I need something to fly over my grave againYesterday morning he wordlessly queued up Automatic for the People on the stereo, since he gets easily tired and tense of the endless heavy metal, the endless noise I perpetrate against the relative solitude of the house. He wants to hear more beautiful words today. I don't hear anything and so I block it all out of spite. He sings it under his breath, accent unmasked. Not often that happens. I believe it's only detectable now in his frustration. People are surprised when they hear it, still.
I need something to breathe
I will try not to burden you
I can hold these inside. I will hold my breath
Until all these shivers subside,
Just look in my eyes
Ninety days since the last big shift in the collective and not enough has changed except that he has kept most of his promises and others he broke deliberately, immediately. I am left in awe of his ability to rule the emotions of the whole household with such few words. Surely there's a name for a gift such as this. Surely it means something so very important it's starred in red and marked at the top. Confidential. Top Secret. Keep this, but we don't know why yet.
Yesterday morning in the cold wind I turned my face into the neck of his hoodie, and his arms came up around me out of habit, a kiss landing on the side of my head. I'm sure the scowl from across the driveway came and went unnoticed as Caleb waited for the children to buckle themselves into his car for the short trip to school. I was turned out again just as quickly and rushed back to the house behind Lochlan as he walked faster than I ever could. Once inside I asked what day it was. Not quite yet, he laughs, three months being a sort of hallmark, a date anticipated on the calendar in which we would be settled and organized and not frustrated anymore.
That has not happened as of yet. Maybe one hundred days. Maybe a thousand instead. Maybe never. I know the thought of that made him want to run. I know him through and through. Family keeps him here. Promises keep him here. Otherwise he would already be gone. He is a balloon tethered to the ground by his heart strings and nothing more.
I can't breathe with him here, Bridget. When did you start being able to exist with him so close all the time?
When I stopped fighting him.
Fire flooded his eyes with light and then as quickly as I saw it it was gone. Bridget-
But I have already turned and gone back outside to the wind. We don't finish conversations anymore. Caleb's car is back already. I told you it was a short trip to make the loop to drop the children off outside the school grounds. I walk around the truck parked closest to the garage. PJ's big red Ram. It's a darker richer red than Jacob's flaming cherry one was. PJ parks so that I have to hold my breath to get the key in the lock of the garage door, as I stand wedged between the filthy bumper and the cold morning.
I slip inside.
I can hear Lochlan calling my name and I step back out. He comes around the side of the truck with relief on his face.
Let's get out of here.
What do you mean? For lunch?
Forever. Let's just go. Cash in our chips. Find something better. He said this word for word when I was thirteen and look where it got us. Fractured. Lost and never found again.
Who?
You, me and the kids.
Henry-
I can raise another man's child. I love Henry. You know this stuff, Bridge. Let's just go. We can start again and do it right this time.
Have you been drinking?
No, nothing. Why?
You always ask me this when you're drunk.
I know. He says it steadily. Uncomfortable as the truth is he's owning it right now. I give him credit for that.
You only want the fun parts of life, Lochlan.
That's not true.
You told me yourself you can't take the way my brain works most of the time now.
I said that to hurt you. He winces but holds his ground.
We need to talk about this later. I take a page from his best habit and start to head back to the garage but he grabs my shoulders and stops me.
We need to talk about this NOW, Bridget! Color me surprised. This NEVER happens and I am rendered speechless. Again.
Caleb steps to the bottom of the stairs from the boathouse but lingers there. Everything okay, Bridget?
Lochlan turns and starts to head toward Caleb but I grab onto the front of his hoodie and try and pull him back. You need to go back inside. This doesn't concern you.
You just yanked someone far smaller than you off her feet, and you won't let her leave. That's my business, Loch. Caleb says it with measured control.
She's safe with me. Can't say the same for you.
Let her go. Now.
Or what? What are you gonna do? You're in over your head here, you know that? You're not welcome here. She'd be better off if you just went away.
Last time I went away Bridget spiraled into a tailspin because none of you are capable of looking after her. How many chances would you like, Lochlan? Do you want to risk her life like you used to? Does nothing ever change for you?
We would have been fine if it wasn't for you, Caleb.
Caleb laughed and I braced myself for Lochlan in ballistic missile form. Only he never launched. He left. He's predictable like that. He won't engage. He makes his point and walks the fuck out and that's why I won't go with him. I've done that. I've been there. All he does is leave a thousand frayed loose ends and a lot of unfinished business, a lot of unfinished conversations filled with unspoken beautiful words. I am still waiting for those, in spite of knowing they'll never come.
For thirty two years and three months now.
(You're not the only one, Locket. )