Page 10 of Ezekiel
“That’s fair.” She had a small laugh that sounded like bells tinkling. It made me want to kiss her. And I didn’t kiss people. That wasn’t my thing. Kissing her in front of the entire congregation of Zion had been nothing short of awful. Not because she was a bad kisser. I honestly had no idea if she was a good or bad kisser. I was so focused on all the people and sounds around me. That entire day had been brutal. Yesterday, I reminded myself. That had just been yesterday. Time was weird.
“Anyway, the coffee is right here. There is also an assortment of tea and honey here,” I pointed out.
“What are the different colors?” she asked, pointing to the three jars of honey.
“Oh,” I said, finding myself feeling excited. “This one is a simple wildflower honey, this one is a cinnamon infused honey, and this last one is a lemon infused honey.”
“Do you make these as well?” she asked, putting two and two together. I nodded, my chest puffing up just a teensy bit with pride. “That is incredible. Where do you get the honey from?”
Instead of answering, I pointed to the window which led to the backyard. She quickly rushed to the window, looking out over the yard where my bees were kept near the garden.
“You grow your own produce and you have bees?!” She nearly jumped up and down in excitement. “What do you grow? How many bees do you have? Do you just have produce or do you also have a flower garden somewhere? A wildflower bed would produce amazing honey, I would think. Oh, do you have any trees?”
Her questions prattled on. There was a part of me that was enthralled, ecstatic to see her excited about something that gave me such joy, but the sounds — The way her voice raised in volume and pitch and the way her questions became incessant grated on my nerves. Fuck this fucking disorder. It always seemed to screw up what could have been a good moment. I nodded along, wanting nothing more than to share in the joy of our shared interest, but stupid misophonia had other idea.
I had been diagnosed a few years ago, after discovering Abditory and kink. I had been working under a Dominant called Ruthless. He had taken me under his wing and mentored me into the world of kink. His real name was Neil, but that didn’t quite have the same ring to it, hence the name Ruthless. His wife had been the one to identify my disorder. After years of thinking I was just odd, I had a possible answer. Sure enough, I had booked an appointment with a therapist and was diagnosed shortly after. Therapy had gone well for a short while, but nothing really fixed the issue. It was all coping mechanisms. They worked, but only up until a point.
“I realize just now that I never got around to showing you the house. Would you like a tour?” I asked, desperate to change the subject and at least be able to move around a little. Anything to work out this feeling inside me. She nodded enthusiastically and off we went. I pointed out where each room was and where pertinent things were located. We ended the tour upstairs with the spare room I had slept in last night. I saw the way her eyes focused on my unmade bed. I should have made it.
“Where did you go last night?” she asked timidly, her earlier excitement replaced with hesitation. I preferred her excitement, even if it did set my nerves on edge with her noise.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
Just talk to her.
Delilah’s words pinged in the back of my head again.
“I needed a minute,” I started, already hating my lame excuse for… well, an excuse.
“I can understand that. But… where did you go?” she asked again. There was no accusation in her voice, only curiosity.
“I went outside. To Malachi’s,” I finally admitted.
“You walked to Malachi’s? In this weather? At night?” she asked, genuinely shocked.
“My property was once part of Malachi’s. I purchased it from him three years ago, when we built this home. His place is not far. Malachi —” I struggled with how to explain how Malachi and I’s relationship worked. “He gets me like no one else does.”
“He helped you? Last night?” she asked, understanding showing on her fair face.
“He did. I needed it.” I wanted her to understand, but how could she when I didn’t even have the words to explain it to my own self?
“I am grateful you have someone to lean on such as Malachi,” she uttered with so much compassion it floored me. But it also reminded me that while I had someone to lean on after such atrocities as we had suffered yesterday at the hands of our Elders, I didn’t know if Talia did.
“Do you have someone, Talia? Do you have someone in your life that you can trust with everything you are?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to give her some measure of peace. I could hardly bear to think of how she felt now, after yesterday. After being used and abused like an exotic zoo attraction.
“I am sure you will be such a person to me in time, Ezekiel, in time,” she answered dutifully, with a smile.
“I hope for that, too. But do you have someone now? Someone you tell all your secrets to?” She thought over my question for a moment before answering.
“I do. Delilah. Your sister-in-law.” Her answer couldn’t have been more perfect. Delilah could be trusted. She knew us, my brothers and I, and grew to know us better by the day. She was the best of people. She and Ruth both were, honestly.
“Would it help you to be able to talk to her?” I asked. I wanted to go to her. To take her hands and offer her comfort. But it felt strange. I didn’t know how to be around her, around someone like her. Around my wife.
“It would, and I look forward to speaking with her after our honeymoon,” she said with a smile.
“What about now? Would you like to talk to her now?” I watched as confusion dawned on her face.
“Talia, what we went through yesterday…none of that was easy for us. Especially not for you,” I began, taking a step towards her.
