. Together, we stepped out of the shower, and I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his shoulders. I pulled another towel off the rack and used it to gently dry his hair.
“I’m sorry I cut myself,” he mumbled. I pulled him against my body and guided his head to rest on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I should have stayed and talked instead.”
My heart ached from him backpedaling to a time when cutting himself was a way to alleviate pain. I was proud of him for acknowledging the situation and offering a suggestion that would have been better. That was progress.
“I’m sorry I allowed you to leave, pup. I knew you needed space and time to think. But instead of letting you go to do that, I should have pulled you closer.” I tugged the towel down at the back of his head and kissed his neck. “We both made mistakes tonight. People make them, even when they think they’re doing the best for someone.” I hoped he understood the message I was trying to convey.
“I think I want to lie down for a while. I’m not really hungry for lasagna anymore.”
“I understand. I’m not either.”
After I cleaned and bandaged his small cuts, I helped him into his lounge pants and a t-shirt. I guided him to our bed and covered him up when he got situated.
“I’m going to go lock up and shut the lights off. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before I went to the kitchen to do a quick clean up, I went back into the bathroom and put the scissors in a drawer. I’d clean them in the morning. Once in the kitchen, I put the lasagna back in the freezer and put all but two of Brandon’s cupcakes into a plastic container and snapped the lid on. I put the two on a plate and made two mugs of hot chocolate. I set everything on a tray and carried it to our room. Brandon hadn’t moved from his spot, but his eyes were open.
“I couldn’t resist one of your cupcakes,” I said as I set the tray on the nightstand.
