What did you do with the money? Caleb is trying to make conversation as I empty the dishwashers. I don't really carry on discussions while doing it, it's loud and clanky and everyone ends up repeating themselves so I wait until I'm finished and by then he has decided that I am freezing him out, or angry at such a question or worse, simply ignoring him.
Nothing. It's still wherever you put it. I didn't look. I'm guessing it's in the trust account he uses to send my money. Every time I get some I hope eventually it will add up and I will buy my dream house somewhere else. Today it's a cottage just on the other side of the little causeway between the lake and Queensland beach. It's perfect. It's a little weird and it comes fully furnished for just under half a million.
Other days I want to take twenty million, fly to Europe, move into a moss-covered moldy castle and never be seen again.
Some days I want to encase Lochlan in bronze or resin and preserve him forever but I think my brain already has done that for me on my behalf and so he is forever eighteen. Sixteen. Twenty-one. Doesn't matter, really.
You should let us do these things. Caleb has been very all-in, very helpful since he's been home. On his best. No teeth. No fists. No fetishes, no frights. For now. I've been keeping my guard up though, otherwise he uses his charm as a vacuum to suck me right in.
I'm good. You have your list, I have mine. I smile but not with my eyes. And he doesn't push.