I was eating when PJ came home from his appointment and he found me sitting on the couch (we're not allowed to eat on the couch) in the great room off the kitchen by a cold woodstove. Alone.
What are those? He looks horrified.
Chicken strips.
How did you cook them?
Microwave.
Bridget, what the fuck? You're supposed to bake those.
I didn't want to wait.
This is like the good old days when you lived on Special K and packaged ramen.
(What do you know? I still do. Now I just put truffle oil on it and wash it all down with champagne.)
(No, I don't.
I don't know what truffle oil tastes like if I've had it and we ran out of champagne so I added water to a half gatorade I found in the fridge. I'm calling it 'electrolytes with a hint of orange'.)
So? I'm in a Seroquel haze and every mere mention or hint of autumn has me thinking of Jake. I'm cranky and fragile and not in the mood for anyone to critique my delicious, if a wee bit soggy chicken fingers.
He smiles gently. Kind of obvious I'm not having an in-charge kind of day. It's one-thirty and I'm still in my pajamas too. Want me to make you something?
This is fine. I'm almost done.
Where's Lochlan?
Probably went to visit his dealer. I'm a little angry. I guess he figured I'd sleep all day. Nope. I just have the mild shakes. He keeps giving me sleeping pills.
You've been a zomb-
I'm fine.
It's melatonin.
What?
He goes to the cupboard and gets out a bottle I've never seen before. Melatonin. Harmless here and there. Works a little bit but definitely not to the sinister level you're picturing. And he didn't skip out hoping you'd sleep all day. He's out in the garden with Ben helping to winterize your plants and put in the pathway markers.
Oh.
Oh? Geez, Bridge. Maybe you should go back to bed. Or look out the window or something.
I don't want to. The leaves are changing and it's windy and dark and all the Halloween shit is coming out and I just-
Want to sit in the dark in your pajamas eating crap food and staring off into space?
Yeah.
Okay. You can have today. But tomorrow you're going to do something else. Clear?
You sound like Loch.
I'll take that as a compliment.
What are those? He looks horrified.
Chicken strips.
How did you cook them?
Microwave.
Bridget, what the fuck? You're supposed to bake those.
I didn't want to wait.
This is like the good old days when you lived on Special K and packaged ramen.
(What do you know? I still do. Now I just put truffle oil on it and wash it all down with champagne.)
(No, I don't.
I don't know what truffle oil tastes like if I've had it and we ran out of champagne so I added water to a half gatorade I found in the fridge. I'm calling it 'electrolytes with a hint of orange'.)
So? I'm in a Seroquel haze and every mere mention or hint of autumn has me thinking of Jake. I'm cranky and fragile and not in the mood for anyone to critique my delicious, if a wee bit soggy chicken fingers.
He smiles gently. Kind of obvious I'm not having an in-charge kind of day. It's one-thirty and I'm still in my pajamas too. Want me to make you something?
This is fine. I'm almost done.
Where's Lochlan?
Probably went to visit his dealer. I'm a little angry. I guess he figured I'd sleep all day. Nope. I just have the mild shakes. He keeps giving me sleeping pills.
You've been a zomb-
I'm fine.
It's melatonin.
What?
He goes to the cupboard and gets out a bottle I've never seen before. Melatonin. Harmless here and there. Works a little bit but definitely not to the sinister level you're picturing. And he didn't skip out hoping you'd sleep all day. He's out in the garden with Ben helping to winterize your plants and put in the pathway markers.
Oh.
Oh? Geez, Bridge. Maybe you should go back to bed. Or look out the window or something.
I don't want to. The leaves are changing and it's windy and dark and all the Halloween shit is coming out and I just-
Want to sit in the dark in your pajamas eating crap food and staring off into space?
Yeah.
Okay. You can have today. But tomorrow you're going to do something else. Clear?
You sound like Loch.
I'll take that as a compliment.