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"That's fair." He shifts, his eyebrows pinching and his lips curving into a slight frown. "Just don't push me away, okay? I'm here. Please let me be here."
"I don't want to bother you. I'm not your responsibility anymore. I'm not your problem."
His eyes seem to darken. "You were never my problem, little one. And I don't want to be here because I feel responsible for you. I want you to be here because anytime I'm away from you it feels like I'm crawling out of my fucking skin."
My lungs seem to forget how to function as his words sink in. His eyes widen a little, like maybe he hadn't meant to admit that, but he doesn't take it back.
"Me too," I confess. "I hate it."
"Then stop hiding from me. Hide from everyone else if you want, but let me hide with you, okay?"
I smile, though it's a little shaky. Am I dreaming? This feels like a dream. A very good one.
If it is, I hope I never wake up.
"Okay."
"Okay." He grins. It lights me up from the inside out. "I don't want you to sit in the bath too long with your rash. You should wash up and get out."
My heart sinks. I eye the soap, knowing it's not that hard to do. Just because I haven't bathed myself in a long time doesn't mean I've lost the ability. But I picture myself reaching for it. Lifting it. Squeezing the liquid onto a cloth. I picture myself running the cloth across my body. And then I have to wash my hair too. Even just thinking about all of it makes me feel… exhausted. And overwhelmed.
I can feel tears burning my eyes, my throat going tight as I fight them off.
"Oh, Casey," he whispers. I lose the fight, the first tear falling down my cheek. "What's wrong, little one?"
"I'm sorry." I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to see him as I admit the truth. "I know I'm doing a bad job, but it's just - it's so much work. I forgot how often normal people eat. 3 meals a day plus snacks? And I keep forgetting to drink water. I can't shower. It takes a pep talk to go outside. Sometimes I lay awake in the morning and I know I need to get up but the thought of it makes me feel all locked up, like I'm bracing myself for something bad to happen, and I just can't move. I just lay there. And right now, I'm thinking about washing myself and I know, okay? I know it's not a lot of work. I know a fucking toddler can do it. But I'm picturing it and I - I -" My breath hitches with a sob. "God, Jake, I'm so tired. I’m so tired all the time. Being alive like this is exhausting. I can't - I can't-"
I feel a hand on the back of my head, pulling me forward, then a warm body against my face. I sob into his chest, bringing a hand up to cling to his shirt.
"Shh." He runs his hand through my hair, his other one big and warm against my naked back. "Let it out. You're okay. Just let it out, little one."
And I do. I cry so hard it makes my body ache and my throat sore and my eyes puffy. I cry until I'm out of tears, then cry a little longer before deflating against him with shaky breaths and hiccups.
"That's it," he says, and he sounds almost… proud. Fond. "That was so good, little one. You needed that, hm?"
I just nod, too wrung out now to piece syllables and words together.
"It's going to be okay," he tells me. And I believe him. I shouldn't - it feels like nothing will be okay ever again - but I do. Because he'll make it okay. He's so very good at that. I don't trust life to get better, but I trust Jake. "You know what you need?"
I make a little, "Hm?" sound.
"You need to shut your mind off. To just let go of everything and let someone take care of you for a bit." He guides my head back. I wince when I see his shirt, soaked with tears and sudsy bath water. But then his fingers are on my chin, lifting it until our eyes meet. His gaze is intense, but warm. "Will you let me take care of you, little one?"
"You wouldn't m-mind?"
"Mind?" He flashes me a smile. "I'd love nothing more, Casey."
"Would you do it like before?" I ask, remembering how good it felt to have him wash me so carefully, then dry and lotion me until I fell asleep in his arms. If I could have that again, this time without any of the fear, I might die of happiness.
"Just like before," he promises, his eyes bright and hopeful. "Can I, little one? Would you let me?"
It reminds me of what he asked in my bedroom. Will you let me help? I want to help you.
I say what I said then. "Please."
He grins like I've given him a prize.
“Let’s refill this tub, then. The water has cooled too much for my liking.” He reaches in, pulling the drain and allowing the water to filter out. I lean my head against his shoulder and watch the little tornado toward the drain, realizing the bubbles have all dissolved. How long did I cry? I start to feel embarrassed again before stopping myself. I’m shutting my mind off tonight. He said I could, so I am. No more emotions. No more thoughts. Just… being. Relaxing. Breathing.
