Page 55 of C is for Comfort

“Hey, sweet boy,” I say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just want to stop thinking,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against my shoulder. “Can you help me do that, Daddy?”

I can, but I’m no longer convinced it’s the right thing for him. All we’re doing is putting a plaster over the things that are stressing him out rather than sorting through them. I take his hand and pull him into the living area.

“The print arrived,” he says as he stops and stares at the framed Mark Rothko print that’s propped up against the dresser in the lounge.

“Yes. The delivery guy woke me up, which is when I saw your text.” I chuckle. “You didn’t think I’d actually ordered it, did you?”

He shrugs. “I… wasn’t sure.”

“Would you help me hang it? It’s so much easier with a second pair of hands.”

“Sure.”

I fetch the necessary tools, and we get to work hanging it above the dresser and TV.

“That looks great,” I say, standing back to admire it. The orange and blue tones of the print really do compliment my furniture and stop my wall from looking quite so bland. “Thanks for the advice. I have a few more blank walls that could do with prints if you’re up to the task?”

Corey blushes. “I’m sure you could pick something yourself.”

“I could, but I’d rather have your help.”

I steer him onto the sofa, encouraging him to put his legs over my lap. I take his boots and socks off and then start to massage his feet, making sure I apply firm pressure.

“That’s so good,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Why are you unexpectedly child-free today?” I ask.

“Her grandparents wanted to spend time with her.”

“Not your parents?” I guess, based on the way he said it.

He shakes his head. “Her mum’s parents. They flit in and out of her life when it suits them.” He opens his eyes to peek at me. “You don’t want to hear any of this.”

“I don’t?”

“We’re fucking. You don’t need to pretend to be interested in my messy life.”

“I’m not pretending.” I stop massaging his foot but don’t let go.

Corey whines. “Why did you stop?”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll keep massaging your feet if you tell me everything that’s bothering you.”

“Everything? That’s alonglist.”

“We’ve got all afternoon.”

I wait, giving him all the time he needs to process my suggestion. I know it’s a shift away from what we’ve been doing over the past week, but I’m genuinely interested.

“You said that, as a Daddy, you wanted to take my cares away from me and help me relax.”

“I do. Talking will help with the first part.” I wiggle his foot. “The massage will help with the second.”

“Sex would help with both.”

“Yes, it would temporarily. Is that really all you want?”