I ripped a page out of one of the books of Paradise Lost, I think.
I went for an early afternoon walk with Caleb yesterday, down to the benches, his car waiting a whole three hundred yards away because his unspoken request that I comply with, equally unremarked upon is that I dress to the nines when I visit him, and so my black wool dress and long black coat and my black stiletto murder boots make for difficult walking of any distance. It's my funeral outfit for Cole. I wear it to grind that into Caleb. Jacob's memorial outfit was his ever beloved blue velvet that I will never wear again. Ever.
Caleb wanted to know how I was doing. Safe from the confines of my big brothers and incredibly passionate, immature and unruly new husband, safe from August and Joel's abilities to see through his motives so easily, safe from anything that could later used against him, he attacked verbally, from the side.
He didn't like my answers, he failed to accept my words as the truth as I know it. He figures the boys brainwash me in a different way. That they control and I obey and he refused to take my answers as my reality.
He moved here to be closer to the kids and I and I'm not sure I'm one hundred percent clear on his motives. I'm not naive as to what they are but at the same time I'm at a loss to understand how a man with Caleb's money and stature and position in a city he adores can just up and decide to 'retire' (if that's what anyone is really calling it), and leave that beloved city to come live in a place that sports one multi-star hotel and overall, little else that is of interest to him. Especially since said man has zillions of aeroplan miles that go to waste and he's rarely in one place for more than a handful of nights at a time, someone who can and does go absolutely everywhere without taking even the meagerest of a financial hit. Why here?
Please. It can't be my companionship. You can buy that kind of company. I'm sure he has. I bet it was taller and less belligerent, too.
And so I asked.
What difference does it really make to you if I'm okay?
Because I know what Friday is and I know you're not feeling strong enough to face it?
So what?
So, I'm here now.
And that should fix everything?
Maybe, if you let me help you here on your own terms, since you won't accept mine.
Your terms always seem to involve selling you my soul.
Would you stop with the devil remarks, please?
When you stop acting like the devil, sure.
Point noted.
So what's the real reason, Cale?
I think you're well aware, princess.
I want to hear it from you.
Why?
So there's no mistake.
Cole knew, once he went too far, that he'd never have a hand in taking care of you, looking out for you again so he asked me to make sure you were okay, to keep an eye on you, to look after whatever you needed, the kids too.
So you tried to kill me too. Hm. Makes sense.
We got carried away. May I finish?
What else?
I could make you happier.
We're not having a contest.
Sure we are.
Then let me put it to you another way. Want to make sure I have what I need? Then don't make this complicated. I need Ben. I need him straight and I need him here and I need to know no one is fucking with that. That's what I need to get through this.
He just stood there, peering at the clouds through a half-squint, trying to find words for his frustration, to smooth it like wrinkles in a blanket. He failed.
Bridget, I can't do that. No one can, except for Ben. And do you really want to pin all your hopes and dreams and happiness on someone with such a deplorable track record for keeping his promises? Someone who isn't strong?
Why not? Everyone else does that when it comes to me.
I'm not sure if he finally realized he's never going to be someone I trust past appearances or if he realized that the boys and I have come up with a brand new faith that is so imperfect it's more fantasy than spirituality but all of the light drained out of his eyes and he was left wordless and frozen to the ground.
I stopped walking and turned around to look back for him.
I see now why they feel the way they do.
Oh, why is that?
Because you're the strong one, and they're leaning on you, princess.
And they say I'm slow.
I turned around and continued walking up the gravel path and around the loop that would take me back to the car, jamming my hands in my pockets and hunching my shoulders forward, as if I was cold. It wasn't the cold though, it's the weight.
Caleb caught up to me just as the driver opened the door for me.
I don't get it. You're not strong enough for this. How is this even possible?
Haven't you ever been to church? You don't get to pick your path, it's chosen for you. You just have to walk it as steadily as you can, following God. Like me in these ridiculous boots on gravel, Cale. It gets easier.
It's not fair to you. We're supposed to hold you up.
I could barely hear him now. I wasn't even sure if he said it out loud but I snapped back anyway.
No one said life was fair. And the other way didn't fucking work so-
You're the angel-
DON'T YOU SAY THAT!
I balled my fists up and yelled in his face. His composure slipped and fell to the ground in a whisper.
I'm so sorry, Bridget. For everything.
Underneath I saw the tears. And he managed them quite formally, as he does with everything, letting his eyes fill while he got in the car beside me but looking the other way, out the window as we were driven back across the river to take me home, and I sat and stared at him without a single notion to allow him the dignity of some privacy, because he has allowed no dignity for me ever.
But for the first time, in twenty-three years of knowing Caleb, it's probably the first thing he has ever said to me that I trust is true.
