Loving Kinnick

You're Invading Our Privacy By Coming Into The Bathroom

I sat with him during the phone call. He had an appointment next week to discuss his condition and how they would proceed with the surgery. The doctor will run several tests to determine the severity. Depending on how the results are, he will proceed with the surgery. If the doctor doesn't think it is a good idea, well, he doesn't get it. It made him feel better, knowing he would have a professional opinion. It made me feel better that he was able to take a breath of relief.

When he broke down in the bath last night, I didn't know what to do. Never in a million years did I think he would say the words, 'I'm scared.' He always seemed fearless. Nothing bothered him from what I could tell, or at least he has said. So, when he told me, I froze.

It was always Kinnick who saved me from my fears. For being someone who didn't show emotion, he never picked on anybody for expressing themselves. If you had something to say, and it was negative, he would retaliate, but if you cried in front of him, he didn't portray it as a weakness. Something about that made him strong. Something about that made me fall even more in love with him.

His curse words filled the pool room. He found it necessary to remind the man helping him with physical therapy he is capable of swimming. The guy never thought he was incapable. Not once did I hear those words leave his mouth. The problem was Kinnick's pride. He didn't want another person helping him, let alone another man.

He splashed water at me several times when he saw me taking pictures of his struggles. I apologized to the instructor as Kinnick got out of the pool long enough to push me in. Somewhere in between arriving and me being shoved in the pool, the guy left. Luckily for me, I still had all of the videos of Kinnick yelling at the poor kid.

"Bo, just put on the damn clothes."

Now I'm shivering in the men's locker room, hiding in the bathroom with him as he demands me to put on the dry set of clothes he packed. No way am I letting him walk out of here in wet clothes. It is freezing outside.

If Kinnick wouldn't have soaked the duffle bag, we would have clothes to wear. Both of us, but no. He didn't want his picture being taken nor did he want to leave his bag in the locker room because someone would steal it. Even though the lady at the front desk said she would give him a padlock for his locker, he said it would be too much money if he spent a whopping total of three bucks.

So, he can blame his stubborn attitude for the lack of clothes. Before he could find the videos I recorded of him, I stored them away on my phone's SD card. That way, if he goes snooping, he won't be able to find them. Kinnick isn't tech-savvy, when he got his new phone, he needed my help, the pro, to show him where his flashlight was.

"What about you?"

He started trying to rip off my shirt. "Take it off."

"This your fault!"

"Take the damn shirt off, Bo!"

"No!"

"Stop being difficult," he tugged on my clothes.

"You stop being difficult!"

A knock erupted at the bathroom door. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Kinnick shoved the door open. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, Kinnick Carson," the man smiled. "This is a man's locker room. She can not be in here."

"Said who?"

"Our policy."

"I don't give a fuck," he scowled. "You're invading our privacy by coming into the bathroom."