One week left until Sam and Matt are supposed to be moving into Lochlan's old set of rooms and I have cold feet. They must be contagious. Everything is ready for them. We even painted. The only problem is the thought of Sam having completely unrestricted access to the part of my brain that I tend to keep from him. The insane, fucked-up part. The self-doubting, miserable part that he probably can see anyway, looking right through my soul and out the other side with his magical god-glasses fixed in place.
But still. What if someone starts a fight? What if he and Matt hate it here? What if he decides maybe I'm even more fucked up than he remembers and calls in the heavyweights?
Jake did. Sam remembers that well. And I've had a hell of a free pass over the last five or six years in refusing to talk to anyone formally because I like my fuckedupedness just fine the way it is. Well, I don't but they didn't help much as it was. Sam helps. If I can talk to Sam I do okay mostly.
This morning over breakfast at the boathouse (Dad's turn), Henry suggested that it would be really cool if maybe I married Caleb too and then we could all be a big family like, for REAL.
(For the record we've explained repeatedly to Henry that Lochlan isn't actually legally married to anyone. It's symbolic. It's okay, I didn't really get that at eleven either.)
Before I could say anything or even get my chin up off the floor Caleb swooped in and grinned at Henry, telling him that it wouldn't work, because if he married me, he would want me all for himself and everyone else would have to be left out.
Henry, without missing a beat or even pausing to think, said that it wouldn't work then because Lochlan and mommy have been in love like FOREVER and that can't be undone so nevermind.
The look on Caleb's face was worth it. So, so worth it.
Slowly I told Henry we're a family regardless, while Caleb glowered at me from the other side of the table. It was awesome.
(No, I don't coach Henry to devastate his father. Shit happens. Kids know more than you think they do, always.)
For those asking, Lochlan is doing just fine. For a fire-breathing red-headed Scottish psychopath, I mean.
No, he wasn't very happy at all that Ben took me on a little trip.
Yes, he was very happy when I came back.
But apparently before we left he and Ben had an entirely different conversation than what I was led to believe and of course no one will elaborate. I'm getting nowhere.
When we came home, Ben went right back to work (as in, so fast I had to unpack his things for him) and Lochlan cleared his schedule so we could velcro (not my word, PJ has coined my ability to stick on people until they peel me off) for a while and yet he's not talking much. He did say he's mad that I have such a huge allegiance to someone who isn't here all that much.
And of course, I thought he meant Jake and just made things THAT. MUCH. BETTER.
(Stop sending me emails telling me you wish you had my problems. No, you fucking don't wish for this. Trust me.)