Maybe sunlight burns off the last of the spent rocket fuel, the rainbow puddles drying to purple and green streaks on the concrete, a circle charred into the centre where I took off and landed again, easily. I'm good at this.
(Of course I Still Love You is the name of the floating remote barge that Space X rockets always land on. No, Caleb is not Elon Musk, but people ask me that Every. Single. Day. Caleb is his real name and he can afford a lot of privacy so I don't worry about being discreet save for talking about his Jekyll side.)
But like I said, it's daylight and instead of Jesus bench this morning in the lingering heat from yesterday I bailed on Sam and went kayaking very early with John and Lochlan. I could not keep up, they could not paddle slow enough stay back and eventually I turned and returned, back to shore to haul my kayak up the beach where someone can fetch it before lunch and lock it away for tomorrow.
I gave an okay-wave as I made it to the top of the stairs, if it helps. Sometimes the boys get carried away with their competitiveness and forget that I am small and not as strong or as fast. This hasn't changed since I was eight years old, the only difference being now that I can recognize when they're not going to wait or come back or slow down and I will sit on the sidelines instead.
The dynamic of that sucks but at the same time it's not a big deal to come back up and steal all of PJ's bacon while John and Loch finish their cross-ocean triathlon or whatever it is they decided to embark on this morning.
PJ is horrified that I eat all of his bacon and calls me out. A piece. You could have left me a piece.
Maybe you should go to church and pray for more, I tell him and he laughs.
Totally going to tell Sam you said that.
You go right ahead. He gives me a tight hug with one arm and then takes his dishes to the kitchen while I head upstairs to have a shower. Ben is awake. This is a rare thing.
Morning Bumblebee. He mumbles it but he's smiling.
Morning Sleepyhead.
Come here.
If I do that I'll never leave.
How is that a bad thing? The sweetness of his voice draws me in and I crawl into bed for a hug. He waits for seven or eight heartbeats and then lets go. You smell like a dead jellyfish. Go have your shower.
Nice.
I mean, not really. Were you swimming already?
Paddling.
Ohhhh. That's what it is. Sweaty lifejacket.
Huh.
Sorry.
It's fine.
Is it though? You look pissed. He laughs.
Hey. I got a paddle and a plate of bacon and it's not even eight in the morning yet.
Jesus. I thought it was ten. Why am I up?
That was my question.
I sensed you coming in. That's what it was, Bridge.
It was the bacon smell.
I wish.
Maybe cuddle PJ instead. He was the one who made it.
I'll get on that as soon as I'm done sleeping.