Ben's not having a good morning. I left him in bed with the tangled sheets and the curtains drawn tight, kissing his cheek firmly, whispering that I would be home right after church and we would go for a walk on the beach and make really fancy coffee in the good cups.
He squeezed my head very hard and nodded and drifted off again. A lot of things have forced him out of his comfort zone lately. Workwise and here at home as personalities clash and he forces back out in front. He would rather disappear most of the time and let his work speak. I think he learned that from Cole.
But people go through stages and God doesn't make anyone bland. Emotions are the roller coasters of the mind, the heart beats and waves and pumps are the life force and everything runs along barely regulated or patterned, instead forging ahead in a haphazd lope across one's life, intersecting with others, adopting their rhythms and fears. Absorbing their feelings whether they want to or not.
Life is not easy.
And so when I came home I pulled my church dress over my head, trading it for a soft vintage Annihilator t-shirt and pink underwear and I crawled back into bed beside him and when my stomach growled he opened his eyes and said,
My little noise monster came back.
I came back. For you.
He burst out laughing. My lines were from House of Flying Daggers. I answered him in Mandarin, just like in the film. Impulsive to a fault.
I love you, Bridget. You make me laugh.
Good, then please take me to breakfast?
I have to get up?
I want one of your fancy breakfasts.
This is my day off to be home all day and not have to go out.
Well....tough. Hash browns! Sourdough toast! Baaaaaaaaacon.
He rolls up on one elbow and dials a number. After a minute he gives his name and asks for someone. Then he asks if he can have two meals delivered and he repeats our address and gives the guest code for the gate.
Twenty minutes later he goes downstairs in his pajama pants and comes back up with two waxed boxes and two coffees. Breakfast picnics in bed are better than pizza in bed. I have a plastic fork in my hand, egg yolk in my belly button and bacon in my hair.
He dials once again and tells Loch to come up for leftovers. I hit him with my pillow and he pins me there until Loch walks in, already laughing.
Oh, Jesus. What a mess.
Mm-hmm. She's delicious.
Anything wrapped in bacon is delicious.
And she speaks Chinese!
That a feature or a bug?
Oh, I don't know, Brother. I guess we'll have to wait and see.
