(I used to call him Trey but that seems too familiar any more.)
Cole and I are lying on our backs in the gazebo, watching the clouds rolls in, bringing the wind and the rain post haste. My coffee cup is near my left hand, forgotten and cold. Bitter, like me. Bitter, like my bones pressed against the damp boards in an ache of February the likes of which I've never seen.
Cole is quiet. I took away his mouth. Left some of the good parts so I could still see that his face was trying to break into a smile when he read my shirt this morning.
It's pink with holographic pastel rainbow balloon letters. It says I LICKED IT SO IT'S MINE. I only wear it as a pajama shirt thanks to my hard rebound back to black and so it's paired with navy fleece joggers from Gap that shrunk somehow so Dalton gave them to me to wear and they fit perfectly.
Cole reaches over to me and touches my face as I close my eyes against the brightening sky. I don't flinch anymore when he does that. Right now I think if I could go back I would have met him eye to eye, hurt him right back, made sure he knew how it felt to be treated the way he treated me and taught me that was love. The way he let his brother continue to terrorize me even as I asked him if we could move away, if we could start over, if we could somehow get away from him and yet he followed and then they all did too, just to keep an eye. New cities every ten years, new streets to remember, new lives to fill and here he is, lying next to me on a cold hard floor touching me while I fight to make something hurt so I don't cave in.
Bridge!
A voice from the right and I lift my head, looking through Cole to see Lochlan on the patio. His face. Can he see him too? Do I have to explain why Cole doesn't have a mouth?
Come inside. No one's with you? Fucking hell. Come now.
(Like a dog. Here, Bridget. Good girl.)
Cole laughs silently (I can tell by his eyes) and I push him off the cliff. He leaves the grey sweater behind and I stand up, pulling it up around me in the sudden chill, hit the button on the heater that still doesn't work to turn it off and obediently go inside, making sure that the rain soaks up my pants from the grass. Hitting every puddle, taking my sweet time, making him wait while I try to remember what I did with Jake. I think he's in the freezer. That or in the loft above the garage.