I can't find the secret to surviveI think Ben is forcing my hand here. He keeps delaying his return to prove to me that I don't need him.
To grow old safe and sound
Life is sifting through like the sands in the hourglass
There's not a moment to relive my time and space
There's not a moment to undo anything
He would be wrong but he would have to be here to see how wrong he is, and since he isn't here that means he's in the dark. Though here is the dark sometimes and I need him more than he realizes. He's my anchor. He's my living human.
He's not a ghost, he's not a memory, he's not an obstacle either.
My secrets are being opened all around me while I stomp my feet and yell that they're private, that it's not fair, that I didn't ask for this. That I have a right to keep things to myself. And even as I fight to hold onto that right, Joel carries his belongings to the truck. He's been moving the past few days and will finish on Saturday. Every day he asks me if I need an out, if I want to say the word and keep him here. Let him stay and sort out the tangles my mind gets itself into, if I need an objective eye kept on the Devil while he steamrolls over those secrets, flattened, embedded in the road I didn't plan to walk down but found myself on after every other way was blocked.
I snort. Joel is not objective. Joel is in love with someone he thought he could save.
I've seen it before. In Jacob. In Caleb.
Loch doesn't look at me like that. Neither does Ben. Do you get it now? I mean, do you? Does it make any sense? I don't want to be saved (because no one can do that but me) but neither do I want to drown, or sit here in the road forever, chipping away at the secrets I wanted to take with me while the other ones can stay where they are.
Ben comes back Saturday. Maybe Sunday. He didn't think one set of hands would be missed with getting Joel moved (because we're not monsters. I even packed dishes) and can get some extra things done in New York and this might eliminate a trip later in the spring.
Which would be good not to dread-forward to, as I call it. Who looks forward? Not I. Too busy keeping the present sorted, thank you.
In happier news, Duncan and Dalton went to bat for me in the big Waverunner Access vs. Padraig case. They have promised to teach me how to use them properly. I will never be out by myself or outside of the cove and if I stunt drive, I lose my privileges. And yes I will always have on a lifejacket. No string bikini either, this will be a wetsuit activity. (That has nothing to do with safety for me, but for everyone else because a wet bikini is distracting, apparently. Even though it's February and maybe a little too early for that.)
Fine by me. Not sure how the lessons will go. Neither brother admitted they've never been on one before until PJ had left, satisfied that I will be in good hands.
Snort.
(If you never hear from me again, I drowned. But not on purpose this time.)