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“Oh, baby,” I whispered, kneeling behind him again. I wrapped my arms around his chest and hugged him from behind. I tried not to crush him. “It’s okay. You’re here, Sean. You’re here. She can’t hurt you anymore.” I kissed his shoulder and the back of his neck as tears stung my eyes.
My poor man. I was heartbroken for him and so unbelievably angry at that bitch. This was what his nightmares were like? How often did he have them? How long? My God, he went through this alone? I couldn’t bear it.
Sean kept trying to pull away from me and duck his head. He wanted to hide.
“Come on.” I climbed over his legs and got to my feet, careful of the vomit that spread out in a spatter. Then I leaned down and grabbed his arm, helping him sit up. “Let’s get you cleaned up in the shower, okay? I bet a shower will feel really good.”
Sean hung his head and swiped his forearm across his mouth. He was staring at the floor where he’d puked. His hair was matted.
“I’ll clean that up,” I told him, drawing his head up then. He shook it. “It doesn’t bother me. I’ll do it. Come on.” I got him to his feet, brought his arm over my shoulders, and held him around his waist as we walked around the couch. He was still shaking. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again?” I asked.
Sean was staring blankly ahead, like he was in a trance. His cheeks were wet with tears.
“No,” he rasped.
“That’s good.” I tried smiling at him, but my lips were quivering too much.
Pull yourself together. Be strong for him. He needs you.
When we got inside the bathroom, I flicked on the light and helped Sean out of his clothes. He brushed his teeth. I was fighting back tears. Then I got the water running and tested it with my hand while Sean held onto the sink. When the water was warm, I moved behind him and kissed his back.
“It’s ready. Do you need my help?”
I was prepared to take care of Sean—to do anything he needed me to do. I’d wash him. Dress him. Clean him up if he got sick again. Anything.
But Sean shook his head. “My girls,” he began, looking back at the door.
“I’ll check on them. I think they’re still asleep.”
Sean nodded his head lifelessly, then he stepped inside the shower and drew the curtain closed. He was silent.
I scooped up his clothes and carried them to the laundry room that was just off the kitchen. I dropped them in the washer and started the load. Then I checked on the girls.
Their room was dark and still. They were covered up in pink, fluffy bedding and breathing in steady rhythms.
I closed the door on my way out.
“They’re still asleep,” I called out into the bathroom, listening for Sean’s response.
I heard water running and nothing else.
There were rubber gloves and cleaner under the kitchen sink. I loaded up on supplies and dragged the trash can over to the couch. Then I cut the TV off, since it was still on, and knelt beside the vomit, pushing up my sleeves.
The cleanup wasn’t too bad. And the floor hadn’t stained, which I was happy about. I knew how hard Sean had worked on it after he’d pulled up the carpet, and I didn’t want him looking at that spot and reliving the memory of that nightmare.
I’d been prepared to rearrange furniture, though, if the floor had been damaged.
After I tied off the bag and carried the trash outside to the can, I washed up and returned to the bathroom.
The shower was still running.
“Sean?” I stepped up to the curtain and pulled it back slightly so I could peer inside. “You okay?”
He had his hands braced on the wall and was letting the water run over his head and down his strong back.
He didn’t have any ink there, and I could see every groove of muscle as he trembled. I fought the urge to climb inside the shower and hold him while he tried to wash.
“Do you need anything?” I asked.
“Towel,” he mumbled.
I turned and went to the small linen closet opposite the sink and frantically felt around for the softest cloth.
I’m not sure why I did that or why I thought it might help. I was running on this strange energy. I wasn’t typically an anxious person, but I felt like something was pushing me around and forcing me to move at a much faster pace.
“Here you go,” I said. I held the white cotton against my chest and shifted on my feet while Sean cut the water off and pulled back the curtain. I braced myself for his tears.
When he stepped out onto the mat, he kept his gaze on the tiled floor. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. His hair was dripping. Drops of water slid off his skin.
