Why aren't you in the garage?
I like it better out here in the sun.
What if someone sees you?
Then you'll have all sorts of explaining to do but I think you've been doing it anyway. And they aren't listening anymore because it's growing dark.
What are you talking about? It's only four o'clock.
I was being analogous.
He is sprawled in the Adirondack chair on the right. The one on the left is empty, waiting for me so I sit in it, falling all the way to the bottom, feet off the concrete. I look at him. He's in his fraying so-pale-blue-they-match-his-eyes jeans and a threadbare rust-colored t-shirt because that's what my brain put him in today. Then I realize what's missing and add a worn plaid flannel shirt in shades of dark blue and grey and now he looks like Jacob should.
I can't give this up. I'm not the crazy one.
He has a flask and he's drinking and the words are pouring out like fire. What's the definition of Adapt, Princess? Changing yourself to suit the conditions. Ben is right, you know. I'm sorry, I listen in. He isn't as dumb as he looks and he seems to only be the one who ever has your best interests at heart.
Which weighs more, my best interests or my needs?
Are they different? They shouldn't be different, Pigalet, unless you are mistaking your wants for your needs. God will show you the difference.
God isn't here, Jake.
Sure he is. But he's a ninja. So you just can't see him. He takes another drink and laughs. I take the flask and erase it and Jake looks disappointed briefly and then sits up and leans forward, elbows on knees, all serious and attentive like he used to do when he was going to talk to me for a long time and a little thrill would run down each of my ears and converge on the back of my neck, lighting up my mind.
God is a Ninja. There's my next book title, Jake.
Awesome.
You can ghostwrite it with me.
He frowns. Did you just make a pun at my expense?
I grin ridiculously. Yes. Suddenly I wish he was still here. So badly. When he looks out to sea I re-tie all the knots on the ropes that hold him down to earth, making them even more complicated and tighter than before.
Bridget, that's a waste of effort. It's almost time.
NO IT ISN'T! I am so fast I'm the ninja now, running up the steps as he makes a grab for me, his hands closing on air.
