He is at the door when I finally appear down in the front entryway. I'm still in my pajamas. I still sleep far too much even though I mostly lie there with my eyes wide open, weighed down by ghosts, the tremendous pressure of The Present begging for a foothold in my life.
I have added a fever to today's ensemble. Lovely. The virals have made the rounds here lately, low-grade sorts of misery that have been causing aches, pains, headaches, and stomach upsets and I've fetched a lot of Advils and teas and hot water bottles and blankets and movies and sandwiches even and so it stands to reason I probably hold the highest risk of exposure because I'm always asking for hugs and kisses and bites of food and I forget all about germs until I wake up like this.
Lochlan is blocking Caleb's entry past the rug inside the front door. He's all flushed and angry and they're having a hushed, superheated argument. Nothing has changed except the look on Caleb's face. It's one of pure regret and he's nodding. Lochlan's talking a mile a minute, I can't understand a word and then Caleb nods again. Yes, he confirms. I know. That's why I'm here.
I say Lochlan's name and he turns and tries to fix his expression but I catch a hint of his helpless rage against Caleb. Why doesn't he forbid contact with Caleb? Why won't they just force him to stay away?
I have asked them not to. Sometimes every single day, when necessary.
Bridget. Caleb looks right over Lochlan's head and starts right in. I did not mean to imply that you were beneath me or that you were raised in poverty. I also did not mean to make the morning about me, or my own needs and I feel terrible that I did not choose to acknowledge your grief. I know what week this is. I wasn't thinking and I want to make it up to you.
Make it up by keeping away from her, Devil.
Lochlan, the children wanted you to play a few levels of Halo with them, they're waiting for you. I caution him and he gives me that look, the horrible one I hate that's so helpless and he passes me, heading up the steps.
Caleb visibly relaxes. I'm going to start wearing a helmet when I see him. I never know when he's going to punch me.
Leave him alone, Caleb. He's someone I love very much and he takes care of me.
He stares at me. I think if I held that stare I could make him cry-wait, too late. His eyes are filled with sorrow. I back down and study my wrists instead, allowing him a moment of self-repair.
I'm so sorry, Babydoll.
You know what? It was nice not to be coddled. It's not as if it's something I ever expect from you.
Being coddled?
Yes.
You can't come to me for comfort?
No. I laugh my response bitterly, with so much surprise. I thought he knew this. It dawns across his face slowly, the realization that what I look for in absolutely everyone I still can't find in him, outside of simple touch. I expect nothing from him. I want nothing from him, and that will forever set him apart. Far apart from everyone else.
That's the price of your heart, isn't it, Bridget?
My voice drops to a whisper because I don't trust it. Bingo.
