Benji gives me a shy smile as he stops in my doorway and murmurs, “I oopsily lost my ball.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You know you can come in and get your ball.”
He does, albeit hesitantly considering this has been a regular occurrence since shortly after I got here and as usual, he stops at the foot of my bed and cranes his neck to see what I’m drawing.
It took two weeks for this adorable little two year old to break down my walls. Just two, and I’ve been a pushover for him ever since.
“It’s a cow.” I set my pencil down and lift the page so he can see the black and white dairy cow I was sketching in anticipation of his visit. “Do you know what a cow says?”
“Tell me, O,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip.
“I will if you stop torturing your lip,” I tease, pulling his lip out from between his lip. “It starts withmuand ends with…”
“Ooo!” he cries out with a giggle.
Those giggles are fucking everything these days. Everything feels like it’s painted in shades of grays, except when he comes by. Benji is the shot of color I never thought I’d see again.
“More moo please?”
Last week he had me drawing sea animals.
Before that it was cats. Any kind of feline I could think of made him happy, which was great because I could only draw so many domestic ones before we both got bored.
This week it’s been farm animals.
He has a pig, a chicken, a horse and a duck in his room already, and today Benji gets a dairy cow. I’ll find out what my next commission is as soon as he feels comfortable talking to me.
Normally, he is after a few minutes of one-sided conversation about my sketches, but I think that’s part of why he and I clicked.
He has to feel people out before he decides how to handle them. He might only be a toddler but I think this kid is an old soul, one wiser than most adults I met before coming here.
Benji doesn’t let just anyone into his bubble and I respect the hell out of him for it.
I’m the same way.
I don’t even talk to his mom, Meghan, as much as I talk to him, and I like her for the most part. I like her as much as I’ve allowed myself to like anyone here, anyway.
“Well, does this get your stamp of approval?” I tear the page out and hand it to him, the little boy now in front of me after inching his way along the bed frame. “Good enough to go up with the others?”
Benji tilts his head and furrows his brow, analyzing my artwork like a bonafide critic for a few seconds before he looks up at me with a big grin. “Yep.”
“Whew,” I say as I wipe the imaginary sweat from my brow. “I wasn’t sure it was going to pass the test.”
“Duh, O.”
I snort at both his attitude and nickname for me. “Sorry, sorry. Just trying to keep my one and only fan happy.”
He practically rolls his eyes as he starts folding the drawing then proceeds to stuff it down the back of his pants.
This kid cracks me up.
“Sorry, what’ll…” I wince as my stomach pitches then hold my breath as a cramp takes over my entire lower half.
That keeps happening.
I’ve been cramping off and on, breaking out into cold sweats, I’m exhausted and I haven’t been able to eat all day without feeling like I’m on the cusp of needing an exorcism.
It’s no mystery what’s happening, I knew I’d go into heat sooner or later, but it’s a little early. Too early since I’m not actually prepared for navigating this without my pack. Alas, here we are. I’m heartbroken and devastated, and in a place I still haven’t entirely acclimated to. This cycle is going to be a bitch, I’m sure. One I anticipate a lot of crying over.
