Today's bad joke involved walking past microwave egg poachers in a store and discussing the merits of hunting eggs out of season, or perhaps on crown land but only for their yolks. But not just any eggs, radioactive ones. It was a halfhearted and vaguely overtired joke sacrificed in place of simply discussing anything else at all, because sometimes that is what we do.
***
Last night I was cornered between Ben and Duncan halfway down the hall. I put my head down and Duncan gently took the forbidden bottle out of my hands and took it away, leaving a kiss slammed against the top of my head, bruising my brain. I didn't fight him. I let him take the alcohol and the kiss. Ben took the laptop and tucked it under his arm and into his other arm he tucked me and we went downstairs where he sat me down on the big couch while he hooked my computer up to the big screen and then Jake in all his former blonde Viking glory filled the fifteen foot wall while his voice filled my ears.
I don't cry when I watch him anymore.
Well...much, anyway.
Ben turned off the lights and locked the double doors and turned my head away from the screen with a kiss. A kiss that became something else and he worked his way through my clothes until I was free of everything and I put my arms around his neck and turned my head back toward the screen as Ben moved against me and there was Jake, watching us, smiling innocently, benignly, not knowing how to read the future yet except for the predictable parts.
When Ben stopped hours later, he rested his mouth against my ear and he asked me if I wanted to leave the movies on or if I was finished watching and I didn't say anything but one tear ran out of my eye and down into my hair and he brushed it away and sat me up and pulled my clothes back together and rearranged his own clothes and then he sat back down and pulled me in again, close to his chest, wrapping his arms around me, kissing the top of my head over and over again, squeezing me every time Jacob said my name on the screen.
It was like a party game except instead of drinking shots when I hear a specific word I get stabbed in the heart every time. And I've died a million times over here tonight but we keep watching. It's a montage of Jacob, six hours of smaller videos strung together chronologically of everyday moments, not big ones, just ones from the times when I would turn a camera on him when he was doing normal things. Sometimes he responded and sometimes he ignored the camera. Sometimes he made faces and sometimes his annoyance was written right up front for me to read first in his expression.
Sometimes he didn't even know he was being filmed, like when I was watching him warm up for a hockey game, doing laps around the rink. I see him turn back briefly to say something to Ben and then he turns away and Ben calls something to him. Jake turns back in a flash, launching himself into Ben's net. They go down swinging, brawling and in the background you can hear me say He's not worth it. Jake, come on, Ben's nothing to you. and I feel Ben's jaw tighten against my head but we just keep watching because we're masochists now and it's in the handbook, the actions we take to grind it in good and keep on going.
***
I arrive in Caleb's kitchen promptly at nine, in my battle-stilettos and a pencil dress (armor) so tight I'm seeing black spots at the edges of my vision but he won't take me seriously if I show up in jeans and a t-shirt so Pepper Potts is the only way to go.
What in the hell was that?
Did you talk to Ben?
Yes, I talk to Ben all the time. Now tell me why you tried to keep me from going on a one-night suburban camping trip?
Did you TALK to Ben?
Why don't you just tell me what I need to know and we'll go from there.
Caleb frowns and crosses the kitchen to the cupboards, pulling out two glasses. He pours three fingers of whiskey into one and drinks half of it before asking me if I want some. I tell him it's nine in the morning so he thinks for a moment and pours one finger in and hands me the glass. I return it to the counter and ignore it while he drinks the rest of his in one gulp. He looks pale.
I didn't want you out in the fucking woods with a pyromaniac who can't handle conflict and an indecisive drug addict with all the wrong bright ideas even though his heart is in the right place. What happened, anyway? Caleb looks up, dazed, distracted, and not at all like he usually does.
We camped. Then we came home. I smile. And then Ben and I spent last night watching ghost footage and fucking on the theatre floor. He's very good-
Bridget. Jesus Christ.
Why don't you just cut to the chase here? I have things to do, Caleb.
Your husband was going to tell you that Lochlan could have you.
What?
Exclusivity for Lochlan. An offering. You were to be a gift. Ben doesn't want to stand in the way of your happiness, if that's what he's doing by holding on to you.
I find the glass and drink the whiskey without returning his gaze. It burns and I feel alive and dead and somewhat blindsided and more than a little disappointed. So you didn't want me to go because...?
I didn't want that sort of disclosure to take place in an unsafe location.
You didn't want Lochlan to win.
I wasn't even thinking that far ahead. I know that Ben just wanted privacy for the three of you but it was a bad idea from the start and I'm glad he decided not to go through with it.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and hold out the glass for more. Yeah, me too. He fills the glass this time and I drink half. How did you know what he was planning?
He came to me and asked for help.
And you told him to give me away?
The look on his face smolders, burning a hole into my soul. No, Bridget. I told him to do whatever he could to make you happy. And not be selfish about it. That's what he came up with.
You told him not to be selfish? That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?
You would be surprised. He looks back into his empty glass. He didn't tell you any of this, did he?
No. I say it softly. I don't think I can take any more, Caleb. It's a plea. Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.
He really loves you, Bridget. The fact that he doesn't want to let you go is comforting.
We haven't been getting along so well lately. Things have been rough and I always put Loch in the middle and I-
The bad times will pass. They always do.
When?
When things are better. You both need hours of therapy and a good swift kick in the-
Nice.
It's true.
What's in this for you?
Hmmm?
Why would you tell me this, since apparently he changed his mind?
I want you to know the kind of person Ben is.
I know the kind of person Ben is. That's why I married him instead of Lochlan. Or even you.
Was I in the running?
I'm leaving now. I need to go home and sober up for lunch.
Good plan. By the way, you look lovely today.
This dress is killing me.
You should wear it more often.
Only you would say that, Diabhal.
