I'm outside on the porch, blanket over my lap, PJ's barn coat over my own flannel shirt and jeans. Cold coffee on the railing, new iPad still in the box on my lap. I'm watching the tiny birds look for leftover seeds in the grass. They look weightless, lighter than air. I never wanted to fly, never wanted to skydive, never wanted to sit on roof save as a means to get away from things, never felt the urge to soar above the walking universe.
Hey. I look up and Lochlan's behind the screen door. He's got two fresh cups of what I think are coffee until he comes out and hands me one and I see that it's not coffee at all. It's whiskey.
What are we celebrating?
Who says we're celebrating? He looks cross. We're medicating, Bridge. I am, anyway.
Just say it.
I can't ban you from him, can I?
You can limit him.
He's already limited and it still changed.
That's inevitable.
Shut it the hell off, Bridget. I'm not doing this. I'm not on board with this. I said no. I asked you, no, I begged you not to go over there. I beg you to not do all kinds of things and you just go anyway, like I don't exist.
What am I supposed to do?
Be normal.
I snort and burst out laughing. It's not a nice laugh though. It's not happy. It's angry and spiteful. I can't believe you just said that.
Be monogamous. Cut him off. Cut them all off.
Never have been in my life and who has benefit the most from that? You. What if anyone else had ever said that and shut you out in the cold?
It's different.
How?
It's me.
Exactly.
I'm either special or I'm just another fucking chump you can take your shit out on to make yourself feel better. But if I'm special everyone can't be special too.
Jealousy is such a shitty colour on you, Lochlan.
And I didn't raise a whore.
Yeah. You did. Remember?
He takes his cup and throws it agains the wall. I did, didn't I? My mistake. Then he's gone and it's cold and silent again. The birds have flown away too and I couldn't fly if I tried, my heart weighs a thousand pounds easy.
