Caleb has a whole host of new issues to deal with (not a great checkup by any means) and Joel was still here when we got home. I walked in and he said hey and I turned and went right back outside.
It's a love-hate thing. People want to know why I'm so hard on him. Well, I detailed it quite graphically at the time. Basically when Jacob flew I went away for a few weeks, because breathing was too goddamned hard and when I came home, wait, within twenty minutes of coming home, Joel had me out of my clothes and took me on the floor of the front hall, on his Hugo Boss trench coat.
I think they call it abuse of a position of trust, because he was my psychoanalyst at the time.
But I blamed myself, not him because I didn't know any better, but because I do that. I mean, I also mowed through half the guys in my life during that same time period and they are also in a position of trust, if you want to be totally honest.
Should I be quietly avoiding PJ every waking moment then too? (Yeah. Pretty sure I hurt him the most and still he's so amazing to me every waking moment.)
Instead of being mad or vulnerable I choose to believe that they were going above and beyond the call of duty, providing comfort, providing whatever I wanted, at their own expense. But Joel had no reason to do that. His job was never to provide anything but his expertise on my brain. Something he's still really good at.
I have to go inside, Jesus, it's five degrees and I'm tired. What a long day. My demon is slowly dying. I need a fucking drink. I need to get laid. I need a lobotomy and I need a vacation too.
I walk right past Joel into the kitchen and order a brandy from Dalton, who fetches it so fast it's as if he knows me.
(No, not him, in case you're wondering.)
Then I text Lochlan. He's in San Francisco and he tells me he'll be home tomorrow but he won't be home until supper. Oh fuck, I forgot.
He says to stay home. He says please and I instead decide I want the better brandy because Joel won't be where it is so I walk out of the kitchen, out the side door, across to the boathouse where Caleb is slouched into the couch, reading on his laptop about all the things that are wrong with his heart that yesterday was better than ever. I tucked myself under his arm and fell asleep in seconds.
No brandy, no dreams, no Joel.
But no Lochlan either.
I wake up at four in the morning and drag myself back across the driveway, leaving the one with the broken heart still asleep on the couch. I wish there were tests and measures to determine how ruined I am so someone could begin a plan to fix everything that's wrong with me. Maybe that's what Joel would like to do but he was gone when I came back. Everyone is gone, doors are closed, lights are off.
This is hell. I know it. I would know it anywhere. I thought I was a Good Human but I guess not.