I followed Sam right out to his car this morning, my pajamas still on, teacup in hand. He played Red and yanked the air conditioning up high and didn't say much as I sat and sipped my tea. He parked at the church and I followed him right into his office and sat down across from him and I took another sip and he laughed and asked who he should call to come and get me, because he had work to do and I was not only distracting but possibly gossip-inducing since I was obviously in pajama pants, a hello kitty t-shirt, no bra, messed up pixie hair and bare feet.
Um. Can I take your car and then come and get you later?
Not today, Princess.
(God. Rip my heart out with your Jacobisms, why don't you?) Okay, then PJ will probably be free to come. Or Loch. I looked out the window and when I looked back he had softened a little further.
How about this. We'll talk for thirty minutes uninterrupted and then you will be sent home so I can get on with my day, alright?
Deal.
Though we could have sorted this out at home.
You wouldn't talk at home.
I didn't realize it was a huge deal. I don't think it's a healthy place for you to be right now?
When?
Pardon?
When will it be a healthy place?
I don't know.
What if you went instead of August?
He sat back and took my teacup with him, taking a long sip, staring at me over the rim of the cup. That might not make it any better.
It's all just one big seething ball of jealousy, then, is it? Our collective.
Sometimes. I think it's inevitable, though some of the designs on you seem far more parental than romantic.
How do I sort out which are which?
You seem to be doing okay.
Yeah, until I get blindsided by a fatherly request for a one-off or something. You guys need to deal with your shit.
A dynamic involving one woman we all adore and a dozen men is a recipe for disaster no matter how freewheeling or understanding we all are or proclaim to be.
I daresay it doesn't extend to a dozen but thanks for making me seem like the whore-ly grail here.
I daresay, Bridget, it extends far far beyond that and you just have no idea and oh my God the words you make up.
My language goes well with my make-believe world, Sammy.
Was reality so bad?
Not until Jacob declined to remain in it. Once it blew apart there didn't seem much point in playing functional adult anymore, did there? I shrug. He's skating all over thin ice and I don't want him to break through right now.
I think you should go but with Ben and Loch and maybe someone less...volatile.
I need a head shrinker on the run, Sam. That's a hard limit.
Well then what about me?
You said you weren't a good choice-
I'll bring Matt. Can we still get tickets?
Oh, I can get you a ticket.
You know people, right?
No, but Batman does. And anyone he doesn't know Ben does. Or Dalton.
See what you can do and I'll talk to Matt. Now who can I call for you? PJ?
Loch's outside. Have a good day, Sam.
You too, Bridge. How did you know Loch was outside?
I felt him get here. It's just a thing.
That's a powerful thing, Bridge.
Tell me about it.
G-
Oh, it's not God. It's me. I do this.
