Danger! Explosives!
Unreasonable, that's what he was! Zach had enough of it within an hour of his feet hitting the floor for the day.
"I mean it, Zach," Nelson warned for about the fifth time that morning. "You need to watch your tone or we're going upstairs to find some soap."
Zach crossed his arms over his chest in a posture of flat out defiance.
"Yes?" Nelson inquired.
Argh! He could be so annoying!
"Yes, what?" Zach said tersely, barely able to keep his tongue at bay. His mouth had already gotten him in trouble twice and he didn't want it to take him further, but…
"You have something to say?"
"Just trying to watch my tone," Zach clipped.
Nelson straightened up from the dishwasher and put his hands on his hips. "You'd better work on that a little more then, young man."
Nelson's own tone dared Zach to *try* being smart aleck just one more time. Zach considered it briefly then thought better of it. Nelson wasn't in the mood and neither was Zach. He especially wasn't in the mood to spend half a day working on the yard and the other half inside the house. It wasn't fair! Besides that, Zach didn't like doing either one. He knew what Nelson was trying to do: punish him by keeping him occupied. Well, Zach had absolutely no problem worrying while he worked, no question about it.
Knowing that things had gone from a little yard work to yard work plus full-blown housework, Zach uttered a hesitant and virtually non-repentant, "Sorry, Nelson."
Nelson paused and said with a hand on each of Zach's arms, "Listen. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but it's nothing you can't handle."
"You don't understand," Zach said petulantly.
"Don't I? My practice didn't start all by itself."
Zach frowned and looked at the floor. "You had a partner."
Nelson's finger found the underside of Zach's chin, tilting his face upward. "So do you."
"I meant a business partner," Zach snapped. "You can't help me take pictures."
"No," Nelson said wrapping an arm around Zach's shoulders. "But I can be there for you and run for film and wipe your brow when you get overworked…"
Zach scowled, pushing away from Nelson's embrace.
"Like today? It's bad enough you gave me the *whole* yard to do," he said expressively, arms spread wide, "but then you give me *all* the housework, too? How is that fair?"
Nelson sighed and put his hands on his hips. "It's as fair as you snapping at me all morning. Besides, the house needs cleaning anyway and you need something to do so you won't obsess over this wedding Saturday."
"Being busy won't keep me from stressing," he complained.
"I'm not arguing about it with you, Zach," Nelson said calmly. "The yard and house better be done when I get home."
"The house is clean, though!" Zach said.
"Then it shouldn't be that much work, should it?"
"You know," Zach said as he sharpened his tongue, "*first* you're unreasonable and *then* you're smart aleck. The house is fine. You're just looking for stuff for me to do."
"Your point?"
Zach crossed his arms in a moment of bravado that took over his rational thinking and said, "If you want it so clean, why don't you do it?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Zach regretted them. He watched in fascination as both Nelson's eyebrows lifted in surprise. One eyebrow up spelled "trouble" but two? Tension crackled in the room as Zach awaited his sentencing.
"I'll tell you what," Nelson bargained rationally. "Since you're going to be cleaning the house, why don't *I* take the responsibility of cleaning your mouth?"
Nelson clutched Zach's upper arm and turned him toward the door and Zach saw the bathroom looming quicker than a guy can say "I'm sorry" for being a smart ass. Nelson didn't let go of Zach until he deposited him on the lid of the toilet.
"Nelson! Don't," Zach said, already swallowing in anticipation of the bitter suds about to invade his mouth.
Zach's face fell into a grimace as Nelson rolled a bar designated for these special occasions between his palms, thoroughly rubbing it into a full lather.
"I told you to watch your mouth. You've already been in trouble twice this morning for your temper and snapping," Nelson said.
"It slipped out! I didn't mean anything by it," Zach said, his eyes never leaving the soap.
He leaned his body backward away from the foamy bar Nelson was pushing toward his mouth, the overpowering fresh scent causing Zach's stomach to flip as he clamped his teeth together firmly.
"Open."
Zach turned his head without losing eye contact with the bar that was encroaching menacingly into his personal space.
"Mmmm!" Zach complained, closed-lipped.
"You are dangerously close to getting spanked," Nelson warned.
No, thank you. Soap and chores were bad enough. Zach reluctantly opened his mouth at the threat, his eyes sealed shut against the slippery, slimy intrusion, his tongue creeping back as far as his throat would let it as Nelson liberally worked the bar in.
"Bite down and turn to the wall," Nelson ordered.
Zach brought his teeth together gingerly, hoping to grip the soap just enough to keep it from falling from his lips but not hard enough to get any more of the nasty stuff stuck in his teeth. No matter how wide he opened his mouth, the soap always managed to scrape against a tooth or two. Or three. Or four.
"Turn," Nelson instructed again, and Zach slid around on the toilet seat to face the wall.
He tried not to swallow, the very attempt making it seem like he needed to do just that. His saliva glands kicked into high gear, flooding his mouth with more spit than he needed. As the lather crept into every nook and cranny of his mouth, Zach's temper held steady at a slow simmer.
It was seriously not fair that he should have to do all that work. Nelson knew he was worried about the wedding Saturday. Any decent partner would be supportive and understanding. It was his first big client! If he screwed it up, his business could be dead in the water before it ever got launched. Instead of being understanding, Nelson was being a jerk, pouncing on Zach for every little thing. Every time he turned around, he was getting swatted or facing the corner all week long. The more stressed he got, the more overbearing Nelson became.
Facing the wall with crappy soap bubbles eeking out of his mouth did nothing to quell Zach's temper. Finally, Nelson tapped him on the shoulder.
"Ok, turn around," he said, taking the bar out of Zach's mouth. "Rinse."
Zach did his best to get rid of the slimy soap in his mouth but as usual, the flavor clung stubbornly no matter how much swishing Zach did.
"All right, that's enough."
"But I can still taste it!" Zach exclaimed.
"I'm sure," Nelson said, leaning against the vanity. "Get your attitude under control, Zach and stop worrying about this weekend."
Zach frowned and didn't reply, too angry to agree but not stupid enough to disagree.
"Do you understand me?" Nelson asked.
"Yes," Zach offered. He understood. English wasn't his second language.
"Ok," Nelson said, taking a deep breath. "I need to finish getting ready for work before I'm late."
He turned from the sink and left Zach in the bathroom. Zach glared after him then muttered bitterly under his breath as he followed, "Going to be hard to clean the house when you keep using all the soap on me."
He nearly plowed into Nelson's back when he came around the doorframe, stopping short in surprise that Nelson hadn't made it further down the hall. He somehow managed to keep from clapping a hand over his gaping mouth.
Zach gulped. How much did Nelson hear? Did he hear anything?
"My mistake," Nelson said calmly as he turned toward Zach. "I didn't leave the soap in long enough." Nelson's finger made a u-turn in the air then jutted toward the bathroom door. "Back inside."
"Nelson!" Zach protested in a panic. "You can't do that again! I hardly finished rinsing!"
"And you obviously didn't learn anything from it. Move," Nelson said, pushing Zach back into the bathroom with a healthy smack to his backside.
Five minutes later, Zach was sputtering into the sink for the second time that morning and mad as a wet hen.
"Are we finished with the smart mouth now?" Nelson asked firmly.
With measured grace, Zach said, "We're finished."
"I'm glad to hear it," Nelson said. He leaned down and kissed Zach's cheek, avoiding his lips and the taste of soap. "I'm going to work. I expect to see those chores done when I get home tonight. I'd start on the yard if I were you before it gets too hot."
Zach glared daggers at Nelson's back as he left the bathroom. The nerve! The whole damn day was going to be shot doing useless boring shit! Great. Just great!
Nelson stuck his head back around the corner of the door. "Coming down to see me off?"
"I'm coming," Zach said grudgingly.
"I'll check in later," Nelson said with another peck before he left. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Zach said flatly.
"Try to cool off," Nelson said before he left.
Zach said to the closed door, "Fat chance of that from behind a push mower."
Even starting early, cutting the grass had Zach hot on more than one level. Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he made the last swipe across the lawn. He raked his arm across his forehead wiping sweat from his brow after he put the lawnmower away. He hated doing yard work and Nelson knew it! The cold blast of air conditioning was a welcome relief to Zach as he entered the house then fell onto the couch. He had to cool down a bit before tackling the stairs to get a shower; it was just too much effort.
He had barely stretched out when the phone rang. Ignoring it, he threw his arm over his eyes.
After his recorded voice told the caller to leave a message, he heard Nelson say to the machine, "Zach? It's me. Pick up."
"Fuck!" Zach cursed as he stomped to the kitchen. Nelson was only calling to check up on him to be sure he was doing all the household dirty work.
"What?" he answered curtly.
"You're sounding about as cordial as you did when I left this morning. How's it going?"
"It's hot, that's how it's going."
"Have you gotten much done?"
"I did all of your yard work and I'm getting ready to take a shower."
"Our yard work," Nelson corrected. "Did you do it right?"
No, I forgot your begonias, Zach thought.
"Of course I did, Nelson. You can check it when you get home if you don't believe me."
"I will. And you can stop snapping at me, Zach. I mean it. Remember why you're doing all those chores."
Zach pursed his lips, biting back the angry retort on the tip of his tongue.
After several seconds of tense silence, Nelson said, "All right. You're not in the mood to talk. I'll see you when I get home, and I'm warning you, you'd better be in a better mood when I get there. I've had enough of the attitude and temper. One more time, you're getting spanked."
What?! Zach scowled at the voice on the phone. This day was getting better and better.
"Anything else?" Zach asked with exaggerated sweetness.
His stomach clenched as the sassy comment was met with silence and he held his breath waiting to see if his big mouth just crossed the line into the One More Time zone.
Zach let out a relieved sigh when Nelson finally replied, "That's all. I'll see you later."
"Bye."
"Bye," Nelson said.
Shit, that was close. Fresh beads of sweat threatened to break out on his forehead from the close call despite being in the cool of the house. Skirting disaster hadn't doused his temper, which was still flickering at a low flame.
The flames licked higher as he thought back over the conversation. "Be in a better mood. Ha!"
That was easier said than done when Nelson was pushing every last button Zach had. Where were the consequences for Nelson's pushing?! Zach went upstairs to take a shower, stomping out his frustration on every innocent riser along the way. He bent over to unlace his shoestring and it twisted into a tight knot.
"Damn it!" he cursed. He got madder by the second as he worked at the knot, his short fingernails no match for it.
"Stop it, Cujo!" he demanded as the little Jack Russell tugged at his other shoelace, untying it without trouble.
Cujo ignored the demand and he put his weight into his butt as he pulled at the loosened lace, gripping it tightly in his teeth and growling at it, occasionally flicking his head from side to side as he tried to kill it.
"Would you quit it?!" Zach ordered.
Cujo kept pulling with determined fervor. Zach gave up trying to reason with the dog, finally toeing off the shoe so Cujo could have it.
Cujo took off to the other side of the room, his prey in tow as he trotted toward the winner's circle in triumph. Zach shook his head and went back to work on the knot, too caught up in getting it loose to worry about rescuing its kidnapped twin just yet.
"Goddamn it!" Zach cursed as the knot held strong.
Giving up on the knot, he angrily scraped at the back of the shoe with his other foot, wincing at the tight hold until it was off the back of his heel.
Sweet victory! He kicked his foot angrily, freeing his foot entirely of the offending shoe and watched in satisfaction as it sailed across the room. His contentment turned to horror as the shoe's course turned in slow motion until the bedroom lamp landed directly in its path.
Nelson's lamp.
The tennis shoe zeroed in on the lamp, its target firmly set dead-center of the crossing of the axes. Shoe met lamp with a shattering crash that sent a shudder through Zach despite his risen temperature from a raging temper. Shards of glass scattered onto the pile of the rug as the lamp fell to pieces.
Silence followed the crash leaving Zach frozen in place as Nelson's warning came crashing back much like a lamp slamming to the floor. Hell, this looked a lot like "one more time" to Zach. This was not good, not good at all. Nelson was going to see this for exactly what it was: a nasty bout of temper.
Zach bent down and picked up one chunk of glass, looking at the fragment as though it held the answer to his new dilemma. Glue, his mind thought frantically. He looked dejectedly at the million or so jagged pieces of lamp carcass littering the floor and had to pronounce the lamp dead. It was done for and there wasn't enough glue in Hero Township to save it. All the King's horses and all the King's men wouldn't be any help either. Humpty Dumpty was a piece of cake next to this mess.
"Stay back," he ordered an investigating Cujo, the dead shoe all but forgotten. "Don't come over here, boy. You'll get hurt."
Dead lamps, dead shoes. That wasn't the worst of it. There was going to be a dead Zach, too.
Nelson was going to kill him.
Zach tossed the glass back onto the floor, scooped up Cujo and put him in the hallway, closing the door to keep him out of the way. He carefully picked up what glass he could then ran the vacuum to get up any remaining bits, the whole while wondering how he was going to get out of this. His stomach turned over with every swipe of the vacuum as each tiny piece of glass clinked a path toward the vacuum cleaner bag.
It had been such a shitty day, a shitty week even! He had barely skirted real trouble all week long, tiptoeing very close to The Line. Now he had stepped clear over it, ran past it at break-neck speed. Hell, he could barely see The Line anymore it was so far behind him. If he didn't know he had crossed it, he wouldn't know it had even been there. But there it was, fragments of it captured in the vacuum.
The Line was a lamp broken by a snapping temper.
Zach finished with the vacuum then stared at the vacancy on the nightstand. Nelson would notice as soon as he came in the room. Maybe he could replace it? He shook his head sadly. There was little hope of finding a matching lamp at the mall. He and Nelson had gotten the pair on sale at least a year ago and he couldn't even remember where they finally bought them.
He hurried around to his side of the bed and moved the remaining lamp to Nelson's nightstand, hoping to make the missing one less noticeable. He stood back and let his eyes sweep the scene. His shoulders slumped as he realized the gaping hole from Nelson's side of the bed had simply moved to Zach's. It didn't help at all.
There was no way Nelson wasn't going to notice. Buying a brand new set would mean having to lie and he wasn't about to do that. Nelson would want to know why he replaced the lamps they had, and he couldn't come up with anything close to the truth or even a mild exaggeration of it.
Toenails raked at the closed door followed by a flash of white as one paw darted under the door as a reminder to Zach that Cujo awaited him on the other side.
"I'm coming," Zach said wearily.
Cujo danced around Zach's feet as though they had been separated for weeks rather than minutes. He found one of Zach's socks and brought it to him.
"Can't you see I'm going to get killed later? I’m not in the mood to play," Zach told the dog as he jumped eagerly against Zach's leg.
Zach grabbed the toe of the sock to take it away and Cujo pulled hard against it, growling.
Zach turned loose of his end of the sock, letting Cujo win by default, even if he lost his dignity by thumping his butt on the floor when Zach let go. "I'm sorry, boy, I just don't have it in me to play."
Cujo stayed seated on the floor, appearing in his own doggy way to have understood. He looked inquisitively at Zach as his master disappeared into the bathroom to take the shower he intended to take just before the shoe fiasco.
Zach closed his eyes and let the cool water pour over him. Breaking the lamp was going to be the icing on the cake. Nelson had been warning him all week, let alone the point-blank threat on the phone earlier. He had gotten enough swats over the past few days to make up a whole spanking if they were clumped together rather than a swing here and there. Nelson had been on his case like a fly on shit.
Zach finished with his shower, pulling his clothes on quickly so he could start on the house. Cujo was waiting patiently for him, his sock still clutched victoriously between both paws and his chin lying on it protectively.
"Let's go get the rest of the vacuuming done, boy."
Zach hauled the vacuum downstairs and ran it with more attention to detail than he ever had. No matter how much attention he paid to the floors, he couldn't stop thinking about Nelson. He moved on to the mopping, the strings of the mop eating at the dirt on the kitchen floor while worry ate at Zach. What was he going to tell Nelson? *How* was he going to tell Nelson?"
"Oh, by the way, Nelson, I slammed my shoe into your lamp and broke it. Yeah, I was pissed off, but I'm not now. I know I was rotten this morning, but you already punished me for that, remember? No, I don't think this counts as 'one more time', I really don't. It was leftover from earlier. Let's just move on, ok?"
Zach shook his head. "Hell. Why couldn't it have hit the wall?"
He heard a little 'click, click, click' behind him and wheeled around as he recognized the sound.
"No, Cujo! Don't walk on the—" Zach sighed with annoyance as little shadows of doggie prints littered the clean kitchen tile in Cujo's wake. "All right, that's it. You're going out," he announced, remanding Cujo to the backyard.
He huffed as he looked at the kitchen floor. Bad enough to have to mop once, but twice? He grabbed the mop irritably and started scrubbing once again. It had been such a crappy day! He had been in trouble with Nelson before the breakfast dishes were cleared, and things had only gone downhill from there. Zach frowned to himself. Had he set a new record? Yes, he thought he had. Single-handedly.
Enter Zach Bartholomew into the Guinness World Book for Most Times in Trouble in One Day.
He was amazing! He had nailed Once in Trouble right out of the gate that day and was going for number two before his breakfast started to digest. He could just see the headlines on the Associated Press.
/In the News: Guinness World Record Broken – The world record for Most Times in Trouble in One Day was more than broken, it was smashed today by Zach Bartholomew. Bartholomew not only broke the record, he did it in under an hour then managed to add to his total by yet another incident later in the day.
"It was nothing, really," Bartholomew told reporters. "I wasn't even thinking about it but before I knew it, I held the new world record. Five times in trouble in one day wasn't hard. I think I could probably have gone for six if I wanted to."
Bartholomew's partner has not been available for comment./
Hell. Zach only wished. He was sure Nelson would have not one comment, but several. Nelson's lecture was likely to break records and end up on the AP as well.
"The AP," Zach mused to himself, his mind beginning to churn quickly. He thought for a moment and began to nod.
It had to be… It fit perfectly.
~~~~~~
Nelson came in the backdoor, surprised at the state of the kitchen as he entered. It was white-glove clean, shining from Zach's efforts despite the grumbling from him that morning. The overly-clean kitchen was a sign for a more promising evening than Nelson had anticipated. Not only was it clean, dinner was on the stove. Nelson inhaled the scent of roast beef simmering in the crockpot. His favorite. The evening was definitely looking up.
He walked through to the dining room and stared in wonder at the table; candles were flickering softly over the meticulously set table, complete with burgundy cloth napkins folded into the wine glasses at each of their respective places. A bottle of wine chilled between the place settings, and fresh cut flowers adorned the center of the table.
"You're home!" Zach declared as he came into the dining room.
Nelson accepted the eager kiss in greeting and smiled at the 180 his partner had done since morning.
"Hi," he smiled. "You look nice."
Zach shrugged. "I just put on some khakis instead of cut-offs. I wanted to look halfway decent for dinner."
"And you do. I take it you're feeling better?"
"Yeah. I'm glad to see you."
Nelson kissed him again appreciatively. "I'm glad to see you, too. What's the occasion? Did I forget an anniversary? A birthday?"
"No. I wanted to make up for this morning. I'm really sorry I was such a beast."
Nelson fingered Zach's bangs softly away from his forehead. "You're never a beast. You might growl on occasion, but never a beast. You've never bitten me."
"I nipped at you this morning, but thanks anyway. Ready to eat? I made your favorite."
"I smelled it when I came in. Just let me change clothes real quick –"
"No!" Zach cleared his throat and tried to temper the anxious tone of his response. "I mean, you could, but I have dinner ready. I've worked hard on it. Sit."
"I could change while you're putting it on the table. I won't be a minute--"
"Or you could help me and we could do it together," Zach replied seductively. "Then we can make love on the living room floor after we eat."
Nelson grinned and said, "That sounds like dessert."
"It could be. But it will have to be dessert after dessert. I made cheesecake."
"My favorite meal *and* dessert?"
Zach gave Nelson another quick peck. "You deserve it after this morning. Help me get the food on the table."
Zach felt a tingle in his stomach when he thought over the day. As he dished up the potatoes and carrots, he hoped the meal would redeem what was left of the evening.
"This is good," Nelson said, piercing a piece of roast beef so tender it fell apart. "Did you make the rolls, too?"
"I heated them myself," Zach teased. "I didn't have time to make them from scratch. Down, Cujo."
"I guess you didn't have time with all the cleaning you did. The rolls are good anyway." Nelson daubed at some gravy with half his roll. "This is really nice, Zach. Unnecessary, but nice."
"I'm glad you like it. I really felt bad about this morning," Zach offered. "About all week."
"I appreciate it," Nelson said. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble, though. Just having my sweet-natured partner back is apology enough."
"I didn't mind," Zach said. "It's the least I could do after being so crabby all week. It's like I couldn't control it or something."
Zach ignored the expression of disbelief on Nelson's face. The timing was as good as it was going to get. He opened the door and plunged through. "You know what I was thinking?"
"What's that?"
"I seriously think I might have that Rage Disorder we read about on the AP."
Nelson chuckled as he took another bite. "No. I told you when we read it the other night and I'm telling you now, you don't have it."
"But it fits, Nelson. I went back and read it again. I really think I might have it."
"You and half the rest of the country if you believe that study." Nelson shook his head. "You don't have a disorder. You've been stressed - like half the rest of the country."
Zach reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I don't know about that," he said. "Look here."
He shoved the paper across the dining room table toward Nelson and tapped a finger down on one particular line.
"What's this?" Nelson asked.
"It's that article we saw. I printed it off the internet. Read this part."
"I've read it."
"But read this part again," Zach urged, noting a particular part of the paper.
Nelson gave him a disapproving look and wiped his mouth, looking over the article. "'People think it's bad behavior and that you just need an attitude adjustment, but what they don't know,'" Nelson read aloud, "'is that there's a biology and cognitive science to this.'" Nelson pushed the paper away. "That's an excuse for bad behavior."
"No, it isn't," Zach disagreed. "You have to admit, that sounds like me this morning. Doesn't it?"
A skeptical expression washed over Nelson's face. "Yes, it sounds like you. You *did* need an attitude adjustment this morning. But there was no," he paused to scan the article, "'Intermittent Explosive Disorder' involved. Maybe Intermittent Mouth Disorder."
"Very funny," Zach frowned at his plate. "I could be one of the 16 million Americans with IED and you're not even interested."
"Zach, the only thing wrong with you this morning was stress over this weekend."
"I know I'm stressed, Nelson, but I seriously think there's more to it than that. It says this disorder causes outbursts like throwing things, road rage…"
"So does stress," Nelson dismissed the argument as he took another bite.
"You won't even entertain the possibility I might have this," Zach stated. "What kind of doctor are you?"
"One who knows his partner," Nelson said with a wink.
Zach sighed. "It explains a lot. I think I have it."
"I don't think so. You didn't have anything that a little soap couldn't cure."
"A *little*?!"
Nelson shook his head at Zach. "You kept on pushing. What did you think I was going to do?"
"*I* was pushing?" Zach asked incredulously. "You were pushing *me*. In fact, I think you might have IED, too."
"Me?!" Nelson replied.
"Yes. You were *way* overreacting this morning and more than a bit unreasonable. It says right here," Zach said, referring to the article, "'By definition, intermittent explosive disorder involves multiple outbursts that are way out of proportion to the situation.' If that wasn't you this morning—"
"Let's forget about disorders and ugly mornings, ok?" Nelson said with a sigh. "This dinner is too good to ruin with negative conversation. You outdid yourself, Zach." Nelson leaned back in his chair to rub his stomach.
"I'm glad you liked it. Nice segue away from the subject, by the way," Zach threw in. "As a doctor, I'd think you might at least consider I have IED and see that maybe you could have it, too."
Nelson leveled a look at Zach. "Do you honestly believe – and expect me to believe – that you have that disorder? Honestly."
Zach opened his mouth to confirm, but the words got caught somewhere between his Adam's apple and his tongue. It was no use in trying to convince Nelson. Even Zach wasn't entirely convinced. He closed his mouth in defeat and shook his head.
"I'm not sure. I have the symptoms and it would explain a lot." A lot more than he was ready to share just yet.
"I have all the explanation I need," Nelson said. "You've been snapping because you have a lot on you right now." He leaned toward Zach and put a hand over his. "And you're going to do a fabulous job Saturday. Then every time you shoot a wedding it will get easier and less stressful. I promise."
Great. Wonderful. Way to slather on the guilt. Nelson just *had* to be nice and sensible. Zach shifted with a nagging conscience as Nelson piled on the encouragement and understanding.
"You're going to do a great job, I'm sure of it. And I'll be right there, even though you aren't going to need me."
Zach sighed. He felt like such a shit.
Needing to change the subject himself, he suggested, "Ready for dessert?"
"I'm too full. Do you mind if we have it later?"
"No, I’m full, too. We can wait," Zach agreed.
"You're full? You hardly touched yours."
"I guess I nibbled too much while I cooked," Zach said.
"Let's clear the table then I'm going to change."
Zach's heart paused in his chest. He swallowed hard. "Ok."
Zach did his best to manage small talk while he sorted the clean silverware into the utensil drawer as he cleaned out the dishwasher.
"Dessert fork," Nelson commented as he passed by to put a storage bowl away.
"What?"
"You put the dessert fork in the dinner fork slot."
"Oh," Zach said.
He found two more utensils in the wrong place when he looked closer. He had other bigger things on his mind than forks and knives. Zach sighed as he withdrew the wrongly placed silverware and deposited them into the correct sections.
What little bit he had eaten sat churning in the pit of his stomach. The kitchen wasn't going to take forever; Nelson would be going upstairs in no time and Zach still hadn't managed to tell him about the lamp. He had to tell him but he couldn't get his vocal cords to work!
As Nelson put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, he unrolled his sleeves and said with a telling grin, "Ok, I'll be back down in a minute for a bit of calorie-free dessert. You deserve a proper thank you."
Hi How could Nelson think about sex at a time like this!
"Ok," Zach said with a peck of a kiss.
Zach started wiping down the kitchen table as Nelson neared the kitchen door. It was now or never. If he didn't tell it, Nelson would be more ticked off to find out about it on his own.
Zach tossed out casually, "Oh, I accidentally broke the lamp on your side of the bed, but I'll get another one tomorrow. I moved mine to your side until I can get another one."
Nelson stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around slowly to face Zach. "What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing. I just broke the lamp. By accident," Zach reiterated.
"When did that happen?"
Zach's throat double-clutched on him when he tried to swallow. "This morning?"
"Was it this morning?" Nelson prodded at the question left hanging by Zach's response.
"Yeah, this morning. No biggie."
Nelson walked back toward him and crossed his arms. "How?"
Zach shrugged. "It just happened."
"Spontaneously fractured itself?"
"Nelson," Zach waved a hand toward him. "Don't be silly. Go change. You've been trying to change your clothes since you walked in."
"In a minute. How did it happen?"
Zach's mouth was suddenly as arid as desert sand. "It was just my shoe."
"You *kicked* the lamp?" Nelson's brow lifted in surprise.
"Oh, no," Zach said as calmly as he could muster. "It's not like that at all."
"How is it then?" Nelson's hands went to his hips as he waited for the answer Zach was not eager to give.
"It slipped."
"The lamp?"
"My shoe."
Nelson's lips tightened as he took in the story he was getting piecemeal. "You threw it," he deduced.
"No, I didn't throw it."
"Zachary, we can drag this out through Twenty Questions, or you can tell me what happened sometime before tomorrow."
"I'm telling you!" Zach defended himself. "What do you want?"
"I want to know," Nelson said slowly while looming over Zach, "how a shoe ended up breaking the lamp. You say you didn't kick the lamp, and you say you didn't throw your shoe."
"You're so suspicious!" Zach said, crossing his arms and flouncing himself into a chair. "I'm not like that with you!"
"I'm sorry, Zach," Nelson apologized with exaggerated sincerity. He pulled out a chair beside Zach and sat down. "I don't know what came over me. I mean, you were in *such* a good mood when I left this morning and again when we talked later on the phone. I don't know why I would jump to conclusions."
"I said I was sorry," Zach muttered. "I made you that nice meal and everything."
"You did and I said I appreciated it," Nelson replied sincerely. "But I'm still fuzzy on the details of the broken lamp and I'm getting tired of trying to drag it out of you."
Zach cringed. "I told you. It was my shoe."
"And it got knocked into the lamp hard enough to break it, how?"
Nelson was supposed to barely register that the lamp broke, not launch a freaking inquisition. Zach tried to maintain eye contact but the glare emanating from his partner was piercing. He got up from the table and began scrubbing down the counters.
Nelson came up beside him and stopped Zach's vigorous swiping with a hand over Zach's. "How?"
"I knew you were going to make a federal case out of this," Zach complained. "You've been on my back all week and I'm tired of it."
"How, Zach?"
"Quit asking that!"
Nelson studied Zach's stormy face for a few moments. Finally, he replied, "Ok. Why don't I tell you how I think it happened, then? I think your temper got the best of you and you either kicked your shoe off with poor aim, or threw it. Am I hot or cold?"
Zach looked down at the dishcloth in his hands.
Nelson said, "That's what I thought. So which was it? Kicked or threw?"
"Sort of kicked," Zach mumbled. "But I didn't kick the lamp, I kicked my shoe off. It wasn't my fault, though!"
"Someone made you kick your shoe off hard enough to kill the lamp?"
"You did" didn't seem appropriate. There was a time and a place for everything and this was neither the time nor the place for a crack like that. Zach was in so deep he could feel the water licking at his chin. A smart response like that would dunk him under and get him soaped for the third time that day on top of everything else.
"No, sir."
That was appropriate.
"How then?" Nelson queried. After several seconds of silence, Nelson huffed in irritation. "Zach. I'm going to ask you one more time. How did you break the lamp?"
Zach gave Nelson his most hopeful expression. "Rage disorder?" he grasped.
"All right. I want you," Nelson stated with calculating measure, "to take your rage disorder upstairs and park the two of you in a corner."
He used Zach's forearm to point him in the direction of the door, finished with going round and round.
"But, Nelson!"
"Right now. I'll be up in a minute."
Jeez. That conversation went nowhere fast. Nowhere but upstairs. Zach trudged despondently up the steps and frowned.
How had things spiraled like they did? He wished fervently he could turn back time and start the day over again. He entered their bedroom and sighed heavily as he walked on lead-filled feet to the corner. He glared at the stupid yellow flowers and birds captured in print on the wallpaper in front of him and ran a finger over the little creased spot out of habit.
Tears began pricking his eyes as frustration and regret overwhelmed him. He really had been a bear all morning to Nelson and he hadn't deserved it. Except for the pushing thing; Nelson did deserve it for that. He seemed to be watching every move Zach made, pouncing on anything that seemed out of the way. The closer Saturday came, the more tense Zach became and Nelson seemed to smell it like Cujo could smell roasting meat.
As annoying as it was, Zach knew he needed Nelson's firm hand to keep his balance. It was bad enough to feel out of control, and all the stupid little exasperating rules somehow helped him feel right. Whenever Zach felt his world tilt, Nelson was always able to right it. Even if his methods were less than desirable, the tightened rules served as a reminder that Nelson was in control. That alone helped Zach to bear the stress a little better.
Until he went too far. Then the stress was reduced to a corner covered in crappy yellow flowers with bluebirds flitting around. Zach's shoulders slumped. Why did he have to lose his temper like that? Why couldn't he take it all back? Why hadn't he listened to Nelson when he still could?
"Hands off the wallpaper," Nelson ordered from behind him.
Zach almost jumped a mile. "Sorry," he muttered, putting his hands at his sides.
"Are you ready to tell me what happened or do you need to think about it some more?"
Zach stared at his partner from across the room, trying to think of a way to relay the lamp incident so it didn't look as bad as it was.
"Well?"
Zach's mouth was open but nothing was coming out.
"Ok, turn around."
Zach huffed and said, "Nelson!"
"You have something to tell me?" Nelson asked, pausing in the doorway.
There was no point in stalling. It was just making Nelson more annoyed. And there was no pretty way to paint what happened, so Zach figured he may as well tell it like it was.
"It was an accident." Zach added, nervously toeing the carpet, "And it was your fault."
And it was. Sort of.
"My fault?" Nelson asked incredulously. "I can't wait to hear this one. Have a seat."
Zach scuffled over to the bed and flopped down dejectedly.
"Go ahead," Nelson invited, his arms crossed over his chest.
"It all started when you called me. I was hot and grouchy from all the chores you gave me and I had just come in from cutting the grass."
"You got mad when I called."
"Well, yeah. Because you were checking up on me and I didn't need it."
"I was checking on you. Not checking up. I wanted to see if you were in a better mood than when I left, and you weren't. So then what happened?"
Taking a deep breath, Zach explained how he simply got annoyed when he couldn't untie his shoe, resulting in him kicking it off, ultimately sending the lamp to the floor.
"So you see, it was an accident. It's not like I was kicking at the lamp or throwing my shoe at it or anything. There's nothing to get upset at me about."
"No?"
"No."
Nelson sat on the edge of the bed next to Zach and took his hand. "How about for losing your temper for what? The fifth time today?"
"Five times is hardly a world record," Zach muttered, shutting out earlier images of making AP headlines.
"You lost your temper again. I told you this morning that if you didn't get it under control I'd spank you. Didn't I?"
Zach gulped. "But I didn't lose it again. I was still mad from the morning. It shouldn't count as 'again'."
"I told you if you didn't get yourself under control I'd spank you. You didn't. Do you understand?"
Zach nodded. He understood. It was time to get killed.
"I understand, but I've got it under control now."
Nelson pushed Zach to his feet. "I'm glad to see it, but that doesn’t change what I told you."
"Don't," Zach asked anxiously. "I wasn't trying to hit the lamp."
"I don't doubt that. You were ticked and lost your temper. The lamp just got in the way," Nelson replied calmly as he unbuckled Zach's belt.
"But Nelson," Zach appealed even as his pants and underwear came down.
"Bend over."
"But –"
"Now."
One look at Nelson's face and Zach knew there was no turning back. As if he thought there was before. Resigned to the inevitable, he leaned over Nelson's lap and got a grip on the leg of Nelson's slacks – the slacks he had been trying to change since he got home.
With another pang of regret, Zach said, "I'm sorry, Nelson."
Nelson pushed the tail of Zach's polo out of the way, uncovering his bare rear end. "I told you this morning I had had enough of your temper and attitude. I tried to get your attention several other ways but you weren't listening."
"I know, I'm sorry," Zach said. His heart rapped solidly against his chest while he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he knew was coming all day.
Nelson's hand lifted from Zach's butt and came down, causing Zach to jump in surprise. The single handprint burst to life, leaving a five-fingered sting under Nelson's hand where it rested against Zach's cheek.
"I hope I have your attention now," Nelson said, "because I'm not putting up with it anymore. If I have to spank you again for it, I will. Is that clear?"
"It is! It's clear!" Zach sputtered anxiously.
"I'm glad to hear it." Nelson's hand smacked down again on the other cheek. "I don't want any more snapping, smart aleck comments, or anything that looks the least bit like a symptom of intermittent explosive disorder. Understood?"
Nelson swatted twice more before Zach could answer. "Yes! Yes, sir, I understand."
The warm-up lecture ended right there and Nelson proceeded to spank Zach without further conversation. Suddenly, Zach wasn't worried about the wedding or anything else that had him stressing earlier in the day. The tension that had been building all week melted away a bit more with every swat. His only concern at that moment was to breathe and get his butt off Nelson's lap. Tears choked him by the time Nelson was finished and he found himself bawling on Nelson's shoulder, his rear end several degrees warmer than it should be.
"I'm sorry," he said again sincerely.
"I know."
"I didn't do it on purpose," Zach said, his nose and throat still thick with tears.
Nelson kissed his head, hot with sweat from the exhausting experience. "I never thought you did."
They sat quietly with the only sounds in the room Zach's hitching breaths and Cujo whimpering at them. The dog jumped up against Zach's leg and licked his knee.
Zach reached over and stroked the furry head and Cujo pushed against his palm. "He knows something's wrong," Zach commented.
"Dogs are smart."
"I'm ok, boy," Zach assured him even if he wasn't entirely convinced himself.
Nelson patted Zach's thigh. "Why don't you get yourself together while I change?"
Zach nodded and slipped from Nelson's lap then pulled his khakis and underwear back into place. He lay down on the bed and Cujo immediately jumped up beside him, curling against Zach's abdomen.
Zach petted the dog, avoiding his tongue as best he could. He wasn't quite as grossed out by dog spit as he was when Cujo first came to live with them, but he still wasn't a fan. Cujo flopped over on his back, offering his belly for a rub and Zach complied while he watched Nelson slip on a pair of sweat shorts.
"You really don't think I could have that IED thing?" Zach queried.
"No," Nelson responded without hesitation as he pulled his t-shirt over his head.
"I think I could," Zach pouted bitterly. "And I still think you have it, too. Probably a worse case than I have."
Nelson tried to bite back a smile but was unsuccessful. "Oh, really?"
Zach slipped over enough to give Nelson more room on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, really. I didn't do anything bad enough today to make you explode like you did."
"'Explode', huh?"
"Yes."
Nelson buried his hand in the fur on Cujo's chest, scratching him there and under his chin. "When have you ever known me to explode?"
"About 20 minutes ago." Zach frowned at Nelson, his bottom lip protruding dramatically.
"Nice try," Nelson smiled, leaning over to kiss Zach's forehead.
Nelson stood up and Zach took his outstretched hand, jolting Cujo out of his reverie as he got up from the bed.
"It's true," Zach persisted as they walked down the stairs. "Threats and angry actions. That's what the article said. It –"
"It's a bunch of crap. Someone else could do the same study and say stress caused all the same behaviors."
"Did it say anything about negativity being a symptom?" Zach asked as they entered the living room.
Nelson gathered Zach in his lap and Zach curled up close against him. "I don't remember that being a symptom, no."
Zach sat up, carefully avoiding putting his full weight on his thumping behind. He looked at Nelson seriously. "What if I *do* have it though?"
Nelson stroked his hand down Zach's back and studied the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well, let's see. I seem to remember reading that one treatment recommendation was behavior therapy." Nelson looked back at Zach and gave him a short nod. "Medically, I'd agree that would be the best approach. And we just had our first session."
Zach glared at him and crossed his arms. "Very funny."
Nelson chuckled and pulled Zach back against him. "If behavior therapy doesn't do the trick then we can consider other options."
"How much behavior therapy will it take to convince you that it won't work?"
"It will work."
"How do you know?"
"I've seen it work before," Nelson said with a smile.
"I want a second opinion," Zach muttered sullenly. "I need a doctor who's more open-minded. Who's willing to consider other options. Who's not so quick to jump to conclusions. Who's—"
"Who cares about you more than I do? You'll never find one," Nelson said.
"Well…," Zach said. That one was hard to refute. "I suppose you might be right about that."
"I am. And I think your rage disorder symptoms are looking better already. The treatment seems to have been a success. I expect we won't even see a relapse before Saturday."
Zach rubbed his hip. "I doubt it."
"And if we do, we know what works."
"Don't remind me," Zach groaned.
"You're going to be great Saturday," Nelson said confidently.
"You really think so?" Zach asked quietly.
"I know so."
His surety helped melt away even more of the uncertainty that had been nagging at Zach all week. Despite the throbbing in his backside, Zach felt more relaxed than he had in days.
He'd never admit it to Nelson but…
If he had rage disorder, he was pretty sure he was cured.
End
If you suspect that you or someone you love may have Intermittent Explosive Disorder, follow the link to learn more:
http://www.psychologytoday.com/conditions/explosive.html
