How sad is this? I'm the big one in this house. I'm the one who should be responsible and be taking care of everything. Yet, here I am, in tears. I'm crying and Rebecca, that little lady that's only 2 feet in height, is comforting me and telling me to stop crying. What kind of person am I? How can I let myself break down so easily? Sure, I was scared for her safety, but I'm all-out breaking down. How am I supposed to take care of Rebecca if I can't even be trusted to hold myself together, emotionally, while she does stuff?
I can feel her kiss on my cheek and it only makes my crying worse. I understand her position in this, though. She wants to do things on her own, and she doesn't want me to be like this. I know I can't do everything for her, but...I don't know what's going on, sometimes. Feeling her kiss, though, makes me feel better about what has been bothering me. She promised me that she wasn't going anywhere. That's the one thing I wanted her to say to me, that she wasn't going to be leaving this house. I crack a smile and try to push back my tears as I process this and prepare to get on with my day.
It takes me a minute, but I pull her closer and let my lips touch her cheek. It takes me some time to do it, but I let them kiss her, gently, and give her back what she gave me. She nearly gasps as I do so, obviously not expecting it back to her. I pull my head back and wipe away my tears into my sleeve. My cheeks are blushing, and so are hers. We share a moment of eye contact, and then I speak. “Thank you. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here, with me, and be happy, just like I am with you around.” I take a deep breath as I finish this statement, my tears slowly drying to my cheeks.
I let go of Rebecca and let her come back down to the floor. I'm still sitting, and I look her in the eye. “Listen, I know you want to do stuff. I know you want to help me with stuff. I understand that, completely. I want to help you with everything. I can't do that, though. I won't ask you to ask my permission before you do anything dangerous. But, may I request that I, at least, be present in the room when you're doing things near burners and such? I know you have faith in yourself, I just want to be really careful. I want to make sure nothing ever happens to you.”
She looks at me, and I can see her pupils shaking. She's in shock, obviously, from what I did. I've never seen her so frozen in these months we've spent together. She reaches her hand up and puts it on my arm. She grips it and is silent for a few minutes. Her eyes blink, as if she's trying to deal with everything. The shock of everything must be going through her head, this very moment. How can someone really deal with everything that just happened? She couldn't have imagined I am such an emotional person and would go to such lengths to keep her safe.
As she gets a grip on herself, she looks at me, that confident look coming back. Her head nods towards me and she gives me a smile. I can feel her grip on my arm tightening as it happens. “Alright, Trent. If that's what it will take to allow both of us to do what we want, then so be it. If I do anything that is dangerous, or can be dangerous, I'll have you in here, with me.” It seems that the little compromise is working. Honestly, I wish I could just do everything for her. Sadly, though, I can't. I have to respect her own wishes for independence. I can't steal that away from her, like Melissa did.
“But!” she adds. “That doesn't mean that you can do everything for me. As much as you may want to, and as much as it might be nice to be pampered all the time, I want to do things, myself. You will merely be watching over me, as I do things. Nothing more. There will be things I want your help with, and there will be things I don't. Right now, for example, I want to make breakfast. I came in here, quickly, to get it started without you. You cook me food all the time, and I want to cook the food for us today. I want to do as much of it as I can. Now, help me back up into that stool and get some supplies out for me. You will be watching, but not involved in the food I will be whipping up for us. Got it?”
The way things always seem to go with the two of us are odd, but at least they're progressing. It would be much worse to have a bond progress and then be torn, at the deeper level, because of something else. This is different, though. This is us compromising. We've both shown each other that we care about one another, through our talking and through the exchange of kissing and hugging. Now that I know she's not leaving, and she knows I don't wish her to, we can get on with all of this. I simply nod to her, and offer her my arms. “Sure. Would you like a lift to your stool?”
Rebecca retracts herself for a second, hiding her arms behind her back. Her eyes dart, back and forth, staring at my arms. It's clear that she's second-guessing what I ask. She looks skeptical as she does so, but slowly returns to a comfortable state. She probably doesn't want to be lifted and put up on the stool. She probably wants to do it by herself. As she looks back at me, though, she walks forward again and turns around. “Y-Yeah, a lift would be nice! Just make sure that's ALL you do. No tickling or anything!”
She's a funny, funny girl. I laugh, for a moment, and agree to her terms. “Alright. I promise I'll just help you up. No tickling or anything else.” I move my arms closer to her, letting my hands rest below her arms, against her sides. As soon as I have a gently grip, I can feel her tiny bones through her clothes. I lift up, bringing her into the air. Her legs kick, for a moment, but soon stop. I push myself up and walk over to the stool. Aiming her legs at the seat of the stool, I slowly bring her down and let her go as she lands on it.
She looks back at me, face red, and points to the refrigerator. “T-Thanks! Now go get me some eggs, and cheese! And a spatula! Go go go!”