Deep in slumber. I drempt of things of the past. Horrible things. I kicked, I scratched at my pillows. I could have sworn I was screaming. Only to have it broken --and thank god it was-- by a gentle, soft "nngh". A grunt, a sound of pain perhaps. Or frustration. I batted my eyelashes to the beat of my heart, which was quite fast. I sprung out of bed with a loud brief creaking of the bedframe and floorboards and quickly put on my slippers and robe. I may as well have never drempt, my mind immediately torn from the subject due to the small sound that crept through the hallway. I dusted off my robe to try to compose my very apparent anxiousness, took a big breath in, and put on a calm face as to not worry the maker of the sound of which I knew exactly whom.
As I calmly walked down the hallway, I came to the tall door, using my index knuckle to rap lightly.
"Sir? May I come in?" I say, trying to mask the clear shakiness, worried something might have happened.
In return I am met by an affirming grunt. I don't know exactly how I could tell that he meant yes, for all it was, was a grunt. Nevertheless I nodded to myself, and turned the doorknob. Pushing the door open just enough for me to step in, and then closed it behind myself.
He layed there, completely flat on his back, peaceful to the naked eye he may seem, I know he was in pain.
He always was.
I walked over to his bedside and sat down, my legs hanging off the edge as I looked down at him. He looked up at me, and I could tell he was a bit ashamed of his position. I knew how much he hated to show any weakness, yet god put him here. In my care.
I didn't "pity" him per se, because pity insinuates that I think he is below me. I do not feel that way at all. I feel that he was dealt a horrible hand, and deserved better. My feelings of care for him were intense, a burning desire to make sure that the rest of his years were something he would recall fondly in the afterlife.
As I stared down at him, I smiled a small, warm, subtle smile of which to comfort him. Levi looked up at me with a helpless twinkle in his eyes. He needed help, but even after 4 years of this same dynamic, he did not ask. He simply stared, almost yearning.
We stayed silent.
I brushed the side of his face with my knuckles, lightly. He flinched at the touch of my cold fingers, but only slightly. I could tell this was a sign of his trust growing in me. Which was the greatest gift I could have ever asked for. I knew how difficult it must have been.
I put my hand underneath him in the middle of his back and propped him up, gently, tentatively swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. I look him in the eyes and he looked back, giving me an affirming nod. This means I am allowed to pick him up.
I bend down and he lifts his arms up and around my neck, draping his head over my shoulders. I slide my hands under his thighs and pick him up, turning around and walking to the corner of the room to his bathroom door. I push it open with my foot and bend over the toilet, setting Levi down. I grab the neccessary soap and sponge from the wall and turn the water on, he seems to prefer the water warmer than colder.
To give him a sense of independence I let him choose what soaps we buy, he usually picks from the same 4 fragrences. Lemon, Mint, a plain "clean" smell, and french vanilla. He rarely uses the vanilla, it's a bit too rich for him.
The bath fills unlike the silence. Levi stares off into a different world, and I wonder to myself what he could be thinking. As I turn the water off Levi comes out of his trance and looks up at me, a blank expression on his face as I put one hand on his back, and the other under his knees, lifting him up and into the bath.
He stays perfectly still as I take the soapy sponge to his back and begin to wash him, slowly and carefully dragging the sponge over his shoulders, across his chest, around his neck. He's very particular about how clean he gets and I make a point to not miss anywhere.
I wring the sponge out and grab a small bucket, tilting his head back and pouring it over his hair, taking shampoo and gently scrubbing it into his scalp. He wrapped his arms around his legs which were scrunched up to his chest. I started to hum quietly to myself, and with that his expression changed to be a bit warmer. He didn't like silence *always*. Sometimes he liked to fill the silence with music, or I will read poetry to him, or tell him about my day.
He listens.
I get water in the bucket once again and wash out the soap from his hair, being careful as to not get any in his eyes. He shivers at the water now, for it's grown cold. With that, I pulled up the drain and held my arms out to Levi, he put his arms up and I put mine underneath them, pulling him into my lap, wrapping the warm towel around him as his shivering slowly came to a stop.
I dried him off, ruffling his hair with the towel to dry it. He shook his head to return his hair back to its previous state and I lifted him into my arms bridal-style, and walked him back into this bedroom. I grabbed him a plain white button-up shirt, his underwear, and grey dress pants from his bedside drawer. One after the other we worked to get his clothes on, this was always a bit of a struggle as he's a bit stubborn about his independence. I try to be patient, I know this is a lot to take in.
I let him button his own shirt and pants, and I give him a hand-held mirror and comb to do his hair. He takes about 5 minutes, and while he works at his hair I sit in my rocking chair, watching his facial expressions as he focusses on getting it perfect.
While he does that I think of how the rest of our day will go, i'll brew us some tea and we'll go to the shops. We're due for a new tea set soon.
My deep thought is broken by the impatient huff from Levi, I look up to see he has finished doing his hair with the comb and mirror placed neatly beside him. I get up from my seat, give him a warm smile, and move his wheelchair to the bed beside him. He lifts one arm up and wraps it around my neck, grabbing at my sleeve opposite to him tightly while I put my arm underneath his opposite to me, moving him up and into his wheelchair. He sits down with a sharp groan, to which I comfort by taking my index and middle knuckles to his cheek softly.
With that, I wheel him to the middle of the living room, the window is shining light directly on him. His eye shines and his scars become more apparent. He looks..stoic. I nod to myself with that thought and swiftly glide to the record player, moving the needle to the record as the delicate sounds of Moonlight Sonata fill the room. Levi taps his index finger on the armrest of his wheelchair to the beat and I walk into the kitchen.
It's time for morning tea.
