Yesterday I had so much to do. Grocery shop, look after the gardens. My cabbage roses are coming up everywhere. I don't see the moonflowers yet but it's earlier. The coriander appears to be poking through too. I think the freesias are toast. And the backyard isn't going to make it. The grass is miserable. It's such a shady backyard it doesn't have a chance. I'm still going to rip up what's left of the grass that doesn't grow and do flower gardens and even a rock garden. An arbour, some vines. The lilacs. Gardening has been so cathartic I can dream about it at night instead of everything else.
Especially when 'everything else' is treating me like a china doll.
We had our first non-Trey-related fight. We've had some terrific yelling matches in the past however. Mostly with Jacob hollering about why on earth I would stay with someone who threw dishes at me. Or about why I hadn't called him sooner and he could have squared off with Trey instead of only coming in to pick up the pieces afterward.
He has a knight in shining armor complex because I gave him one. He says it's instinctive, genetic, a guy thing and that it just happens. He said it's an overwhelming urge. No other girls I know get treated quite like this. They change their own tires, carry their own groceries and aren't treated as if they might break in half.
Sometimes I think I got so used to turning to him for help that he feels obligated. All I have ever had to do with Jacob is hesitate for half a heartbeat and he would materialize to throw his coat over the puddle and take my hand.
He denies. Vehemently.
I protest. I was going to go buy a reel mower because the front yard is getting long. He said he would look after it.
He points out physical differences. So what? I asked him if I had ever emasculated him ever, and why he felt the need to play this role so....stereotypically nevertheless. And I'm not a feminist. Quite the opposite honestly.
I need to do this to show you that I'm capable. That I am strong and you can depend on me. It's symbolic. It's not about the stupid mower Bridge. It's about you discovering that you aren't alone and you don't have to do all this stuff. We're together now. It's fifty-fifty and you don't have to ask for help. I'm here and I'm not leaving.
I'm an adult. Apparently a very stubborn one. Bickering continues. I finally turned sideways to stare out the window and bit my lip because I really don't want to argue and I forced myself not to twirl the hair because I wasn't in the mood to be coy, conscious of it or not, and yet it was still the most relaxed argument ever. I can trust him, he's not going to throw plates or walk out and I can be as angry as I want. I become submissive. He gives the frown.
I burst into tears,
Don't look at me like that. I can't stand that frown. Don't be disappointed in me.
He finally got mad. He forgets I'm skittish. I become exactly what he says I am, fragile, breakable. My words? Useless.
He says I'm not useless, I am beautiful. And that he had no idea he had a look that stops people cold like that.
I point out that I get tiresome. I have so many flaws. I'm not so beautiful.
He stops talking very loudly with his frustrated orator voice and dropped to a whisper. And I will never ever forget that moment because if I get hit by a bus tomorrow well, it's okay now.
Bridget, if I could have made you with my own hands I wouldn't have done anything different.
Speechless. Still speechless and I got a chill writing that down. Speechless.
I point out the lack of lawnmower and the late hour.
Well, I pointed it out after I spent ten minutes staring into his eyes, wondering what I had ever done in my life to deserve Jacob. Because that will remain the single most beautiful moment of my life until the day I die. I can't make that clear enough and if everyone who reads it dies from the pall of jealousy, well, I don't care. I am changed forever.
I could not even catch my breath. He is beautiful.
We went and got the mower together.
Because nothing says forgiveness like a 7:45 pm trip to the garden centre at Canadian Tire.