He awoke slowly, the hazy sunbeams edging in through the blinds dragging him out of slumber. He blinked lazily, his eyes gradually adjusting to the light, then yawned, trying to chase away the mental cobwebs of a long night’s sleep. Finally, he stretc-
Something was wrong.
He swung his legs around, throwing back the covers as he sat bolt upright on the bed.
Where was she?
He could not remember, in all the years that she had kept him, the last time he had risen from sleep unbidden. Always there was her – feeling him with her hands, nestling him in her bosom, shifting him in her warmth; when he was sleeping in his “second home” – his eyes flickered swiftly about the room, hoping perhaps that in a deep slumber she had lain him there without his noticing… but no, the footboard was not plastic, the ceiling not detachable – the sound of her voice at the very least. Even on those rare occasions when she had gone away on business (and not been able to smuggle him along with her) she had always called and woken him up. Whatever he was, she was always there.
But now, sitting alone on the bed, he was just his ordinary normal self. And she was not there.
The fan hummed, the only noise in the room, as he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes checked his nightstand, searching for a note from her… nothing; they fixed on his phone – in the room as instructed when she had not returned home before he retired – watching for the flash of light indicating a message…
Nothing.
Rising, he hurried out of the room and through the house to check the garage – maybe she had had to rise and leave early for some reason? (Without leaving a note?) No, her car was there in its spot. Out for a stroll? A quick check of the shoe mat showed everything where it should be. Of course, it was certainly within her power to be out and about and… not suitable for footwear – but she had always saved that for when they were out in the country… where there were no witnesses. (So… where is she?)
Having no answer to that question, he numbly fell into a kind of ‘automatic’ mode, robotically going about all his usual normal-size tasks – starting the coffee brewing, wiping down the countertops, tidying up the living room, changing the towels in the bathroom –all the while his mind working itself into a frenzy: I don’t understand… where could she be? …everything is here, but… she’s not… should I call her phone? Should I turn on the news? What if she’s out there hurt what if she’s left what if she doesn’t want me anymorewhatifshe’snotcomingbackohmygodwhatthenwhatwillIdo- as he shut down those panicky thoughts with brutal mental force, he found himself standing on the threshold of the bedroom, staring at the emptiness.
Gazing at the bed, there was a whirring in his ears – at first he felt it might be the sight of the vacant space on her side threatening to tear down the fragile mental dam he had just erected; then, with a small start, he realized it was actually the fan, still rotating away – usually the first of his daily assignments, he had missed it in his panic. Flipping the switch, he lingered a moment more in the doorway, then turned to go – where?
…and then he froze, halfway out.
What was that?
Something… something, the faintest thing, had caught his attention. But what?
A noise. This time he heard it consciously. He waited, still as a statue, trying to determine what it was, trying to pinpoint it.
…Crying?
It was the faintest possible sound of someone crying. He hadn’t been able to hear it over the fan before. Was it a neighbor, on an adjacent floor? No, they’d be gone by now. He listened intently, straining to pinpoint the source.
It was the bed. The almost inaudible sobbing was coming from the bed.
Slowly, and as silently as he could, he approached her side of the bed; then, gently, peeled back the covers.
There was no one there.
He blinked, confused. Was it possible it was a neighbor? Or… had he just imagined it? Was he… hallucinating?
Then, he saw the foot. A tiny pink foot, sticking out from under the pillow – which, after a long moment, he delicately lifted… revealing her, lying flat on the bed, head resting on her arm, bawling… and all of three inches tall.
He was utterly flabbergasted. He knew, of course, that being smaller was well within the realm of her powers – a number of times she had shrunk them both down to enjoy a bed the size of a soccer field (and once they had actually made love in the cup of one of her bras) – but never, not once in the twenty-plus years they had been together, had she ever been smaller than him. And now here she was, tiny & distraught… and he had absolutely no idea what to do.
He sat there, frozen, feeling utterly helpless – for how long? He had no idea. Several times his hands moved indecisively, but always returned to their starting place, whatever notion they had had undone. And all the while her sobs echoed in his ears.
Finally, it came to him that he should at least try to talk to her. “Ho-honey?” He flinched as his voice cracked, then again, mentally berating himself as she started violently. Fool! How could he have forgotten? At their respective sizes his normal voice would have sounded like a sonic boom to her.
She was looking up him, a bit dazed. He knelt and crouched so that his face was just above the edge of the bed, and tried again, softening his voice to barely above a whisper. “Hon… what happened? What’s wrong?”
She rolled away from him and resumed crying. He sensed somehow that she needed comfort far beyond what mere words could provide, but he felt completely out of his depth – clumsy both mentally and physically. She had always been there for him, all throughout their years together, and… he wanted to be there for her – but… how? She was the strong one, the independent one, the one who took on the world… how could he possibly comfort Her – his rock, his world, his sky and stars? What if he failed? What if he hurt her?!?
The terrible thing was, usually she would be the one helping him through these self-doubting, self-attacking episodes – or sending him to his therapist; …neither was an option right now. In other circumstances, he could have easily spiraled – but today… she needed him. And he had to be there for her… whatever it took.
Slowly, he edged a hand up onto the bed and extended the pad of his index finger toward her back, gently stroking as he softly begged “Sweetie… please… talk to me… I’m here… I’m listening… tell me what happened…” Her sobbing moderated slightly, so he continued stroking, occasionally whispering something affirming: “it’s okay”; “I’m here”; “it’ll be alright”; “we’re together”.
How long this continued he had no idea; several times he flexed his hand as it attempted to cramp up. But her sobbing continued to diminish, and so he kept on without pause… until finally, it ceased altogether, and he felt a hand on his finger, stilling it. He looked into her face, eyes red and puffy from the hours spent crying… and a gentle and grateful smile on her lips. She hugged him and rested her head on the top of his finger, still looking right into his eyes with that softly thankful expression. They lay there for long minutes, gazing at each other, until, finally, she spoke.
“It was work.”
He arched his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on.
“You know I’m doing the internal audit.” A tiny nod from him. “Well, yesterday I found some big discrepancies in several accounts.” He listened, raptly, as she detailed what she’d found, the magnitude of the fraud – hardly noticing when she stood and, as she circled his finger, his hand turned over seemingly of its own volition, allowing her to clamber up and sit on his palm – and then, as she described tracking it down… “The kid,” he said. “Exactly,” she confirmed with a nod. The senior partner’s son – an arrogant, entitled asshole. “I confronted him.” His jaw dropped; even at her usual imposing size that lunk had several inches – and almost a hundred pounds of muscle – on her. “He didn’t even bother denying it,” she said, bitterly. “Just said the old man would never believe it…”
She hesitated – and shivered. He lifted his thumb over her head and she wrapped her arms around it as it came to rest in front of her. “He made threats. First against my position at the firm, then my job…” She clutched his thumb tighter. “And against me. Said I ‘might want to be careful leaving the office after dark’… unbelievable.”
“He couldn’t really hurt you, though,” he said, the tone of his voice trying to force the fates to make his words true.
“I’m powerful, darling… not invulnerable.” She shrugged. “I was angry at first – ruined my suit driving around last night; didn’t want to come home mad – but, when I got through our door, I realized… he was right. His father won’t listen, won’t believe anything said against his boy, especially since I don’t have airtight evidence… I didn’t know what to do. I can’t go back – I can’t challenge him, and I won’t drop it – but I don’t have enough to go to the authorities…” Her voice, which had been strong, started to falter. “And that’s when I…” he arms waved about herself indeterminately. “Not too much at first – I even had a glass of milk to try and calm down, help me sleep. But… when I opened the bedroom door…” her voice cracked, and she started sobbing again; “and I saw you… and I thought… what if he… what if…”
She broke down, bawling into the top of his thumb. He brought up his other hand and stroked her hair and back with a gentle fingertip, letting her cry herself out. After another period of time, her breathing went back to something like normal, and she loosened her grip on his thumb. Suddenly, she started giggling.
“I… I barely… made it… up… on the bed,” she got out between laughs. The humor, though, is what finally broke him, and he teared up. “I’m just so glad you’re here,” he sobbed. “When I got up, I… I didn’t know what was happening. I thought” – he gulped – “I thought you were… gone.”
“Oh… oh, darling, no,” she soothed, rubbing his skin. “I don’t know what we’ll do now… but that – never. Never, darling. Do you hear me?”
He sniffed and gave a weepy smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
She ‘biff’-ed him with her little fist – “Damn right ‘yes ma’am’,” then beamed at him. “Thank you for being here for me, darling. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
“Oh my goodness,” he babbled. “You really mean it? I feel so awkward and clumsy – so incapable. I didn’t think I could possibly give you what you need.”
“No, sweetie, oh no… I’m sorry for putting you in this situation! But you are wonderful! So gentle, and so kind. You make a perfect giant cuddler.” He grinned bashfully. “Now… we’ve both had a very rough day. Come on up here and let’s take a nap.” He balked, but she gave him a commanding look and patted his palm.
So, being extra careful to hold his palm steady, he crawled into the bed and lay down in her spot; she did the same in his palm, pulling his thumb down as a blanket. And, together, they slept.