Take a breathI know how he thinks, how his mind has twisted the present into a blend of the past and the future, a dreamworld in which he doesn't have to be absent in the moonlight or center stage in the circus instead of watching from the back, fingers laced with mine, or arms tightly wrapped around me while I stand tucked into his coat, clapping my hands, jumping up and down, banging the top of my head against his chin, making him swear like a gentleman pirate or just a highly irritated teenage boy. Ow. Owowow.
Hold it in
Start a fight
You won't win
Had enough
Let's begin
This was in the days before beard growth seemed very successful at all, something that doesn't seem to happen until one's late twenties, it seems. It's okay though, he was always chewing gum on top of my head, grinding his chin against my skull gently but endlessly so if I jumped up and he bit his tongue then it was what he deserved. His chin is softer now. Did I mention I love beards? Because I do and that is partly why. They hurt a hell of a lot less.
The nickname Lochlan gave me was the very first. Had I started this journal before 1997 it would have had a vastly different name. Hell, I'd have a whole different identity, perhaps.
I've never shared it with anyone because it evaporated suddenly along with my dreams of living my life out on the road with the show. Lochlan stopped using it the day he broke up with me when I was still too young to fully understand heartbreak and I haven't heard it since. Apparently it was something he continued to use under his breath or in his head, much like I'll walk around calling Ben a shithead but never OUT LOUD because that isn't nice, right?
Right. So out of the blue Sunday night Lochlan said it, and I'm not sure if he slipped (but he doesn't slip, for he is perfect) or if it was a calculated attempt to undermine Benjamin (which he does, we're just not bright enough to catch him) but he came into the dining room last night long after dinner was finished, dressed in his armor, ready for battle with the road, jacket not zipped up yet but two helmets threaded up his forearm. One was mine.
Want to go for a quick ride, peanut?
Ben's fist hit the table and the dishes jumped six inches, causing Ruth to call down the stairs to see if we were finally having an earthquake and was she missing it? And PJ put his hand on Ben's shoulder as in, get up and I'll step in if I have to.
Because the children had already gone to bed for the night and the last thing they need is to bear audible witness to any more violence or sadness or anger, ever. I'm dreaming when I say I want to shield them from all of it and sadly they understand how emotions can get the best of people but they also know that we all need to work harder to keep ours under control, and to control our outbursts and impulses. Being human, this is hard. Being in a complicated environment such as this, harder still.
Lochlan didn't move a muscle, he just kept staring at me, waiting for my answer, waiting for nostalgia to kick in and point out to me that he had just called me something he called me every ten minutes for six years straight and something I may have missed dearly but had filed away for all eternity up until that moment last night. Ben saw my face. I was horrified by how I felt, hearing it after so long.
Ben didn't let me say anything though. Instead all my efforts were focused on getting out of the way as he upended the dining room table, dishes and all but only half of it came away because the leaf is out and I couldn't get the two halves to click back together properly last week. He was in Lochlan's face in two seconds flat, PJ holding him back but barely. You can't hold Ben back. He's a locomotive with a chip on his shoulder, anger-management classes be damned, all this damage over one little insignificant circus peanut.
Only I am not insignificant, nor am I exclusive. Anymore, anyway.
PJ's grip on Ben put him at a disadvantage and Lochlan clocked him with the helmets. Reflex? Opportunity? I'll never ask. I'm not sure Ben even felt it as badly as everyone else heard it, since he is singularly focused in his jealousy and impervious to pain besides. Lochlan isn't strong enough to hurt him but for that awful moment I doubted that fact and I thought he had hurt Ben and I kind of zoned out and Daniel was there by then and he took me out of the room, upstairs and we told the kids the table fell and the boys were arguing over the best way to put it back, shucks, you know how loud they are, sorry, and I pushed away from him and ran back downstairs to the dining room and Schuyler had invited Lochlan to get his sweet face out of Ben's universe and he put the helmets aside and PJ was standing while Ben was sitting with his elbows on the table. Working to keep control.
It's just a name, Benny. I said it quietly but I don't think he heard me.
PJ shook his head in warning. I ignored it. Ben exploded up out of his chair once again and this time he didn't get a pat on the shoulder from PJ, he got tackled from behind. My poor Ben. Everyone is hurting him, he just wants to be happy.
PJ put him on the floor and Ben flipped over and stood back up and asked him if he was fucking insane, that he wasn't going to hurt me or anyone else and what the fuck, who decided whether or not he could touch me when Lochlan seemed to get a free pass from everyone under the sun. To do whatever he wants, all the time, with no one second-guessing him or evaluating him or telling him to back off/cool down/step back/give up.
Exactly.
So PJ took a step back and Lochlan threw another one of those stupid unpredictable punches and Ben grabbed the front of his shirt and it was on. They brawled for a good minute on the floor as if it were the rink and I think they both came out of it hurting, judging by the amount of blood I spent the morning washing out of clothing and the pile of buttons here to be sewn back on their shirts.
I did not find any teeth this time. Huh. They must have gone easy on each other after all.
They made up under threat of being sent to live in the garage, together. Forever. Because I can't have this in the house. I can't have this near the children, asleep or awake. I can't deal with this and I can't really deal with Lochlan choosing to space out his attacks on my heart like this. I think I like it better when they just throw everything they have at me and I can reject it and things return to a quiet simmer.
Lochlan used my nickname again last night and I'm not really sure if he has a deathwish but Ben's fingers tightened around his fork and he just kept on listening to the idle chatter around the table. Later in the dark he held on to me as I gave myself up to the night. Dreamless sleep. No circus, no music, no nightmares and no ghosts. As long as he's touching me I can fall hard, like a peanut onto the hard-packed dirt of a circus tent floor. I'm certain I'm not deserving of the amount of attention I get from either of them, but they seem convinced that I am.
Peanut. What the fuck.