He stared and stared. There was a long stretch of silence, minutes passing, his eyes moving to the chessboard then to me again. He was at odds with himself, agreeing with everything I said but overwhelmed with his biological urge to protect me, to seek revenge against someone who meant me harm.
“You know I’m right, Dad.”
He took a breath and sighed.
“Atlas basically had the same reaction as you. He wanted to discharge him from the clinic, but I refused to let that happen.”
“Which was the right decision.”
“He may be the boss of the clinic, but he’s not the boss of me.”
“No.” He steadied his gaze on me. “Continuing to help the man—that was the right decision.”
When I came home, I plopped down on the couch. So how long is this going to go on for? We’d barely said more than a few words to each other, and our nights were spent apart, not tangled up together in the sheets.
His response was immediate. Until he’s discharged from the clinic.
Well, that could take a while…
Which is why I’m working on it now. Which is why I work on it all the time. Day and night.
We should work on it together.
No response.
I’m coming over.
No.
Too bad.
I’ll come to you.
I sent a bunch of eye-roll emojis. This better not be because you don’t want me to walk over at night.
No response.
Because I could kick your ass if I had to.
Yes. Because unlike that piece of shit, I would never hurt you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Bring a bag.
I’m not staying.
But I miss you…a lot.
No response.
Please. Come on, you miss me too.
Still nothing.
You better bring something because I’m not letting you leave until morning.
He responded, and for the first time since the attack, he was playful. Gonna kick my ass if I try?
Yep.
Like to see you try.
You’re on, buddy.
Buddy?
Sorry…bad shit-talk.
He sat across from me at the dining table, all work and no play. He’d brought his computer bag with all his papers, but he didn’t bring an overnight bag stuffed with clothes and a toothbrush.
Looked like I’d have to tie him to my bed tonight.
We ordered a pizza and ate it straight out of the box, spending most of the evening in silence.
When he was focused, he was quiet, not using me or other colleagues as a sounding board. He liked to figure things out on his own, keep his thoughts to himself. But there was definitely some animosity coming from him since he was spending his time helping someone who didn’t deserve his brainpower.
“A couple weeks ago, I went to this discussion about pain science.”
He looked up from his work and stared at me.
“If your nervous system is heightened by an injury, it remains sensitive, sending pain signals when it shouldn’t. Makes me wonder…”
“That doesn’t explain why it’s everywhere on his body.”
“Unless his body was so sensitive that it affected his CNS…”
His eyes remained on mine, but they shifted and moved, like he was thinking it through. “There’s no injury.”
“Maybe there was a long time ago. No one thought it was significant, so it’s not in his chart.”
“Even if that’s true, there’s no treatment for that.”
“Not true. We could give him the same medication we give to MS patients, something to fatigue his nervous system. But just knowing that’s what it is could dull his senses too, because they wouldn’t be so overreactive. And then there’s exercise, and judging by his weight and blood pressure, he’s getting none of that.”
“Because he’s in too much pain to move.”
“Exactly. I think we need to figure out what this initial injury is and then send him to physical therapy.”
He gave a nod. “That might piss him off, though. That’s not a Hail Mary.”
I shrugged. “He’s going to have to trust the process.”
He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “Based on his past behavior, I don’t see that as likely.”
“We’ll get him the best physical therapist that will win him over.”
As if that was enough for him, he closed his laptop.
This case wasn’t quite over because I had to confirm that patient had had an injury at some point in the past. But for now, there was nothing more to do.
With one elbow on the armrest, he stared at me, his fingers on his lips.
“You didn’t bring an overnight bag.”
“No. What are you going to do about it?”
“Tie you to the bed with my panties.”
All the muscles in his face immediately tightened, a flinch that overtook his entire body. His eyes were the only things that stayed the same.
I left my chair and strutted away, heading to the bedroom.
I knew he’d follow. There was no doubt in my mind.
I opened my drawer and pulled out a couple of my colorful thongs and heard his footsteps against the hardwood as he entered my bedroom.
I tossed the panties on the bed then turned to him.