Can I buy a mechanical pencil when we go to town? I am down to a
stub, one that Lochlan painstakingly sharpens for me each night with his
knife. If it gets dull before he's done his shift I have to wait.
Sometimes I forget to ask when I see him and then I can't write or draw
at all when I wait for him to come back to the camper. He was late and
so tonight was endless.
Sure. It's a good week so far. Unless you blow it all on candy apples.
I won't do that.
Yes, you will.
I promise I won't. I make my eyes very big and I shake my head slowly side to side.
He bursts out laughing. You'd be more convincing without the ring of red sugar on your face, Bridget. He turns stern again. I told you to get a hamburger. You can't live on candy. You're still growing. Do you want to be this tiny when you're older?
The apple was cheaper. Plus it's fruit! Fruit is healthy. I'll grow. At least I hope I will.
Fruit doesn't fill you up. Now your growling belly is going to keep me awake all night. He thinks for a minute. I think I'll run out and get us something now, and I'll get you some pencils at the same time.
No! It's too late now. Don't go out.
Growing peanuts have to eat. He says it softly. Just lock the door and don't let anyone in and you don't go out, okay? Besides, it's good practice learning to love the dark.
I only love it if you're here.
He thinks for another minute. Okay, let's try this instead. He pulls me over to the bed and we look out the tiny window. See that star there? In Orion's belt?
Mintaka...right?
Good girl! Okay, you keep watch on that star, and so will I and it will be as if we're together. Same sky, same place. And I'll be back in an hour.
What are we going to eat? Not hamburgers. They're all drippy and greasy and then we'll smell like mustard in our dreams.
Ham sandwiches then? With mayo?
Okay. The good ham with the black edges?
I'll see what I can do. He smiles and crushes a kiss against my hair and then leaves, coming back three times in thirty seconds to make sure the door is locked.
***
Purgatory is a track and Jacob is running, running, running circles
around me as I stand in the center, whistle around my neck, clipboard in
my arms.
You always finish with the same time, I tell him with a frustrated smile as he crosses the finish line for the eight-millionth time.
I'll
never get faster or slower. I'll just remain the same. Forever,
Bridget. No amount of encouragement or training is going to change this.
You KNOW this, Pigalet. But still you make me run. I'd like to go home
to the Lord now.
Not gonna happen. You don't belong there. Go back and do one more lap. Let's see if the headwind will make a difference. I take a bite of my ham sandwich and shake my head at the page of results. The same number on every single line.
Pigalet, you're going to run out of room on that page soon. Then what will you do?
***
You're different with everyone. Don't you see it?
Apparently Wednesdays are for open wounds and gaping holes.
No, I don't see it. If you have something to share then just get it over with. I shovel a grilled black forest ham sandwich onto Lochlan's plate. PJ looks at the plate and then looks at Loch. If Loch decides to pick a fight and then leaves without eating lunch PJ would probably like to reap the benefits while the benefits are still warm.
Oh, now I get why they fight over me. I'm usually still warm.
(I'm kidding. Fuck, cut a girl a little slack. Like I said, it's Wednesday and Wednesdays have become strange days indeed.)
Yeah, well, with me lately you're a fucking goddamned little bratty child who won't listen to a fucking thing.
Except in bed. Then I am the same with all of you, so no one's missing out.
Bridget! Lochlan growls it across the counter at me but if he wants bratty he'll get bratty.
PJ stands up. He's really gunning for that sandwich so he tells Lochlan to watch himself. Lochlan ignores him just like he ignores the plate.
Are you going to eat that? I ask him. Because if you aren't then I think PJ is still hungry
Lochlan frisbees the plate gently down the island to PJ, who puts his hands up in a football-dance sort of victory celebration.
You should eat. You're still growing. I tell Loch.
I'd like to think I was, he says, but like you, I'm stuck in 1983. And gets up and leaves.
