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“Let’s get you ready to play,” he says, guiding me to our bedroom to get dressed.
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Tummy full of ham and pineapple pizza, an episode ofScooby-Doo and the Mystery Gangplaying in the background, and Daddy watching me from his rocking recliner, there isn’t an adult thought to be found.
I’m playing with the Count of Darkness figurine set Daddy found on Amazon, recreating one of my favorite scenes from my favoriteDraculastory. I dance the tiny people along the coffee table, giggling when the damsel in distress trips over a hay barrel, falling victim to the vamp’s pointy teeth.
“No, please. Don’t eat me!”I say, mimicking a high-pitched tone.
I drop my voice to a husky Victorian accent.“Eat? Oh no, my darling. I’m only going to drink.”
Daddy’s chuckle catches my attention. Looking up, I find him still reading one of his favorite mystery paperbacks, not looking away from the pages. Even engrossed in his story, I know he’s laughing at me, constantly having one ear or eye trained my way.
“This is serious stuff, Daddy,” I scold him. “Count D is terrorizing the village.”
“Well, let’s hope he moves on to another town or the angry villagers put a stop to him soon.” He glances up from the book, eyes flitting to the clock on the wall and back to me. “It’s almost time to call it a night.”
Nodding, I return my attention to the scene in front of me. Snagging one of the villager men, I walk his plastic body toward the vampire mid-suck.
“Stop! Unhand the lady, and I’ll spare you the stake.”The villager waves a wooden stake in the air, startling the vampire. Because Count D is a good vampire, he backs up, hands warding off the man.
“I’ll leave. Please don’t kill me.”Count D turns and runs, finding shelter in a town filled with witches, unknown to the mere humans living beside them.
Daddy claps enthusiastically from his chair. “Loved the ending, baby bat.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Can you put away your toys?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Gathering all the toys I’ve scattered over the short table and floor, I dump everything into the bin in the corner of the room. With a quick scan, I make sure I didn’t leave anything behind before crawling over to Daddy’s chair and onto his lap.
“Hi, baby bat. Did you have fun?”
“I did, Daddy,” I say. “Thank you for giving me this time.”
“Anything for you, baby.” Daddy presses a kiss to my temple, cuddling me into his arms and rocking us in the recliner.
This time is as much a part of our routine as anything else. For however long I need it, Daddy rocks us quietly, letting me pull out of my regression. We’ve found these peaceful moments ease my transition back to the adult world, and unless we’ve planned a long weekend, I need this time.
I’m not sure how long it is before the fuzzy block in my head recedes, like a fog lifting under the morning sun. Back to my adult self, I raise my head and smile at Dean. “Thank you,” I tell him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“You never have to thank me for giving you what you need, Tanner.” Daddy grins. “Are you here, or do you need more time?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Can you stand for a second?”
“Uh, sure.”
He follows me up, then pushes me gently into his vacant seat. “Sit here for a second. I need to grab something.”
Before I can even open my mouth to ask what’s going on, Dean darts out the garage door. Straining my head, I catch the metaltingof a buckle, the soft opening and closing of a saddle bag, then Dean’s footsteps stomp back inside—empty-handed, I might add.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says.
Lesson learned, I’m not as quick to jump to a dreadful conclusion about what’s on his mind. Ignoring the swirl of unease threading through me, I choke out, “W-what do you want to talk about?”
