Jacob has returned to his wonderful ways of keeping close, of being right here within reach because that's where I like him best. There's nothing more we can say or do. We've said everything we could say and thought everything we can think and done what we can to offer help or shoulders or ears (my bionic ones especially) and all that's left is to pray and wait for the dust to settle.
I've never been the kind of person who was good at letting things go or with having the kind of faith needed to wait out someone else's meltdown or step away from a situation that wasn't good for me purely because of feelings for the person involved. Jacob is good at that, he's good at waiting. He says Loch will come around, that this was his version of running, it just seems more deplorable but he isn't the first man to get cold feet when confronted with fatherhood.
It seems like the beginning of the end, the group who used to spend summer evenings discussing movies and cooking new recipes on the barbecue and playing with my kids or going on extreme camping trips is no more. Did we grow up and grow apart? Was the stress of the past two years too much to bear?
I don't know if it is.
I might never know. It's out of my hands, now.
The chances are there. In the interest of grace there's no finite number of opportunities we have given each other, this group of friends, to keep things right. People are human. We mess up, we atone, make amends, eat lots of crow and keep going. We keep holding each other up. We move forward and distance ourselves from the foolish uneducated versions of ourselves who misstepped. We forgive. We love no matter what. We're there. For each other.
We should be a movie, for crying out loud.
In any case, we've opted not to host a dinner tomorrow. Jacob asked me what I wanted to do instead and I rattled off something about watching a horror movie marathon and polishing off the bottle of Stoli I found in his desk drawer. The locked one with the key in the other drawer.
He laughed and said that it wasn't funny, that he was actually laughing because I never learn. I pointed out that I was testing him, and that if I had wanted the Stoli I would have simply taken it. That brought a very big smile and a gentle reminder that we will be okay. That everyone will be okay. When it rains it pours but eventually the sun returns. God, I love this giant hippie.
Shaky, tenuous optimism. Wish me luck, I'm not very good at it.
Friday 27 July 2007
May as well end this week on the most awfullest note ever.
Everytime it goes down
Everytime she comes down
Everytime we fall down
She dances all over me
The end of November. 126 days from now.
That's when Loch and Kiera's baby is due.
Loch said nothing about the baby. Nothing. He hasn't gone to a single appointment. He never told a soul. Not his family, not his friends, no one knew. Kiera has shouldered this alone. She told him to go fuck himself and decided she would just raise the baby herself, as people sometimes do. That she was better off without him if he acted like that. Caleb (of all people) found out and mentioned it to Ben, who told us all on Wednesday in the blistering heat of a sun's day that smashed records and hearts, the heat that brought that nights' epic rainstorm. Because Loch needs help.
Out of all the people who would do something so awful as to break up with someone half a breath after they tell you they're having your child, Loch would have been the last person I would have expected to pull a stunt like that.
No matter what you think of him, this isn't behavior he would normally exhibit. He's not that kind of guy. I knew he was in crisis and I'm angry that he didn't talk to someone. Anyone. It didn't have to be me. Instead he flips out and changes everything in his life and comes looking for me as if we could somehow turn back the clock. He's nostalgic and sweet suddenly, defeated. I played right into his hands. This is not Loch. I'm so disappointed in him.
He won't answer his phone. He knows I know and all I want to do is scream at him to suck it up and support his child and the mother of his child. For Christs' sake, do something.
What's so ironic is that Loch wanted what Jacob has and now the only thing Jacob still wants that I can never give him is the one thing that Loch just threw away.
Everytime it goes down
Everytime she comes down
Everytime we fall down
She dances all over me
The end of November. 126 days from now.
That's when Loch and Kiera's baby is due.
Loch said nothing about the baby. Nothing. He hasn't gone to a single appointment. He never told a soul. Not his family, not his friends, no one knew. Kiera has shouldered this alone. She told him to go fuck himself and decided she would just raise the baby herself, as people sometimes do. That she was better off without him if he acted like that. Caleb (of all people) found out and mentioned it to Ben, who told us all on Wednesday in the blistering heat of a sun's day that smashed records and hearts, the heat that brought that nights' epic rainstorm. Because Loch needs help.
Out of all the people who would do something so awful as to break up with someone half a breath after they tell you they're having your child, Loch would have been the last person I would have expected to pull a stunt like that.
No matter what you think of him, this isn't behavior he would normally exhibit. He's not that kind of guy. I knew he was in crisis and I'm angry that he didn't talk to someone. Anyone. It didn't have to be me. Instead he flips out and changes everything in his life and comes looking for me as if we could somehow turn back the clock. He's nostalgic and sweet suddenly, defeated. I played right into his hands. This is not Loch. I'm so disappointed in him.
He won't answer his phone. He knows I know and all I want to do is scream at him to suck it up and support his child and the mother of his child. For Christs' sake, do something.
What's so ironic is that Loch wanted what Jacob has and now the only thing Jacob still wants that I can never give him is the one thing that Loch just threw away.
Thursday 26 July 2007
Today is not a good day.
I could have spent all night looking at the stars and the moon but they weren't there and instead the rain lashed against my face and soaked my dress and the thunder roared inside my skull and Jacob found me sitting on the steps wishing I could be invisible. He took me inside and got me into a hot shower and then a dry towel and then into bed and I couldn't sleep but I could still hear the roaring in my ears and see the flashing outside our windows as the storm ravaged the city.
I am small. Small and insignificant.
I am small. Small and insignificant.
Wednesday 25 July 2007
Speaker of the house
(Edit: Two glaring facts I notice after finishing this entry. Loch is having definitely having a midlife crisis and Jacob has unhealthily refused to acknowledge my willing participation in recent events. No good will come of either.)
I hate speakerphone. I hate people fighting over me. I hate that I put all of us in this position. I hate that I can swallow my pride and most of my dignity and own my mistakes without making things worse, the way Loch is making things worse.
Lochlan, who has lost his ever-loving mind. Loch who used to be a pretty firm voice of authority with nary a hint of spontaneous foolishness has opted to play the fool. Sore losses, my Lochlan. No, not mine, scratch that. I've already had a few comeuppances for my cheeky comments after the fact. Maybe I'm faring no better. I'm learning to make boundaries. Slowly.
In any event, Loch (chief tech support guy in our circle now that Cole is dead) hears/reads of my computer woes and calls, to be helpful or to meddle, whichever. Computer issues are quickly resolved and then he asks to speak to Jacob.
Jacob was using both hands and one knee to hold Henry's airplane together as he glued it. He's fixing it as a surprise while Henry's away. He is not amused but asks me to put Loch on speakerphone. I press the button and they exchange some stilted greetings. Then right off the bat Loch has the audacity to make some crack about stealing me from Jacob. Jacob laughed with that Oh my fuck incredulous laugh he has, newly sarcastic to a fault and asked how Loch was going to pull that off.
Loch had an unreal edge to his voice and he started in with a litany of how Jacob inserted himself into my life and never let up with pressure on me and it drove Cole to an early grave and Jacob has everything so why would he want to break up a family?
I was beginning to wonder if Loch was drunk or had a selective memory to forget how Cole treated me or possibly he just has a newfound deathwish.
Jacob's voice caught as he yelled at Loch,
She's the only thing I ever wanted in my whole life, Lochlan, and I will love her forever, no matter what she does. If she chooses to spend the rest of her life with me, which she has, then I can want for nothing more.
Loch hung up on him.
I burst into tears. It was a half-shameful, half-grateful feeling that overcame my exhaustion.
Jacob propped up the wing and came over and put his arms around me.
It's really too bad you can't bottle what you have, princess. You'd be rich.
I am rich, Jacob.
Oh, now you sound like me.
I wonder why.
I'm not spending any more time back and forthing it with Loch, though.
I don't blame you.
Could you...can you just...
Just what?
Could you just shut it off now, please?
I would say this marks the beginning of the countdown to the moment Jacob asks me to choose between my friends and my marriage. I hope he doesn't do that.
I hate speakerphone. I hate people fighting over me. I hate that I put all of us in this position. I hate that I can swallow my pride and most of my dignity and own my mistakes without making things worse, the way Loch is making things worse.
Lochlan, who has lost his ever-loving mind. Loch who used to be a pretty firm voice of authority with nary a hint of spontaneous foolishness has opted to play the fool. Sore losses, my Lochlan. No, not mine, scratch that. I've already had a few comeuppances for my cheeky comments after the fact. Maybe I'm faring no better. I'm learning to make boundaries. Slowly.
In any event, Loch (chief tech support guy in our circle now that Cole is dead) hears/reads of my computer woes and calls, to be helpful or to meddle, whichever. Computer issues are quickly resolved and then he asks to speak to Jacob.
Jacob was using both hands and one knee to hold Henry's airplane together as he glued it. He's fixing it as a surprise while Henry's away. He is not amused but asks me to put Loch on speakerphone. I press the button and they exchange some stilted greetings. Then right off the bat Loch has the audacity to make some crack about stealing me from Jacob. Jacob laughed with that Oh my fuck incredulous laugh he has, newly sarcastic to a fault and asked how Loch was going to pull that off.
Loch had an unreal edge to his voice and he started in with a litany of how Jacob inserted himself into my life and never let up with pressure on me and it drove Cole to an early grave and Jacob has everything so why would he want to break up a family?
I was beginning to wonder if Loch was drunk or had a selective memory to forget how Cole treated me or possibly he just has a newfound deathwish.
Jacob's voice caught as he yelled at Loch,
She's the only thing I ever wanted in my whole life, Lochlan, and I will love her forever, no matter what she does. If she chooses to spend the rest of her life with me, which she has, then I can want for nothing more.
Loch hung up on him.
I burst into tears. It was a half-shameful, half-grateful feeling that overcame my exhaustion.
Jacob propped up the wing and came over and put his arms around me.
It's really too bad you can't bottle what you have, princess. You'd be rich.
I am rich, Jacob.
Oh, now you sound like me.
I wonder why.
I'm not spending any more time back and forthing it with Loch, though.
I don't blame you.
Could you...can you just...
Just what?
Could you just shut it off now, please?
I would say this marks the beginning of the countdown to the moment Jacob asks me to choose between my friends and my marriage. I hope he doesn't do that.
Tuesday 24 July 2007
Kiss count for the top of Bridget's head now: 247.
I was staring at the sunset and it got too bright and I started seeing black spots so Jacob passed me his giant seventies sunglasses to put on while he was taking pictures.
Monday morning he asked if there was a specific reason I wasn't wearing my hearing aids on our drive the night before. I said I had worn them, what was he talking about?
He showed me a picture, taken surreptitiously as I watched the clouds roll out and I was busted.
I took them out because it made it easier to ignore the hurt in his voice as we talked. It made it easier not to listen. Sometimes it just makes it easier to hide. He understood, thankfully.
The good news is the top of my head is still his favorite body part of mine.
You were going to say something else, weren't you?
Snort.
I was staring at the sunset and it got too bright and I started seeing black spots so Jacob passed me his giant seventies sunglasses to put on while he was taking pictures.
Monday morning he asked if there was a specific reason I wasn't wearing my hearing aids on our drive the night before. I said I had worn them, what was he talking about?
He showed me a picture, taken surreptitiously as I watched the clouds roll out and I was busted.
I took them out because it made it easier to ignore the hurt in his voice as we talked. It made it easier not to listen. Sometimes it just makes it easier to hide. He understood, thankfully.
The good news is the top of my head is still his favorite body part of mine.
You were going to say something else, weren't you?
Snort.
Loch and load poems.
Sometimes even Loch doesn't know quite when to give up. I never cast him aside, I should never have been with him. We don't get along well enough to be more than friends. We never did, we never will. I used him and he used me. He practically raised me and then some things happened and he bequeathed me to Cole and-
Justify, justify, Bridge. Knock it off.
Here, I'll give you his latest. Previous poems are here if you can find them. Enjoy it or say What in the fuck? like Jake did.
One night the mermaid came to me
with tears upon her face
looking for a safe and sound
and warm and happy place
Her angel had rejected her
a temporary feat
her eyes were sad her limbs were weak
her heart had ceased to beat
The mermaid found her former flame
a love burned strong and true
he opened up his arms so wide
she knew what she must do
She went to into his circle thus
and kissed him sweetly so
she knew that she would hurt the angel
but upward she must go
For even angels make mistakes
as most of us will say
and sometimes feelings you hope might die
never go away
For the flame still loved his mermaid
as he held her in his arms
He swore that he would keep her safe
and never do her harm
But she swam away so quick and light
back toward her love
her wayward angel, so cavalier
waiting up above
He gets it all, the mermaid's love
the spoils, that coveted prize
the looks of adoration and reverence
pouring from her eyes
the former flame gets nothing
just her rare and precious skin
but nothing of that adoration
from the mermaid's heart within
The flame is but a burning light
a spark or just an ember
burning for the mermaid's love
from new years to december
He wishes he could cast the angel
back to heaven for good
and be with his beautiful mermaid girl
the way he always should
If she would just give him a chance
then surely she would see
that sometimes loves from days gone by
are the ones that are meant to be
Justify, justify, Bridge. Knock it off.
Here, I'll give you his latest. Previous poems are here if you can find them. Enjoy it or say What in the fuck? like Jake did.
One night the mermaid came to me
with tears upon her face
looking for a safe and sound
and warm and happy place
Her angel had rejected her
a temporary feat
her eyes were sad her limbs were weak
her heart had ceased to beat
The mermaid found her former flame
a love burned strong and true
he opened up his arms so wide
she knew what she must do
She went to into his circle thus
and kissed him sweetly so
she knew that she would hurt the angel
but upward she must go
For even angels make mistakes
as most of us will say
and sometimes feelings you hope might die
never go away
For the flame still loved his mermaid
as he held her in his arms
He swore that he would keep her safe
and never do her harm
But she swam away so quick and light
back toward her love
her wayward angel, so cavalier
waiting up above
He gets it all, the mermaid's love
the spoils, that coveted prize
the looks of adoration and reverence
pouring from her eyes
the former flame gets nothing
just her rare and precious skin
but nothing of that adoration
from the mermaid's heart within
The flame is but a burning light
a spark or just an ember
burning for the mermaid's love
from new years to december
He wishes he could cast the angel
back to heaven for good
and be with his beautiful mermaid girl
the way he always should
If she would just give him a chance
then surely she would see
that sometimes loves from days gone by
are the ones that are meant to be
Monday 23 July 2007
Disarming.
She's the world at my feet
The sun that gives heat
Take a rest and hold her near
Or she'll float away from here
Friday afternoon I relinquished the kids to Cole's parents for their annual summer vacation. For the past three summers Ruth and Henry have spent two weeks on the farm in Nova Scotia, being hooligans, swimming, shellseeking, turning golden pink and being adored. Cole's parents are heartbroken, just heartbroken over life and how it happens and they now pour the hopes they had for their sons into my children.
And the kids love the hayrides and the orchard-tree climbing and the beekeeping and the ocean being right there. It's a heavenly spot. They will return right after our first wedding anniversary, reluctantly. It's a hard place to leave.
I won't talk about how I feel about them being gone for so long, it's difficult and I've said it before about how it feels as if my arms are missing or torn off. My kids are my life. I just don't write about them.
While they're gone Jacob and I appear to have some time that is filled with....no obligations. He doesn't start his new job for three more weeks, our friends have scattered to all corners for their own vacations and reunions and getaways.
According to the list we made of what we want to do it's going to be a vacation at home consisting of large helpings of Thai take-out, bad horror movies and sex, with a little sleeping in and a lot of running. And talking. Which is perfect, really.
That's not to say we're not still struggling with the betrayals we've leveled against each other like the barrels of a gun. If you thought we had escaped unscathed, you'd be wrong. But we'll get through it. We've resolved not to allow baggage to weigh us down and a simpler existence of respect and love and appreciation means we function as two halves of a whole, burdened by little save for the sheer magnitude of our need for one another.
We'll be fine.
The sun that gives heat
Take a rest and hold her near
Or she'll float away from here
Friday afternoon I relinquished the kids to Cole's parents for their annual summer vacation. For the past three summers Ruth and Henry have spent two weeks on the farm in Nova Scotia, being hooligans, swimming, shellseeking, turning golden pink and being adored. Cole's parents are heartbroken, just heartbroken over life and how it happens and they now pour the hopes they had for their sons into my children.
And the kids love the hayrides and the orchard-tree climbing and the beekeeping and the ocean being right there. It's a heavenly spot. They will return right after our first wedding anniversary, reluctantly. It's a hard place to leave.
I won't talk about how I feel about them being gone for so long, it's difficult and I've said it before about how it feels as if my arms are missing or torn off. My kids are my life. I just don't write about them.
While they're gone Jacob and I appear to have some time that is filled with....no obligations. He doesn't start his new job for three more weeks, our friends have scattered to all corners for their own vacations and reunions and getaways.
According to the list we made of what we want to do it's going to be a vacation at home consisting of large helpings of Thai take-out, bad horror movies and sex, with a little sleeping in and a lot of running. And talking. Which is perfect, really.
That's not to say we're not still struggling with the betrayals we've leveled against each other like the barrels of a gun. If you thought we had escaped unscathed, you'd be wrong. But we'll get through it. We've resolved not to allow baggage to weigh us down and a simpler existence of respect and love and appreciation means we function as two halves of a whole, burdened by little save for the sheer magnitude of our need for one another.
We'll be fine.
Sunday 22 July 2007
Meltdown
My posting may be sporadic for a few days. We're having a heatwave and my poor little brain is just fried. Add in my laptop crashing continuously, the poor ancient thing, and you have a recipe for...well....absence.
Oh and my tech support guy? I don't really want to call him and ask for favors right now. Since I kind of slept with him a week ago and all that. No, calling him would be bad.
Oh and my tech support guy? I don't really want to call him and ask for favors right now. Since I kind of slept with him a week ago and all that. No, calling him would be bad.
Saturday 21 July 2007
Or I could go all arty on you..
This morning I could savor my coffee while I write a litany of how many times I have broken down or fallen apart in the past two days and how many times I have been put back together. I could tell you how hard the past week has been or how we did indeed manage to mostly get through the shock of casting each other aside for momentary comforts. I could tell you how easy simple can be. I could tell you it's going to be a close and quiet weekend. I might write of how I feel the low biting at my toes as I stand on the edge of my entire existence and I don't even hear the wind rustling in the trees or howling across the landscape threatening to topple me from my perch and I could remind you to drink your water and stay cool because it's going to be a very warm day.
But I won't, because you know all this.
Kiss count for the top of Bridget's head: 73.
But I won't, because you know all this.
Kiss count for the top of Bridget's head: 73.
Friday 20 July 2007
Making things simple.
I prayed so hard God finally answered me. Maybe just to shut me the hell up. I whispered Jacob's comfort prayer that he taught me a long time ago over and over inside my head so that it would be shared by two. Somewhere I hoped he was doing the same.
Thursday morning at 3 am I was lying in our bed wide awake. I heard the wind chimes. Usually when I hear them it means it's windy and about to rain and I'll always get up and watch them circle lazily on their chains. I heard them again, softly. Someone was deliberately making them sing and my heart stopped beating. I didn't go and look out the window, instead I pulled on one of Jacob's huge sweaters and ran downstairs and straight out the back door. And stopped.
If you've ever seen the person you love most in the world standing in front of you in stark moonlight with tears rolling down his face you'll understand it has to be the most beautiful and worst sight in the world. I froze. I think I was afraid if I moved or startled him he might bolt, like a wounded animal. I stood there and the tears started too. He walked to the bottom of the steps slowly and stopped. He had been watching me, close by but far enough away so that he could have whatever he needed-space, time, solitude, to figure out if he wanted to go forward or peel off to the left and disappear forever.
He held his arms wide and I went into them, hysterical. He held me tightly until I could breathe again. He finally pulled away and wiped both our faces with his shirttail.
He said if I would take him back, that he'd like to stay, that he loves me and he was sorry. He collapsed onto the steps with me in his arms, both of us sobbing. He rocked me, he stroked my hair, he knew. He knew I wanted him there and nowhere else. He knew how I felt but I tried to blurt it out and repeat it over and over anyway, trying to make him understand exactly how much I love him.
Why are you punishing me? We both screwed up.
Is that what you think? That I left to punish you?
What else could it be?
Bridget, I left to punish myself. Not being around you is hell on earth now. I had to pay for what I did. And keeping myself from you was my punishment. I drove you to act out and put yourself in a dangerous position with my stupidity and I hate myself for that.
So we can hate each other and be together at the same time.
I could never hate you. I hate what happened. I hate the thought of him touching you.
He asked me if we should take it back and I said yes. Two wrongs cancel each other out and Bridget and Jacob start over, granted, from scratch. If something is a dealbreaker then it's a don- deal, but if it isn't going to be then we need to not use it to hurt each other.
So over we start again. Thankfully. Humbly. Sometimes the most perfect love is so flawed. We still want it, holes and all.
He went upstairs, with my hand in his and went in to kiss each sleeping child and then we went to bed at last, never sleeping, just lying there curled together in spoons, wide awake, marveling in silent over the touch of the one we love the most after so many days' absence.
Friday morning we got up reluctantly and reiterated our vows to not hurt each other, to not seek out others for comfort and to not mess up this chance we have been given. Also we reminded each other of our promise to raise Ruth and Henry together as a unit and how that above all else was so important and should supersede any argument we might find ourselves in.
We're going to keep things simple. Bridget + Jacob = Love.
The kids were so happy he was home at last.
Then he surprised me again and called Loch. On my phone, so Loch picked up instantly and Jacob told him that he was forgiven. That putting his family back together was more important to Jacob and so he as going to concentrate on that and let Loch go, that Loch was not important to him right now.
(Run, Loch, run far far away.)
Loch had already taken the hint, thinking Jacob was staying away because he was in town and had flown home Wednesday.
Jacob asked if I could stop with the thousand-mile games of tag. His laugh was ragged, exhausted and drained. No singing, we're healing. No easiness yet as we're so anxious to not wound or perceive to offend that we've resorted to a funny little overly-cordial routine that shames him to no end. It will fade. We've gone through it before after arguments. Soon we'll slide back into the informal closeness we've spun into gold.
We took it back. It's our life and no one, and no series of events is going to mess it up now. Our foundation is solid, it's holding. It's precious and we're not going to play with it.
So now I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. One thing Jacob was remarkably proud of was how I continued to give myself the meds, I didn't throw or smash the hearing aids, I didn't fall into a hopeless state and look for escape and I didn't leave the wall up that I had built Thursday between when he spilled the beans and when he followed us to the airport.
And I held it together while he watched from beyond the fence as I tried to keep the kids busy and Bridget busy and continue to woodenly exist without him, which is hell on earth and I don't want it. Never again.
All this time he was up the road, in his old office, talking with God and with Sam too and missing me like crazy and walking down the street when it got too hard, to watch us rock in the hammock and read to each other and wait for him to come back.
So he did.
Thursday morning at 3 am I was lying in our bed wide awake. I heard the wind chimes. Usually when I hear them it means it's windy and about to rain and I'll always get up and watch them circle lazily on their chains. I heard them again, softly. Someone was deliberately making them sing and my heart stopped beating. I didn't go and look out the window, instead I pulled on one of Jacob's huge sweaters and ran downstairs and straight out the back door. And stopped.
If you've ever seen the person you love most in the world standing in front of you in stark moonlight with tears rolling down his face you'll understand it has to be the most beautiful and worst sight in the world. I froze. I think I was afraid if I moved or startled him he might bolt, like a wounded animal. I stood there and the tears started too. He walked to the bottom of the steps slowly and stopped. He had been watching me, close by but far enough away so that he could have whatever he needed-space, time, solitude, to figure out if he wanted to go forward or peel off to the left and disappear forever.
He held his arms wide and I went into them, hysterical. He held me tightly until I could breathe again. He finally pulled away and wiped both our faces with his shirttail.
He said if I would take him back, that he'd like to stay, that he loves me and he was sorry. He collapsed onto the steps with me in his arms, both of us sobbing. He rocked me, he stroked my hair, he knew. He knew I wanted him there and nowhere else. He knew how I felt but I tried to blurt it out and repeat it over and over anyway, trying to make him understand exactly how much I love him.
Why are you punishing me? We both screwed up.
Is that what you think? That I left to punish you?
What else could it be?
Bridget, I left to punish myself. Not being around you is hell on earth now. I had to pay for what I did. And keeping myself from you was my punishment. I drove you to act out and put yourself in a dangerous position with my stupidity and I hate myself for that.
So we can hate each other and be together at the same time.
I could never hate you. I hate what happened. I hate the thought of him touching you.
He asked me if we should take it back and I said yes. Two wrongs cancel each other out and Bridget and Jacob start over, granted, from scratch. If something is a dealbreaker then it's a don- deal, but if it isn't going to be then we need to not use it to hurt each other.
So over we start again. Thankfully. Humbly. Sometimes the most perfect love is so flawed. We still want it, holes and all.
He went upstairs, with my hand in his and went in to kiss each sleeping child and then we went to bed at last, never sleeping, just lying there curled together in spoons, wide awake, marveling in silent over the touch of the one we love the most after so many days' absence.
Friday morning we got up reluctantly and reiterated our vows to not hurt each other, to not seek out others for comfort and to not mess up this chance we have been given. Also we reminded each other of our promise to raise Ruth and Henry together as a unit and how that above all else was so important and should supersede any argument we might find ourselves in.
We're going to keep things simple. Bridget + Jacob = Love.
The kids were so happy he was home at last.
Then he surprised me again and called Loch. On my phone, so Loch picked up instantly and Jacob told him that he was forgiven. That putting his family back together was more important to Jacob and so he as going to concentrate on that and let Loch go, that Loch was not important to him right now.
(Run, Loch, run far far away.)
Loch had already taken the hint, thinking Jacob was staying away because he was in town and had flown home Wednesday.
Jacob asked if I could stop with the thousand-mile games of tag. His laugh was ragged, exhausted and drained. No singing, we're healing. No easiness yet as we're so anxious to not wound or perceive to offend that we've resorted to a funny little overly-cordial routine that shames him to no end. It will fade. We've gone through it before after arguments. Soon we'll slide back into the informal closeness we've spun into gold.
We took it back. It's our life and no one, and no series of events is going to mess it up now. Our foundation is solid, it's holding. It's precious and we're not going to play with it.
So now I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. One thing Jacob was remarkably proud of was how I continued to give myself the meds, I didn't throw or smash the hearing aids, I didn't fall into a hopeless state and look for escape and I didn't leave the wall up that I had built Thursday between when he spilled the beans and when he followed us to the airport.
And I held it together while he watched from beyond the fence as I tried to keep the kids busy and Bridget busy and continue to woodenly exist without him, which is hell on earth and I don't want it. Never again.
All this time he was up the road, in his old office, talking with God and with Sam too and missing me like crazy and walking down the street when it got too hard, to watch us rock in the hammock and read to each other and wait for him to come back.
So he did.
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