Sam and I went out for breakfast this morning, a rare getaway with just the two of us since Matt is sleeping in and so is Lochlan, truth be told because it's a hella windy Thursday and we were all up late last night and there are precious few morning people in this household at any given time. I got a text, woke Lochlan long enough to let him now and then let myself into the bathroom to shower quickly and put on warm woolen tights, a wool dress and pearl earrings, which I promptly took off again as I hate how they feel. An extra ring instead made me feel semi-polished and I was off to meet Sam in the driveway where he opened the car door for me and then came around and got in and we were off. No radio, no talking until we were seated at the restaurant and our coffee and drinks order had been taken, with nary a frown made for my request for a mimosa made with grapefruit juice, since coffee alone is static, boring.
Besides, if you aren't day-drinking are you even having a day?
That isn't funny OR clever, Bridget, Sam says kindly.
If I had wanted to be funny I would have ordered one for you, too. I mock-glare at him over the rim of my cup. The one downside of this restaurant are the chairs are rather low for shorter folk and so the table hits at chest-height. I stand up, place my bag on the seat and sit on it. Brings me up to above armpit level and I feel more normal. Hahaha. Do I actually? I mean, have I ever?
Then I realize I could fuck up my phone, key fobs and everything else and slide off it and return to sitting at child leg-swinging height, chin on table top. Well, not actually but it feels close.
Should we move to a booth?
Let me test it. I head to a booth but it's not much better. In fact, it's worse, somehow. Great. No, that's fine.
Excuse me, could we have a cushion?
Yes, of course.
They bring a big stiff pillow from the lounge window seats. Nice! Eight going on whatever old I am now. Perfect. A booster seat like the one in my truck. Semi-humiliating but also exceedingly helpful.
The food arrives and I order another mimosa. It's going to be a long day. Sam eats exactly one quarter of his food before starting in, and I was ready for it.
About this winter-
Yups.
Bridget-
WHAT.
Caleb isn't-
Up for discussion? No, he's not. You're right, Samuel.
He looks at his plate. I spear a piece of roasted potato from it and eat it in spite of having saved all of mine for last. I'm hoarding them to absorb the alcohol.
Lochlan-
Is fine with it.
Is he? I don't think he is.
Are you? Because I'm thinking you are not.
You're very good.
I nod, no idea at what.
I am jealous.
You have Matt.
I was hoping-
Okay, I think we're ready for the bill. Let's not even go there. If you want a visit here or there just ask me. Don't turn it into something obsessive. I'm the queen of that. Trust me.
I feel oddly calm and detached, like I'm giving the safety announcement on a plane before takeoff. Put on your oxygen mask before putting the ones on the people you need to help so you can help them, for God's sake and if we go down none of this is going to help whatsoever so good luck and hope you had a nice life.
(I did, thanks for asking and no thanks to those who fed my overstuffed ego. Or let her drink.)