Far across the emptiness I walk the night
And search the silence in the dark you left behind
I seek the stars above the world to be the guides
But they all pale against the light in your eyesIn your eyesAnd I won't suppose to know why you walked away
But I can feel you pushing through beyond the space
To send your energy to me and I'll push through
Send your signal home and bring me back to you
My eyes survey the room. The sun is up now but the curtains are closed. I can hear the birds through the open windows though. We have a tiny brown wren and a large colourful flicker making a nest in the eavestrough right outside the window closest to the bed. I got out on the roof yesterday afternoon, planning to move it, but I was still a foot too short so I had to play dumb and not tell them I went out and I pointed out the fact that I think there is a nest there. Lochlan won't touch it. He thinks maybe it's necessary and we'll worry about it in the spring if the birds are still there.
He stirs briefly and then is awake all at once and I forget about the birds as he pulls me in underneath him, crushing my lips against his, a breathless kiss from just at the surface. His hands fight down to my legs, and he pulls my knee up around his hip and then he pulls away, up in order to give me a proper kiss, to let me breathe just for a split second, a nod against my head to make sure everything is good and then he is moving against me, slow and gentle just until we match our movements and then he turns harsh and desperate, passionate, fire eating us both alive.
His hair is in my face, his arms clutch me up against his heart, his hand presses my head against his chest, holding me in the air, and then he pulls us both up so he is on his knees in the centre of the bed, quilts falling away from his sinewy arms and muscled legs, his back slick with a sheen of sweat from the sudden temperature spike. He readjusts his hands under my legs, going so hard I can't breathe anymore at all and then suddenly we are at a crawl again. He pushes forward and I am lying on my back again as he holds himself up with one arm and pulls me close with the other, driving against me, sounds coming from his throat as he tries not to moan out loud. Failing as I make the smallest sound when he hits the perfect mark and just stays there, holding out until I can come with him, wherever he goes as always and that sound he makes finishes me off.
He smiles and kisses the end of my nose and then the space between my eyes but he doesn't let go. He stays locked against me and I stretch involuntarily, shuddering out my limbs before folding them back in like a cat.
And he laughs and lets go at last. You haven't done that for years.
You let go sooner these days.
The laugh leaves his eyes but I'm right. We use to remain in our embrace for the night, not moving for hours before finally, reluctantly releasing each other as if it would physically wound us and it did, ever so slightly.
I won't tonight.Or ever again.
It's fine. It's not practical-
I don't care if it's practical, Circus Peanut.
Sure you do. Everything is practical. Everything always has to make sense.
You never made any sense to me. You never followed the rules of the universe. You still don't. That's why I always tried so hard to make it logical.
Does it make sense now? At last?
No.
I'm so happy to hear that.
Don't cry, Bridget. Please don't cry. I'll make it right.
You already did. You came back. You're the only who came back.
So let the others go.
I want them to see what they missed.
They don't deserve it. And they already know what they missed. But they never had this. You were mine from the first moment. The only mistake wasn't made by us, it was made by those who couldn't see the truth.
I nod again. He's right. We're in a late-fall cloying heatwave, sitting in the camper in the near-dark of the earliest morning. We just let go of each other to breathe. I have had my big stretch. He has had his coffee.
When I grow up I'm going to get your name tattooed on me so that they see.
Do you think anyone will read it and understand how big this love is?
No, of course not.
He smiles again, wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs and shakes his head. I don't even understand how this happened. All I know is that it's more valuable than anything and everyone is going to try to take it from us and we won't let them.
I nod. I'll believe anything he says. Never stopped, even when he said so many other horrible things a few years later in order to make it easier for us to be apart, for me to hate him and move on, in order to save my life.
You're too small. Too tenuous. Too naive. You're only good for one thing and it's not enough to be worthwhile even. Everyone is afraid you're going to break. Or cry. Or disappear on the wind. Everyone falls in love with you and it's hard to fight them while you just let them do it. And you aren't even smart enough to understand what that means, Bridget. That's the worst part. Trying to protect you while you're constantly running away from me.
I didn't-
You wanted him to touch you and now you're lying about it-
No, I DIDN'T!
You're only saying that now because you're scared. Because I'm not going to fight your battles for you anymore. You can have him. See if he does a better job-
Locket, don't.
I already did. Because Cole isn't any stronger. He can look after you. The brothers Grimm can have you and you can see how your fairy tale turns out without me.
DON'T LEAVE.
I told you, I'm already gone. I don't love you anymore. Get over it. You're not even big enough to be a memory.
Those words make up some of the biggest scars to this day. Words spoken in desperation so that I would hate him and move on. So I would be safe. And all of it was lies but it still hurts. He really went above and beyond, showman that he is. Making it count. Making it worthwhile and making sure it had the desired effect. The ensuing years when I believed I was worthless and worked my way through all of them, letting them do what they wanted, letting me believe all the wrong things. Wreaking permanent damage and it's never going to be fixed and this is the legacy of one redheaded teenage ringmaster in over his head against the lions but putting on a show nonetheless.
What if we take some of this magic and turn back time?
I stare at him in the dark waiting.
Close your eyes.
I close them, trying to relax every muscle in my body. He kisses me. Softly. Slowly. Just once.
Good morning, Peanut. Open your eyes. I open them and all I see is him. Did it work?
No.
GODDAMMIT, he yells but he laughs afterward. It's a jaded laugh, bitter and worn down by the years, it's frustration and history and it's ours so we'll own it all, the good and the no good at all.