Caleb's hand lands on my head, trailing down the back of my hair.
Your hair is getting long again, Neamhchiontach. He's right. It's two inches past my chin and headed for my shoulders again. My bangs, only the barest of baby bangs two short months ago are always in my eyes.
Finally, I agree, though he won't. He likes it chin-length or shorter, even. I can't decide if I agree with him sometimes or not. I hate photographs of my pixie cut but I did love how easy it was to manage. Long hair is heavy and hot. It's a pain in the ass. But it also is warm in the winter, in the rain and it's more versatile, plus it turns more heads. That alone will make me grow it long again.
What are you up to here?
I'm spending some after-dinner time with the hummingbirds. They come to our front walk to drink from the flowers. They buzz close to me, curiously, and then depart. They've been here every night. So I have too.
Any around?
I point and he sees one lone grey baby. We watch it in silence for a while. I sip the good red wine he brought for me. He has a tumbler of ice and water. Or maybe it's vodka but I think it's water. We don't say anything for a really long time and after my glass is empty I lean back against him, very sleepy and am instantly awake when I get the distinctive smell of sandalwood and campfire I know and love so well.
Peanut, Lochlan says, his own glass of red wine new and filled halfway, bottle beside him on the porch.
When did Caleb leave?
Probably after you went radio silent ten minutes into his stay.
And you came out?
I didn't want you to be alone.
How come?
Bears, maybe. Dangerous birds. You know.
I see.
Your hair is getting long again, Neamhchiontach. He's right. It's two inches past my chin and headed for my shoulders again. My bangs, only the barest of baby bangs two short months ago are always in my eyes.
Finally, I agree, though he won't. He likes it chin-length or shorter, even. I can't decide if I agree with him sometimes or not. I hate photographs of my pixie cut but I did love how easy it was to manage. Long hair is heavy and hot. It's a pain in the ass. But it also is warm in the winter, in the rain and it's more versatile, plus it turns more heads. That alone will make me grow it long again.
What are you up to here?
I'm spending some after-dinner time with the hummingbirds. They come to our front walk to drink from the flowers. They buzz close to me, curiously, and then depart. They've been here every night. So I have too.
Any around?
I point and he sees one lone grey baby. We watch it in silence for a while. I sip the good red wine he brought for me. He has a tumbler of ice and water. Or maybe it's vodka but I think it's water. We don't say anything for a really long time and after my glass is empty I lean back against him, very sleepy and am instantly awake when I get the distinctive smell of sandalwood and campfire I know and love so well.
Peanut, Lochlan says, his own glass of red wine new and filled halfway, bottle beside him on the porch.
When did Caleb leave?
Probably after you went radio silent ten minutes into his stay.
And you came out?
I didn't want you to be alone.
How come?
Bears, maybe. Dangerous birds. You know.
I see.