Friday, 31 December 2010

Like flies (Here, while I'm getting ready for my night).

The company is mine now. Well, mine technically. Outwardly (thankfully) nothing will change. And this hits just in time for year-end which is handy. Really. Get it done before 2011 and he did, a rather important step in this renewed effort to be sure that the things you plan for after you're gone are precisely what you intended.

I hate living like this, but we do.

I stared at Caleb's face for the better part of twelve hours, through the night. We had our war, waged across the marble island of his condo while he shouted and pleaded and I looked for knives to throw and heads to roll. Bowling for psychotic sister-in-laws, outrage for how good they all are at keeping secrets that should never have been kept and spilling ones that have no business seeing the light of day but it keeps leaking in around the edges and we're all fucked and now bad luck is coming to take us away.

Caleb has been trying to head that off with some just-in-case business decisions that I can agree to but on the other hand what happens when I'm not near my wits and flying by the tips of my tights instead? What happens when the sideshow rolls back in and the logic packs up and leaves, terrified of clowns, even more afraid of acrobats and jugglers and their big stupid generous hearts?

I guess we will cross that Bridget when we see her next.

In the meantime we'll do everything we can to protect our collective demons and their big stupid fully genetically defective, faulty hearts. Because sometimes more than good looks and violent romance runs in the family.

Sometimes medical advances prove to be too telling and infarctions leave behind telltale signs that they have paid you a visit and your days might be numbered and they might not and it changes absolutely everything, like it has for Caleb now, and no one wanted to tell me.

Just like death, only it's like you still have something left. Something serious and important and all of it makes the past pale in comparison with the future, which rests with an eleven-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy now.

And God help us if any of us ever fucking forget that again.