Page 85 of Left In The Dark

“Yeah. As delicious as it was, there’s only so many days you can reheat egg noodles with them still tasting good.” His nose lifts and he sticks his tongue half out.

I laugh. “I guess I’ll have to think of something else for dinner.”

He rolls his eyes. “You better.”

Another laugh escapes me and I set up two fold-out trays I found in the basement, setting one in front of him with mine around two feet away. He scoots in closer to his when he takes notice of how far away I am. I smile and keep my arm pressed to his as we both eat our tacos.

“Carne asada is my favorite. What did you get?”

“Potato and egg.”

He folds his other leg in, lifting one eye at me. “You’re getting food all over my favorite mask. That means I’ll have to wear the black or purple one.”

“It won’t take long to wash.” I stop mid chew and then swallow, looking at him. “Speaking of getting clean. I need to change the bedding. Want me to run you a bath so you can get cleaned up while I do?”

He lowers his food to his plate. “You aren’t going to wash me?”

“I think I can trust you to wash yourself and not do anything you’re not supposed to.”

He sucks on his bottom lip. “You can but . . .”

“But what, sweet boy?”

He swallows hard, moving from side to side. “Eating is taking a lot out of me, and my hands are already feeling so tired.”

“So you need me to help you?” I swipe sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Please. You wash me better than I do myself. I don’t feel as clean with regular baths either. I need you . . .” He bites at the corner of his mouth. “I need you to do that technique you do to ensure I’m clean enough.”

My lips curl and my fingers trail down his neck, not stopping until I’m stroking over the barbell in his hardening nipple. “I can change the bed as the tub fills, then, and you can sit on the ottoman for a while.”

“Without the cuff?” He looks horrified at the possible suggestion.

“No. I can find somewhere to chain it to.”

His face relaxes. “Okay.”

“Maybe you can tell me what you were listening to while I’m in the bathroom getting the bath ready.”

“It’s a really good mixed tape.”

“I don’t remember which one was in there.”

“Said ‘music louder than my dad’ on the front.”

I tip my head. “Ahh. Yeah, that was a long time ago.” Why is my Walkman in my mom’s junk drawer? I told her to toss it out. I hated looking at anything that reminded me of high school. She wasn’t very good at letting things go and still has a box of my old trolls somewhere too.

“How long?”

“That’s not important.” I face my food again and sip my water. He’s fishing for my exact age again. He almost got me a few times too.

“People don’t use Walkmans and tapes anymore. Not since the early two thousands. You have to be older than me.”

Or I could have enjoyed collecting things from that time period. My CD player, Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, and VCR would back that up too. “I told you I was.”

“How many mix tapes do you have?”

We go on to talk about random things and he doesn’t stay on the same subject for long. The guy’s got total squirrel brain, and I’m enjoying all the topics we land on. We finish our food and I walk him to the chair after scooting a small side table next to it with metal legs and side bars. I hook the other cuff to one of them, and he flattens his feet on the floor, wiggling his toes. After setting a small blanket on his lap, I change the bedding. Once I toss the dirty linens in the laundry room, I run the bathtub water and we talk about his favorite songs on the tape he listened to.