Saturday 1 June 2019

Emotional centenarians.

August stayed for dinner (just like always) and we joked around a lot and then after dinner I walked him to his loft and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

This isn't working. I know you through and through. 

It was worth a chance. I was hoping we could reset somehow. 

I don't think we can but I don't want you to resent me either. 

I don't want to be used or to use you but I don't like it when you avoid me. 

So what do we do?

We keep working at it. 

What if you need him? 

That's grief. I try and do something else until the feelings pass. 

What about me?

Being lonely isn't a solution to anything, August, but I can't take a permanent place in your life though. 

I don't want to use you, Bridge. I've done that enough. 

Maybe we just need to work on our shared headspace when we're together. Make it about us, and not him. (I want to capitalize the H on him so badly but you'll be offended.)

How do you get better? 

Time. 

How much time do we need? 

Another hundred years, I think. 

He laughs, gives me a kiss on the forehead and then a ridiculously long hug and I am spun away back toward my own side door.

Inside the door Caleb loiters, most likely pleased with the conversation he overheard.

I have something you might like. And he puts his arms out wide.

Back-up, secondary hugs. Sometimes some of the best ones start out that way.

He'll be fine. So will you, he says, and I get another forehead kiss.

Hope so. I hope none of it takes a hundred years. 

Compare this to eight years ago. Or even two. 

Yeah. 

Things are getting better, Neamhchiontach. 

I nod. I don't know if I believe him though.

Come up and watch a movie tonight. We'll have a quick nightcap. 

Okay. Ten? 

Yes. 

I didn't make it through the movie, falling asleep tucked against Caleb while he watched the citizens of Berk decide to give up their dragons, sending them back to the hidden world. I'm sad I missed it. I was looking forward to it.

This morning as I went back to my room to try and wake up, hoping Lochlan didn't find fault with anything specific. I was out of luck though.

How long is it going to take, Bridget?

A hundred years, I told him, because that's the party line.

Fuck that, he says. God loves Lochlan. He puts up with nothing and yet he gives me the world. Caleb took a weak moment and took advantage. And you're worried about August using you? 

I think about correcting him since it's not me worried about August but everyone else worrying about August but I realize that's a pre-formed argument just waiting for it's time in the light.

I nod in agreement. Just to keep the peace. Sorry. We were only going to watch a movie but I fell asleep. He's never going to wake me up to send me home when he can just have more time. 

He doesn't get more time, Bridget. He's had enough.

Tell him that then! I'm tired!