"She thought she could have what she wanted; She thought she could see the world from above, as if it were a distant blue ball whose sorrows had nothing to do with her. She had wanted to be a bird, but now she knew, as she looked out the window to see Lewis following, that even birds are chained to earth by their needs and desires." ~Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic
Woke up from a drugged sleep (seven. full. hours. Almost there.) in the arms of Lochlan, who was still in jeans and a flannel shirt and boots. He slept sitting up, almost, uncomfortably so, clutching my head against his chest. Like he was ready to fight off every angel I could find in my nightmares and every devil that exists in my waking life.
We need to stay put, Peanut. This is a good place to ride out the hard parts.
You think it is?
I think it is.
Okay. (Eight-year-old Bridget always, always trusted him anyway so why not?)
Let's make some breakfast. Do you want to do toast and I'll do some coffee and eggs?
No, bagels instead. Raisin ones. God. Still slurring words this morning. Still fucked up from the pills that stop everything that wants to destroy me in their tracks.
Okay. (He smiles here, because he always trusted eight-year-old Bridget. She always knew exactly what she wanted and she always stayed put when he told her to.)
We'll take today slow. (We have a big group outing tonight and I'm in no condition to go and yet we refuse to miss this.)
Yes. I'm actually feeling better.
I'll let fuckface know. He's been bothering me nonstop.
He's just worried. He watched me slide right into the void.
Yeah, well, the fact that he watched and did nothing to pull you back doesn't leave me wanting to include him if he can't even recognize it happening right in front of his fucking face, Bridge.
I know.
You know what? Fuck Caleb. Let's have breakfast up here. I'll call him later.
We need to stay put, Peanut. This is a good place to ride out the hard parts.
You think it is?
I think it is.
Okay. (Eight-year-old Bridget always, always trusted him anyway so why not?)
Let's make some breakfast. Do you want to do toast and I'll do some coffee and eggs?
No, bagels instead. Raisin ones. God. Still slurring words this morning. Still fucked up from the pills that stop everything that wants to destroy me in their tracks.
Okay. (He smiles here, because he always trusted eight-year-old Bridget. She always knew exactly what she wanted and she always stayed put when he told her to.)
We'll take today slow. (We have a big group outing tonight and I'm in no condition to go and yet we refuse to miss this.)
Yes. I'm actually feeling better.
I'll let fuckface know. He's been bothering me nonstop.
He's just worried. He watched me slide right into the void.
Yeah, well, the fact that he watched and did nothing to pull you back doesn't leave me wanting to include him if he can't even recognize it happening right in front of his fucking face, Bridge.
I know.
You know what? Fuck Caleb. Let's have breakfast up here. I'll call him later.