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The following day, Sadde goes to town at a reasonable time to buy a tiny cactus with some of the proceeds from his terribly tedious job, and sneaks it into the bag with his clothing he brings to Isabella's room. It is inside a cute little box, which he offers Isabella the following morning when she wakes up, saying, "Happy three-month anniversary!"
Sadde and Isabella in Eclipse
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It'll soon be Jackson's birthday, so Sadde goes to town and buys him a little something.
And she reads the relevant pieces of law books, and social service books, and the American Psychological Association's Code of Ethics, getting increasingly frustrated by her findings. And she gives up, pretty sure that she knows the answer.
And then it's lunch time on his birthday.
Jackson is as usual picking at some randomly chosen food. ...He may have lost weight. If he remembers it's his birthday he's not being celebratory about it.
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She has a nice little long rectangular box (because she could only think of one thing she knew he really liked) so she walks up to him and offers it. "Happy birthday!"
"...Oh. Thanks," he says, blinking and taking the box. He looks at it for a moment, then opens it up.
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There is exactly one thing she knows he really likes, and she's not his dom so she's not about to give him anything more... elaborate... than the fairly long little toy there.
"It has four settings and comes with batteries included. Easy to clean, too, very good quality."
"It has four settings and comes with batteries included. Easy to clean, too, very good quality."
"Um, I don't think - that - I'm supposed to -"
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"You don't need to tell him," she shrugs. "Unless you want to, or would prefer me not to have given you this. I thought you'd enjoy it, though."
"I don't - sorry - um -" He puts the box lid back on and pushes it in her direction. "Just because - um - I do try to do what he tells me -"
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"Oh, well," she says, taking it back. "Then I'll find another present." She shrugs.
"You don't have to do that, you know."
"Okay."
"What?"
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"I looked it up in a bunch of books and such, and, uh, therapists apparently have enough leeway to break confidentiality if they so much as suspect abuse and 'abuse' isn't defined anywhere so it's like, pretty much a generally applicable excuse."
"Told you."
Shrug.
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Q: How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped?
A: You don't.
"Anyway, how are you? You look like you lost weight."
A: You don't.
"Anyway, how are you? You look like you lost weight."
"Oh. I'm not on a diet or anything, I dunno."
"Not really. My moms sent me a card."
"...I don't think I ever told him when my birthday is."