The morning that follows is strange. It's definitely not what I expected to happen after all the bombs that I dropped on her last night. Well, to be completely honest, I dropped those bombs on myself more than on her. It was quite... revelating what happened. I expected judgement and pity, or some kind of analysis of my psyche, but what I get is a relaxing morning first in bed and now in the bathroom.

It all started when I was feeling cold because she stole all the blanket for me, which is just what women do, it's in their DNA. There are worse ways to wake up than next to a pretty lady, but I was ready to fight for the blanket, and I gave it my best. What I got from the fight was a nice cuddling session, so I dare say I was victorious in my pursuit. Especially because I got my entire body under the blanket, I'm practically a god.

Getting up from bed was a damn nightmare for both of us. We were both ready to dive back into slumber, but if we've learnt anything from being on this Earth for 30 years, is that you ought to get up at some point. And Devon is still with my dad and Deidre, so me getting up is quite important.

Standing in the bathroom right before taking a shower, I'm just mesmerised how Annabelle is still wrapped in a blanket. She's doing all sorts of stuff like from brushing her hair and applying some moisturiser, while I'm waiting for her in front of the shower cube in my underwear because she is a baby and wanted me to cover my delicate parts, as she called them.

"You know," I say as I still can't grasp why she's in a blanket. We literally just moved from one room to another to be naked, and here she is, wrapped like a priest. "I imagined we'd take a shower naked."

"We are. Why?"

"Why are you still in this Jesus sheet? I've seen you naked multiple times, so I ask again, why are you still in this atrocity?" The only one that is allowed to be in any way dressed is me, and even that only applies to wearing a condom!

She stops brushing her hair just to look at me. "What exactly is the problem?"

"That you're hiding from me. I'll literally see you naked in a minute."

"Then you have no reason to complain anyway."

I glare back at her, and she glares back at me. I freaking... I can't even.

She carelessly goes on with brushing her hair and leaves me waiting in the back, so I sit on the toilet, imagining that this is gonna take some time. It's not exactly what I imagined when she promised me a shower last night!

"But seriously!" I argue again, to which Annabelle just closes her eyes like she's a mum that is so fed up with all the shit. "What is your problem with being naked?"

She makes a stroke over her red hair and shrugs. "I don't have a problem. I'm perfectly happy being naked, I'm just not an exhibitionist like you."

"Being comfortable with my own body makes me an exhibitionist?"

"No, being naked all the time does."

I'd argue with that because I'm not naked all the time. Most of the time I'm exactly the opposite - dressed, one way or another, but Annabelle sets down the hairbrush, and I get excited that I'll finally get to that damn shower with her. I am standing in the shower cube already, just waiting for her to join me when I look at her and see she's putting her hair up in a bun.

"Not to pry and be annoying, but what are you doing?"

"I don't want to get my hair wet. You don't have to worry about that."

Except that I do?! "Like hell you aren't," I say, grab her from behind like I'm a caveman and trap her in the shower cube with me. She squeals loudly and even attempts to kick, but all she manages to do is she traps her legs and feet in that god-awful sheet to which she giggles loudly in playful despair.

I close the cube and press her against the wall, so she really cannot escape from any side, and, as a cold-hearted being as I am, I turn the water on, so it pours all over the sheet she has around her and over her recently-washed hair, she is so passionately trying not to get wet.

Annabelle squeals again, and tries to shield her red hair with her hands, as she yells out: "Nathan! I will kill you!" But I don't take her threat seriously, for she is laughing all the while.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, I grab the hem of the sheet and say: "I'll be taking that!" And pull on it so it slides right off of her.

"You are such a bully!" She gasps and hurries to cover herself up with her palms. I guess she's given up on her hair now.

I swat her hands away from her chest as gently as possible. I don't want her to think that I want to beat her in the shower. Of course, she tries to fight me back, but at some point, she gives up and glares up at me, waiting to see what even is my goal here.

"I can do that for you!" I grin like a cartoon character, the only thing missing is the ding sound, and I hold her boobs.

She erupts into a burst of loud laughter and cups her own face while doing so. She peeks back up at me, and with the same giant grin present on my face, I give her boobs a quick tighter squeeze, to which she just laughs loudly again.

She tries to straighten her face but doesn't exactly succeed at it. Nonetheless, she simply looks up at me. "You having fun?"

I simply lift my brow, something that women truly dig, and smile: "A-ha!" I lower my hands down over her stomach and her thighs until I reach around her and give a gentle squeeze to her behind. "Though, I want you to have fun too."

Annabelle bats her wet eyelashes at me, strands of hair slowly escaping from the messy bun under the stream of water. "Who says I'm not having fun?"

Smiling softly, I reach up to her hair and remove the hair tie, so her hair falls down in red locks. "There's no harm in that now, right?"

She laughs again and attempts to look at me scoldingly, but the hot shower water is making that pretty hard for her. "Now no because you've already ruined it!"

"Oh, boo-hoo!" I mutter, as I reach with my hands down to her thighs and sweep her up in my arms. It's as if we had the arrangement to do it because the same moment, she lightly jumps, and locks both hands around my neck and her legs around my waist.

She presses her forehead against mine and says: "I'm not complaining one bit."

***

This whole time she hasn't mentioned anything from last night. Well, there have been mentions of Tootie and Playboy, but the conversation never trod towards my mother or my speaking deficiency.

It's not like we had plenty of time to talk. Up until now, the only time we talked was before taking a shower, then we gave priority to other things.

She just keeps her hands on my back, gently stroking me, spreading soap over my skin to make sure I'm thoroughly washed. I've already done that to her, but she complained because I determined that her behind and breasts need a more extensive wash.

"I don't want to sound like some woman that I know," I say as she presses into my shoulder blades with her fingers. It's like I also agreed to a massage. "But you're really focused on my upper back."

I expect her to give me a glare or something of the sort because 'some woman that I know' is a reference to her being done with me rubbing her behind most of the time. She doesn't do anything like that, she just by leaning her head onto my chest, murmurs, "Mmmm, sounds like a wise woman."

It's impossible not to chuckle at that, and frankly, I don't mind if she continues 'spreading the soap' for two more hours. It's possible I'll get a rash after the shower, but that's only another reason more not to stop her. In case of a rash, I could ask her to apply moisturiser to my skin.

Annabelle eventually decides that my back is more or less clean, and goes to my chest, only that this time it's even better because I get to look at her face, and also her boobs, but... you know, her face and her eyes and her cheeks primarily.

She strokes me gently, then furrows her brows for some reason. "Did you... shave your chest by chance?"

"What? Why?"

"'Cause it feels like you did," she says and runs her hand over my chest one more time.

"Well, women don't like hairy guys, what can I say." We don't want to scare a lady with our chest carpet, do we?

Shaking her head, she says: "What women?"

"Most of them. So, it's a safer bet if you just get rid of the fur."

Annabelle puckers her lips like one usually does when something is not to one's liking.

"What?"

While she's soaping me up, she shrugs, "Nothing. It's just weird. Chest hair on men are hot, but as long as it's somehow maintained."

I lift up my brows at her, grinning dirtily, "Oh, is it, now?" 

"I mean, I appreciate it. I don't mind it if there's nothing there, but... In case it is, I like it." A moment later she pats my chest and looks up at me playfully. "You're all done!"

"Why thank you," I say as I take a hold of the showerhead and, like the biggest asshole, peer it right at her. 

She screams again and tries to block the stream with her hands. I'm having the time of my life on the other side, laughing like a manipulative villain, but then she, a fighter that she is, reaches forward, grabs the showerhead, and because I'm taken by surprise I make it quite easy for her to take control over it. 

"Oh, you're so screwed!" says Annabelle, and, even though I lift my hands up in surrender, she screams loudly and peers the stream at me. 

The water whooshes over me, it gets in my eyes, my mouth, my nose, and I think I'm going to die, but somehow I manage to breathe throughout. Probably because she's laughing just as evilly as I have before. Gingers really are soulless. 

But yo, she's not backing up, not at all. If anything, she is closing in on me, until my back is pressed against the tiled wall, and all I can do is beg for her mercy, which, I believe, I'm not going to get. 

Squealing in the glee of her power, she's unstoppable, but at some point, she just directs the water away from my face and eventually turns it off. "There. All nice and clean." She opens the shower cube, and looks back at me over her shoulder, "And also defeated!"

Wow. That's kinda hot. 

Nodding, I admit my defeat to her. I was completely powerless, and... she was just having so much torturing me. It's kind of a pleasant and unpleasant thought. 

Anyway, I step out of the shower cube first and fetch two large towels for both of us. I quickly wrap one around my waist, and instead of handing her the other one, I step behind her and make an effort to wrap her in it myself. 

She must've not expected that, and acts a bit disoriented at first, as she reaches with her hands to keep the towel on. 

I smile and gently tug on a red strand of her wet hair that's framing her face. "Because you won." 

Immensely happy and content with herself, she lifts her chin up like the biggest stuck-up chick you meet in high school. I mean, there is a certain charm to her because I know she's not like that, but, otherwise, she just looks a lot like Emma Cline - the prom drama queen from my high school class. 

Then, as I'm dealing with a smaller towel and drying my hair, she gets my attention by calling my name and pointing at the mirror. 

"What happened here?"

Oh... 

I stare at the broken mirror from that day when for some goddamn reason I called my mother. I guess now that she's familiar with the background, telling her that she visited me here, which resulted in a broken mirror, will make more sense, than if she just knew my mum and I weren't exactly on the best terms. 

"Uuhh... That's from way back. I just haven't replaced it yet." It's wishful thinking hoping that she won't ask any further, but I give it a try. I know I have issues, especially when it comes to my mother, but, you know, breaking a mirror in anger because your mum is a flirtatious bitch sets a whole other level of disturbing. 

"I noticed both of those things, yeah. Been kinda staring at it for a few weeks now, I just never got to ask you about it." She goes for the hairbrush again, and leaves me with this very implicit hint. 

In a way, explaining the event to her would do more good. Normal people don't just have broken mirrors lurking in the bathroom from crazy teenage years, and if they do, they're not normal. "It was when Devon first shat himself and I couldn't change the diaper." 

"So... You broke a mirror... Because of a diaper?" 

Well, if you put it like that, I do sound mental! 

"No, I just-" I sigh, and not because it'd be hard for me to tell her this, but because I can't believe I gave in that day and called my mother to help me out. But then again, she is my mum. If she didn't help me when I was 10, she could at least fucking help me now. "I was at my weakest, I guess. I know! Ha-ha, very funny!" I add when I see her chuckling to this. I came a long way from then! Now, I don't even react if there's a diaper that needs changing! 

Oh, no... Who have I become... 

"And I kinda didn't want to call you because you already told me about giving him something to eat, which is... you know, a sensible thing to do when a baby starts crying. So, naturally, I called my mum to help out." 

Annabelle lifts both brows, probably thinking I'm joking or that I was high on some trip. I sincerely wish it would be either one of those, but no, I'm both completely serious and was absolutely sober at that time. 

"Yeah, I did that. Obviously, when she changed the diaper, she wanted to talk to me and be all-loving and, not even looking for forgiveness, but making up excuses. So, I lost my shit and... Took it out on a mirror." 

She chuckles in a nervous kind of way. It's not like I expected of her to be calm about it. She goes on with brushing her wet hair, drying it with a towel, brushing it again, and again drying it with a towel. It's something she repeats multiple times until her hair is almost half-dry.

I, meanwhile, am busy with leaving the bathroom into the cold Siberia of my living room and then the bedroom where I get some clean clothes for both of us. When I get back to the bathroom, all the goosebumps I got from running around my cold apartment, finally soothe down. 

"I got you some clothes here," I tell her and put her clothes next to the sink right in front of her. 

She doesn't say thank you, she doesn't even mumble, she just goes on with braiding the rest of her hair. I don't give it much thought, though I do find it kinda weird. Maybe this is her putting the pieces about my mum and the mirror together, and that's why she is so deadly quiet. 

I make myself busy with putting the clothes on. It's just regular grey jeans and a regular dark green T-shirt with a band I don't even know. I think I got this T-shirt at the concert I went with Violet - my girlfriend in college - and they just so happened to be giving out free T-shirts. 

I do give Annabelle a glance now and then, but I always find her very focused on the mirror and on her hair. I wish she could at least say something. That she is so quiet is making me nervous and kind of regret that I told her all that stuff. That's exactly why I don't go around telling people these things - because this happens! 

I can live with that, that people just distance themselves from me if they find out something like that, but I refuse to live with a thought that Annabelle is just like them. Let's be honest, she knows me pretty well. From the time that we've spent together, she really got to know me, and she is an understanding person, which is why this is really bothering me. If she can be understanding about her ex-fiance leaving her out of nowhere, she could as well be understanding about what I've gone through with my mum. 

I'm pretty sure that she would let her ex get away with anything. Just the way she always talks about him, how she describes him... Even if she mentions something that bothered her about him, like him not being a fan of her cooking skills, she says it like it's not that big of a deal, while in reality, it was. 

After I'm rambling around in my thoughts and putting on my jeans, she breaks the silence that was disturbing according to my taste. "I'm sorry, I just can't grasp it." 

It's not like I don't know what she's talking about, but I ask her anyway: "Grasp what?" It's quite obvious that she's thinking about the same thing as me. Well, roughly. It's about what I told her in the middle of the night, obviously. 

"Just... I can't imagine someone hating on their parent so much. And I can't imagine how can you suck so much that your own child grows to hate you so passionately." She goes for the hair tie around her wrists and ties up the braid. 

I don't really know what to say to that. As long as she's not judging me for wishing my mum would burn, scorch and sizzle in hell, she can say whatever she wants. I just can't stand it when someone says that what happened wasn't even that big of a deal or that I should put it behind me. Yes, some fragments of the past can be put behind you, but when it shaped you into what you are now, you can't simply do that. 'My past does not define me' is some pure bullshit. There will always be one piece of that past that will gnaw at you, that will force you to reconsider something in this or another way. You may grow and learn from it, but it's with you, and no one can claim otherwise. 

"Spoken by someone that is close with her parents," she says when she unfolds the clothes I brought her. "You're right not to forgive her." 

I know. I know, but thanks. 

It's strange getting her approval on this. May and Daniel, those directly involved with this, have always tried to convince me to let it go and put it to rest. Dad and Deidre would never add anything to the topic, and my mum has been doing her best to try and manipulate me into thinking what she did to us was not her fault. And then there's Annabelle, in a way a complete stranger that was thrown in this joyride that is my family and gives me the approval. 

At least I know she's trying to understand, which is basically what I was hoping she would do, and that counts for everything. 

I doubt she expected of me to say anything in return. What she said sounded more like a heads-up, or a piece of information she'd like to share with me. Whatever I would try and say, would end up looking cheap or cheesy, and I think that this appreciative silence does all the talking for us. I can just hope that she finds this silence as appreciative as I do, and not an awkward one. 

"You sure you won't be needing those any time soon?" She asks, her tone completely different as if there was a shift between two realities, and the little heads-up she gave me did not happen in this one. 

She puts on Guns N' Roses crop top that I own for some goddamn reason, even though I never wore it, because I look gay in a crop top, but Annabelle, being shorter and smaller, looks completely normal in it, like this is just another T-shirt she found in her wardrobe. 

"The clothes?" She nods to that, and shake my head. "Nah, feel free to return it whenever you feel like it." 

Annabelle gives me a smile of appreciation and literally jumps into the black joggers, and when she pulls them up and releases them, they neatly pile around her ankles. She gives it another try and ties them when she has them at the desired height, which is so adorable. My joggers are too big for her. I just want to do the grandma move and pinch her cheek. But then also slap her ass.

A/N: In this time of being unsure of what's happening to us and the world, I hope Nathan will brighten your day, if not for longer then for at least 20 minutes or so. We'll get through this <3 Ain't no pandemic gonna destroy the great Nathan Price!

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~Blackie