Monday, 3 January 2011

I think he would have chosen to be Peter Pan but that one is already taken so I made him Mr. Grin instead.

So how do you deal with it?

Simple, Dollface. I assess risk for a living. So I make sure to minimize the risk factors by living well and consciously.

But you already do all that.

Exactly. That's why no one wanted you to worry.

Do you hear ticking?

Careful, princess, or we'll change your nickname to Captain Hook.

And that was it. With Caleb, it's very easy to gauge when a subject is now closed. I will be able to look back on that moment in around sixty years, if I remember anything at all, and realize he would never bring it up again. Maybe this is just one of the things you come to know after knowing someone for thirty years. Maybe I am simply delusional and we'll do this every morning and I will fret and wring until I know he didn't just check out in the middle of the night until I hear from him each day. Maybe I won't be able to contain him in the concrete room with the others, hell, I'm always stunned to find Cole still there because Cole is virtually unstoppable. Maybe the death-part changes things like that. Maybe I can gain the upper hand with Caleb when he's dead too.

But I doubt it.

His voice cuts into my reverie. He is smiling at me and my blood freezes in my veins.

I can't see you ever NOT being the princess.

Oh. I check my expression and brush past him. We have a well-timed appointment in court this morning with our mediator for a quick check-in or I wouldn't be dressed up. Instead I could be adjusting my black cloud, terrorizing New-Jake and Dalton or out breakfasting with Lochlan, who chose to start his Monday morning at the diner in the village with the children, because if you can have an adventure on a Monday morning, then you should. (Also: Bridget hardly ever buys bacon anymore because she is becoming the cholesterol fairy.)

So is it a bone of contention that Ben chose to construct the home studio but will still be coming in town most of the time to work?

Maybe. I don't know yet.

Distractions, princess.

Right.

It's okay. You feel the same way when you're writing.

I'm well aware of that.

But you hoped differently.

Maybe. Can we please talk about something else?

What would you like to talk about this morning?

How quickly will we be finished this meeting?

All business today? I can't interest you in lunch?

Not today. The children are home, remember?

I remember, but I also figured that since they're in good hands you might be more receptive to an invitation.

I don't think so. But thank you.

Maybe next week.

Maybe. I let him have the hope.

And with that, we're off. A united front with the best interests of the children at heart. I think the court will be pleased to see this for a change. You know, while it lasts.