I sat through my sessions this morning with Claus, then with August and Sam and then with Joel too and then finally I was released to Daniel who helped me soak off the nail tips and all of the acrylic goo. I wound up with my fingers wrapped in acetone and tinfoil for the better part of forty minutes, all told, but there's no damage to my actual nails and I can feel my fingertips again.
What an awful feeling. I can only imagine what breast implants feel like. God.
I promptly painted my very short nails black and now I feel like me again.
Lochlan was gone for the morning, heading out with Ben for a monthly No Girls Allowed breakfast in which they discuss me (I could tell because my ears were burning) and then he worked for a couple hours and now he's home. I have to pack for our trip but he won't tell me where we're going, only that it involves a little bit of everything so dress comfortable. I will probably just let him pack for me then. Ben came back in between and said Loch seemed lifted and confident, happy instead of defeated, humiliated and in turmoil. Then Ben looked up and said he didn't mean to say that and I said he should have, that if everything is sugar-coated then nothing is good for me, right?
And he said if you're finally fixed after all these years what are we going to do with all of this new free time, Bee?
We're going to fuck, Ben. We're going to fuck like rabbits and it's going to be so good you won't remember that there was a Before Normal and After Perfect.
I love it when the strangest, filthiest things come out of that perfect little mouth.
I mean go in.
You started it.
What happens when he comes looking for you?
I keep doing what I've been doing, Loch. We've had breaks before.
Is that what this is? A break?
I don't know what this is, to be honest. I just don't want to hurt you.
Maybe we're even now.
He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back as one of those concrete-kisses lands against my forehead. Every kiss, each word has weight with this one. Every gesture has a meaning a thousand layers deep. Every emotion is turned inside out and worn for all to see. If ever there was a mate to the soul I used to have then it's definitely his.