Saturday 24 January 2015

Not so different than the show (Part 1).

The amazing label from last night's wine, in glorious compressed Blogger/panoramic form for your perusement. The wine was good. The label better. I found my own depiction in the middle of the crowd and my soul floating at the bottom on the inside.

The money I gave Caleb was my own from my emergency stash, my attitude I brought myself, hauling it along with me, a monkey on my back. Drunk but disorderly, belligerent and still sweet somehow. Hesitant but smart-assed. I was sent back to get Lochlan in my deplorable state and there was no way on earth he wasn't going to come with me, because I was going back to the boathouse no matter what.

I was making snacks while they talked and then I brought out a tray and had to go back for my wine. Then I lost my nerve and I stood in the hall, one eye visible. The rest of me hiding against the doorframe.

Come here, Bridget. Caleb's voice is soft and kind. I shake my head and stay right where I am. Ben has smoothed everything over. He wants to counter last week with some soothing of frazzled nerves and quieting of all the miscommunications. Things should get back to normal. Lochlan is ours, our business, we cover his expenditures here. He should try to look the other way when the bigger deals go down and I am reduced to sanctioned payment because Ben really likes to see it. Likes to see me crawl away on my hands and knees, likes the tears, likes the harshness and the binding, likes the shadow and the sound. And I'm going to do it anyway, may as well do it for the greater good. Or maybe that's for the lesser evil. 

But Loch refuses to leave me here. If she stays I stay. But if I stay by the door maybe the sun will come up soon and the light will kill off whatever depravity grows in the darkness. The filth of this. The needlessness of it. Ben pushes as hard as the Devil sometimes and I wish they would just fuck each other and leave me out of it. I want to make Ben happy but sometimes I hate how easy it is for him to lead us down this road. A road I was already on before he came along with a map and an ironclad itinerary.

And tonight my luck ran out with the rest of the Freakshow wine. I take one step onto the wire and Loch shakes his head. Doesn't feel right, not a good time to go, he tells me with his eyes but I take another step.

He closes his eyes and he's quiet. I wonder who he prays to, because he doesn't believe in God.