The walk

 

The house is quiet when the morning starts. Coffee first, the way it always is. Raymond and I move around the kitchen in the white tanks and the soft gray pajama bottoms, mugs in our hands, while he watches from the table. He smiles when we walk away to pour more, the bounce easy and natural under the fabric. We look back once on the way out, seats full, and keep going.

In the den later, the light is soft and the day outside is breezy. We talk, we laugh, we sit close. After a while, Raymond gets up, washes his face, and comes back down to cook without being asked. Biscuits, eggs, steak, hash browns. When he calls us to the dining room, he hugs and kisses each of us good morning. We sit. He stands and blesses the food.

Over breakfast, the teasing starts the way it always does. Six cheeks between the three of us. Jiggle butt boys. He remembers why he calls us that, and Raymond says it out loud: because when we get spanked, our butts jiggle and bounce. He loves it. We finish eating slowly, coffee still warm, the conversation easy.

Then he smiles and asks us to go get him another cup and make more. He watches us walk. The bounce is there again, healthy and full. When we come back, we face him, mugs in our hands.

“Come back for more episodes of Raymond and Maxwell at Discipline Matters,” I say.

Raymond grins. “We’ll be here.”

We wave once. Then we turn, still standing, and the light swats land. The color rises across both seats, showing clear through the pajama bottoms as we glance back over our shoulders, smiling. The words come across the scene at the same time.

Discipline Matters.