Keith is here for breakfast, along with um...let's see now. Stephen. Maybe it's Steven. Sam is back. Dylan. Andrew. Daniel, Schuyler, Ben. Lochlan. Also, quiet man in the back. The one who hasn't really said a word yet. His name is Jake and I'm sure that the way I visibly paled when I was introduced made him want to run for the hills.
Keith and Jake are longtime friends of Sam from school. They brought Stev/phen. They want all the dirt on how Sam and I know each other too so, hey, here's some bacon. Everyone likes bacon. Have some. No, have more. No one goes away hungry in Bridget's house.
They are curious about how this works. Who does what? What about the money? How are chores divided? Do we share the trucks? Exactly what's the deal with Lochlan again? He seems like the odd man out. What do the kids think of having all of their hunkles within reach all the time?
Inevitable curiosities when we open ourselves to discussions about the commune (only we don't call it that). Too many questions and I've managed to leave that to the boys to explain while I hide in the kitchen, looking up recipes for something baked for lunch. Like a pie with crow. Maybe some humble-dish. Maybe some pride, too, just for flavor. I feel all over the place.
I am listening to the descriptions and explanations and it sounds perfect.
But in a perfect world the boys would never argue, no one would ever have to leave the property to work, and we would have a huge garden too. Also since it's my fantasy we would have all of Coney Island on site. Amusement is a necessity, vegetables are a luxury, Lochlan always says.
And cake would fall from the sky like rain but only when Bridget is hungry.
Speaking of hungry, I'm wondering if I have room for three more boys around my table on a regular basis. Add in the missing ones and the house will burst, testosterone raining down on us like confetti. I'm also wondering if I can really give this poor guy a chance at friendship, when the biggest strike against him lies in a choice made by his parents who named him. People I don't even know. I'm sure I can, save for the fact that anytime someone addresses him, everyone gives me the side-eye, and I'm convinced they can see my battered heart lurch around in my chest. It hits a little too close to home and I'm surprised by how unfair I feel towards him. He's adorable. For a mute.
Ah, I have found what to make for lunch. Blackbird pie. See, the princess can do this one of two ways. I can draw him in or I can shove him away. Since it's Tuesday and Tuesdays are hardly ever bad days, I may possibly do both. Just to see if he is worthy of his name.
