Monday 18 December 2017

When your 'good' shoes are wet from the rain so you marry someone in your Chuck Taylors.

Not me. I didn't get married. I'm already married. This was Sam, who headed out to perform a quickie Monday home wedding to kick off someone's Christmas holidays and he did it in his brown pants, a belt buckle with a skull on it (who lent him that?), his darker brown corduroy jacket and bright red Converse All-Stars. Lows at least. So that you can see his sky-blue socks.

I straighten his collar as he kisses me goodbye.

Good luck, I tell him.

Love you. See you after dinner. Ish. 

I nod and he's gone. He gets weirdly nervous before weddings so he practically ran out of the house. Good thing.

Did I miss something? I turn and Batman is standing in the patio door. He's holding a book that belongs to Gage and my scarf that I left in his kitchen. Also, presents. He's holding a stack of flat presents.

Sam was leaving? Did you need him for something? He has a wedding at two. Just text him though and he can reply when he gets there-

The kiss. 

What kiss?

And he said he loves you. What is going on?

If you didn't come here to be nice-

Where's Lochlan? 

Downstairs helping Ben-

Oh, I see. 

What do you see, exactly? 

A year or six or ten of falling for Sam, maybe

Or not. Hard to fall when I've loved him all along. 

So what happens now?

Nothing. Jesus. Where have you been?

Under a rock, I guess. I didn't know you were a thing. 

We're not a thing. We have a thing, but we're not a thing. 

What's the difference? Is there any?

Right, yes. Come in and shut the door and I can explain it to you and then you'll get it. 

It's like we are, then?

We're NOT-

You know what I mean. 

Okay, yes it's like that but different.

How, Bridget? How is Sam different?

Well, for starters it's way more often.