I got home from breakfast and a trip to the dispensary with mom this morning around noon or one, around the time Ricky starts to wake his sleepy self up.
When I opened the bedroom door, he was not stirring yet and very much fast asleep on his belly, strands of dark hair going every which way.
I greeted him, chirping “hib!” until he smiled and chirped a lower-pitched hib back, eyes still closed.
“I got fo-od!” I sang. He lifted himself, exposing a nipple and responded in a falsetto “hmmm??” with one eye opened. Because there was distance between us, I presented the box to him far away; he very lazily reached out for it with his whole arm, unsuccessfully. I snorted and mocked him immediately, making an “ehhhhhh” noise, and he started laughing, mocking himself too, joining in the fun.
Ricky Edward Humerick. Educated in things he’s really interested in. Close to 600 records in his collection, but cannot pick an all-time favorite. Smells like green peppers, sweat and pheromone after a night of chopping up cheesesteak beef on the grill at work. Quiet, and gentle, but not a pushover and an alpha-male. Kindness is his demeanor and humor is his sharpest tool when meeting new people, despite his small bouts of social anxiety before we arrive at the scene.
A quick cigarette sparked in between his pretty boy lips to calm his nerves.
“You’re such a man!” I declared sternly while stretched out on the bed, sweatpants drawn to my upper waist meeting a messed up black lace tank top above.
“What’d I do??” Ricky playfully huffed back while unraveling a questionably clean t-shirt to wear until he had to get ready for his Subhouse shift. After a sniff or two, he proceeded to cover himself with the garment.
“Nothing, you just are! You’re so masculine, you think like a man. You’re just such a man!”
“Yeah!?” He chirped back in falsetto, “you really think so Hib??”
“Oh yes. Now come over here. Pettins?” I rolled over on my belly, head in pillow, melting into the memory foam of the mattress. I rolled up my tank top, exposing a larger part of my back.
Ricky smiled and made his way past the dirty clothes on the floor, standing tall before my bare back and started lightly running his lissome fingertips across my skin, from my blades to my spine, and back again. I looked up, and he was scrolling on his phone with his left hand- very talented.
He continued pettins until I started snoring in a promising slumber. And I guess that’s just the way things are and how they go.
The Human Healer’s Stories 