Hi, stupid little me here.
Still so angry.
I'm not alone though. I thought I'd share the wealth and so I made sure that my fear and feelings of betrayal were contagious.
I made a date for tonight. Because I'm impulsive and petulant and dumb and about fifty other names that I have been called since yesterday afternoon.
A date with Caleb.
Who'll be here in half an hour. He was calling yesterday because he's only here two nights and he has a letter for me. I shipped him a few more books from cleaning out Cole's work stuff and apparently Cole wrote another letter and had been using it as a bookmark in something he was reading.
A letter that has July 1st written on the envelope, says Caleb. Which means Cole would have written it less than two weeks before his death.
I could care less about Caleb. I want that letter so badly I'm in tears just thinking about it. It's a second chance at the closure I never got. I sit here and say that I have closure, that it's done, and really it never goes anywhere past remembering that my fights with Cole are one-sided and rather skewed these days, but they still go on.
Oh and don't worry, Jacob deserves it. He came back and broke the rest of my beautiful french door into matchsticks and he came charging into the room in a rage at how I was wallowing and I needed to snap out of it and I actually jumped over the loveseat and I ran out the back door into the snow without shoes on. He stopped moving and told me to come inside and I screamed at him to get away from me. He triggered some sort of hysteria.
I don't even know. I can't think.
He didn't stay here last night but I imagine he slept in the garage or in the truck so that he wouldn't be far, unless he walked down to his old office. I gave him back his phone so I could reach him but I never called him, he called me this morning and we fought just a little more and I told him to go fuck himself and that I had a sitter and a date and that if he thought I was going to behave exactly as he wanted me to for the rest of his life well, oh, boy, someone is terribly, horribly, awfully mistaken.
See, Bridget isn't well.
No, she really isn't and I'm so very fucking sorry. I need help, not more control. Please, God, Jake isn't listening to me.
And I'm not even half drunk yet, since I've still got half a drink here to finish before Caleb arrives. Because as mad as I am, I've always been more afraid of Caleb than I ever will be of Jake.
And I wish he would go with me tonight. I'm really fucking scared and not nearly as brave as my anger would lie and tell you I was.
