How was the movie?
I have no idea. I remember checking my phone to make sure it was on vibrate when the reminder came on the screen and the next thing I knew Jacob was stroking my cheek and whispering to me to wake up, because it was time to go home.
Nice, Bridget. NICE.
I asked him why he didn't wake me and he said I looked so tired that he couldn't. He said the movie was good and that I would have liked it because I like loud music and skulls and stuff and drippy romance.
Well, double shit, then.
When we got home and PJ was gone we were getting ready for bed, I was sitting on the bed sleepily pulling my arms out of my thermal shirt, Jake came over and put his arms around me and we laid back until we were lying flat. He turned to face me and our noses touched. When he laughed gently I could feel his breath on my lips. I love that.
And yes, again, that was the last thing I remember, because I fell asleep again.
But do you want to know who fought with wakefulness from 5:17 on? Oh yes, that would be me.
At 6:30 Jacob got up and got dressed and the truck roared to life as he headed out in search of bagels and the paper. At 7:10 he was back and at 7:25 I heard Henry creep downstairs and then I could hear the soothing rumble of Jacob's voice as he and Henry had their breakfast. When I got up I crossed the room and caught my reflection in the mirror and I stopped and frowned.
The black circles are back and you could fall into them. I look like I've been awake for weeks. Every expression Jacob gives me is tinged with concern. He doesn't like that I'm falling asleep all over the place. He doesn't like that he has to reach out and steady me as I walk, steering me so that I don't glance off corners and the edges of doors. He doesn't like that I need to think for several beats before I give up and forget the answer when he asks me how I'm doing.
I've reached a 'levelness' that borders on comatose. I think I did better on some of the previous cocktails of liquor and tranquilizers, at least then I was relegated to vaguely drunk. I can handle vaguely drunk. Hell, I spent most of my early twenties vaguely drunk and I would prefer it to this.
Sometime this morning it wasn't funny anymore. Jacob phoned Claus and we're waiting for a callback because it has approached scary.
What's remarkable about this rambling pointless said-many-times-before post is that I'm typing with one hand while my other holds up my head and while I have to think very hard to articulate my words so that I don't scare the kids, this is what I can write.
My God, if I were ever sober I'd be a fucking genius.
Or maybe, just maybe I'm like that character on Heroes, the one who had to be high so he can paint the future. Maybe I should write the future right now before this goes away.
Or maybe I should really get those t-shirts made after all.
