Overdue, where did it all go wrongI wasn't allowed to order french fries just now. My nose is really stuffed up, my throat raw to the point where I cried out for a drink at three in the morning and Loch resorted to giving me a tiny sip of very warm beer.
and I'm too soon, where did it all go wrong?
He was gone and back at six with groceries as a result. Cough medicine. Juice. An ice pack and tylenol. Today I'm only leaving the camper for lunch. He'll bring dinner home with him but since I feel okay right this second, he risks putting me behind him on the motorcycle for the eight-minute trip down the highway to the diner.
Now that we're here, he has ordered for both of us. Spicy chicken soup. It comes with a roll, butter and a drink of choice. He ordered orange juice for me and for himself too. He's going to get sick within the week. I always seem to get it first. He said that's because I'm smaller and weaker, but he's not saying it to be mean, that's just the way it is.
While we pick at our rolls waiting for soup I start carving a little army out of my pat of butter. It's as hard as a rock. Soon the tiny standing army has taken shape and Loch is mesmerized for a long time before talking about nothing, like we always do when we're waiting for food. We've covered everything there is to say so the only thing we have left is the same questions with more entertaining, surprising answers. It's fun.
What do you want to be when you grow up, Bridgie?
I think I'll be an astronaut.
Oh, hey now, what gives? Last week you were going to be a ballerina!
I've decided it looks boring and I get wedgies really easily so no.
But tutus!
I will wear them with my astronaut costume.
Is it a costume?
A uniform? No-a suit! It's a spacesuit.
So a spacesuit with a tutu. I'll be able to figure out which one you are from my telescope.
I'll wave. You'll know it's me. (I am serious. Also naive..)
True. You'll probably be the smallest. I'll find you. What will your job be in space?
I will choose new colors and paint the planets. I bet they are overdue for a fresh paintjob.
All of them? You're going to be gone a while.
No, see, I'm making an army of butter astronauts. Butter-nauts. They will be tasked with doing my bidding in space.
You're going to rule space now?
Maybe.
A little mean ballerina-naut?
Ballerinaut. And I won't be mean. Everyone will get lots of space soup to eat. I will be friendly AND generous.
Nice. So you're going to bring these guys with you into space instead of spreading them on the roll?
No, silly. These ones know their fate already. Onto the roll they go. I squish them flat against the bread with a very serious expression and we both laugh. I start coughing, barking like a seal and everyone in the diner turns to look at me.
I guess we'd better go back home so you can have a sleep and feel better.
I feel fine, Locket.
But if you have a dream you can finalize your plans for space. Maybe pick some of your colors out. If you like.
Will you stay with me?
Of course. I'm going to be the first one who hears what colors the plantets are going to be next. That's an honor, you know.
It is. Hey, Loch?
Yes?
Thank you for the soup. It's really good.
You don't have to thank me. It's probably my fault you're sick in the first place. It's still not very warm at night yet in the camper.
Yes it is.
You think so?
Well, you are warm and I sleep right there, I point at his chest, and so I'm warm too.
He smiles but he doesn't say anything and I pick up my bowl to make sure I eat every last drop of soup.