I'm still here. Thank you for the kind comments. They mean more than the platitudes making the rounds in my living room.
The cognac ran out after midnight and I was made to suffer miserably, loudly, indignantly, until Jacob finally gave up the location of the vodka. I listened to nothing else. I see I'm going to have to ration it. We'll see. I don't think he'll give me anymore. So much for the pain-free drunken stupor I had planned. A four day bender? For one, please. Just don't touch me, for I will shatter. Don't worry, he's watching from a safe distance, right outside the door. Ready to catch me when I fall so spectacularly. Wait for it.
But for now, even half-drunk I have responsibilities. I have to sign papers and make plans. I have to be steered everywhere because I don't know the protocol here. Not familiar. I have to return a dozen phone calls and I'm too broken to talk out loud. Good to have a minister in the house because sadly Jacob knows exactly what to do and who to call. Is this my karma?
I'm lucid though. I managed to have a shower. I could button buttons. Stupid things. I managed to hug my kids as they left for a sleepover at PJ's mom's house. I don't feel like eating. Or speaking. Or moving, really. I'm still alive and really if you had placed your bets knowing what you know about Cole he should be the one still breathing and I should be the one who died.
I managed to not rip Jacob's face off when he came back last night for being away too long. I need help. Jake's helping. He was off making so many of the immediate arrangements so I don't have to. So that he could be here today for when the shit hits the fan and Bridget falls apart. Everyone thinks I'm so fucking strong. I'm not strong. Oh my God I'm like paper in the fucking wind. The kind that blows into a tree and the tree doesn't budge an inch. Not even in a tornado. Jake is the tree. And I'm almost plastered again, blissfully. And Cole, Cole is still dead. When will it be real? I know when-when that weird homesick feeling stops. The one that has been there since April. When will it stop and what the hell is it?
I can kill whole freaking WEEKS in here. I'm going to finish the vodka and read the internet. The worst thing is that I can't shut off the noise. Inside my head I'm screaming and I can't shut it off.
