Saturday, 25 January 2014

The curse of wanting an eternal soul.

And I'm ready to know what the people know
Ask 'em my questions and get some answers
What's a fire and why does it, what's the word? Burn?

When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love, love to explore that shore up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be part of that world
At the end of a helpless week in which he watched us do absolutely nothing with his generous gifts, Caleb called me over once again to ostensibly sign a card for Mike, who retires this week after many years of service as Satan's part-time driver (and mine though it was hard to call him and so I rarely did). Attached to the card is a large manila envelope containing a beautiful print and a smaller manila envelope containing his separation papers, a letter of character reference should he ever require it and cheques for vacation days not taken and a severance he is not expecting.

I'm not sure Mike is prepared for the fact that by leaving work he will have a higher net worth than if he continued at his old retainer rate but Caleb believes in rewarding people for their hard work.

I mean, look where I live now. 

But I work very hard to make the Devil happy all the while shoving him off the side of the cliff when no one is watching. Case in point, when I arrived at the boathouse, Caleb calls for me to let myself in. I wander down the hall and he is in the bathroom shaving with a straight razor. The strope is hanging over the top of the door. Shirtless and clad only in pajama pants, he is almost finished but still covered with three or so lengths of shaving foam left to remove. 

I'll come back when you're ready. Why didn't you say to wait?

Princess, does it actually matter?

It does, yes. 

You woke up in my bed less than a week ago. 

It doesn't mean we need to be... familiar. 

You're family. You're my obsession. The mother of my son. Sorry I'm trying to multitask today but I don't see it as a huge imposition. His hand begins to shake and he stops and takes a breath, setting the razor on the counter.

I pick it up.

Bridget, your cast will get wet. I just need a moment. The pills-

It's fine. I step closer and he lifts up his chin, looking skyward, blue eyes reflecting the lights of the bathroom while he studies the pine trees through the skylights.

If you were smart you would cut my throat and run, he tells me. He closes his eyes and waits and I dutifully finish and then he takes the razor back from me and presses a clean towel around my cast.

The glitter-

It's fine. Thank you for your help. He is two inches from my face and I tread water in his medium blues.

He kisses the space between my eyes

I should go. 

Stay. Have a cup of coffee. If you wouldn't mind waiting in the kitchen, I'll make myself presentable and be right out. Start some coffee if you can manage it?

Sure, but only ten minutes. PJ-

He nods. Ten minutes is fine. The card is on my desk, by the way.