Holding my book in one hand I used the other to play with Tim's hair. He slept soundly on my chest and I tried to stay as still as I could so as not to rouse him. He was so angelic when he was so asleep. He was less troubled.
The last few months of counselling were only slightly helping. They seem to dredge up more issues than they solved and Tim had enough difficulty sleeping as it was. Times like now were rare, not in that Tim was sleepy, he was permanently tired now. Rather that he was at least peaceful in sleep.
I regretted that if anything seeking professional advice had made him more paranoid when I had voiced my concerns. He whined at me on occasion that I was siding with the counselor that it was all in his head. I wasn't sure how to help him, especially when I was the cause of most of it.
A suggestion had been made that Tim should also seek individual help and I had said no before I even thought about why I would. It wasn't my place to decide it but I was concerned about any more secret keeping. I feared that Tim would be able to talk about things he believed and then convince himself they were true and I would have no way to show him otherwise.
He muttered something and cuddled closer to me, his long legs dangling off the sofa and one arm rested on the arm of the seat.
He had had a shower a few hours earlier and smelt clean and fresh. His pyjamas were soft and warm. I loved the times when he was so domesticated. He usually only relented to it when he was sick and he would let me mother him but increasingly of late he was affectionate and warm towards me.
He stirred and eased himself off me, his features blurred with an endearing tiredness. His smile left a feeling of contentment in me and I sat up with him, helping to steady him as he stood.
"Need to go pee."
I laughed to myself and sat back to continue reading.