The sound of the rain tells me our sins are being washed away even as I sleep, heavy in dreams and drugs, content to waste the precious minutes of the day which stretch into hours, unchecked by sunlight or consistency. Lochlan left others in charge and they pawned off the chore and split it into thirds and that left the little monster to her own devices and her own charms. Give me the responsibility for myself and I do marginally better than if I have no input. Take it all away and see the fireworks.
For the eighth time in as many years Lochlan gave the entire point a lecture, a comeuppance and a dressing-down that would make a grown man cry (and has) and stepped back up as a full-time caretaker for someone who should be perfectly capable of looking after herself (but isn't) and the leader of a pack who should know how to work together by now (but don't).
(Caleb already got the most incredible rebuke, a reprimand that apparently was felt around the globe, as Lochlan has decided he is finished being Mr. Nice Guy.)
But YAY! Loch's off until Christmas. A full six month plus leave which is all I ever want in a day as it is, and now it's here and I don't know what to do first.
Except he's incredibly angry and unbelievably pissed off that I'm looking at it like he got a long-awaited vacation.
Well, you did.
You're more work than work.
Well I know other people who would gladly take this on if you don't want the stress. We are bickering. Off to a great start.
The first thing we're going to do is have Joel come over and then you're going to get all of this stuff out of your system.
Hey, you're the one who gave me the drugs.
To sleep. You needed sleep. Instead you went and got more drugs from Caleb and then had a few drinks and Peanut, you're a mean drunk. Now I'm going to go make you some breakfast, and today we're going to hydrate, rest and talk with Joel and then after you've apologized to me and to PJ who tried to head you off early into your fucking destruction yesterday, we'll plan out a fun summer. But it's going to be dry and it's going to be ghost-free, so help me God.
What do we have to talk to Joel about then?
We need to do this without drugs, Bridgie. It's a shortcut and it's too dangerous.
Drugs are always the last resort though.
What if they aren't?
I stare at him. He doesn't get it. Doesn't seem to understand if you can't turn my brain off it will burn itself right out. It will plow right through the memory thief, through the walls, through the concrete tunnels and probably straight into the ground. It'll keep going until it finds a way to shut itself down forever and Joel knows this, at least, so maybe he is a good idea after all.
Can you have him here for eleven then? I need to get ready for the day. I smile weakly at Lochlan, who kisses my forehead, so content in his pragmatic, seemingly-logical solutions, treading water in a bottomless sea. He's so hopeful sometimes I wish I had never married him so that I could cut him loose and he could find happiness instead of this.