All We Have Is Each Other

Danny shows up at the ranch thinking he’s doing Nancy a favor. She’s the stepmom who raised him, and he figures she’s been rattling around that place alone long enough. She smiles like he’s the cavalry, makes the guest room up nice, cooks something heavy for dinner. Two days later his glasses snap clean in half while he’s helping fix the fence. She tapes them with duct tape. Next morning the tape dries out and the frames drop straight into his eggs. Nancy tries again, softer this time. They fall off during breakfast anyway. Burns come the next night. He reaches for a skillet, grabs the handle wrong, and both palms sizzle. She slathers ointment, wraps gauze tight, knots it with her teeth. By then he can’t grip a fork, let alone a bar of soap. Shower becomes a negotiation. She strips to panties, gets in behind him, works the washcloth over every inch, careful around the burns, clinical until she isn’t. When he steps out she grabs the lotion and smooths it over his chest, his stomach, lower, knuckles skimming him with deliberate passes. Red welts break out across his skin before she finishes. He scratches until she pulls his hands away. Nothing will stay on him. He stumbles getting out of the tub, ankle twists under him with a wet pop. Nancy catches what she can. No doctor picks up. She mutters about rural lines, hangs up, looks him over like the next move is already decided. She props him against the headboard, naked, knee bent under pillows. The room smells like the ointment she keeps rubbing into his hands and his ankle. Light through the blinds cuts stripes across his thighs. She talks to him the way she always has—soft, steady—but her palm slides down the inside of his leg now, higher, until her fingers brush him where the lotion ended. He stiffens before he can stop it. Heat floods his face, worse than the burns. Nancy doesn’t flinch. She wraps her hand around him, slow strokes, thumb circling the head, free hand holding his bandaged wrist so he won’t reach for her. Her voice never changes. Good boy. Easy. Let me take care of this too. She keeps going until he spills hot over her fingers, breathing through clenched teeth, and she wipes him clean with the same quiet care she used on the lotion.