Saturday 9 February 2013

Scratch-and-dent sugarbaby sale.

I'm sure it's the right decision. I just worry about you so fucking much, and I worry about you being away from the water again.

Lochlan has his hands in his pockets. He's cold. The wind is endless this morning. We're on the wrong side of the fence on the dangerous part of the cliff, watching the action far below as Christian and Schuyler remove the bronze plaques from the rocks far below. It's low tide. It's the only chance we'll have to collect them. I'll leave the trees we planted. I have peppered the country clear across with little memorials here and significant odes there but currently ghosts are not on my mind. I have to dial in my focus on the living.

The living stands with his hands in his pockets, zippo in his fingers, probably. He's in a fine dark-grey v-necked t-shirt that cost me more than he would want to know about and his army green cargo pants. His rarely-worn silver chain is tucked inside his collar. He looks slight. Pale. Always a little too thin but stronger than his build suggests. His confidence picks up where his appearance leaves off. He never seems strong but he is. He just likes to be busy. He hates being parked in front of a computer and will be using a standing desk when he starts working nine to five again soon. Regular paycheques for a regular mortgage.

We wanted normal, we're going to get it.

Ben is sleeping in. Still worn out. Still taking up the emperor bed which will be dismantled next  and so I should go in and get him up but Lochlan wants to make sure the others come up safely before he leaves, so I'm not allowed to make my way back to the gate into the safety of the backyard. As long as he can see me that is the safest place, even if it means I remain perched on this ledge in the wind.

I should be across the driveway making my apologies in person but Caleb (generously and without hesitation on the phone) volunteered to host a sleepover and movie weekend for the children. He's maybe as afraid to be alone again as I am to leave him alone here but at the same time when has he ever made things emotionally easy for me? That's right. It happened the last time we forced a logistical separation. So that's what I'm doing again.

 (In case you wondered about him being alone here? He's received more than one lucrative offer for the whole property and is currently mulling over terms. Maybe that was the catalyst as much as anything. The minute he bought the other house developers came out of the fucking woodwork. He won't be left behind.)

Against my wishes we're checking into a hotel downtown tonight while Batman's people unpack the new house literally overnight. Once they are finished we will have brunch downtown and then head home. To the new home. It was the one final service Batman offered and then pushed for.  

Make it as painless as you can while you can, Princess, he told me and so I nodded and signed off on that too.

In the meantime I am gulping down lungfuls of salt air like it's the last thing I ever breathe.