Friday, 18 March 2016

Crucible Cove (Or, How I spent Saint Patrick's Day).

Beauty I'd always missed
With these eyes before
Just what the truth is
I can't say anymore

'Cause I love you
Yes, I love you
Oh, how I love you
I get worn down. I erode like the cliffs along the shore at high tide, wearing layers off, picked at. Anticipated. And so when he offered a late-night holiday celebratory drink (oh God. Another?), I took it because I'm tired. I'm still drunk.

Is it poison? I asked Caleb over the rim of the glass.

Only as much as that swill Padraig's been feeding you all day. You're almost pickled.

He wanted me to have a happy day.

He was positioning himself for a happy night, I think.

PJ doesn't angle like that.

Sure he does. Like I do. Like everyone does.

I really am some sort of shared prize, aren't I?

Maybe. Or maybe you're just the one girl who seems to be appealing to a large range of men with different tastes.

You're not all very different, actually.

How are we alike? What brings us to this space and time, Neamhchiontach?



Yes. And empathy. You all connect with each other and with me on a much deeper level. Those who don't live here aren't here for a reason. It's kismet, or ardor. Chemistry. Sexual tension.

Oh. I'm disappointed. I was hoping it was just me.

No. I scowl at him and we laugh.

I think as a group we are extraordinary, actually, Bridget.

You do?

Yes. For so many of us to be together like this as friends through life is a blessing.

Was it a blessing for you and Loch to be knocking each other's teeth out the other night?

He doesn't work well with boundaries.

Who does?

He needs to understand the rules.

They're difficult to follow.

They shouldn't be. He has no trouble with his end of things.

He loves me. That's all.

And you love him.

More than anything.

So then why are you here?

Good point. Actually I think I've overstayed my participation in the day. I've been up since four. 

You don't have to go, Bridget. He puts his hands on either side of my face and bends down for a slow kiss, the likes of which he rarely bothers with. It takes my breath away. It pits me against myself, battling gravity for light. It makes it hard to leave but I'm about to.

Yeah. I do.