To the open arms of the seaI've decided the opening shot of the movie of my life will be a helicopter or drone long zoom in from far across the water, toward the houses on the point, all the way in to the main house through the windows. U2's cover of Unchained Melody will be the opening track, Bono screaming the lyrics as you have nary a breathless minute to register everything that's about to go down. The whole thing will have a shattered lens over the top of it to represent the fractured brokenness of my life, but still mostly visible. My favorite part of that is that Unchained Melody flows seemlessly into the spoken-word intro of Walk To The Water, which is a beautiful song, frankly. It works for me, anyway.
lonely rivers sigh
Wait for me
Wait for me
As I talk Lochlan is frozen in surprise, staring at me in one of those moments where I'm not really sure if he's going to be blown off his feet by my creative day-dreamed revelations or burned off them by his desire to flat-out run, screaming, away to anywhere but here.
I have lists and lists of the soundtrack in my head. If you haven't heard Walk To The Water it's the absolute best example of Bono's voice and the emotion he can cram into every single note. A beautiful, imagery-filled slide through the notes and into the void, especially the fade at the end. For years I tried to use it to time falling asleep to music and I don't know if I ever succeeded.
Both of these songs are followed by Luminous Times, a song which remains one of the biggest betrayal of my young life and one I can't play the whole way through still, which is a tragedy in itself. It's a beautiful song but it just makes everything flare up fresh and new, hurting so bad I just can't do it. Lochlan won't allow it anyway. His efforts to let me navigate this anniversary at my own speed with my own ideas does not extend to watching me peel my skin off slowly while I scream, beginning with my skull and ending with my heart, ripping out the valves, blood pumping all over the floor. No. Just no. Sorry, Bridget.
This is where we switch records to something else because the tempo changes and it's not time for that yet.
***
That was interesting.
What do you mean?
It was fascinating to meet everyone officially-officially. Formally.
I'm glad you finally did. The gallery shows are so dry. I pack them with friends and it's easier for Cole. He doesn't like strangers.
I'm a stranger.
Not now, you're not. So you like everyone?
They're all great. Do you think they like me? I find they all watch you very closely. Are they not used to having new people at the shows?
The shows are full of new faces. My friends keep an eye on me. They always have. We've been together since I was about eight years old.
That's a long time. How fortunate to keep the same hearts close.
It is. I am.
Are any of them...new friends?
Ben and Duncan we met as adults. I've known Andrew since I was in diapers. Lochlan and I were childhood sweethearts. This you know already.
What happened?
A lot happened.
Off limits?
Maybe. For now.
I feel like you're a history book and I haven't even opened the cover yet, but I've been carrying the book around my whole life.
That's a beautiful analogy.
Is it? Sometimes you just meet a kindred spirit and I think you are the closest I've seen. I'm a little intimidated by that wall of big brothers who follow your every breath, though. Will they allow for a new friendship?
He looks so hopeful. I want to die for the fact that somehow I became so sacred to the boys I became untouchable, exempt. Revered. Worshipped. But only touched by Cole and Caleb, and not even Caleb much anymore. Cole has become possessive and closed. I'm grateful but at the same time he was never as affectionate as Lochlan, something I absolutely need to breathe.
Jacob takes my hand in his, rubbing the backs of my fingers with his thumb. His hand is huge. Mine is so small. He's warm and solid and he can't take his eyes off me.
I think they will. I smile at him while my now-voice is screaming that I should have flipped the chair in my haste to get away.