(Title is a reference to the new Alice in Chains album. It's an epic full length pole dance earfuck from start to finish. Low Ceiling and Phantom Limb are early favorites.)
(Also New Jake, Jacob, since we are calling him that now (HURTHURTHURT shhhhh) went home today. Sam and Not-Matthew took him and I've talked to him four times since six and boy is he pissed that I managed to wake him up each time in the process so he's definitely feeling better.)
I have touched some nerves all around here lately, I think. Mr. Aloof Scotsman never actually came around and yet I still am drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
How truly fitting, pun intended if yesterday's hesitant, awkward post is any indication.
Except that we are the only ones who think we're special. Everyone else was almost visibly ragey and demonstrated such, beginning with Ben who acted like he didn't care which clearly meant he does, right through Batman who refused to let Jacob off the hook employmentwise (how can you refuse to accept someone's resignation again exactly?) to Caleb who said no more guests, permanent or otherwise. This is the roster. There will be no attrition or additions or reuptake here, unless I buy him out. He's not selling. Even if I could afford it which I can't.
He said he is sparing me from spreading myself so thin and that Jacob is just about old enough to be able to manage his disease just fine without me and that maybe I should think of him instead of being selfish, how once I crawl under their skin they cease to take interest in anything or anyone else ever again.
Don't project, Diabhal.
Oh, I'm not. Not in the slightest. Also please ask the rat to remove his crap from directly behind my car.
Oh, your son's unicycle, you mean?
He looked at the floor and then when he looked up again we had a new subject to discuss. I'm taking the summer off. I'd like to know if there's anything special you'd like to do.
I am confused and taken by surprise so I say nothing. He smiles and we picked up right where we left off. Oh, and I'd like an explanation of why you felt it prudent to write about things long buried in the past, figuratively and literally speaking, for once.
Oh, there it is. I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop and now I feel like a ragdoll that someone has by the arm and they're clapping it repeatedly against the side of the barn to try and get some of the dust off it. Ow.
I'm guessing Lochlan wasn't all that happy either.
Lochlan loves me unconditionally.
Christ, I'm going to wind up back in the ICU.
No, you're not! Don't you pin that on me.
Why not? It happened because of that, because of what you wrote.
BULLSHIT.
Not bullshit at all. It just happened. Don't think for a second I wouldn't try to prevent that. I've never felt so awful in my life. But the last thing I want to see on a fine Tuesday afternoon is a line condemning me and everything I've worked to become in favor of a twelve-year-old child looking for validation from her past.
If you're going to dismiss her so readily as superficial or unimportant than how did she manage to derail your entire week and put you in the hospital?
Touche.
Exactly.
I don't give you enough credit, you know that?
You never have! I was nothing more than a trophy to be fought over.
You were more. You are more.
Can't have it both ways.
Don't write any more about the past, Bridget.
Sometimes I have to.
At what cost?
It helps me. I don't do it to stick it to you or to Lochlan. Writing helps sort me out. You KNOW this.
BUT I DON'T LIKE IT. You're too close and you need to stop.
Well, tough, I guess because I have to put me first. Which you always say I should but you only mean when it's safe for you.
He nods and looks out the window, saying nothing.
Caleb. Caleb, LOOK AT ME.
Bridget. I'm tired, demoralized. and the bad guy yet again because I'm not willing to add any more acts to the circus you run over there. I'm not willing to.. he stops.
To what? What aren't you willing to do?
I'm not willing to tilt the odds away from myself with another soul on this point. And you think you can write something inflammatory and cancel your grand plans to see this through, but I survived at least long enough to tell you you're not going to get away from me that easily so make things easy on everyone and just stop. Enough. You ARE a child. You're a child who has to be reminded repeatedly that enough is enough. No more.
You first. (I expected myself to say that, oddly. They want to keep me frozen in time as a child forever then that's exactly what I'll be.)
