Tuesday 3 November 2015

Stowaway.

Matt left for the UK this morning for his contract there until Christmas and Sam up and ran roughshod over Lochlan, August, Claus, and PJ in attempting to assert his place as the penultimate expert on me, and said he would look after things. That he has the time and the skill and everyone else could go back to whatever they were doing.

Sam's heart somehow became stuck on me and I didn't realize I was carrying it. I didn't realize I would become his pet project. I didn't realize he would use me to ease his pain and hurt Matt in the process but it seems like he's going to, right off the bat without even foreplay here. His announcement came via our family SMS message group and the 911 group as well. One is used for stupid shit like reminders to stop loading the dishwasher steak-knife blades up and the other is for emergencies, like someone needs CPR or to have a truck lifted off their chest.

I got it too. Ten minutes after I saw his car pull into the driveway from taking Matt to the airport.

I found him downstairs in his kitchen making coffee. The table is piled with notebooks and books from the library. There's a stack on the chair and two books on the floor too. Just like Jake. Sigh.

My phone is blowing up in my pocket, on vibrate but I need to deal with him first and then I'll put out the fires across the rest of the point.

Samuel. 

Bridget. Did you sleep?

Yes. Did Matt get out okay?

Of course. He's a good traveler. 

Why didn't you go, Sam? 

It came at the worst time of year for you. 

For me. What about you?

I'm not leaving you right now. 

I'm not yours to be left. 

He made that horrible face when he's trying not to show any emotion and then resumed making his coffee with his back to me. Between Caleb probably about to come barging up here with ultimatums for you, Ben's recent recovery glitch and Jake's anniversary I know where I need to be. 

Yeah. With your husband. 

I don't know how long that label is going to hold, Bridget. He says my involvement is fairweather at best and maybe he's right. I don't have enough room for everything. 

So then what's the matter with you? I yell at him and turn him around so he'll look at me and not miss. You need to pick the most important thing and everything else will be okay!

I did.