Friday, 12 March 2021

Sensory overland.

I woke up with the sun, sleeping late, surprised when one side of the bed was cold. The other side is a horizontal wall named Ben and I leave him sleeping with a kiss, hurrying through my shower, drying my hair, struggling into warm jeans and Lochlan's flannel shirt from yesterday, unbuttoned scandalously low, sleeves folded up a million times, tails out. I slide every ring I own on my finger and grab my boots. 

The house is too quiet. He won't be inside. I feel like panicking and I look outside on my way downstairs. His truck is home. His wallet was on the dresser upstairs. His phone was also upstairs on his bedside table. His jacket is in the closet. 

The kitchen is dark. I look outside but I don't see him. I check downstairs. I come back up and check the library. Then the grotto. I put the dog out and feed him. I scan the yard once more. About ready to scream. My mouth is dry. My hands are shaking. My blood runs so cold in my veins my limbs are stiff and slow. I bite back a sob and pull my boots on, grabbing PJ's raincoat off the hook by the back door. I check the garage, the camper and the orchard. And even though I know I'm not allowed, I open the big wooden gate at the end of the cliff that leads to the stairs to go down to the beach. My eyes are scanning the rocks below while my brain tries so hard to turn them off. Tears are flowing freely now. My heart is racing. And then I see a thin plume of smoke rising up and there he is. Sitting by the fire setting up the little cooking rack that we stand the pans on for early breakfast. 

He stands up and waves his arms and then leaves them in an X for a beat and he's off across the beach to meet me. 

I'm just trying to catch my breath and compose myself before he gets to the top. 

And I fail. 

He's yelling halfway up and I have to focus but I can barely hear him with the wind. 

-And Ben reminded me almost as a joke that I didn't even have to wake you up, just to go set it all up and then think about you and you would sense that I wanted you and come find me. Geez, holy, he wasn't wrong but that's a whole step over weird how fast you were and- Jesus Christ, Bridgie, what's wrong? He's trying to wipe the tears from my chin, hold the rail and block me from the top of the steps all at once. He finally just grips the rail with one hand, scooping me right into his jacket with the other arm, head against my forehead, kisses raining on my temples. Tell me. 

I thought you were gone. I couldn't find you. 

He shakes his head. I'm sorry. I was trying to check our connection. It was just an experiment. I didn't realize what it looks like. I'm sorry, Peanut. He takes a step down and then turns back, so we are eye to eye. If I go anywhere, I'll take you with me. Remember when I first said that? What were you, all of nine years old? That's a promise I'll never break, Bridgie. I swear. 

The nine-year-old is so much stronger. She wipes her eyes with the sleeves of PJ's jacket and smiles through bleary eyes. You better, she challenges. No one would dare try and test that little girl. Not now, that is. 

You know the best part of all this? 

What? Oh she's annoyed now. Is there a good part? 

You felt me and you came running.