I was happily drowning out the construction noise from the front yard with the television. PJ and I were watching Eat Pray Love. PJ leans forward pretending he's not tearing up but I can barely keep track of my eyeballs for they are rolling all over the place. Mostly I have confirmation that I'm unique and possibly a boy since I would be the target market for this movie and I hate it. Julia's got nothing to work with here. Julia's lipstick is smeared. Her character just needed to loosen the fuck up at home and stop being such a stuck-up bitch and then she would have known exactly who she was.
I was saved with a text message from Caleb. As usual between the hours of eight a.m. and eight p.m. he just says Need you and I can go without question. In the reverse hours I either have to sneak out (not so hard) or jump through flaming hoops.
(That's a literal thing I've done, jump through flaming hoops. It's not nearly as scary as you would think but if I were to ask to go across the driveway properly Lochlan would be sure to set up too many, or put them up too high or something to prevent me from getting through.)
So I walk over in the rain, taking my time, wondering if I'm supposed to be as wishy-washy, unfulfilled and easy to manipulate as the people in that movie.
And then I realized I just up and go right to the feet of the man who sends a two-word text three or four times a day so yes.
The boathouse is quiet. I walk around the island and into the living room and see Caleb sitting on the couch in front of the window. When the projection screen is up he has a wall to wall view of the Pacific. He's staring at the ocean and I stare at him, noting his quite serious stubble and the fact that he hasn't moved since I was here yesterday to initial a whole bunch of changes to a contract after another meeting, which he's had more of since he retired than he did when he worked. Same suit even, except his tie is off and balled up beside him on the couch and the top three buttons of his shirt are unfastened. The papers I signed are still sitting on the table in front of him.
Are you okay?
Some days are like this now. Some days I'm just...so tired. He rubs his face and doesn't look at me. He's looking at nothing. I go and sit beside him. I sat down to take a few minutes to regroup and it just hit me, you know? Aside from a few days where I have unlimited access to Henry I could literally sit here for days and no one would even notice.
When did you eat last?
He finally turns to look at me. I had a tomato and cucumber sandwich from a place outside the lawyer's before I came home. I ate in the car.
That won't do, Diabhal. Oh, I could have fixed him with the amount of food in that movie but we don't live in the movies so I got up and made him some cheese toast and a glass of milk. I made a piece of toast for myself too.
He joins me at the island. He is almost in tears. Great. It's the theme of today. Tears Tuesday.
Thank you, Neamhchiontach.
You would think you've been watching the movie that PJ and I had on this morning. I tell him all about Julia. He's like a male Julia suddenly. Doubtful, unfulfilled. Questioning. Fed the fuck up. Just sad.
That sounds awful.
It was!
He laughs and tells me he feels a little better.
It's the cheese toast, Diabhal.
No, it's the company. You. You make the world turn, Bridget. I feel better, actually. Less desperate, at least.
I should write a book about my world-turning powers. They can make it into a movie and women everywhere will watch it on Netflix and roll their eyes too.
Some women will watch it and want to be you.
Those are the cracked ones. Like bad eggs only the cracks are at the bottom so you don't realize they're broken until you pick them up out of the carton. Show a woman my movie and if she begins to immediately fit herself for a tiara, eats too much cake and moves all her friends into her house you'll know she's a total fucking wingnut.
What about the ones who roll their eyes?
You'll know they're okay.
So you rolled your eyes at this movie. Does that mean you're okay?
I hope so. Can you imagine if I was running around trying to find 'myself', identify my power words and act like happiness was some tangible meal I could eat in order to be fulfilled? Because yeah fulfillment! It's right here in this cheese whiz. Caleb, I don't even think this is real cheese.
It's not.
But you still buy it.
Comfort food. He shrugs.
Exactly. Because we know who the fuck we are!
Damn straight!
