(I promise this post is not all porn. Or rather, I apologize that it isn't.)
It was long after midnight on Saturday night that we finally settled down into bed together. Ben smiled at me. Alone, after so much time spent watched by others, divided by space and time and partitioned off by emotions.
He held my hands up over my head and pushed against my chin with his head until I looked up at the wall behind the bed and he kissed my throat. Barely touching it. So slowly and softly my breath caught.
Beautiful, he whispered, and I laughed.
He shushed me. Thumb on my lips which still breaks my heart. He took my hands and guided them up around his neck and he wrapped his arms around my back as he remembered every last inch of my flesh as his.
It was all downhill after that.
Sunday we took the kids around to see as much of Paris as you could possibly see in a day and then we boarded the plane just as they would have been going to bed. I saw a Corot that blew my mind, and I saw it hungry. I saw all kinds of things. Hemingway would have been proud of his girl, I did everything right and still we just couldn't pull it off. Everyone who says we simply didn't have any time to do it proper and what the hell were we thinking, flying to Paris with less than forty hours to see it?
Well, they don't know Ben and they certainly don't know Bridget.
Touring galleries far from home while hungry is a delicate balance and I wavered once and was yelled at for not allowing Ben to take care of me. I had ammunition to fire back in his face with a trip that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with Ben's ego and his weird control issues with Caleb and with Lochlan, who put up such a fuss before we left he had almost convinced me we should forget the whole thing.
In retrospect, Lochlan was right. He's ALWAYS RIGHT and it pisses me off.
We were asked to leave the gallery, if you must know, because they have no use for loud Americans. I'm not even American but it didn't matter, Ben was belligerent enough for both of us and twice as loud. He only has two volume levels. Unintelligible and Obnoxious.
I don't want to be in the middle of their weird boundary issues. I don't want to be the object of everyone's emotion all the time, and I definitely didn't want to be stranded on the other side of the ocean with the children staring down a long flight home on a plane that is too small for both of us when we're not arguing, let alone when we need to just get away from each other.
Anything but that. Just anything.
Ben solved that problem by pretending to drink on the plane. I watched as he opened it and poured it out. And when he was handed back to Seth in New York, Seth pointed out they were having trouble with him when we left, which Lochlan knew of and was trying to spare me from, without admitting that he knew what was going on. He thought I would figure it out in time, and I did. But I chose to fall for the charisma and the intense sweetness of our reunions, the sheer brutality of Ben's love for me that outweighs the stupid things his brain does when his broken heart is otherwise occupied.
Seth is going to stick with him and send him home again eventually. I have been told not to worry. Ben told me just to stick close to Lochlan, stay away from Caleb and work towards mending my own heart as I have been doing. I wasn't supposed to get in the middle of this but I did and the kids did and he was sorry. He's seeing the light at the end of the pressurized tunnel and didn't want me to bear witness to the stress. Though, he did better with his anger this time, possibly it was muted because he was so tired. A few minutes later he told me to stay away from Lochlan, and stick close to Daniel. He's back to the point where he is so focused on what he's doing work-wise, reality has fallen away and I'm never sure if I'm supposed to pretend he is simply a mirage or if I should demand equal footing with his career.
My anger wasn't muted, is what I mean.
I don't want Lochlan. Or Caleb, for that matter. I want you and I want you to come home. I don't need trips. I don't need songs. I just want you. Not to leave all the time. Not to be always away. Not to count days on the calendar. Not to stop everything when I hear you on the radio because it's as close as I'll get to you on any given day. Not to be given the constant outs at the expense of your character because you think it would be best if you pretend to be a total alcoholic asshole to make it easier for me to leave you. I'm not leaving you, you big fucking dork.
I stopped there because he came back into focus and had taken on the weary look of anguish that he wears throughout our miserable airport goodbyes, with glassy eyes and clenched fists. That looks scares me far more than being yelled at in the Louvre. Far more because he becomes vulnerable and I don't like that. Be capable. I plead with him in my head and he just checks out again attention-wise.
He shook his head as if he heard me, looking far out over my head at nothing. A bitter smile played on his lips.
I can't..I can't even think about having to be away from you all over again.
So come home with us.
Soon.
Now, Benjamin. Please.
Bridget-
I know. I know what comes first. I'll always be less important than art, God and music. Like the holy triad of things Bridget will be thrown over for. I should be used to it by now.
Who said you were less important than God?
He misunderstood me and suddenly noticed I was comparing him to the angels again.
Is it easier with me or is it worse, Bridget?
You have to go, we don't have time for this.
Tell me.
It's worse because you die every time you leave.
Is that what it feels like?
Yes.
Then you need to leave me.
On the 'you' part his voice broke in half and I picked up the pieces, launching right into his arms. I'm not sure who pried me off him, probably Seth. I had a plane to catch. Neither one of us wanted to let go. Like if we did that would be it. I was sure I could hold on but he extricated like a man heading to his death chamber. I shook my head. Violently. I figured it out. They didn't think he would be man enough to put me first. The trip was indeed a dare, a challenge. And it failed so he resorted to pleading with me to wait, then he second-guessed himself and tried to trick me into leaving and then he resorted to reasoning with me again. He got confused. They always do that, they get into his head and convince him that he's not good enough for me, that he's hurting me, that I'm not making any progress because I'm perpetually miserable and always waiting for him.
There's been a global knee-jerk when it comes to Bridget's happiness and he's a huge obstacle. But he's MY huge obstacle and I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out.
You can make my trips to Europe suck all you like, Tucker. I don't love you any less and you're stuck with me. So the next trip will be a good one or I'm going to start wondering about you. Now go finish your work because I want to hear the rest.
You've got eight songs now.
I know there's more.
How?
There's always at least twelve. And you're not...present. You're here but your head isn't. Like you dropped everything and took the damned challenge and you should be telling them to go fuck themselves.
But then they turn to you and tell you they must be right, that you don't come first.
Those are just words, Tucker.
Words are all we have, princess. I don't want them telling you the ones that are lies.
Just go finish and come home to me, okay?
There was no more time. But I was smiling through tears when I got on the plane. He's right. He's totally right and I've been saying that my whole life and finally I found someone who agrees with me. Words are everything. We carry them in our heads and our hands and we use them as weapons and as comfort. Today we arranged them into a picture because we had space. At the airport you can spread them out all over the floor. We saw what they formed and we liked it and the last few words we had were blended into promises and reassurance.
A text message waiting when we got off the plane used words as hopeful instructions, a reminder that I should exist in the space between Daniel and Schuyler for the remainder of Ben's time away. I looked at Lochlan and he was asking the kids what they saw on the trip and suddenly it seemed so foolish that I could take my brokenness and pit it against these guys who could be so selfish as to try and force Ben and I apart. Lochlan bathed in an unattractive, unflattering light. Caleb firmly rooted back in place as enemy number one. All else suspect until further notice. Living among enemies only by virtue of their sins, holding them captive. They aren't monsters. But sometimes they're not very good for me either. How in the world am I supposed to keep my wits about me when I don't believe I have any left at all? My support network is made up of people who want to claim ownership of my heart and the tug of war is painful at best.
Lochlan wanted to continue the war once we came home so I engineered a pharmaceutical vacation from his voice under the guise that I was cracking. It wasn't working because I couldn't hold a hairbrush so I let it go. I forget that feeling until I have it. Always. Yesterday I asked for space and got it. Don't crowd me now, Lochlan. Not now. I'm tired and I don't want you here anymore.
This morning I called Daniel. Schuyler's headed out on a trip of his own and Daniel was happy to bring a bag and come crash for the week ahead here at the house. He loves the puppy, the children, the space and even the Bridget, mess that she is.
I'm watching him now. He's playing air guitar with the spatula while he waits for the omelets to cook. No running today because it's pouring but if it keeps up we'll go to the track. He's got pent-up energy. He looks just like his brother right now. A better substitute than most.
I'm trying to be gracious. I'm trying to give weight to their concerns. I'm also trying desperately to be happy.
Which is harder than it looks, sometimes.
The obstacle is not Ben. Not by a long shot.
