Page 10 of Little Boy Toy

This was all so different. Zale was confusing but also like fresh air. He didn’t pressure me or stress me out by wanting me for only a hookup. Yet he was a comforting presence I couldn’t stop thinking about after I got home and went to bed. I thought about how sad I’d be when he got tired of me and didn’t show up to the playroom anymore. I wanted more of him. I craved more reading time with him. Or more time in general.

As the nights piled up, I realized I was doing things to try to show him I liked him. I slid my chair closer to his. I asked for two juices instead of one. I placed the books half off my lap and closer to him so he could see the pictures. He was attentive, but never touched me. Not that I had consented to that. Maybe I was being too subtle?

I missed him during the daytime hours when he wasn’t around. I would close my eyes in bed at night and reimagine his scent and wonder what it would be like to lie next to such a tall, big, warm human being who wasn’t a daddy and didn’t seem to want me.

I decided that might be even sadder. He had to want me. I was super cute. Truthfully, he didn’t have to want me. What was I thinking?

I hadn’t had good experiences with the last few daddies. I didn’t want to be touched even though I had let some of them do it with me, even though it had left me hollow and empty inside afterward, especially when they never called me again. And my last daddy had tossed me out like I was a defective toy.

I didn’t want any repeats of all that stuff.

By the end of two weeks, we’d gone through half the books in the playroom.

It was another Friday night. I fidgeted more than usual, dropping the books once, which Zale picked up and placed gently back on my lap. I accidentally tore one page in a too-eager page-turn.

“Oh no!”

Zale turned and looked at the damage. “It’s not too bad.” He pressed his long fingers lightly across the jagged edge of the paper.

“It’s terrible. I hurt the book.”

“That’s why they make tape.”

“What?”

“We can fix it.”

“We can?”

“Yep.” He glanced around the room. “Have you ever seen tape in here?”

“No. Wait. Yes. Sometimes the littles like to cut shapes out of construction paper. They tape the shapes on other paper to make faces and animals and designs.”

“I’ll go look at the crafts table. Wanna come with me? That book looks like it might need immediate medical attention.”

“Yes!” I jumped up. “We have to fix it.”

Zale got his long legs under him and stood gracefully for someone so tall.

It was busy at the crafts table. Being a weekend night, the table was full. I saw some clear tape and spoke up. “Can we please borrow your tape?”

The little using it was someone I’d never seen before. He put his hand on the tape and said, “It’s mine.”

Zale leaned in. “We’ll give it right back. We just need two pieces.”

“Please?” I repeated.

The boy looked from me to Zale, then back to me. “You said ‘please’. That’s nice. Okay. But your daddy needs to make sure you return it.”

I started to protest that Zale wasn’t my daddy, but Zale spoke first. “I promise we will return it quickly.”

I glanced up at Zale. He smiled and winked at me. Winked! My stomach gave a couple of flip-flops as the boy handed over the tape.

Zale and I found a space at a non-busy table. He knelt down with me and together, carefully, we made the repair. My cheeks flushed at how delicate he was with his long fingers holding the edges together as I placed the tape over the paper. We taped the tear from both sides so the page was smooth again, and he had matched up the edges so carefully you could hardly see there had been any accident.

I returned the tape to the boy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and cheerfully said, “Your daddy is beautiful.”

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