PJ and I had company grocery shopping this morning in the form of one pissed-off Scotsman, who refused to speak to me but also wouldn't leave me alone. He called in sick (more or less, when Schuyler came to get him) and glared at me the whole time and Schuyler was all you were fine yester-oooooh. Okay feel better, man and then he glared at me too.
PJ glared but at least he was speaking. Sam was cranky at breakfast and even John rolled his eyes when he came in and I asked how they suddenly all became these rabid girl-blog readers and Sam said For Pete's sake, Bridget, You don't TALK. How else are we supposed to know what's going on?
Well, next time I'll let you know in advance so when I do my walk of shame you can all come out and watch, like it's a parade or a fucking tour.
Who was around yesterday? He was. That's it. Everyone else forgot about me so I forgot about all of you too!
But I didn't mean it and the minute it came out of my mouth I wanted to stuff it back in and choke to death. Lochlan put his arm out and pulled me in close and asked me not to fuck with the millionaires already, that he's sorry he wasn't there. He's only half-apologetic though, the other half is positively bristling with a sparking, snapping current of pure rage. He didn't say any more after that and we resorted to stupid visual cues to navigate trying to shop for ten people, eight of whom eat a lot more than the other two.
PJ didn't say anything though I'm sure if he had right then he would have pointed out the irony of Lochlan apologizing to me because I went and messed around with Batman. I could see it all over his face and so I pleaded with him with my eyes to not say it out loud.
Further down into the store Lochlan lingered for so long at the meat counter I had to go back and get him.
What are you doing?
Selecting a nice juicy breast of crow for you for dinner tonight.
I'm sorry, Lochlan.
But you're not. Ben might not give a shit who you're with but I do. I do BIG TIME. He yelled this part and the whole store tuned in for the next part. Just because we're in a commune doesn't give you permission to sleep with everyone there!
Then he looked around and asked what the hell people were looking at.
You, Lochlan. They're looking at you.
Yeah, and they see a guy who used to have it all and now has nothing.
You have me.
You're not worth the paper you're printed on, anymore. You used to be such a draw. The crowd favorite. Guess I should be careful what I wish for, huh? The crowd definitely favors you.
I stood there with my lower lip vibrating, trying not to cry and finally told him to finish shopping by himself, that I'd be in the truck. He said FINE and out I went.
I did not have the keys so I climbed in the back and lay down flat on my back in the bed and looked at the sky. The clouds were tinged with 1982 and when I was just about fall asleep Lochlan's head appeared over the edge of the bed, curls damp, face sunburned, breath heavy and he said,
There you are! I was worried someone might have run off with you. And he grinned with relief that I never took seriously until now. I'm making his worst fears come true in an effort to fix mine. The tears came hard now with the sudden rain and 1982 is washed away again in favor of drops stamped clearly '2015'. Loch's face appears over the edge of the truck bed, curls damp and he says, Jesus fuck, I thought you ran off and then he stood waiting for me to need his help getting out because the tailgate doesn't work. The relief is visible in his expression and he asks if I was okay. I shake my head when my feet hit the pavement, No. Not if you're mad.
If I wasn't mad I'd be a fool, Bridgie.
So be my fool.
It never paid very well, remember?
I nod and he finally smiles slightly. Softening maybe? Nope. Not hardly.
Get in. We're going to go home and prepare your feast! He holds up a tiny cornish hen in one hand. This will be your crow though I imagine it tastes more like pigeon. Oh, well, nevermind, it will do.
I'm not going to eat it.
You'll do what you're told. Maybe for the first time in your life!