Fiction Friday: [Frustrated Sympathy]

I found him in the shower.
His sobs mingled with the spray beating down on him
and escaped from between his knees
where his head was tucked.

He didn’t move when I turned the faucet off,
Didn’t flinch when I wrapped the towel around him. 

I sat on the edge of the tub.
Not saying a word.
Not because I didn’t know what to say,
but because I knew he wouldn’t want me to.

In an hour he’ll act like this never happened.
And I’ll play along as not to add to his embarrassment.

It was a tiring game.
A lesson yet to be learned.
That words were more freeing than tears.
But pride kept him tethered.

Pride, and believing the pain circled down the drain with his tears,
Erasing the memory of the time before.

And the time before.