I want love to walk right up and bite me,Last night I took a glass of wine (which I swear I don't drink any more but you see we have a tiny vineyard and there's thirty bottles of wine in the cellar, which is not actually a cellar but the space above the cabinets as you head toward the dining room proper. It was wasted space so I christened it the wine cellar) and a box of strawberries outside to hull with Jacob's old pocket knife.
Grab a hold of me and fight me, leave me dying on the ground.
I want love to split my mouth wide open,
And cover up my ears and never let me hear a sound
I want love to forget that you offended me,
Or how you have defended me when everybody talked me down
Yeah and I want love to change my friends to enemies,
Change my friends to enemies, and show me how it's all my fault.
His favorite one went to Henry and I keep a different one for stupid chores like sitting outside wishing he was making fun of me for so much wastage on each berry at the expense of keeping my flesh intact. Because he would never cut himself and I always do so it's easier just to buy more strawberries than I need and sacrifice fully a quarter of each one to the slice of a blade wielded quite awkwardly. I was never good with knives.
I was humming along with the song I could hear from the driveway. Lochlan is in the camper. The lamp is on inside. I can hear the song plainly which means he is busy. Probably sleeping-busy. He could sleep on a roller coaster if only I wasn't screaming. It's one of the few sounds he won't sleep through.
And wow, I've told you nothing so far, but with so many words.
Anyway, Caleb came across the driveway and sat down beside me. I stopped humming and started listening. He asked what the star was next to the moon and I answered automatically, without looking. He shook his head. Interesting, since the cloud cover is too thick and there are no stars tonight, Bridget.
I look up into his face and see disappointment.
You want to argue.
Of course not, you're holding a knife.
I'd be better equipped if I smashed the top off the wine glass and used that.
I don't doubt it. You fight like a long-haul trucker.
Nice. Thank you.
Put the knife down.
Tell me what's on your mind and I'll decide if I'm going to put the knife down.
When are you going to come and see me? I have a list of things we have to go over and it's been weeks, Bridget.
Months, actually.
I'm well aware.
Then keep waiting. Unless you just want to have a throwdown right now. You're unarmed and I am dual wielding. It'd be perfect.
Not as easy to manage your life as you thought it would be, is it?
I throw the knife in the bowl and look at him. Is there something else you need or can I have some time to myself?
He leaned in as if for a kiss, pressing his cheek against mine. I had to listen hard.
Just remember, Bridget, when all is said and done, I will be your saving grace. He pulled back briefly, long enough to plant a long kiss on my lips and then he got up and left.