Monday, 14 March 2016

Cartoon-level villainous, this.

(Bonus round for you today because I need to put it somewhere that isn't in my head, alone to wreak havoc.)

The quick meeting was outside, by request, but also by request within the confines of the immediate backyard/patio so that PJ could keep an eye on me. Lochlan's already gone back to work (still mightily hungover, if you can believe it), Duncan and Ben are at a meeting of their own and Sam has been sleeping all day. Monday is his Saturday this month. Dalton is away in Europe (LUCKY) and August is running errands, I think. So that covers the house. The kids are at friends' houses. They are always here with a dozen kids or always somewhere else with the same crowd. It's great.

Caleb is standing in the yard under a huge black umbrella. I join him but remain just out reach of the shelter of his offering and therefore out of his reach as well, watching his face change from delight that I'm there to dismay at the condition in which I present myself. That is, bare feet on the cold wet grass which simply can't absorb any more rain and so it's soaking up the legs of my ripped, faded jeans like liquid through straws. My grey Leafs t-shirt is already soaked, outlining the navy blue camisole underneath it. Wet hair. Wet bracelets. Goosebumps. I am accessorized by my reaction to the weather but I love the feeling of cold wet grass under my feet almost (okay, not even close) as much as the feeling of damp sand.

And I still hate shoes. The Louboutins were gifts. I don't give a shit about them. I only wear them when he asks nicely and even then I scowl the whole time. Red soles for a soul's ransom, I guess, only if I pay the price I'm still never getting my soul back from this man.

Lochlan had a good trip, I'm imagining? I saw the presents on the table. 

I nod. He did. 

He should be less cocky and more grateful. 

Maybe you can fuck him into submission too. 

I never thought of tha-


Oh, well. There's a nerve. 

I'm just stressed. 

Why is that and what can I do to help?

It's because you're pressuring me. Stop.

I can't. I'm growing tired of waiting and lonely from being alone. 

Then I guess you'll have to find something or someone new to do. 

Right. That's where picking on Lochlan comes in. 

I swear to God, Cale-

And what does God promise you?

That if you touch Lochlan I will kill you. You've already hurt him far beyond what a normal human can withstand. 

Thank your God he's not normal, then, Bridget.

I do that every day.