For now. Until I mess up next time.I decided not to think about that right now. Live in the moment, for once. I gave him a gentle squeeze. "Time for what?" I played dumb.
"You know." He gave me a wink, then a little pinch. Fortunately we were in the bedroom by then, no possibility of a little boy who "had to go to the bathroom" yet again catching a glimpse of some slap and tickle. Wallace looked up at me, his eyes smiling and warm. "If you want," he said.
"Sure," I agreed, "but only if you want, too. Don't just humor me with sex. I want you to enjoy it as much as me."
It must've been the right thing to say. His eyes got shinier and happier, and he started undressing, smiling at me. "I don't think that'll be a problem," he said softly.
#
The sound of my son's nightmare wore me from a deep and soundless sleep. For a moment the unfamiliar but very comfortable warm weight snuggled against my side threw me for a loop. Then Wallace stretched, and remembered as I gently disentangled myself from him. It wasn't often I got to fall asleep next to him, even for a few minutes. This rare and precious night was interrupted by my son's terror.
Eli came first. He always came first. I'd put pajamas back on before going to sleep, just in case of this eventuality. I hurried out to him as quickly as I could.
Wallace and I had made slow, sweet love that felt almost tantric in nature, we were so in tune, neither in a hurry to get there, both focused on each other and silence and being together. And falling asleep next to each other after? That had been amazing, too.
Eli's terror wrenched at my heart as it always did. I'd have torn through a wall to get to him when he was like this. He sounded like he'd never be okay again, like nothing could comfort him or fix this fear. Whatever had inspired his night terrors — or rather, the combination of his early lack of day-to-day comfort and security — sometimes seemed very far away, and sometimes so close they were breathing down our necks, as if he'd never outrun or outgrow these horrible tormenting nightmares.
I made it to his room. "Eli, hey, baby, wake up. Come on." I shook his shoulder gently, and he cried out again, a sound no father wants to hear, and then he was there, squishing himself into my arms, trembling all over.
"Daddy," he said in a broken, tear-choked voice. "There was monsters."
"No monsters now. I'm here." I stroked a hand back over his head and settled on a rhythmic patting on his back, as if he was an infant and I was burping him. I never got to do that when he was an infant. He needed me more than ever now to make up for all the times I couldn't protect him...even if he would never actually need to be burped again.
So much of Eli's past was a blur. Child Protective Services had been involved at some points, so there was a little bit of documentation, but not much. Eli himself didn't like to talk about it, probably didn't remember much of the early days, and so I only learned things from shoddy records and when he let something out I hadn't known. Eli, like me, played things close to his chest. Also my kid was seriously, almost scarily, empathic. He'd caught on quickly that I got upset when he mentioned ways his mother had neglected him, or abusive boyfriends she'd had in the past. I could try to hide it, but he knew; and so he avoided talking about any of that stuff.
He wanted to live in the present, in the good new days that required enough from him without the past taking even more. But at night, the bad things came back, sometimes in different forms, sometimes not. Sometimes he slept well for days at a time, and I'd think it was getting better, that he'd outgrown his night terrors, that counseling and security were helping. That my boy was fixed, and could grow up healthy and strong and unafraid.
I held him in my arms, while he hiccupped and clung to me, and his breathing pattern slowly returned to normal. He was such a little kid to have been through so much. If I could have fixed it for him, I would have. If I could have traded these nightmares of his for every peaceful night's sleep I would ever have, I'd have done it in a heartbeat.
I couldn't. All I could do was be here, and inwardly curse the darkness while trying to shine a light into his night terror prison, and make sure he always knew I was here on the other side.
There was a soft movement at the corner of my eye. I glanced quickly, not believing what I saw, but yes, it was Wallace in his fox form, standing tentatively on the threshold of Eli's bedroom. The concern was clear in his eyes, even as a small, sleek animal with big ears. He radiated indecision, one paw raised, a slight twitching going along his fur. His eyes looked tormented, like he wanted to run over to join us but knew he shouldn't.
I took a chance.
"Eli," I said softly. "Somebody's here to see you. He wants to see if you're okay. Can Wallace come into the room?"
"No." He twisted away from me. "I don't want him to see me—" Then he stopped. He'd spotted the fox. My tearstained son gave an audible gasp. "Oh.Fox." He sounded as awed as I'd felt the first time I saw Wallace's fox form. He reached out a hand automatically.
Without hesitating another moment, Wallace gave a little yip and ran up to the bed. He jumped fluidly up and raised his muzzle to my son. His soft little pink tongue edged out, touching Eli's hand lightly.
Eli made a sound I can't describe and almost lunged for the fox. He buried his face in fur and wrapped his arms around Wallace. The sob he made was muffled, and he held on as if for dear life. Wallace made a little yip-crooning sound that was very strange, and held himself still in Eli's arms, the way a very gentle dog will let children hang onto them for comfort. He twisted around a little to lick Eli's neck and ear.
The atmosphere was emotionally charged. I could almost feel the desire to comfort radiating from Wallace. I'm not a particularly sensitive guy most of the time, but damn if I didn't almost well up at the sight. He'd been desperate to get to my son, to help in whatever way he could. And he was helping; Eli clung to him, finding comfort in the soft fur and unintimidating little animal body that he could find few other places.
I remembered the sight of Wallace in the arms of the little girl he'd finally found in the forest, Elizabeth, so brave to escape a kidnapper and run...but so afraid, finding comfort in a fox's fur when she no longer trusted humans at all.
He reallywasgood with kids. Maybe I shouldn't resent his big heart and desire to fix everything after all — at least not right now.
I put a hand on both of them, grateful and exhausted at the same time. It had been a long day. A fierce headache was starting deep behind my eyes, the all-day kind of headache that might go away if I could get more sleep, but definitely wouldn't if I didn't get any more sleep tonight.
But here was Wallace. Here was Eli. Dammit, this felt like a family thing. Eli held onto Wallace, face pressed against his fur, and justbreathed.
Wallace Avery
The emotional intensity of last night had left me a little drained. That, or I was dreading today's work that still lay ahead.
The undercover experience had been uncomfortably intense: feeling like a piece of meat, being stared at, leered at really, and judged solely for my physical possibilities. Even in a club, dancing my heart out and barely dressed, I'd never felt so on display. Perhaps because there, it was my choice, my enjoyment...and there were fewer open creeps at even the most exuberant club, apparently, than in a seedy back room.
