Page 104 of Range
She nodded, satisfied with my response.
“What’s the matter?”
She sighed, placing a palm on her chest. She was no longer nodding. Her head was shaking from one side to the other.
“I’m completely out of my element. And, for the second time in my life, I’m scared.”
“When was the first time?” I inquired.
“When Tedd– When Chemistry–” she paused, briefly, before continuing. “When he went away.”
I pulled her closer. My body against hers. Her body against mine. The tears clouding her pretty eyes caused an ache in my chest.
I lifted her chin and lowered my lips.
One peck.
Two pecks.
Her right hand patted my skin, fingertips lifting and falling. Nothing had ever felt better. I wanted to be the softest place she landed. All the time. Every time.
Her center.
Her nervous system regulator.
Her stability.
Her sound voice.
Her safest place.
Her sacred place.
Overstimulation was playing on her emotions. Enhancing them. Toying with her sensitivity. Elevating her vulnerability.
Her eyes wandered. I wanted her undivided attention. Needed it. Neededher.
“Is it reassurance?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your language. Is it reassurance? Gift giving? Gift receiving? Physical touch? Acts of service? Sensory regulation? Validation? Time? Effort? Energy? What makes you smile, Sunshine? What makes you laugh? What makes you feel so good you want to cry? What thoughts run through that head of yours that has your heart ready to burst?”
Her chest deflated as her eyes found me. She was in deep thought. Careful not to answer too soon. Careful not to give herself too much time to get in her own way.
“Time.”
That wasn’t it. There was more. There were words still lingering at the tip of her tongue.
“And–”
“According to the neuronormal crowd, there should only be one.”
“Normal isn’t in your glossary, Sunshine, because it doesn’t relate to you. So, tell me how to talk to you. Tell me how to translate how I feel so you can interpret it better. Tell me how to speak to you in your preferred language so you’re never questioning what I’m saying, what I mean, how I feel, or where my head is. I want to be crystal clear, love. Always.”
“Physical touch, but not always. I– I struggled with it sometimes. Sensory regulation. Effort. Reassurance. I’m confident– I always have been. But, this is different. And, scary.And, I don’t feel like myself. Like my confident self. Because on one hand I feel like I’m making the best decision of my life. On the other hand, I know that I’ll be a mess if proven otherwise.”
“I won’t make a mess of you,” I assured her, “You’re too precious to me. Okay?”
