Old mister fun is backChristian is writing, writing, editing, working and I've done nothing but distract him for a good ninety minutes, chattering about damned near everything, showing him different boats and what I think are whales but are probably waves because I'm not good at this, I find the binoculars big and heavy and even propping them on the table isn't a great solution but Christian is impatient and frustrated and finally he says,
Wonder where he's been hiding at
Hanging round the edge
Walls unfortified, inside
No different, patchwork hack
Toil away on an unlaid track
Falls closing in, got nowhere to hide
This time
Finding ceilings low
I'm too big or this room's too small
Why's my ceiling another's floor
Bridget. Get a chair. You look ridiculous.
Oh, well, why didn't you say so?! I don't think like the rest of you!
I see that. Need a Pop-tart?
I stare at him. I can't think of a comeback.
***
Christian used to babysit me when I was eight. Mostly because Lochlan was above that and Christian was happy to make some money for what he considered an easy gig. Except the first time he did he put a movie that his family had rented into their VCR. He figured he could keep me busy that way.
Ah, the brilliant ideas of teenage boys. The movie was Halloween.
By the end of the movie I was behind him on the couch, covered with pillows, shaking like a leaf. He turned the television off, turned and stared at me with wide eyes before putting on his adolescent bravery and he said,
Need a Pop-tart? (As if Pop-tarts could solve everything.)
I chose strawberry and then asked if he had the second movie, so we could find out what happens next, because it didn't actually end, just hanging like that. Look who's brave now!
That's called a cliffhanger, Bridget. You want the other Pop-tart? He holds out the wrapper.
Yes. I take it but I can't finish it and he takes my offered remaining piece and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth.
***
I shake my head. It's too early for pop tarts and besides, they make me feel sick now. Probably because they are cardboard with sugar frosting and I'm getting too old to be fooled by those kinds of things.
But now Gage won't get his chin off the ground. He points at Christian and then at me.
He used to...babysit you?
Sometimes, yes.
Isn't that weird?
Would have been weirder if it had been Lochlan, Christian laughs and takes a bite of his Pop-tart. They don't make him sick. Lucky guy.