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“But, what—” On the tip of my tongue are about a million questions that need answering, but apparently Jackson wants none of it.
“I’m not talking about it. Not now, not ever. So, drop it and don’t think about bringing it up again. Got it?” He narrows his eyes at me, no negotiations or discussions available with this one.
I nod my head.
“I need help… washing off. Can you help me please?” He seems disgusted with the words as they fall off his tongue. He tries his best to not ask for help with anything, always wanting to figure out a way to do it himself. If I help him, I have to make it be in a way that doesn’t really seem like I’m helping him.
He wants a bowl of cereal? Oh, I was actually just coming to get a bowl for myself.
He dropped the remote and it’s too far for him to pick up? Well, shit, I’m clumsy and just dropped something too.
Yeah, he knows I’m full of shit, but I think we’re content playing make believe in this invisible bubble. I’d rather pretend to drop something to help him instead of having him bitch at me for being overbearing.
So, him asking me to help him is very unexpected.
“Yeah.” I stand up and follow him into the bathroom. When he glances at himself in the mirror, his eyebrows lift in shock. No soon after he blanks his face, schooling his features and lifting his shirt to rip it over his head. He tosses it into the sink, and it lands with a loud slap that nearly makes me dry heave.
It only takes seconds for my small bathroom to smell of copper. The smell gets so strong that my eyes water.
I bend down to turn on the bath. I don’t know how he wants to do this, but I doubt he wants me to give him a full rub down.
“Can you…?” He gestures to his pants, and when he uses his hands to elevate himself off the seat a little bit, I take that as my cue to bend down and pull his pants down. I slip off his blood red shoes and socks, balling them up along with his pants and dropping them into the sink next to his shirt. Those are not going into my washing machine. Straight to the trash for those bad boys.
He wheels himself up to the edge of the bathtub, lifting each leg one at a time and them over the ledge of the tub. I go and grab a handful of washcloths from the closet out in the hall. When I walk back, I don’t know what he wants me to do because he just stares at the wall. Doesn’t give me any indication of what he wants.
It’s like he’s checked out. Clocked out for the day. He’s turned the light off and gone dark.
I sit on the ledge of the tub, getting a washcloth wet and running it over his legs. The water dribbles down, running individual tracks down his legs, zigzagging between the hair on his legs. He says nothing as I continue to do this, watching as the water turns from clear to pink. I take my time, making sure he’s thoroughly washed on his legs and arms, cleaning underneath his nails and between each one of his fingers.
We don’t say anything, just continue on in silence. He watches the wall, seemingly deep in thought, and I let him. I rarely get time like this anymore. Silence, no Wesley, no bickering with Jackson, no chatting with Rose. Just silence.
I stand up when I get to his face, grabbing a clean rag wiping it clean. All that’s left is his hair, which I do my best to clean while he’s sitting in a chair. I also didn’t go underneath his boxers, but he gave no indication he wanted them off.
When he’s as clean as I can get him, I ring out the rag and drape it over the handle before pulling the plug. “There.”
That snaps him out of his daze. He looks up at me, mumbling, “Thanks.”
“I wanted to talk to you.” I say, following him as he reverses out of the bathroom and towards my bedroom.
“Not really in the mood.”
I get a pang to the chest and ignore it. “Please? I really wanted to talk to you. We never get this time—when Wesley is sleeping.”
It’s like he finally realizes this, because his eyes widen, and he looks around. “He’s really asleep right now?”
I nod, smiling.
His eyes go blank again and he continues on to the bedroom.
“So? Can we talk?” I follow on his heels.
He turns around once he gets to the bedroom, his expression exasperated and not all here. “What do you want, Cara? I’m really not in the mood for this shit.”
I feel an ounce of courage, so I settle into his lap, letting loose a little smirk when his eyes flare.
Finally.
“We haven’t had time to talk about us.”
