To add awesomeness to awesomeness Loch waited until long after lunch and everyone was gone again and then he said, oh, by the way, I've got your passport. So he can't take it.
Thursday 22 May 2014
Fools seldom differ.
Lochlan saw that we were alone. He pulls out his wallet and shows me the place where he's unstitched the leather and has a sheaf of big bills lining the actual bill compartment. Also in there are the numbers for an emergency line of credit he keeps, unused, just in case.
Carnies are weird about money. We plan for a rainy day to the extent that we'd rather die with hundred dollar bills wallpapering a one-room shack for warmth after the utilities cut the power than needlessly spend anything at all.
Where are we going? He asks with a twinkle in his eye.
Carnies are weird about money. We plan for a rainy day to the extent that we'd rather die with hundred dollar bills wallpapering a one-room shack for warmth after the utilities cut the power than needlessly spend anything at all.
Where are we going? He asks with a twinkle in his eye.
Charm malfunction.
The irony.
In an effort to not be the bad guy, Caleb grabs my wrist this morning, pulling it down, squeezing my bones so hard I almost bit my tongue in half to not cry out. He wants me to remove my guesses as to what's in his safe. He says the passports are in the group safety deposit box at the bank, which everyone, including me has access to, and that he got rid of the gun months ago at my request because sometimes Henry stays there.
He was smiling when he said it. He's a liar. I also visited the safety deposit box a week and half ago and my passport wasn't there. I'd rather keep it, next to his Visa infinite that I steal every time he turns his head and the small roll of bills I have sewn into the lining of my favorite handbag just in case but apparently no one likes my schemes and plans so what's a girl to do?
Nod and pretend I'll take the words down and then decide not to.
I suppose if I post this I have to give his credit card back again, don't I?
In an effort to not be the bad guy, Caleb grabs my wrist this morning, pulling it down, squeezing my bones so hard I almost bit my tongue in half to not cry out. He wants me to remove my guesses as to what's in his safe. He says the passports are in the group safety deposit box at the bank, which everyone, including me has access to, and that he got rid of the gun months ago at my request because sometimes Henry stays there.
He was smiling when he said it. He's a liar. I also visited the safety deposit box a week and half ago and my passport wasn't there. I'd rather keep it, next to his Visa infinite that I steal every time he turns his head and the small roll of bills I have sewn into the lining of my favorite handbag just in case but apparently no one likes my schemes and plans so what's a girl to do?
Nod and pretend I'll take the words down and then decide not to.
I suppose if I post this I have to give his credit card back again, don't I?
Wednesday 21 May 2014
The more they stay the same.
Caleb brought me a stack of one hundred ten-dollar bills last night and the wickedest smile he's ever worn.
I told him a few weeks ago in a moment of weirdo weakness and reluctant truth that I always wanted to make it rain, that it's on my bucket list, right up there with naked motorcycle-riding in the yard (which I hope is next).
He handed me the money and asked how I wanted to pull it off.
I told him to start dancing for me and I'd take care of the rest.
Oh, how he laughed.
He did not want to dance though, so instead we ate ice cream, the bills sitting on the counter between us, and he quizzed me about said bucket list, even though we used to call it 100 things before I die, and everyone spent most of January first of each year hung over and writing furiously.
He reminds me that he can do a lot more than make it rain. He said he could make it snow, make the sun shine and the wind blow too and all I have to do is say the word and I could have my entire list fulfilled handily by dinner time.
You don't even know half of what's on it. Maybe some of it involves people you don't even know, or is time-sensitive to occur at certain times in my life, maybe some of it is dumb or silly and you're just going to shoot it down.
Shoot it down? No, that's not what a bucket list is for. Tell me something on it that shames you.
Well I know it's horrible of me but I still want to ride an elephant, a little one because if a big one took off stampeding into the jungle with me on it I'd have all kinds of regrets about the whole thing. But I can't because the way they break them doesn't mesh with how I was raised.
How you were...raised?
On the tail-end of circuses having actual animals. Before everyone freaked out and let a few bad stars spoil the whole sky.
I see.
Our animals were loved like people. They were children.
I don't doubt it. Were the children animals or just you?
WOW. Were you waiting to use that your whole life or did your cleverness just wake up and decide to join in the conversation feet-first?
I didn't mean you any harm.
For once. I'm well aware I was feral when you found me but that isn't his fault, you know. It's yours.
I think, Bridget, that we'll save this for a rainy day. Caleb picks up the money and heads to his office where he will put the stack of bills in the safe in his desk, right beside the gun, the empty boxes that held our Breitlings and my passport, for safekeeping.
I told him a few weeks ago in a moment of weirdo weakness and reluctant truth that I always wanted to make it rain, that it's on my bucket list, right up there with naked motorcycle-riding in the yard (which I hope is next).
He handed me the money and asked how I wanted to pull it off.
I told him to start dancing for me and I'd take care of the rest.
Oh, how he laughed.
He did not want to dance though, so instead we ate ice cream, the bills sitting on the counter between us, and he quizzed me about said bucket list, even though we used to call it 100 things before I die, and everyone spent most of January first of each year hung over and writing furiously.
He reminds me that he can do a lot more than make it rain. He said he could make it snow, make the sun shine and the wind blow too and all I have to do is say the word and I could have my entire list fulfilled handily by dinner time.
You don't even know half of what's on it. Maybe some of it involves people you don't even know, or is time-sensitive to occur at certain times in my life, maybe some of it is dumb or silly and you're just going to shoot it down.
Shoot it down? No, that's not what a bucket list is for. Tell me something on it that shames you.
Well I know it's horrible of me but I still want to ride an elephant, a little one because if a big one took off stampeding into the jungle with me on it I'd have all kinds of regrets about the whole thing. But I can't because the way they break them doesn't mesh with how I was raised.
How you were...raised?
On the tail-end of circuses having actual animals. Before everyone freaked out and let a few bad stars spoil the whole sky.
I see.
Our animals were loved like people. They were children.
I don't doubt it. Were the children animals or just you?
WOW. Were you waiting to use that your whole life or did your cleverness just wake up and decide to join in the conversation feet-first?
I didn't mean you any harm.
For once. I'm well aware I was feral when you found me but that isn't his fault, you know. It's yours.
I think, Bridget, that we'll save this for a rainy day. Caleb picks up the money and heads to his office where he will put the stack of bills in the safe in his desk, right beside the gun, the empty boxes that held our Breitlings and my passport, for safekeeping.
Tuesday 20 May 2014
New looks for summer 2014 (as decreed by someone who needs to be featured on the Goths in Hot Weather site.)
I stood behind Daniel this morning while he sat and talked with Caleb. Caleb was waiting for Henry. It's a school holiday so they are heading off to do some things. Daniel is very patient when I want to practice fishtail braids but today I was distracted so I just twisted his hair up and around and tied it with a black hair elastic so he had a loose bun.
He looks fantastic. Even Schuyler said leave it quite forcefully (LOL) when Daniel laughed and said he should take it out. Huh. I try not to influence their styles with my opinions because it can have hilarious results but sometimes I want to pressure them to let their metal beards grow to the floor or make dreads anyway just because.
Daniel keeps saying his neck is a lot cooler and he loves that his hair is out of his way. Pretty sure tonight they'll all need tutorials for pinless hair buns, though only Duncan, Daniel and John have hair long enough for it in the first place. Well, Lochlan does too but if I come near him wanting to practice braids and such he'll literally RUN the other way. It's pretty funny, actually.
I think I'll go chase him around the yard threatening to do his hair.
He looks fantastic. Even Schuyler said leave it quite forcefully (LOL) when Daniel laughed and said he should take it out. Huh. I try not to influence their styles with my opinions because it can have hilarious results but sometimes I want to pressure them to let their metal beards grow to the floor or make dreads anyway just because.
Daniel keeps saying his neck is a lot cooler and he loves that his hair is out of his way. Pretty sure tonight they'll all need tutorials for pinless hair buns, though only Duncan, Daniel and John have hair long enough for it in the first place. Well, Lochlan does too but if I come near him wanting to practice braids and such he'll literally RUN the other way. It's pretty funny, actually.
I think I'll go chase him around the yard threatening to do his hair.
Monday 19 May 2014
Two showers a day, never by myself.
Each morning Ben hands me his soapy washcloth and asks very sweetly if I will wash his back as he turns away in our glass shower. It's separate from the tub I can swim in, in a little room all of its own. It's amply big for one person but not so big for Ben. Add me and it's a bit tricky to keep his elbows out of my eyes and when he rinses his hair I get rinsed in an extra layer of shampoo.
His back is a wall, a billboard of black and grey work. I always wash the angels' faces first and then the demons on his skin. I have names for all of them. I make him laugh when I greet them and then when their little faces and hands are clean and the whole place is scrubbed and swept he turns back around and finds more space in a perfect way, lifting me up into his arms, my legs around his hips, holding on for dear life, burning as soap reaches places I'm not so sure it should go.
Each night Lochlan and I spend close to an hour under the same hot spray, our skin red not from sunburn but from the water temperature. My fingers and toes are webbed, wrinkled and steamed. One single kiss on my forehead and we're reluctantly finished and the towels go back onto their heated racks and the expensive shampoo (one for curls, the other for blondes) goes back on the shelf for the next night. Sometimes he turns me away and slides his hands around my hips but mostly we just stand and let it rain.
It's a far cry from years and years ago where he would lock the door, press the stainless steel button on the wall that gave us exactly six minutes of lukewarm water with which to wash away salt, sunburns and bug bites, our bad runs and good marks clouding and sweetening our moods alternately until we would emerge fresh and clean and ready for sleep, heading back to the camper in the growing darkness. We would go inside for the night, putting away the little plastic basket of shampoo, conditioner, soap, comb and razor under the bed until the next night, leaving the towels hanging outside to dry.
Now showers are an event each time instead of a chore, and we don't run out of hot water anymore.
His back is a wall, a billboard of black and grey work. I always wash the angels' faces first and then the demons on his skin. I have names for all of them. I make him laugh when I greet them and then when their little faces and hands are clean and the whole place is scrubbed and swept he turns back around and finds more space in a perfect way, lifting me up into his arms, my legs around his hips, holding on for dear life, burning as soap reaches places I'm not so sure it should go.
Each night Lochlan and I spend close to an hour under the same hot spray, our skin red not from sunburn but from the water temperature. My fingers and toes are webbed, wrinkled and steamed. One single kiss on my forehead and we're reluctantly finished and the towels go back onto their heated racks and the expensive shampoo (one for curls, the other for blondes) goes back on the shelf for the next night. Sometimes he turns me away and slides his hands around my hips but mostly we just stand and let it rain.
It's a far cry from years and years ago where he would lock the door, press the stainless steel button on the wall that gave us exactly six minutes of lukewarm water with which to wash away salt, sunburns and bug bites, our bad runs and good marks clouding and sweetening our moods alternately until we would emerge fresh and clean and ready for sleep, heading back to the camper in the growing darkness. We would go inside for the night, putting away the little plastic basket of shampoo, conditioner, soap, comb and razor under the bed until the next night, leaving the towels hanging outside to dry.
Now showers are an event each time instead of a chore, and we don't run out of hot water anymore.
Sunday 18 May 2014
New school preaching.
Sam practiced his sermon on me last evening because it was a bit edgy, even for him. He used the allegory of Godzilla and being prepared for disasters of faith and how beautiful and terrible it is when you see God's work, God's mark on this world with your own eyes, a swath of truth and destruction. Then you have everything because you have nothing. Then you rebuild, always mindful that He is near.
It was totally neato and something Jacob probably would have done. Sam has loosened up slightly and is taking risks with his words, keeping his church open and progressive, the way he thinks it needs to be in this day and age. He used to skew traditional to the point where more than once Jacob told him he might be happier in a Baptist or Anglican environment instead of Unitarian. Sam protested. I think Sam would have followed Jacob anywhere except thankfully not off the roof of a hotel.
Sam knows my mind is starting to wander down dark paths. I've been their sermon pinning board for so long and it's not easy. You coming tomorrow?
No, I've had all my lessons tonight. This means I can sleep in. And I will because Ben doesn't go to meetings on Sunday mornings. Duncan has to though, but I won't know when he leaves because I'll be in my wing, in my bed, jammed in tight between the joker and thief dreaming of a tray with coffee and english muffins that will never materialize unless I go get it.
Sam nods. He's like Pinocchio but he grows with confidence instead of lies and I leave him in a really good place. He and Matt have weathered their growing pains, it seems and are settling in to a nice rhythm with the day to day grind versus planning their future together. I know they won't live here forever so I am appreciating every day they do.
It was totally neato and something Jacob probably would have done. Sam has loosened up slightly and is taking risks with his words, keeping his church open and progressive, the way he thinks it needs to be in this day and age. He used to skew traditional to the point where more than once Jacob told him he might be happier in a Baptist or Anglican environment instead of Unitarian. Sam protested. I think Sam would have followed Jacob anywhere except thankfully not off the roof of a hotel.
Sam knows my mind is starting to wander down dark paths. I've been their sermon pinning board for so long and it's not easy. You coming tomorrow?
No, I've had all my lessons tonight. This means I can sleep in. And I will because Ben doesn't go to meetings on Sunday mornings. Duncan has to though, but I won't know when he leaves because I'll be in my wing, in my bed, jammed in tight between the joker and thief dreaming of a tray with coffee and english muffins that will never materialize unless I go get it.
Sam nods. He's like Pinocchio but he grows with confidence instead of lies and I leave him in a really good place. He and Matt have weathered their growing pains, it seems and are settling in to a nice rhythm with the day to day grind versus planning their future together. I know they won't live here forever so I am appreciating every day they do.
Saturday 17 May 2014
Let them fight.
Somehow we managed to get fifteen of us in the same place at the same time far from home and checked in at a movie theatre in the valley. The theatre was ghost town- empty (the way Ben likes it) and had a new AVX room with Dolby Atmos sound.
Did you know that sending fifteen of us to that room with popcorn and drinks costs just a wee bit shy of four HUNDRED dollars?
It was worth it. I didn't miss a word. Also my seat reclined so far I kept looking up expecting to see my dentist.
(One paragraph review: Everything about Godzilla was awesome and over the top good, save for the predictable moments where everyone finds their loved ones instantly in a disaster scenario and also a highly unintentional but hilariously suggestive moment between a M.U.T.O., her egg sac and a nuclear missile that had me snorting for far too long. I'm going back to see it again as soon as I can. Such fun.)
Friday 16 May 2014
Wakers and sleepers and fuzz folk and dandelions and plans.
And one day we will dieLochlan isn't that prolific on guitar but he does a few really good quality covers, you see, one of which is Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane over the Sea. He changes the lyrics depending on the day, his accent getting caught on the words as his voice breaks comically and it's just one of those things you can't help but smile at when confronted with it head-on. Especially since he found a guitar strap and now he wanders as he sings like the rest of them. The guitar is huge but he is not so it was a bit cumbersome to hold and play as he walked before. Not so much, now.
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Love to be
In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me
It's sunny and beautiful and on the verge of a magnificent wavey-day and a long weekend too and we've all gone a little loopy. I did indeed invite Joel over for breakfast and had to fight my own face not to snarl (lovingly) at him when he walked in. He brought coffee. They do this. Secretly I love coffee. Outwardly it really isn't a great idea if I have more than one or two cups a day, tops, and never after about three in the afternoon, because I'm a waker, not a sleeper and that's a travesty, says everyone.
(Lochlan coined the word shortly after we ran away to the Midway when he realized I'm terrible at actually staying asleep. Now he just takes advantage.)
I think Caleb is regretting his offer to bail out Joel, keep me Afloat& Upright (another Bridget term of endearment, how lovely) and fill the last empty space on the point all in one go, frankly. I've been far too together for the Devil and he's minding it, even as I go so far as to wonder if we should find four more friends and convert the stables to a gatehouse sort of thing. He frowned. I may have winked at him the other day and shared half a drink (it's the only way to be sure that he doesn't drug me while I poison him, you see) but I will defer to Benjamin until Ben is good and ready to talk to him without yelling, so the distance between us will remain for right now.
Ben doesn't want to yell and so Ben and Duncan and Sam head out to lunch and meetings and dammit, I want to go to lunch! I have a thing about lunches. Sandwiches and french fries. I love big crazy sandwiches. Clubs, Montes, BLTs. I'm not so picky. I suppose I could drink more and then I'd get to go but I already told you, I'll keep my addictions limited to boys and music. There's no time for anything else.
Joel ate everything like he was recently rescued from a deserted island. It's the way everyone starts out here. Starving. Deprived. Lonesome. Skittish and unsocialized. Once they fatten up a little and have constant companionship and support they all seem to positively bloom, though, with this one I really don't know what to expect. I guess I'll have to wait and see. I already extended the permanent meal invitation, he still has the treasure map to my brain and no one hates him because I was upfront with the relevant information about what happened and at the time I was vulnerable yet completely unattached and so there's really no blame to lay past the restitution he has already made via giving up his career.
Or maybe it's a double standard simply because he is not Caleb so they can't hate him.
But I invited Caleb for permanent meals as well, though and I may never be heard from again when they all find out. We're going to heal if it kills us, or at least until we've all killed each other.
Thursday 15 May 2014
Saltwater seasons.
It was a special treat. We parked the camper on the bluff overlooking the campground and I wasn't doing any chores because I couldn't stop staring out to sea. It was hypnotic. It was colorful. It was everything. Lochlan looked after everything for those three days, including my chores and for the rest of our trips thereafter he parked in the woods, under the trees, making sure I had to walk to find the view.
What happens if you swim all the way across?
You'd be in Ireland. Maybe Greenland if the currents take you North.
What about if you swim out but then down?
You mean South. The tropics, the Caribbean. Where it's warm by the equator.
We should go there.
We can't take our camper.
Why not?
It doesn't float, Peanut.
Then we should buy a boat-camper.
That's just a boat. Anything bigger than a rowboat we could probably live on.
Let's go where it's warm then.
Are you cold, Bridgie?
Freezing.
Why didn't you say something?
Because yesterday you yelled at me for whining.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Yesterday was a bad day but I should never take it out on you.
He puts his hoodie on me and zips up the front all the way, being careful not to catch my hair but also not putting my arms in the sleeves. I am warm just watching him as he tucks all of my hair into the hood when he pulls it up around my face.
There. His eyes land on mine again and he smiles. Better?
Almost.
He hugs me close. That better?
Yes.
But Bridge.
What?
I can't wash dishes like this.
If we had that boat-camper you could wash them in the ocean.
That would be gross.
No, it'd be awesome.
What happens if you swim all the way across?
You'd be in Ireland. Maybe Greenland if the currents take you North.
What about if you swim out but then down?
You mean South. The tropics, the Caribbean. Where it's warm by the equator.
We should go there.
We can't take our camper.
Why not?
It doesn't float, Peanut.
Then we should buy a boat-camper.
That's just a boat. Anything bigger than a rowboat we could probably live on.
Let's go where it's warm then.
Are you cold, Bridgie?
Freezing.
Why didn't you say something?
Because yesterday you yelled at me for whining.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Yesterday was a bad day but I should never take it out on you.
He puts his hoodie on me and zips up the front all the way, being careful not to catch my hair but also not putting my arms in the sleeves. I am warm just watching him as he tucks all of my hair into the hood when he pulls it up around my face.
There. His eyes land on mine again and he smiles. Better?
Almost.
He hugs me close. That better?
Yes.
But Bridge.
What?
I can't wash dishes like this.
If we had that boat-camper you could wash them in the ocean.
That would be gross.
No, it'd be awesome.
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