Every light is on in the city now, it seems. It feels alive. It feels like all the people are these little carnivorous ants gobbling up the energy, the gristle of emotion, the meat of this night. I can hear the noise if I press my ear to the glass. Sirens. People laughing. Horns honking. Music. The low rumble of the white Ferrari that just inched down the street, seeing and being seen.
Amateurs.
It's contagious, a drug. A fine light that entices me to come forward. Dance. Take your turn at the trough of life. Have your fill. Grow fat off the moment, live in the now, Bridget.
I am standing still in the center of the chaos. It swirls around me in a blur and I am dizzy from trying to focus. I stifle a yawn and grin. I am so tired. I press my forehead against the cool glass and wonder what the night holds, when the noise will die away, when I will go to the place that makes me forget that I am here, whether or not I will meet the devil or the angels tonight, I am never instructed. Heaven, hell or purgatory. It's a roll of the dice and I was never a lucky girl.
I turn around and Caleb passes me a glass. A sip confirms my suspicions. Hell it is. He apologizes and tells me he has a quick conference call that he will take in the living room so would I mind retreating to the study until he comes to collect me? I can surf the internet or perhaps write something in that infamous, infernal blog of mine.
Yeah, I can do that.
He kisses my hair and looks at me, waiting for approval. He is trying so hard I want to cry, but he has also taken my phone and my wedding ring and they won't be returned until morning. I force the smile again and take a sip of the wine as he walks away. All the way down the hall and he is gone.
I slosh the wine around in my teeth and then spit it into his keyboard. I return to the window, where I count the people walking up and down the street and hope for true oblivion. Writing it is only wishful thinking.
Getting there, well, that's going to take some effort tonight.
