I stop arguing. I lace my arms around his neck and lean into his warmth and his strength and let him carry me.
He doesn’t set me down on the couch like I expected, though. He takes me straight upstairs to the bathroom.
There’s an old clawfoot tub that I looked at longingly just this morning before deciding a shower would be faster. But Caleb sits me down and gently, fully clothed, starts running the hot water.
“Want all my clothes to get wet?” I tell him.
“Put up your arms,” he says.
He undresses me clinically. There’s nothing sexual about it, just a man who is worried about me and wants me to be comfortable and safe.
“What you see?” he says as the bath fills up. He pulls my shoes off and my socks and waits for me to answer.
He doesn’t push me, and I appreciate that.
My voice sounds hollow and scared even to my own ears.
“A huge bird. I can’t remember what it’s called. The seabirds. The big ones. They mean bad things,” I say. The words are hard to make.
The visions always wear me out, and this one was especially vivid.
“And there was a snake,” I tell him, trying to remember. “We were in the circle, my sisters and I. Something happened. I don’t know. Glass flew everywhere. Shattered. There was something in the glass.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t know. It’s always like this.”
He takes off my shirt and my underwear.
The tub is filling up faster than I would’ve given it credit for, and Caleb pulls out a clean washcloth from under the sink and soaks it.
“Move forward,” he tells me.
I pull my knees to my chest, trying to come to terms with what just happened.
“Cold,” I tell him.
“I know, honey. Get warm,” he says. “I can bring you another hot toddy if you want. Whiskey and tea.”
“Stay with me,” I say.
I rest my cheek on my knees, and Caleb scrubs my back for me, taking his time, gently scrubbing each arm. I feel safe.
The vision unnerved me. They always do.
“Is it always like that? The visions, I mean?” Caleb’s voice is laced with concern, and it soothes me. It makes me feel warm all over, more than any bath could.
“They can be pretty bad,” I tell Caleb. “This is the kind of stuff you’re in for if you really want to be with me.” I splash the surface of the water gently, anxiety pent up with nowhere to go.
Caleb stops scrubbing my arm, lowers to gently drag a hand across it, and stares at me over the side of the tub.
“I want to be with you, Ivy. I didn’t like seeing you like that, but if anything that’s all the more reason you should keep me around. Someone has to take care of you, and I want that person to be me.”
A single tear drops down my cheek, something I didn’t expect at all.
“Don’t cry,” he tells me softly. “It’s okay to want that too. Doesn’t mean you’re weak. Makes you a lot stronger, actually.”
“Tired,” I tell him. My voice sounds weak.
