I remember the conversation we had just before Keith announced his intention to move out. We were on the swing in the back porch; Keith was lying on his side, head in my lap while I smoothed his hair back. His hand went back to absently rub his sore backside every now and then. He had just been spanked that afternoon, and when he calmed down enough, I had decided to take him out to the garden to enjoy the last of the sunrays.

We had been together about two years then.

‘My mom is going through her distraught stage again,’ he said softly. ‘She still thinks I could change my ways if I wanted to. If I tried hard enough. They are all just waiting … like for some child who is a late bloomer … They think it’s a matter of time before I came back into the fold.’

‘Sweetheart,’ I said, giving his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. Keith hardly shared details of his family and I didn’t want to interrupt him.

He continued. ‘It’s OK; I don’t expect them to understand. I don’t need them to understand even.’

I knew that tone of voice. He cared all right – he cared more than he would admit, even to himself. And that had been one of the fundamental problems in our relationship. Our being together was a constant reminder of his family’s disapproval, the one thing that drove him to rebel and fight. They always got to him. In so many ways. And when the guilt consumed him beyond what he was capable of handling, he would run despite his promises to me. He constantly neglected to tell me where he went, who he was with, knowing these were my hot buttons. I was grateful he no longer indulged in recreational drugs, but it wasn’t enough. Not near enough.

He both dreaded and welcomed it every time I punished him for disappearing, for losing control, for giving a part of himself away. He would tell me how sorry he was, how he would try harder, but it never stuck. I had finally resorted to spanking him with a hairbrush as his lapses became more serious. When the hairbrush was engaged, it meant a thoroughly serious spanking. The first time I had used it, Keith had cried till he was hoarse. So I knew how he detested that implement, how much more the hairbrush hurt and I hoped it would have been enough. It was not and I was beginning to despair about how to make it right for Keith. I had been so hopeful that together, we could chase away some of the demons.

My heart constricted with pain at his next words. ‘Dusty, I have to be on my own for a while.’

My hand stopped in its track and he looked up at me, his eyes sad. ‘I need … some time … to think ...’

‘About us?’He shook his head, a quick dismissive gesture. ‘I’ve never felt safer with anyone than when I am with you. I know this is good for me. It’s what I want. Even you being so strict with me … It helps me … it feels safe.’

My eyes questioned.

He whispered. ‘But sometimes I feel so confused. I need to figure out where I stand with my family and what they are to me… I’m actually … scared.’

His voice was deep and troubled and my heart ached even more. ‘If they can’t even understand what I am, how can they ever understand about the discipline stuff? I can’t imagine what they would say, or think …’

‘Honey,’ I said again. ‘Its no one’s business what we do in the privacy of our own home. No one needs to know. This is between you and me.’

‘I know that, but it’s too … I can’t breathe sometimes. I need …’

Need. Had he any idea what he really needed? For that matter, had I? Was all this discipline and control too much for him? I could not bear to see him destroying himself and I could not bear to watch him go. His hand reached out and grasped mine, gently at first, then squeezing harder, asking for a response. I thought about dropping our arrangement about the discipline, letting him have more freedom, and my mind straight away discarded the thought. I was convinced Keith needed the stability of the structure we had built. Remove that, and he would have nothing to come back to when he needed it.

I made a quick decision, keeping a secret hope deep in my heart. After a long while, I sighed. ‘All right, baby. All right.’ I raised his hands and kissed his fingers tenderly and then his palm. ‘You tell me when you are ready … I’ll be right here! ’

* * *