The Centre - a Home for Fox (bxb+/poly)

9. Heal - M

🦊 F O X 🦊

We've been going about our normal routine, and like Vance said, Zane has held up his end of the deal and has attended every group meeting and ate at every meal with us. I've been diligent in keeping my food pornography sounds in check. No need to start a war at the dinner table again.

Even though Zane's physically been present, he's mentally far, far away. When Vance or Wren would address him or attempt to have him participate with us, he stutters and fumbles around for answers or other things to do. His head is always down, always looking at the floor. Shoulders haunched, and as much as I want to hate him for upsetting our previously perfect dynamic, I really can't. I feel sad and empty when I'm around him, so I try to keep my distance as much as possible.

He's broken, a shell of a person. I have no idea what's going on in his head but I can only imagine and it frightens me. I empathize way too much. I'm afraid he's going to claw his way into my skin and bring me crashing down with him.

Bryce, Zane and I all travel into town on Tuesday's and Thursday's for our doctor appointments. The car rides are quiet but tense. There are some attempts, by me, at small talk but mainly we sit in uncomfortable silence and listen to music while we travel.

Last Thursday, it was just Zane and I. Bryce's appointment was canceled due to his doctor having a family emergency. He offered to drive Zane and myself into town because he knew I'd be uncomfortable around him by myself, but I declined. I figure that I'll have to get over it. We live in the same house. We're bound to be alone eventually.

We were on our way back from town when a stray dog ran out in front of the car. I swerved the car around it, just barely missing it. I was so worked up that I had to pull off the side of the road. My hands trembling, I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat.

I felt eyes on me. I knew he was watching me. So I kept my eyes shut. Willing him to look away.

After a few beats he rasped out, "Are we going to sit here all day?"

I groaned, throwing my head back. "Can you drive?

"Not on my meds, no."

"Ok, can you give me a few more minutes, please. I'm freaking out here."

"Why? You didn't hit the thing. It's still alive, you know?" He grunted.

"Yes! I know that!" I spat back. "But I could've hit it. What if I did hit it?"

"But you didn't....hit it", he countered.

"Still, the poor thing. I wonder if we should go back and find it. It's probably a stray. What if it needs food and water?" I whimpered.

"You can't save every little thing, Fox....What if it doesn't want to be saved." He hissed out between clenched teeth.

I looked over at him. He was staring out his window. I could see his jaw clenching.

I put the car in drive again and pulled out onto the road. "Yeah, I guess I can't". I whispered.

— — — —

Yesterday I received an email from dear ole mother. She went on and on about her important work with charities and fundraisers for church, it's all for show, at the end of her endless drivel, she asked one simple question: Are you putting in the work to heal yourself?

I didn't reply. She doesn't have the right to know anything about me. To ask if I'm healing myself, like I have some sort of ailment. But I couldn't stop myself from repeatedly asking myself the same question. Am I putting I putting in the work to heal myself?