14 The Overdo
Beau/Dash
Beau
Three Days Later
“You’re overdoin’ it,” I said with force, glaring at Dash in the bathroom mirror. I was seconds away from a big fucking fit right here inside our bathroom. “I’m not gonna say it again.”
“I feel like that’s untrue,” Dash said, squirting a decent amount of toothpaste on his brush, ignoring me completely.
“You clearly don’t love me enough to do the important parts of a fast recovery.”
“I love you beyond reason. You know that,” Dash said calmly, splashing water on his toothbrush.
“You had back-to-back therapy appointments today,” I said to his profile, tossing out a hand because it needed to be thrown out, no other reason. Definitely not for Dash to try and understand reasonableness. That was never going to happen. “You should be asleep right now. Dammit, you’re a frustratin’ man. Why do I have to keep sayin’ this? Did you lose brain cells while you were sick?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Makes sense. I like the beard, it frames your face perfectly. Makes your eyes pop.”
I instantly turned to the mirror to assess the growth. Beards were weird. They itched. There was literally zero way to keep it clean when you ate. I felt gross, always bringing the napkin to my lips after every bite. But I didn’t have to shave much. We’d see how it went. “You think? I think the light facial hair was complex enough to deal with. This takes it to a different level.”
“Keep it. If I ever build an arousal again, I’m gonna like that between my ass cheeks. Well, I’ll enjoy it in every way.” Dash bent to rinse his mouth, then dried his lips before rising again to stare at his own frail, skinny body in the mirror. Eventually his gaze rose to his hair. “I’m thinking about keeping it longer. It needs a style. Lauren’s coming over next Sunday to shape and dye it. What’d you think?”
Our gazes collided in the mirrored glass. “You always look good anytime you change it up. Try it. If you don’t like it, change it again,” I said. Fashion and design were always his go-to distractions. I only went along with whatever he wanted if it didn’t cost a lot of money.
“Fake it ’til you make it,” he muttered, which was his anthem these days.
That phrase bothered me. It didn’t speak of allowing his energy to return in a healthy manner. To prove my point, Dash’s entire body swayed to the left. My hands darted out, grabbing his chest to keep him upright.
“You’ll have a setback if you don’t make better choices, and I’m tired of sayin’ it to you. If you want me to continue to help you, then you fuckin’ need to rest, eat the small meals we bring to you, take warm showers sittin’ on the chair, and take the medicine for your cough. You handle the therapists’ programs like a pro, but you’re pushin’ yourself too hard durin’ your downtime. We also have to do better at readin’ the summary of your day, and what’s comin’ at you the next day.”
“Fucking?” he quipped, at my use of the word. “That’s my word. And what happened to you not talking about it with me anymore? You just said you weren’t saying it again.”
He knocked the faucet handle to turn off the water. Fatigue etched fine lines in the corners of his eyes. They were turning into deep ruts. The skin over his mouth stretched across his teeth. He was seriously skinny. I’d thrown away his array of pajama pants, and helped him into a pair of fitted boy shorts and a T-shirt that three weeks ago highlighted his small belly. Now, the fabric hung off him.
“Help me to bed,” he asked sensually rather than mechanically, but I knew the truth, he’d never manage to get to the mattress on his own. He tossed an arm around my neck, his body angling against mine. We began the slow walk to the bed.
“If you’d let me carry you, we’d be faster. Your chill bumps wouldn’t spring up,” I said, focusing on his steps as we angled through the door into the bedroom.
“Changing your tactics?” he spit out. “Just say you want to turn on the heater.”
I almost sighed as he dove into another regular disagreement. I liked the room’s temperature to be warmer than ice cold.
“Beau, I need to push myself, otherwise I might not shake this.” Dash grabbed for the edge of the furniture to help him stay upright as if I’d ever drop him. “I can’t stand for my cock to be limp when you’re around. It’s never happened before. I at least plump when I see you. What happens if I don’t get running properly again? You’re a sexual guy—”
I covered his lips with my palm, stopping the insanity of his explanation and excuses.
“Can I just record a message to you?” I asked. “Because it’s been days since you’ve been home, and you won’t allow the truth to sink into your thick skull. Your body’s healin’, and you’re overly-exhausted. Of course, you can’t grow hard. Recovery requires time, rest, and effort with the therapy team, and you have to eat the food made for you.”
“Apparently, I’m not into rice or soggy vegetables. I like more consistency to them. I enjoyed the spaghetti squash meal you made, but it needed salt and pepper. And there’s something funky in that smoothie. It tastes like what soap smells like. Maybe it’s too spinach-y. And it needs more honey or date sugar, something to sweeten it.”
Slow and steady, we finally made it to his side of the bed. “Thank you for tellin’ me. I’ll amend the recipes. You liked the roasted vegetables, right?”
“I like them a lot,” Dash said. “The carrots too. Those hit for me. At some point soon, I need to check in at the office,” Dash murmured, stifling a yawn as he took a sitting position on the edge of the bed. My palm popped up to cover his mouth again. I didn’t want to hear it, yet he still chatted through the stifle. “I’ve barely spoken to my staff in weeks. They’re too inexperienced. They need me. I’ve only gotten this level of talent because I’ve recruited them when they’re green. Others didn’t see their potential.” He shoved away my hand when I didn’t move it voluntarily. “I’ll have Stone come by…”
“Dash, get underneath the blankets.” Shockingly, he minded this time, but I had to scoop his legs up and help him move better onto the mattress. “We both can talk on the phone with Stone.”
Again, his defiant glare met mine. “Beau, I don’t need a nurse. I need you to help me rehab back, not keep me in this bed. You know how to do all this. Feed me good tasting food, not hospital quality. You know all the proteins and macros and how they work together. Help my physical therapist. Learn what they’re doing and exercise with me when they’re gone. It’s why I’m home now instead of the hospital. Please help me.”
After I tucked him in, I caressed his cheek until he turned to stare at me eye to eye. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell you. Recovery from somethin’ this debilitatin’ is a balance. In the hospital, you weren’t tryin’ to be everywhere. You worked out, did all the therapies, then rested. Your meals were custom created. You’ll grow exponentially better every single day like you did in the hospital. Augh.”
Dash cocked a brow at me. At least something between us cocked.
“Dash, you have all the tools to do everything right,” I said calmly. “Your errors are with tryin’ to do too much too fast without downtime for recovery. You’re not bein’ lazy or unproductive when you’re restin’. Read those law books you drag around all the time, that way when you’re ready, you’ll hit the ground runnin’.”
His pretty blue eyes eased as understanding set in. “I miss our alone time. You want me in this bed then get in here with me. We’ve never gone this long without being together.”
“We have been apart longer than this. When we were in Chicago, you were workin’ with your best friend, Lon. I was kicked out of that role without a backward glance. So, I hired a sex worker to take care of me when you began all those late nights, because no matter how I tried, I didn’t fit in.”
I dropped that somewhat untrue statement while having to mash my lips together to keep from laughing at his outlandish expression, and went for my side of the bed.
“Humor doesn’t suit you,” Dash murmured.
“Alexa, turn off the overhead bedroom lights.” The dogs lumbered inside the room to their doggie beds in the corner. I gathered the therapy notes from today and scooted close to Dash, tucking pillows behind my back to sit at Dash’s same angle.
A ravaging cough came out of nowhere. It was brutal. My one hand went to his back, rubbing upward to help push the gunk up. With my other hand, I reached for the boxes of tissues, shoving several into the hand covering his mouth. Several moments later, he gathered himself, and croaked out. “Read.”
I did, under the soft glow of the lamps on our nightstands. “It says you’re improvin’ on your therapies, but you need to rest more and your lungs need a break,” I said, my knees rose to balance the papers on my thighs.
“No, it doesn’t say that.” Dash twisted his upper body until we were old-schooling it with his head laid on my chest, his arm circling around me, keeping him in place against me. I circled an arm around him, making sure we stayed connected. I’d sleep just like this to better help him get through the coughing spells.
“It also says there’s a moderate risk that you aren’t my soulmate. That my actual soulmate doesn’t argue with me so much.”
“See how stupid treatment plans are?” Dash murmured. Seconds later, he began to snore, deep puffs of breath tickling my chest hair.
I placed the folder on the nightstand and tucked my hand around his head, my thumb gently swiping over his hair. Sea Springs had several new and trendy plant-based restaurants and stores, and a meal prep company to order from. There was also one that fascinated me, because it sold different levels of mineral water. My kind of store.
Dixie came to the edge of the bed. It was funny how they still asked to go outside when the doggie door was feet away. I motioned her out, trying to envision what the next few months looked like for us.
“Alexa, turnoff the bedroom lamps,” I whispered, the room went dark. I stared at the ceiling, wishing for sleep to take my mind off what the future looked like.
Dash
Six days later
Thanksgiving parade
The silence inside my empty home always gave an eerie vibe. Before I broke all of Beau’s overstated rules, I locked the dogs out of the house to keep them from getting underfoot, confining them to the backyard.
For the most part, I felt steady on my feet, managing to walk short distances on my own from my bed to the bathroom. But I regularly found myself out of breath, needing frequent rest periods before I started again. And stubbornly I refused to use this silly walker when anyone else was home.
Today, though, I conserved my energy. Dressed in their finest Thanksgiving costumes, the girls and the rest of the family had left for their school performance. They were beyond thrilled to celebrate a holiday they hadn’t known existed until weeks ago. Though, they did wish the holiday had gift giving associated with it. And they weren’t a hundred percent clear on why we give thanks, after all, according to everything they knew to this point, the Native Americans and pilgrims needed to thank each other for their friendship. Boy, learning that truth was going to hit hard.
But the turkey thawing in the refrigerator was officially given the name George by Amelia, and had regular eyes checking on its status of defrost. The girls loved the entire process.
I was on my sixth full lap around the kitchen table, weaving through the living room and making a turn through the bedroom. When fatigue overwhelmed me, I rested for no more than five minutes. I also relied on the breathing techniques I had learned to help my lungs to continue to expand properly, without giving out. Other than that, I gripped the walker as if it were an extension of my body.
As my feet changed gait to include a shuffle, I’d take a tumble if I didn’t take another break. But thanks to my superior time management skills, I anticipated my clan arriving home soon with pizza in hand. Which meant I needed to get back to bed before Beau went berserk because he thought I was overdoing it.
Like clockwork, the headlights of the Tahoe circled the inside wall of the living room. They pulled into the front of the house. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple as I hurried to stash the walker and open the doggie door for the two greeters to meet the rest of the family.
With a brief glance in the bathroom mirror, I caught my reflection and quickly tucked the longer strands behind my ears. There wasn’t much of a style, but the grown-out pieces didn’t look bad. The dark roots weren’t near as dark as I remembered. Maybe I had a new look.
As for the rest of me, I still appeared gaunt, too skinny, and looked old, but not as bad as before.
“Daddy! We’re home. Paw got us pizza as a treat,” Ava called from across the house, her flat-footed run clomping toward me. Duke and Dixie’s claws clicked on the tile floor keeping stride with her.
“We got cheese pizza for us,” Mia yelled louder. “And pepperoni for everyone else.”
The level of excitement meant this pizza dinner, which Beau had contrived with no pushing from me, was really something special. Finally, he understood the excitement of breaking the rules now and then.
“And apple juice boxes,” Livie shouted, probably with the most excited voice of all three. “Paw said you talked him into giving us treats every so often and I believe our parade is often.”
West tossed out incoherent babble, not to be outdone by his sisters. Ava met me at the bedroom door, still in her brightly-colored costume, her face beaming at me. “Do you want to watch the performance in your room, or the living room? Paw said we can eat in here with you if we sit still and not spill,” she explained. “Gigi’s gonna give West a bath. He spilled down his shirt. Abuela’s gonna watch her shows.”
What was happening inside this home? Beau never allowed meals outside of the kitchen. Ava read me like a book, shrugging. “Paw’s being different. At the end of the show, Paw gave us a bunch of flowers from you and him, and you weren’t there to hear thank you.”
Joy filled my heart with her reasoning. “That’s nice. I’m glad we did that for y’all,” I said, gripping onto the doorframe. My legs wobbled. “Y’all can come in here. That’ll be fun.”
She dashed away, squealing at the top of her lungs. “Paw! He said yes.”
As I started for the bed, I heard the pounding of their tennis shoes, a flat-footed run from across the house. I climbed in, readying myself for the onslaught.
“Paw, bring the pizza.”
Within seconds, Ava’s shoes were flung to the side, and she sat crisscrossed in the middle of the bed.
“I have the plates and napkins!” Mia hollered as she burst into the bedroom like a whirlwind.
“Mia, get a big towel for the bed,” I said, settling into my place on the mattress. Tonight, it felt good to be off my feet. She bounded onto the bed, left the plates and napkins in Ava’s care, and rolled off the other side, disappearing inside the bathroom.
Everyone else entered the room at the same time. Beau held pizza boxes, napkins, and a six pack of apple juice boxes. We never had apple juice, because Beau worried about their teeth. Mia tossed the towel at me as she climbed on the bed, kicking her shoes off. They flew in different directions. Livie still wore her head gear, flowers, apples, and corn stalks popped out the top of the headband.
“They’re eating on the bed?” I asked, tossing out the towel. They had their seats before the towel fully floated down.
“With lots of rules,” Beau teased, not giving me the hundred percent win. He placed the pizza boxes on the dresser as he listed the conditions. One finger popped out to indicate the first. “They have to act like regular human bein’s or we’re done.”
No argument from me. Joyful laughter erupted from the girls.
A second finger popped up. “No roughhousin’.” That sounded reasonable.
A third finger followed. “Drinks stay on the nightstand. If you want a drink, ask quietly so your dad can hear everything you said.”
Wow, three out of three. Beau and I were in sync again.
“We don’t roughhouse,” Livie said, her happiness laced with a tinge of her Paw being ridiculous. “We’re girls.”
“Really?” Beau asked, giving her a silly obvious look, and pointed to Ava. “I think y’all could show boys how to roughhouse properly.”
“Paw’s funny.”
Beau went through the process of opening all the juice boxes, allowing everyone to take a sip before they went to his nightstand. I got to keep mine on my side. Plates and napkins were distributed, and small sliced pizza was passed around. He gave me two slices of pepperoni.
I realized Beau’s plan of attack for my health was to parent me. How had I not figured that out before? And I acted like a child. Oh my god, we were dysfunctional. Thoughts of Daddy spanking me just turned yuck.
When everyone had what they needed, Beau plugged his cell phone into the television’s input panel and navigated the touch screen until the still video of a crowded pre-school auditorium filled the screen.
“Daddy, we come in on the right,” Ava said, staring at the screen.
Livie instantly corrected her. “The left.”
“We look the same though,” Mia interjected. “Nobody could tell us apart.” Yeah, that was going to be a real problem someday too. Beau took his place in a side chair close to me. “I sometimes tell people I’m Mia and they don’t know I’m not. Livie won’t do it, but me and Mia change bows too. Nobody knows.”
And there we go. They were officially naughty and figured out a major life hack that was going to make Beau and I crazy.
“Only me and Mia. Livie’s not fun. She’s smart and bossy,” Ava popped out with hints of insult. “She can’t be a little bad ever.”
“So you know that what you and Mia did was wrong?” I asked, all three heads turned my way, no remorse on their pretty faces and nodded. They were so dang confident.
“We only do it at school,” Mia added, as if that made it better.
“Remember, you never pretend to be each other to adults or in important situations,” Beau explained and pointed us toward the television.
How about they never pretend to be each other?
The volume elevated then instantly lowered, the screen paused when Linda came to the open doorframe, holding West on her hip. “We came to say goodnight.”
“Come join us,” Beau said, lifting out of the chair, motioning for his mom to take the seat. “Pizza’s on the dresser, extra juice boxes are there too.” As he took West from her, the little guy was growing so fast, he headed for his side of the bed. The space between us became West’s play space. When Linda took her seat near me, Beau started the performance again. Tears developed in my eyes with pride for my girls. There were perfect performers. I wondered if everyone envied their greatness.