Listen to the silence, let it ring onThat hug went on so long people started to wander off, maybe planning to catch up with Ben later, and then my stomach started to growl and he laughed and said at least my guts are talking to him and don't hate him.
Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun
We would have a fine time living in the night
Left to blind destruction
Waiting for our sight
Lochlan wiped his eyes and said something about allergies and reached one hand out to shake Ben's hand. Instead Ben leaned across the top of my head and kissed him square on the mouth. Then he got down on his knees in front of me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed his head down against my shirt and apologized. Quite formally. Mostly for being away so long but also for trying to balance on the wagon so recklessly that he fell off, for giving me away, for not calling more often, and for leaving us high and dry with the household bills. And for the future grilled cheese he's about to request, because he's starving and no one makes grilled cheese like Bridget makes grilled cheese.
Then he stopped and waited for me to respond to his outpouring.
So I did. I can't believe you kissed Loch first, I told him and crossed my arms.
He was closer.
I was in the middle!
He was still closer. Sorry, you're short. Jesus, sometimes I totally forget how short.
Enough! Let me see you.
He stood up and just waited, hands hanging loosely at his sides, shoulders squared. All six feet four inches of him. He looks pretty good. I smile and he returns it easily and that pushes me right over the edge and I begin to drop pieces of my composure all over the patio. He tries to pick up a few and then gives up quickly and opts for something different.
There's my kiss.
Finally.
I waited all summer and it was worth it.
***
Ben's routine is freakishly busy but incredibly peaceful at the same time. Up early. Meditate. Walk miles and miles. Eat a proper breakfast. Go to a meeting. Go to therapy. Eat a proper lunch, followed by tea and reflection. Then another walk. Another meeting. Writing, probably introspective journaling if you ask me (but no one has) and finally when I asked him if he wanted to come with me to the store, he hesitated. It's not part of his routine. Also, I interrupted his prayers.
His. Prayers.
Prayers.
Ben.
There's no room for me. Jesus takes up all of my space.
***
Caleb is neither charitable nor gentle this afternoon when I get so disillusioned I send myself to the Devil's lair for a dose of hardbacked reality.
He's never been much for my romantic notions of the way things should be, nor does he ever have patience for my hand-wringing over the others. I figured if anyone could set me straight and tell me to smarten up it should be Satan.
Maybe the whole world has gone insane. He's not much help at all. He is standing at the counter organizing his new tea chest.
Because...I don't know. Teas need their own drawers, I guess.
What did Lochlan say afterwards?
Nothing. He says over and over that he's glad Ben is home now with us.
That doesn't make any sense.
I know this. What's happening to everyone?
We're getting old, Bridget. Maybe it's as simple as that. Maybe we all need each other. Maybe some of the drama is unnecessary and we need to stop fighting it and settle in.
To what, exactly? Nothing is worked out.
Sure it is. We carry on, life goes on from this day forward.
What do you do?
I dabble in a few projects and help you raise my son.
Is it enough?
Where you are concerned, Bridget, never.
Okay, so at least you're still normal.