Lullabies, look in your eyes,I stood sunburned and sand-fidgety for inspection. My hair is still tangled and dry, my skin raw to touch, my grin unending. Lochlan knows how to show a girl a good time. There's no Eiffel Tower or canals or priceless artwork or Malibu cliffs. Nope, there's just an endless beach (with free parking), a watch removed from my wrist, and an invitation to walk for miles, days, even until I've had enough and I want to go back to the truck.
Run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.
I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.
We shared a bed, a cheap bottle of wine, and every single shower, hot or cold. I don't think my skin is raw because of the sunburn, I think he wore the top layer of me off just holding me.
Exclusivity seems to be the most valued commodity of all. I knew this and yet I ignore it. I can't make promises with a fractured heart. I don't think it's possible and yet my mind knows. It just knows and sometimes it doesn't tell the rest of me.
..?
Oh, shit, Caleb has asked me a question and I didn't hear him, I was too busy thinking about skin.
Pardon me?
I asked if you had enough time to be selfish.
Never. A wicked, defiant grin spoils my face, and also makes it awesome. No one can resist a happy Bridget, even when she is a brat.
He stares. His face is so handsome and so scary too. His face is pure jealousy wrapped in self-control with a sprinkling of exasperation on top. Bridget came back and she's twelve again.
What was the best part of the trip?
The time-stoppage, Diabhal.
You always like that best.
Yes.
So when can I be selfish?
I shrug. I'm not the one in charge.
Where is he?
Sleeping. He did all the driving. I cuddled the dog and looked out the window and played old Canadian rock songs in my head as I counted trees. I couldn't count that high though, same as the time I tried to count the loops on the scrambler and then threw up right outside the gate as we exited the ride.
So maybe you can stay and have a drink with me on the boat?
Now?
Now. You can tell me all about your trip.
Sure? I shrug again. No one is keeping tabs today. They've forgotten I am to be watched. Well, all but one did. He was waiting for this moment, when everyone scattered back to the post holiday ennui and dropped routine and rigid emotional rule.
Gin okay? I have some olives and bread and cheese too.
I'm actually starving.
Good, I can look after you. I'm hungry too. A week is a long time to be without you.
I don't think he means food anymore and the conversation has blown out the sun in favor of the shade but I pick up my phone and follow him down the steps.
Hey, Bridget, maybe if everyone is busy tonight you can stick around and we can have a sunset, he offers, ever the opportunist.
My mind knows more than I do and she's tight with her plans. I shake my head. I have to get back and wake up Lochlan before that.
Well, see how he does. Maybe he'll want to keep sleeping and if so you can come back.
Maybe.
Dumb that he knows. He knows Lochlan falling asleep during the day is a huge odyssey of wasted hours spent because we're all incredibly certain that Lochlan never actually slept on our trips, either on the amusement circuit or in the circus and so he has many, many years of sleeping to do to make up for it.
I used to sit and watch him sleep though, he didn't seem awake, he seemed so far away when I needed him sometimes and I would sit and feel alone in such a tiny room. I would sit beside the bed on the floor with a stolen book about whatever I was supposed to learn and he would wake up when I sneezed or exhaled too loud or got too despairing. He would hold out his arms and promise me something wonderful and I learned to believe that if I waited long enough, he would come through.
Oh shit.
What is it, Princess?
I have to wake him up.
I have to see this through.
Nothing. I just don't think I feel well enough tonight. I'm sorry. I pass Caleb the container of cheese and slip past him. I'll try and come down later.
It's a lie. Well, I think it's a lie but I tell it anyway and decide not to care how it's taken right now.
I go back to the house and walk the labyrinth of hallways until I reach my room. Our room. The room that seems so empty sometimes without Ben but that seems so small sometimes when stuffed with deployed memories, nostalgia spilling out into the hall. I open the door and Loch's eyes open. He looks sleepy and alert at the same time and I see how he's managed to survive. He's exhausted, aged and content all at once. He's burdened and on guard and resentful and repentant. Capable and prepared and hopeful, now.
Come lie down with me. Where did you go?
I just had a walk. Figured some things out.
What things? But then his words slur off and he's asleep again and I lie against him with my burning skin and it feels like home, just now. Yes it does. It feels like everything I need.
And it doesn't cost a thing.