BRIDGET.
Friday morning, 8:05. A heartbeat after the kids have left for school and the Devil has come to claim his due.
Where did you get them?
Everyone is all up in his face before he finishes the question and he struggles against them while I stand in the doorway. He's screaming at me to tell him and then in a moment of silence I shrug.
Where did I get what?
The benzos you put in my drink.
Are you saying you think something fell in your drink?
It's a sad day when you feel as if you have to poison me to avoid meaningful contact.
I didn't poison you. It must have been some kind of accident. Love how you call it 'meaningful contact' now. That's amazing. Everyone is staring at me with amusement and I have no poker face so I burst out laughing very inappropriately.
That's an extraordinary length to go to, Neamhchiontach.
The stress of trying to hold out dissolves me and the tears come. I must look insane. I don't know what you're talking about! I thought you were tired. I was relieved, I admit. I came home. I didn't do anything to you.
He softens just enough that they let go and those who have some manners leave the room. Bridget, I'm sorry I frighten you so much. I wanted to end my birthday the way I began it. Alone with you.
I'm sorry. I whisper, well aware that it sounds like guilt even though I'm apologizing for leaving his house before his birthday was over.
(My inner twelve year old kicks me in the shins and scowls. Lochlan leaves the room. For fucks sakes. Social engineering is as exhausting as a birthday to me.)
Did you put something in my drink, Neamhchiontach?
No. Maybe you're just more tired than you realize. It was a long day. I smile through tears and he wipes them off my cheeks with his thumbs.
His eyes though.
Blue right through with obvious doubt.
