Page 133 of Rather: The Therapist

According to Priest, there was a stable full of horses he owned two miles down the dirt road carved in the center of the property. An equestrian at heart, I couldn’t wait to have a look. If the horses were mild-mannered, a ride or two before the weekend would be divine.

“Sleeping beauty has awaken.”

Finally, I saw his handsome face. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Princeton’s feet shuffled toward me, stopping only when he’d reached me and his hands were wrapped around my legs.

“Hi, buddy.”

I rubbed his back in an attempt to settle his nerves. The sight of me was riveting, sending him spiraling. He took off in the other direction after a few seconds. Up and down, he jumped around, clapping his hands and stomping his feet. His excitement was heartening.

This must be how my mother felt waking up to Chemistry and Richie.

“How did you sleep?”

He was doing it again. Unintentionally stirring my feelings. Discovering the asshole I’d met at the dinner table was everything but the asshole I’d made him out to be was not on my bingo card. Finding out he was the complete opposite of the man his family painted him as had me on a high I never wanted to come down from. Naturally, he cared. The constant questions proved it.

How are you feeling?

What are you feeling?

How are you doing?

Are you okay?

How did you sleep?

The questions weren’t always simple and could come with loaded, very heavy responses. But, no matter the response, it became part of his study guide. Each answer was stored somewhere in that complex brain of his until he found use for it.

The thoughtfulness of books on the table this morning had come from the place he stored my responses. The lakehouse visit. The mention of the stable. The slippers. Everything. Priest listened well.

“Seeing that the sun has settled leads me to believe I slept well. Like a baby.”

“Sometimes our bodies begs us for rest and we refuse until it stops begging.”

“And, you wake up after ten hours.”

“Eleven,” he corrected me. “It’s seven, my dear.”

“Eleven?” My eyes widened in shock.

“Yes.”

“I’ve wasted the entire first day out here. I’m so–”

“You better not do that, Rather,” he warned, getting up from the floor and standing on his feet. “Never apologize for giving your body exactly what it needs.”

I followed his long stature with my eyes until he made it to the kitchen. Princeton was finally settling. He grabbed him by the hand and brought him closer to the counter where he grabbed the white stack of laminated sheets that were held together by a single metal ring.

I knew what every page entailed because I’d made the booklet. Each week, the idea was to add two sheets to the ring to expand Princeton’s palette.

His favorite foods were amongst the items pictured in the booklet to help him better communicate his desires and eliminate unnecessary triggers for him as it related to decision making. Princeton was capable. He just didn’t know how to communicate his preferences in most cases.

“We’re having dinner soon. What would you like?”

I watched carefully as Princeton went into deep thought. Priest’s patience was appreciated as he made the tough decision. Only when he was sure, Princeton began pointing.

A grin turned my eyes to slits. Princeton was a joy to have around. He was becoming my saving grace. He offered normalcy in my world. Everything felt foreign to me except sessions with him–and time with his father.

“Good job, son.”

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