I would have liked a little slack for being down four (five if you count PJ) boys this week. My nerves are sprung and grated and my heart is soft and ruined but you know, PJ isn't going to give me any. Instead he gave me a whole lot of grief and said that maybe she (the new girlfriend that he has known for six weeks) was right, but then he refused to tell me what she was right about, save for the fact that maybe it's time for him to move on.
It is? This is news to me.
It was enough for me to put down my gloves and stop the fight so I could hear him out but he didn't want to talk to me and he didn't want to talk to Sam so he left, slamming the door as he went out. Telling me to tell the children he will see them later. He doesn't need to be here when they get home since I am home today. Another headache has the Devil sleeping today to try and shake it before it becomes critical and so I called Sam and asked him if he would come and help me sort out my feelings, organizing them for me because I would rather just splatter them around the room today, with not a lot scheduled since I planned to be working.
Sam is pouring coffee and he turns to me after the door slams with raised eyebrows. His defensiveness is very telling. He knows something isn't right with this and his loyalties are going to snap back and scar him for life.
I look at Sam for a long time. That's amazing.
You said it once about Ben.
Jesus. What I wouldn't give for a mind like a steel trap. All I have is a rusty bucket.
But it's a fun bucket.
Not this week, Sam. This week it's a pailful of tears.
He held my hand as we sat and I told him everything that is wrong. Everything I'm worried about and every fear in the world that I have right down to biting into celery that's too stringy to chew and Sam sat there and listened to all of it. Sometimes I wish Ben could do that, or Loch, but then I drive them crazy with my bottomless anxiety and I know you're supposed to be able to tell people everything but when I do I just want to put it back. You're not supposed to tell anyone anything. They have their own worries and fears and expecting them to balance yours too just ruins everything.
Sam is a special case though. He can let God be the sponge and Sam will wring himself out when he is too full with my negative emotions that spill over all the time. God fills up like a bucket too, just like Bridget's brain.
He thinks everyone will be okay. He's got this faith that I won't acknowledge in myself. Jake tried so hard to help me find brighter days, silver linings and hope for a better next time but I was too busy standing at the bottom of the well, covered with mud and still digging for solid handholds to pull myself up on and still coming up short long after everyone else had left. I couldn't breathe, couldn't come up for air and couldn't hear a thing from down there. Sometimes it feels like I never left rock bottom.
But Sam assures me I am wrong as he leans down as far as he can, holding a lantern so that I can see how far I've come. It isn't far but it's something.
Distract me! I call up. Tell me something about you.
I see a strained smile cross his face. Matt proposed.
Oh, God. Here he is listening to my misery and meanwhile he was bursting with his own news. Sam! I can't believe it! You must be so happy!
I said no, Bridget. I turned him down.
