Page 34 of Ezekiel
“Okay, I will. And, Lilah? Thank you. For being my friend.”
“Anytime, hun. Call anytime.” With that, we ended the call, leaving me sitting on the bed with Zeke’s cell phone in hand, wondering how I was going to pull off just walking up to my husband and asking the questions that were plaguing me. It sounded simple, but it was anything but. I was nervous. I was excited and nervous. And aroused. It seemed to be a constant state for me today. After our play yesterday, I couldn’t stop myself from replaying the entire scenario in my mind over and over. Each time, growing more and more interested. With my panties getting wetter and wetter.
With a deep breath to bolster my courage, I went out in search of my husband. We had words to discuss.
“Zeke?” I called from the bottom of the stairs, making my way towards the kitchen. I saw him standing there, his back turned to me, and he tensed noticeably at the sound of my voice.
“Yes?” he asked, not turning towards me.
“I was wondering if we could talk for a little bit,” I began, my hands wringing together in front of me. I was a bundle of nerves.
“I was just on my way to make some lunch. Did you enjoy your talk with Delilah?” he asked, but something about his tone was off.
“Are you okay?” I asked, touching my hand to the center of his back. He tensed even more.
“I’m fine!” he nearly spat at me. I quickly removed my hand, my small semblance of courage disappearing quickly at his terse tone. His body language told me everything I needed to know. He did not want me around right now. I tried to remember what he had told me, about how sounds and stress could rile his disorder up.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, clasping my hands together in front of me in order to not reach out to him again. I didn’t want to make matters worse.
“What are you sorry for?” he sighed heavily, frustration clear in his voice.
“For bothering you,” I muttered. I turned on my heel and made my way back down the hall and up the stairs to our bedroom.
That didn’t go as planned.
I sat back down on the bed, feeling defeated. How was I supposed to take Delilah’s advice and talk to him when he didn’t even want to be near me? How was I supposed to learn and grow if he pushed me away unless we were involved in kink? None of that was possible if he was just going to be a light-switch. One minute on, ready to talk and explore, and the next minute off and completely shut down. It wasn’t exactly the most conducive environment for learning.
Part of me wanted to march right back down there and demand that he get his head out of his butt and talk to me. The other, more rational part of my brain knew that I needed to just give him some time. He couldn’t control his condition. He had been honest with me about that. Who was I to demand that he change on a whim to suit my need for discussion?
The gentle sound of knocking on the bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Talia?” he whispered from the other side of the door.
“Yes?” I answered, immediately wanting to shut down and be small. I didn’t want to make things worse.
“Can I come in?” he asked. His tone was much more gentle than it had been before.
“Of course you can. It’s your room, too,” I quipped, trying to brush off my frustration. He came in and sat down on the other side of the bed, his face awash with guilt.
“Listen, I shouldn’t have snapped,” he began. I immediately noticed the tension still present in his posture, as well as the way he was fidgeting with his hands in his lap. His anxiety was up again.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. I didn’t want to make things worse.
“But it’s not. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
“I get it—” I began, but he quickly cut me off.
“No, you don’t. I hate this. I hate that I can’t get the noises to calm down and because of that, I snapped at you,” he admitted. The guilt in his voice was plain.
“Come here,” I offered gently, patting my lap. I guided him until I cradled his head in my lap, my fingers softly running through his hair. “You can’t control it, Zeke. And I completely accept that. I will do whatever I can to help. But while it is the reason you get like this, it does not excuse the damage you can cause because of it.” I chose my words carefully. Not wanting to be accusatory, but still needing to be heard.
“I don’t mean to cause damage. I don’t want to cause damage,” he spoke softly. My fingertips trailed over the furrow in his brow.
“Then let’s work on it together. I need you to tell me when you are feeling like this. I can’t help you — I can’t be what you need, if you don’t communicate with me,” I urged him to understand.
“That’s difficult for me.”
“I know it is, but I need you to try. Just like you need me to be open and communicate when it comes to kink,” I reminded with a smile. A smile he couldn’t see as his eyes were closed.
