Shrink

31

We touch down in Washington a few hours later, and gather our things from the baggage merry-go-round.
Sweets and I navigate the throngs of travellers going to and from their respective gates, and finally find a calm enough area to call a cab.
I drop my duffel bag beside Sweets and scratch at the bandages taped to the back of my head as I dial the local taxi company number.
As the phone rings, the feeling suddenly drops on me like a ton of bricks.
"Uh, Sweets," I murmur sheepishly, feeling bad considering he's balancing on one leg.
He glances away from the crowd and his eyes glance between me and my hand, outstretched with the ringing phone.
He looks at it pointedly before sighing and taking it.
"You owe me," he sighs, laughing as he begins to talk to the operator.
I shrug, chuckling nervously. I don't often get phone anxiety anymore, but when it hits me, it's a dead weight on my chest.
"So," I say, when he hands me back my phone. "we're not in the air anymore."
Sweets doesn't say anything at first, he barely even blinks.
"Sweets?"
I move to stand in front of him to get in his line of sight.
"Well, I have news," he says finally, his hands dug deep into his pockets.
"Is it good, or bad?" I ask, trying to gauge his expression.
"Well," he says slowly, drawing his hands back out and tugging my cuffs further down my wrists so I can't unwind them strand by strand. "depends on what your stake in this is."
"My stake?" I question, confused.
"Yeah, what you get out of"—
He pauses and looks over my shoulder out the glass doors.
"Our taxi's here," he says suddenly, and begins to lift his own bag before trying to bend and proffer mine to me.
"Thanks."
I lead him to the doors, careful to not clip him with the door, and finally we get into the yellow sedan.
"Where you guys off to, today?"
I don't answer for a moment, and Sweets glances at me before responding with what I can only assume is his address.
The driver nods and pulls away from the busy airport parking lot. We brave the rush-hour traffic, and finally pull up to an apartment building just north of the Bureau.
We get out and pay the driver, before heading inside. The sounds of the city are so intense in comparison to the much less dense Alaskan bush towns.
I follow Sweets inside, toting both our bags on my shoulders. We make the 4 storey elevator ride up, and make our way slowly down the hallway, Sweets crutching valiantly onwards as I follow with our bags.
He stops at his door and fumbles with his crutches before rummaging through his pockets for his keys.
"Please, after you," he says somewhat formally, gesturing me in.
I comply, and drag our duffels into the small entry of his home.
I'm not sure what I anticipate it being like, but the ambiance jumps out at me.
It isn't like my apartment, or mine and Eddie's, or even my childhood house, but it's very Sweets, and I feel very at home. His shoes line the entryway, a modest living room with a tv and comfy-looking couch with books lining every shelf occupy the adjacent room. Next there is an open air kitchen, and behind closed doors must be the bathroom and his room.
"Where can I drop this?" I ask, holding out Sweets' bag, turning to watch him struggle to kick off his sneakers.
"Oh, just drop them in the living room," he says, hobbling further into the apartment.
Them?
"I'm gonna make some tea, would you like some?" he asks, and before I can stop myself, I nod.
"Wait, no, you stay here," I urge, pushing him into a sitting position on the couch and walking past him to the kitchen. "I'll make it."
I pull the kettle off the stove and fill it with water, watching through my lashes as Sweets repositions himself to be facing me.
I turn on the element and put on the kettle, and rummage around before finding two mugs.
"Where's your stash?" I ask, opening cupboards.
"Bottom drawer on the far left."
"Thanks. Orange pico, earl grey, English breakfast or green?"
"I'll have what you're having," Sweets says, propping his chin up on his fist.
While the water boils, I busy myself with getting him comfortable and situated, taking his books out of his bag and placing them within reach, putting his pain meds nearby, and propping his leg up on a pillow.
The entire time I fuss, Sweets looks on with a mild despondency.
I make nothing of it, and am about to ask if there's anything else, when the kettle begins to whistle.
Pouring out the tea, I tell him, "I'm gonna let it steep for a little bit."
Finally, I have nothing left to do but plop down beside him, curling into the arm of the couch like I have since I was young.
Sweets doesn't turn to me, but simply says, "Daisy and I broke up."
I don't have time to wire my jaw shut, because Sweets continues on.
"It was amicable, she felt that I wasn't 100% in it emotionally, and I guess I wasn't. I might have loved her once, but it's not the same anymore," he says, keeping his brown eyes turned down.
"And why do you think that is?" I ask carefully, tasting each word before speaking it.
Sweets turns to me and smiles before saying, "Now who's the shrink?"
I grin, but remain silent.
He sighs.
"I guess it's because our lives have changed. I mean, she's moving up in her field and I'm... well I'm..," he stammers, gesturing.
"There's nothing wrong with where you are," I say gently, curling my knees up to my chest as I face him.
He finally looks at me.
"No, I suppose there isn't," he says slowly.
"So what did you mean, when you were talking about my stake in all this?"
His pink mouth presses itself into a flat line before he licks his lips.
"Well, I guess I feel something special here," Sweets says slowly, gesturing between us.
"Oh," is all I say.
Sweets shrugs, and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. He seems almost disappointed, or even sad, but it's only in the minute details of his reserved demeanour that I can glean this.
"You know," I begin. "for a shrink, you sure suck at talking about your feelings."
He looks up at me, and I catch a momentary shimmer of hope and vulnerability in his dark eyes.
"Well so do you," Sweets jabs back playfully.
Before I can talk myself out of it, or overthink the crap out of what I'm about to do, I lean over, take his chin in my hand and kiss him.
His lips part slowly before he reciprocates, and he places his left hand against my cheek, warm and smooth, cradling my face.
I slowly pull away about an inch, which feels much too far, and murmur, "so I think you've figured out at this point that I really like you."
His eyes, with swollen pupils, fix on mine, and he smiles softly.
"Perhaps."
I relax into his arms with my head in the crook of his neck, and Sweets moves his hand to rest in my hair, slowly brushing it behind my ears. He places a soft kiss on my forehead.
My heart rate slows, and I close my eyes.