My memory thief sleeps while I watch him. He has no idea that I just snuck into his rooms while he slept. I could rob him blind or stab him or maybe just steal all of my memories back but it seemed more peaceful to hide up here, at the top of the front staircase past his little den packed with books about world religions and his endless notebooks and in his room, proper, with the rough plaid blanket he loves so much covering him from his chin to his toes. He looks so cozy.
The blinds are open, his windows overlook the woods in the front of the house. The trees are still laced through with snow, the snow still threatens to remain until 2017 and my memories are still safely locked up, held by him, just like the little copper box with the bird and everything Jacob ever wrote down because it's been said that just glancing at his handwriting can send me into a tailspin so fast you might lose your hands trying to stop me.
I must have lost my train of thought or maybe I didn't have a ticket because when I look back at him he is awake and gazing at me, not really seeing me but probably wondering if he is really awake or still sleeping.
What's wrong? he asks.
Nothing. I like your view.
Ah. You don't have this from the library?
Not at treetop level.
I see. Where's Loch?
Also sleeping.
Ben?
Sleeping too.
I figured you'd keep your polysandwichery going until noon. What gives?
I just needed to think.
Heavy decisions, Bridget.
It's for the best.
Best for whom?
Me. Caleb. I don't know. Lochlan said to be selfish. It's the most he's ever asked of me.
But he asked anyway.
He knows me better than I know myself.
But he doesn't have all the answers so here you are.
Fortune tellers and their crystal balls aren't real, Sam.
Did you have your fortune told, Bridget?
I did.
And what did it say?
That I would be loved by many yet kept by few. That passion would fire me and the sea would lull me to sleep. That things would never be exactly as I wish and that I would always want for more. And that I should watch out for the accountant because he tends to short the pay on the last day of each month.
So tell me exactly how that isn't real, Bridget?
I don't want for any more than this, Sam. I really don't.
What about if Jake were still here?
But he's not. He's now a fairytale.
Are you the princess?
Sometimes. And sometimes I'm the monster.
Or maybe you are just as God intended.
God's a real prankster, isn't he?
