Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 65

    Ronnie pushed their dishes to the end of the breakfast nook table for Henry to clear away. He smiled as the young boy obediently piled them in the sink, taking care not to clink them together too loudly, and then looked up at Ronnie and Brandon hopefully.

    "Okay, you just wanted water, right? And then you'll come play games with us?"

    Ronnie nodded, and watched while his friend's youngest son filled a glass with cool water and grabbed the plastic bag of medications from the dark blue granite island. He placed them both on the table between Brandon and Ronnie, then disappeared with one last, bright smile.

    "See you in the living room, daddy!"

    Consulting the schedule in his phone, Ronnie dispensed the appropriate doses and glanced questioningly at his friend. "Okay, we've got seven pills tonight, B. Let me know if you want help, please."

    Brandon shrugged, indifferent, as he blinked down at the little group of medications, then slowly reached out and plucked one from the table. He brought it to his mouth and picked up the glass, successfully swallowing the water and medicine.

    He lowered the glass to the table, but placed it down unevenly with too much force and nearly upended it before Ronnie clasped his own hand around his, his fingers gentle.

    "That's okay, Bran - can I help you with the water?"

    Brandon sighed, closing his eyes briefly in defeat. "I don't...yeah," he whispered, his head sinking into his chest, his fingers going slack beneath Ronnie's. "Okay."

    Ronnie didn't like that reaction, and he cocked his head slightly, watching his friend and then looking to the glass of water. "Bran," he started, releasing his grip around Brandon's hand on the glass, "It's okay. I really don't mind helping you at all - you know that."

    Brandon shrugged, his eyes glued to the oak table. "But...b-but I do. I don't...I want to t-try." He paused, inhaling deeply, then tore his gaze away from the table with visible effort, looking up at Ronnie with bright eyes.

    "You s-said...you said to ask. I'll ask, Ron. If...I-If I want help."

    Oops, I think I jumped the gun too fast, didn't I? Ronnie chewed on his lip uncertainly, examining Brandon's face, then spread his hands flat on the table.

    "You got me, B. I was wrong, I'm sorry. Go ahead."

    Brandon was obviously taken aback, glancing between Ronnie and the remaining pills with clear trepidation, and Ronnie cursed himself. Dumbass. Now you've made him feel like you think he can't do it himself.

    "Go ahead, Brandon. It's okay. Just...take your time, okay? Slow and careful. There's no rush. Just be careful."

    Brandon stared at Ronnie for another few seconds, then took a deep breath and returned his attention to the task in front of him. Methodically, he separated another pill from the group and slipped it between his lips, then wrapped his fingers around the glass with care and raised it to his lips, swallowing water once more.

    Very slowly, he lowered it to the table, his hand shaking badly enough that the water sloshed precariously against the top of the glass. Ronnie smiled at his friend, then looked over the kitchen island to the sink where their dinner dishes had been placed, waiting for the dishwasher.

    "Bran," he said slowly, looked back as a realization sunk fiery fingers into his heart, "Do you want a straw? Like we used with your dinner, with the smoothie? Do you think that would make it easier?"