I chose a midnight walk with all of my boys on our beach, merlot in hand for those who wanted it, coffee or tea for those who didn't. It was dark and freezing and full of stars and I wouldn't have changed a thing, except for my tiredness, which took over and threatened to upend the whole evening, or maybe it was the merlot, since I'm not good at wine, am hideously allergic to the tannins in red wines and also prone to becoming quickly drunk off a typical glass, as I am maybe ninety or ninety-five pounds soaking wet, and only if I've filled up on bread first (but not dangerously enough to explode, like a bird, into a beautiful silent fluff of feathers and glitter).
So I needed a little help coming back up. The steps are treacherous and steep in bright sober sunshine, and here it was dark and drunk instead. Lochlan tucked his arm around my waist and brought me up, laughing quietly against my head as he was vaguely drunk as well. Ben and Duncan came up behind us, I'm sure ready to catch us if we stumbled or stopped. We managed fine and went straight to the camper for a mildly drunken bonfire and a little more wine before rediscovering exactly what we like about each other when he's not parenting me, and I'm not rebelling against that. Level ground, inhibitions and emotions gone in the bliss of a lit fire and a lack of tension, an intoxication brought on by the perfect combination of stars, saltwater and moonlight, brought on by the complexity of long-time love and by the proximity of everyone I care about it.
He put out the fire when my eyes got heavy and the ghosts of Bridget Past tried to crowd back in to the smoke-tinged darkness.
No, I protested. I love it. Leave it.
Time for sleep, Lochlan says, taking my hands, pulling me to my feet. He brings me inside the camper, closing and locking the door, pulling his shirt off and mine too, pushing my jeans down over my hips, dropping his own pants, arms around me, my hands on his face, kisses raining everywhere, tasting smoky skin and merlot and exhaustion. We're cooling off, goosebumps rising, limbs tucking into warmth made from within and without and we remembered who we are in that beautiful night, and who we want to be, separate and together and everything else was erased by the sunless sky.
This morning we woke up in 1986, thick as thieves, fresh as new lovers, eager to start over together as one. He made coffee for us in the campfire and then we returned to civilization to try and reintegrate into normie life.
It's tough but so are we.
So I needed a little help coming back up. The steps are treacherous and steep in bright sober sunshine, and here it was dark and drunk instead. Lochlan tucked his arm around my waist and brought me up, laughing quietly against my head as he was vaguely drunk as well. Ben and Duncan came up behind us, I'm sure ready to catch us if we stumbled or stopped. We managed fine and went straight to the camper for a mildly drunken bonfire and a little more wine before rediscovering exactly what we like about each other when he's not parenting me, and I'm not rebelling against that. Level ground, inhibitions and emotions gone in the bliss of a lit fire and a lack of tension, an intoxication brought on by the perfect combination of stars, saltwater and moonlight, brought on by the complexity of long-time love and by the proximity of everyone I care about it.
He put out the fire when my eyes got heavy and the ghosts of Bridget Past tried to crowd back in to the smoke-tinged darkness.
No, I protested. I love it. Leave it.
Time for sleep, Lochlan says, taking my hands, pulling me to my feet. He brings me inside the camper, closing and locking the door, pulling his shirt off and mine too, pushing my jeans down over my hips, dropping his own pants, arms around me, my hands on his face, kisses raining everywhere, tasting smoky skin and merlot and exhaustion. We're cooling off, goosebumps rising, limbs tucking into warmth made from within and without and we remembered who we are in that beautiful night, and who we want to be, separate and together and everything else was erased by the sunless sky.
This morning we woke up in 1986, thick as thieves, fresh as new lovers, eager to start over together as one. He made coffee for us in the campfire and then we returned to civilization to try and reintegrate into normie life.
It's tough but so are we.