Page 53 of His for Hanukkah

Tate felt out of his depth. Adam was begging for him to do something, begging for Daddy to step in and make everything better. But what was he supposed to do?

He’d already tried cuddling and asking questions. Maybe it was time for something else.

“Boy, stand up.” He half-pushed him out of the bed as he stood up himself. When he was standing, he walked out the bedroom door without looking back. “Follow me,” he snapped out.

Would it work? After a moment, Adam followed lethargically behind him.

He moved to the empty corner of the living room and waited for Adam to stand behind him.

“We agreed that you would tell me what you need so that I can help you. Since you are choosing not to, you will stand here, facing the corner, for ten minutes. I suggest that you think about why it is important to talk to me, and what you want to tell me. I’ll let you know when your time is up.”

Adam stomped to the corner. His hands were clenched in fists. He stomped some more.

Tate stood impassively only a few steps back. He wasn’t leaving him when he was vulnerable and angry like this. Tate had glanced at the time on his watch, but he didn’t set a timer. If it looked like he needed to adjust the duration of the punishment, he would.

Adam continued to stomp. He crossed his arms and dug his fingers into his forearms. He clenched his fists at his side.

At around minute seven, all the fight went out of him. He leaned his head into the corner and rested it there, as if he needed the support to stand.

Tate watched his boy as the minutes ticked away. At exactly ten minutes, he said, “time’s up.” He sat down on the couch without another word.

Slowly, Adam turned and sat at the other end of the couch. It wasn’t as good as his lap, but at least it was the same piece of furniture.

Tate kept his face and body relaxed, inviting Adam to speak but not pressuring him.

Finally, Adam shrugged.

Tate took that as a communication effort, which meant that it was his turn next. He tried to start somewhere easy. “Thank you for sending me the video today. I really enjoyed watching it. You’re picking up guitar quickly.”

Adam shrugged, but Tate thought he saw the hint of a smile.

“And I noticed that you ate a healthy breakfast and lunch today. Thank you for texting me.”

Adam glared, then he just looked defeated.

Alright, maybe the indirect approach wasn’t going to work. “Were you making the tomato sauce to surprise me? It smelled delicious, but it must have been frustrating when it spilled.”

“You were late,” Adam spit out.

“I’m sorry. I tried to come home as soon as I could and to communicate with you when I was running late. Did you get my text?”

“Yeah. That’s why I got anxious, and then I turned around too quickly and knocked over the pot.”

“I apologize again for my part in that. Is there a reason why me being late made you more anxious than usual?”

Adam looked sad, now. “It was supposed to be perfect.”

“The dinner?”

Adam nodded miserably. “It’s the last night of Hanukkah. And I was going to have everything ready exactly at seven so our dinner could be perfect.”

“Could we have had a perfect dinner twenty minutes later?” Tate was actually curious. From his perspective, Adam’s anxiety was usually a bit more understated and controllable. The adjusted time that morning hadn’t made waves.

“The pasta was going to dry out. And if I put it back in the water it would get soggy. I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Adam had explained that he wasn’t usually a perfectionist, but when he was feeling emotional or when a change from a set plan to something open-ended caused his anxiety started to spiral out, it could turn into obsessive worry about something else.

“Ah, I see. If you put it back in the pot with a little oil you can keep it on the stove for a while. Is that why you threw the spaghetti on the floor?”