The biggest Christmas miracle of all would be two children who slept until 8 am.
On Christmas day.
Yeah, I'm kinda wow too.
Saturday night has a whole part two that followed but I refuse to spoil what is shaping up to be a wonderful, cozy, quiet day by writing about it right now.
Harry Connick Jr. and vintage Glen Campbell are taking turns singing Christmas songs on the stereo, turkey is in the oven, and the fire is crackling and popping, warming up the whole house. Jacob just made a fresh pot of coffee and is busy doing nothing but watching the kids play with new board games while he sips from his cup and traces the tattoo on the back of my neck, the one that surprises people when I wear my hair up.
His phone didn't ring much yesterday and these have been two very close, very warm and devoted days.
I hope you're warm and happy too.
Monday, 25 December 2006
Sunday, 24 December 2006
Blow up the moon.
(Never, ever meet the Devil in his own element. Which would be anywhere your defenders are NOT.)
I thought I was so prepared with my emotional shields in place, ready to deflect Caleb's charming and oh-so-familiar appearance, an older, wiser Cole. In an expensive but meant to be casual suit, shooting his cuffs, a gesture that leaves me a little weak in the knees as it is. Slightly nervous, still with his customary heavy-handed approach of poise and chivalry. He was always smooth and seductive where Cole's charisma had an abrasive, wild edge to it. A simple matter of being less refined, an accidental appeal that he didn't cultivate so carefully the way Caleb does. Caleb is, quite simply, a ladies man. And he knows it.
Of course I wasn't prepared, who am I kidding?
When a sleek black car pulled up to collect us after his brief visit he hugged each of the kids and wished them a merry Christmas and then he turned and shook Jacob's hand and told him he was a lucky man and that he hoped the holidays were enjoyable and that he would have time to spend with his family. Jacob nodded and didn't say very much at all, gracious in allowing Caleb in the house at all. But he was reserved and politely formal, and he helped me into my coat, kissed my cheek and frowned as he searched my eyes, hoping I would change my mind and stay home.
I told him I loved him and I'd be back in an hour. I kissed the kids goodnight and Caleb held the door for me.
When we got to the car, Caleb told the driver to take us to an overpriced cocktail lounge downtown. I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. I leaned forward and asked the driver to pull over because we hadn't agreed on that destination.
They have coffee there, Bridget.
I'm not going to a bar with you, Caleb. If you want to get coffee, then we're going to a coffee shop, or an actual restaurant.
How about the one at my hotel then?
Why are you trying to cause problems for me?
What? I only know of a few places here.
Then ask me for suggestions. I've only been here for years, I know a few.
You're absolutely right, Bridget, my apologies.
I gave the driver the address of a coffee shop nearby and we arrived in silence. After ordering coffee and cake, I decided to try and mask my difficulties with being near him by being nasty to him. Very nasty. Hoping it wouldn't be mistaken for the petulance that his brother adored.
So why do you need to know things about me?
What are you talking about?
Continuing to read my journal, asking Ben things that are clearly not your concern, trying to undermine my marriage. What are you up to?
I'm concerned. Bridget, spending time with you is watching our tightrope walker teetering back and forth at the middle and you know there's no net down below. Oh, and would you please stop referring to me as the devil when you write?
No one told you you needed to spend time with me, or analyze me, for that matter.
Cole was very worried about you.
Cole's dead.
He died worrying about you, baby.
I stood up.
Don't call me baby. Fuck, what is wrong with you guys? I'll take a cab home. I'll be sure the kids send you thank you notes for the gifts but you need to go home now, Caleb.
He stood up but made no move to stop me. Shot a cuff and checked his watch.
Oh Lord. Help me.
Please sit down and let me explain. I'm running out of time. You only gave me an hour.
I don't think so.
Then stand up, but let me tell you why I'm trying to make sure you're okay.
Fine.
I sat. And rolled my eyes.
God, you can be so childish.
Your brother loved it.
Does Jake?
No.
I see.
Start talking, Caleb.
Name the one person who ever knew you best?
Jacob.
No, not Jake, Cole.
Sorry. You're wrong.
I'm right, Bridget.
If you were right, Caleb, things would be vastly different right now. Your brother wouldn't have lived his life to hurt me.
No, he knew everything you liked and he indulged you even though he hated himself for what it meant for him. We talked more often than you think we did.
I stood up again. Someone came over and asked me if everything was alright, giving Caleb the once over. People had been watching us since we came in anyway, they do that. I murmured that I was fine, thank you. I sat back down. I must have looked like a pogo stick.
On the inside I felt sick to my stomach.
What are you talking about?
You know exactly what I'm talking about. The things Jacob won't do. For you, to you. Things you want.
Why would you want to hurt me like this, Caleb? How dare you?
He won't do them because he's selfish, Bridge! Forcing you to try and get pregnant, cutting you off from everyone you love. Cole went out of his way to give you everything, including time and space alone with Jake, if that was what you asked for. He gave you everything you wanted. And he felt like a monster but he did those things because he loved you. He wanted you to have everything.
Up she goes, holding back tears with characteristic success. They rolled down my face. These were revelations I already knew. Ones I can't acknowledge.
Caleb, your brother also tried to kill me, when he wasn't farming me out to you. I'm done here. I'm going home to Jacob now.
I tossed my napkin on the plate and stalked to the door to get my coat, shaking like a leaf. Fragile to a fault. Stupid princess. Caleb followed me. He helped me into my coat and then he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his fingers. I didn't stop him. I didn't stop him when he put his arms around me, pressing his mouth against my hair over my ear, speaking low so no one could overhear.
Bridget, you can have it all. All you have to do is say the word. If he won't do it then I will. And you don't have to leave him to get it.
He pulled back and held out a card key. For his hotel room. I stared at it while he talked and I could barely hear him for the blood pounding in my head. For one brief horrible moment I could envision myself taking that card in some desperate, fucked up attempt to turn back time and have just a few more intimate moments with Cole, somehow. Because it was familiar. Because...because I don't even know how to explain why.
But that's not what I want and that's not what this would be.
I don't want this.
I looked up at Caleb's face then as he spoke, not really listening but just staring at his dark blue eyes and noticing for the first time that he somehow looked nothing like Cole on this night.
...I can have the card dropped off and you can meet me whenever I'm in the city...
I don't know what else he said, because I wrenched out of his grasp and pushed past him, walking right out the door.
When I got home the children were still up and climbing all over Jacob while he told them the Christmas story in his own colorful, animated way. I waved and said nothing so that he could finish uninterrupted and then together we put the kids to bed and retreated to the den, not with coffee, but with cognac. Full-on full-glass cognac, warm, soothing tonic for my broken nerves.
I told Jacob everything and I told him that I'd box up the gifts and have them returned to Caleb's office. He nodded. I think he was too stunned to even react, and honestly I downplayed it because I can't handle not minimizing it. I got up to go get ready for bed, not remembering the last time I felt so sick to my stomach. I told Jake I was going to have a shower and why and he just nodded like he really hadn't heard.
Upstairs in the bathroom I stripped out of my dress and drenched myself in a hot stream of water. I turned around, put my head up to rinse my hair and my nose bumped Jake's. He had followed me in quietly under the cover of the noise from the shower, knowing how vulnerable I felt, he was ready to catch me.
Only I didn't fall. There was no risk involved.
He held me, smothered in his arms. He trusts me. He loves me.
He was worried anyway.
There's only one man I love on this earth, only one who's ever going to touch me ever again, only one I would ask those things of, knowing full well he won't concede to doing them but I'll keep asking until I learn to relax and calm down, and only one that is so incredible that none of those other things even fucking matter anymore.
That would be Jake.
As if anyone had to ask.
I thought I was so prepared with my emotional shields in place, ready to deflect Caleb's charming and oh-so-familiar appearance, an older, wiser Cole. In an expensive but meant to be casual suit, shooting his cuffs, a gesture that leaves me a little weak in the knees as it is. Slightly nervous, still with his customary heavy-handed approach of poise and chivalry. He was always smooth and seductive where Cole's charisma had an abrasive, wild edge to it. A simple matter of being less refined, an accidental appeal that he didn't cultivate so carefully the way Caleb does. Caleb is, quite simply, a ladies man. And he knows it.
Of course I wasn't prepared, who am I kidding?
When a sleek black car pulled up to collect us after his brief visit he hugged each of the kids and wished them a merry Christmas and then he turned and shook Jacob's hand and told him he was a lucky man and that he hoped the holidays were enjoyable and that he would have time to spend with his family. Jacob nodded and didn't say very much at all, gracious in allowing Caleb in the house at all. But he was reserved and politely formal, and he helped me into my coat, kissed my cheek and frowned as he searched my eyes, hoping I would change my mind and stay home.
I told him I loved him and I'd be back in an hour. I kissed the kids goodnight and Caleb held the door for me.
When we got to the car, Caleb told the driver to take us to an overpriced cocktail lounge downtown. I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. I leaned forward and asked the driver to pull over because we hadn't agreed on that destination.
They have coffee there, Bridget.
I'm not going to a bar with you, Caleb. If you want to get coffee, then we're going to a coffee shop, or an actual restaurant.
How about the one at my hotel then?
Why are you trying to cause problems for me?
What? I only know of a few places here.
Then ask me for suggestions. I've only been here for years, I know a few.
You're absolutely right, Bridget, my apologies.
I gave the driver the address of a coffee shop nearby and we arrived in silence. After ordering coffee and cake, I decided to try and mask my difficulties with being near him by being nasty to him. Very nasty. Hoping it wouldn't be mistaken for the petulance that his brother adored.
So why do you need to know things about me?
What are you talking about?
Continuing to read my journal, asking Ben things that are clearly not your concern, trying to undermine my marriage. What are you up to?
I'm concerned. Bridget, spending time with you is watching our tightrope walker teetering back and forth at the middle and you know there's no net down below. Oh, and would you please stop referring to me as the devil when you write?
No one told you you needed to spend time with me, or analyze me, for that matter.
Cole was very worried about you.
Cole's dead.
He died worrying about you, baby.
I stood up.
Don't call me baby. Fuck, what is wrong with you guys? I'll take a cab home. I'll be sure the kids send you thank you notes for the gifts but you need to go home now, Caleb.
He stood up but made no move to stop me. Shot a cuff and checked his watch.
Oh Lord. Help me.
Please sit down and let me explain. I'm running out of time. You only gave me an hour.
I don't think so.
Then stand up, but let me tell you why I'm trying to make sure you're okay.
Fine.
I sat. And rolled my eyes.
God, you can be so childish.
Your brother loved it.
Does Jake?
No.
I see.
Start talking, Caleb.
Name the one person who ever knew you best?
Jacob.
No, not Jake, Cole.
Sorry. You're wrong.
I'm right, Bridget.
If you were right, Caleb, things would be vastly different right now. Your brother wouldn't have lived his life to hurt me.
No, he knew everything you liked and he indulged you even though he hated himself for what it meant for him. We talked more often than you think we did.
I stood up again. Someone came over and asked me if everything was alright, giving Caleb the once over. People had been watching us since we came in anyway, they do that. I murmured that I was fine, thank you. I sat back down. I must have looked like a pogo stick.
On the inside I felt sick to my stomach.
What are you talking about?
You know exactly what I'm talking about. The things Jacob won't do. For you, to you. Things you want.
Why would you want to hurt me like this, Caleb? How dare you?
He won't do them because he's selfish, Bridge! Forcing you to try and get pregnant, cutting you off from everyone you love. Cole went out of his way to give you everything, including time and space alone with Jake, if that was what you asked for. He gave you everything you wanted. And he felt like a monster but he did those things because he loved you. He wanted you to have everything.
Up she goes, holding back tears with characteristic success. They rolled down my face. These were revelations I already knew. Ones I can't acknowledge.
Caleb, your brother also tried to kill me, when he wasn't farming me out to you. I'm done here. I'm going home to Jacob now.
I tossed my napkin on the plate and stalked to the door to get my coat, shaking like a leaf. Fragile to a fault. Stupid princess. Caleb followed me. He helped me into my coat and then he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his fingers. I didn't stop him. I didn't stop him when he put his arms around me, pressing his mouth against my hair over my ear, speaking low so no one could overhear.
Bridget, you can have it all. All you have to do is say the word. If he won't do it then I will. And you don't have to leave him to get it.
He pulled back and held out a card key. For his hotel room. I stared at it while he talked and I could barely hear him for the blood pounding in my head. For one brief horrible moment I could envision myself taking that card in some desperate, fucked up attempt to turn back time and have just a few more intimate moments with Cole, somehow. Because it was familiar. Because...because I don't even know how to explain why.
But that's not what I want and that's not what this would be.
I don't want this.
I looked up at Caleb's face then as he spoke, not really listening but just staring at his dark blue eyes and noticing for the first time that he somehow looked nothing like Cole on this night.
...I can have the card dropped off and you can meet me whenever I'm in the city...
I don't know what else he said, because I wrenched out of his grasp and pushed past him, walking right out the door.
When I got home the children were still up and climbing all over Jacob while he told them the Christmas story in his own colorful, animated way. I waved and said nothing so that he could finish uninterrupted and then together we put the kids to bed and retreated to the den, not with coffee, but with cognac. Full-on full-glass cognac, warm, soothing tonic for my broken nerves.
I told Jacob everything and I told him that I'd box up the gifts and have them returned to Caleb's office. He nodded. I think he was too stunned to even react, and honestly I downplayed it because I can't handle not minimizing it. I got up to go get ready for bed, not remembering the last time I felt so sick to my stomach. I told Jake I was going to have a shower and why and he just nodded like he really hadn't heard.
Upstairs in the bathroom I stripped out of my dress and drenched myself in a hot stream of water. I turned around, put my head up to rinse my hair and my nose bumped Jake's. He had followed me in quietly under the cover of the noise from the shower, knowing how vulnerable I felt, he was ready to catch me.
Only I didn't fall. There was no risk involved.
He held me, smothered in his arms. He trusts me. He loves me.
He was worried anyway.
There's only one man I love on this earth, only one who's ever going to touch me ever again, only one I would ask those things of, knowing full well he won't concede to doing them but I'll keep asking until I learn to relax and calm down, and only one that is so incredible that none of those other things even fucking matter anymore.
That would be Jake.
As if anyone had to ask.
Saturday, 23 December 2006
This isn't Tool, Jacob.
Uh-Oh.
Karaoke man has discovered the Christmas carols. And I am doomed. He's been warming up with The Christmas Song and Doc Walker all morning.
I used to like this song. Now I'm ready to throw the switch and blow Tool's Four Degrees through the house on 11.
But I think Jake would be insulted. I'm making a stab at tolerating liking country music because he listens to everything. Literally everything. Please don't forget this past spring when I was tortured with a week of Xavier Rudd. A week I will never get back. I couldn't stand the sacred Tibetan chanting stuff he put on this morning and he balked at Bif Naked. Doc it is.
Well, poo.
So far I like one song, kinda, sort, mostly. But maybe I'm a sucker for a cute video, a lot of rain and a blonde guy with a guitar.
Like you didn't know that already.
Karaoke man has discovered the Christmas carols. And I am doomed. He's been warming up with The Christmas Song and Doc Walker all morning.
I used to like this song. Now I'm ready to throw the switch and blow Tool's Four Degrees through the house on 11.
But I think Jake would be insulted. I'm making a stab at tolerating liking country music because he listens to everything. Literally everything. Please don't forget this past spring when I was tortured with a week of Xavier Rudd. A week I will never get back. I couldn't stand the sacred Tibetan chanting stuff he put on this morning and he balked at Bif Naked. Doc it is.
Well, poo.
So far I like one song, kinda, sort, mostly. But maybe I'm a sucker for a cute video, a lot of rain and a blonde guy with a guitar.
Like you didn't know that already.
Friday, 22 December 2006
Technical difficulties.
Bridget has a geriatric laptop on life support and is most definitely not allowed to hijack the church computer to post entries to her personal journal, never mind the fact that said personal journal is read here most days by unnamed husband who is cranky today.
So yes, tech guy #1 died (that would be Cole) and back-up tech guy is far away (Lochlan) and so the very technologically impaired duo will either successfully swap out the hard drive and I'll be back in business or we'll have to resort to constructing a hippie laptop made of hemp and good vibes so I can write.
So yes, tech guy #1 died (that would be Cole) and back-up tech guy is far away (Lochlan) and so the very technologically impaired duo will either successfully swap out the hard drive and I'll be back in business or we'll have to resort to constructing a hippie laptop made of hemp and good vibes so I can write.
Thursday, 21 December 2006
Warmest regards.
I think it's finally hit me. The elusive spirit that just kind of crops up out of nowhere as I take a look around and realize, it's here, Christmas. It's here whether I accomplished everything or anything on my list at all and I can do no more.
This year is light on presents and materialistic indulgences and rich and heavy on love. And thanks and Joy, which gets a capital letter for being free and bountiful.
Guys, I've got everything. The lights have been on all day long on that giant Christmas tree, I have helped Santa wrap the stocking stuffers, the turkey is just about ready to come out of the freezer for thawing and Jacob really doesn't have to eat cooked carrots this year if he doesn't like them. Mom's cookies are just about gone and Ruthie decided that school doesn't suck so much after all, especially now that there's one day left before vacation, two for Jake. Possibly three as he's the on-call chaplain for the fire station, being the newbie this year. So his phone stays on, hopefully people will stay home and be safe so that he can stay home the whole day.
Christmas could have been awful this year, but it's not going to be. And New Year's eve might possibly be epic, as I spent most of 2006 flying by the seat of my pants, and the pants finally gave out and I am permanently grounded in a fresh reality, one that I hope is a little less eventful and even more romantic.
And since there's a lot of you reading at work who may or may not have scored Friday off in order to travel or unwind before the festivities begin, I'd like to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
I'll be posting daily as usual, no worries. I just wanted to send out a big virtual Bridget-hug to everyone who has cheered me on and helped hold me up this year. Without you I would have been lonely.
Thank you. Happy Holidays!
This year is light on presents and materialistic indulgences and rich and heavy on love. And thanks and Joy, which gets a capital letter for being free and bountiful.
Guys, I've got everything. The lights have been on all day long on that giant Christmas tree, I have helped Santa wrap the stocking stuffers, the turkey is just about ready to come out of the freezer for thawing and Jacob really doesn't have to eat cooked carrots this year if he doesn't like them. Mom's cookies are just about gone and Ruthie decided that school doesn't suck so much after all, especially now that there's one day left before vacation, two for Jake. Possibly three as he's the on-call chaplain for the fire station, being the newbie this year. So his phone stays on, hopefully people will stay home and be safe so that he can stay home the whole day.
Christmas could have been awful this year, but it's not going to be. And New Year's eve might possibly be epic, as I spent most of 2006 flying by the seat of my pants, and the pants finally gave out and I am permanently grounded in a fresh reality, one that I hope is a little less eventful and even more romantic.
And since there's a lot of you reading at work who may or may not have scored Friday off in order to travel or unwind before the festivities begin, I'd like to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
I'll be posting daily as usual, no worries. I just wanted to send out a big virtual Bridget-hug to everyone who has cheered me on and helped hold me up this year. Without you I would have been lonely.
Thank you. Happy Holidays!
Crosby, Stills, Nash and you.
Geez, I post the sweetest thing in the world and all everyone wants to know was howdrunkwasBridgetlastnight?
I was going to say not so much until I saw that I did indeed write something here. Geez, someone take away the laptop when they bring the alcohol please?
I haven't had a drink in a long time. But I have a feeling that if I can maintain whatever emotional plateau I have climbed onto as of this week I can avoid going back on the freaking stupid zombie pills and maybe just stay like this, because this is nice, and it's nice to have a nightcap or a cocktail or whatever.
In any event, it was a nice, quiet evening. The kids were zonked and asleep by 8, and Jacob turned off all the lights except for the Christmas tree and we danced in the living room but I don't think my feet touched the floor, and I don't think his lips left my shoulder.
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly
I was going to say not so much until I saw that I did indeed write something here. Geez, someone take away the laptop when they bring the alcohol please?
I haven't had a drink in a long time. But I have a feeling that if I can maintain whatever emotional plateau I have climbed onto as of this week I can avoid going back on the freaking stupid zombie pills and maybe just stay like this, because this is nice, and it's nice to have a nightcap or a cocktail or whatever.
In any event, it was a nice, quiet evening. The kids were zonked and asleep by 8, and Jacob turned off all the lights except for the Christmas tree and we danced in the living room but I don't think my feet touched the floor, and I don't think his lips left my shoulder.
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly
Obligations and carrots.
Every year for the past ten years my Christmas dinners have been a round table of wayward folks. Cole, our friends, his coworkers, random guys he knew who were far from home, or just plain alone, or didn't want to have to do the fam-thing because of so many reasons. We've always hosted a big dinner to give people a hot meal and some new memories, and because I think I'd rather die than think someone was alone on Christmas.
I can't tell you how many years straight Loch and I got shitfaced on cheap wine and stuck Cole with the dishes. I can't tell you how many years in a row Jacob sat across the table after eating almost half of all the food and started a discussion about going out for dessert when everyone else, who had eaten a fraction of what he had, were stuffed. Or how many times we sang Christmas carol parodies until we couldn't stop laughing. I can't say how many times I left the table at the end of the meal and went outside for a fresh breath of air only to have Jake sneak up on me with some funny little present, a hug and a wish for a Merry Christmas in which we held each other a little too hard, a little too close and perhaps a little bit too often in one night.
This year I'm out of luck. We've all got colds, it's been a long, crowded year and for the first time in recent memory there appear to be no stragglers in need of an emergency Christmas dinner. Not to mention it's our first real honest-to-goodness actual Christmas together, married and together.
And since we're so far behind this year, Jacob asked me to make a list and he went to the grocery store to get everything while I helped Henry with a project.
He came home and we switched places, I went to put away the groceries and he sat down with Henry to see what progress we had made.
Jake!
What is it?
You forgot to get the carrots.
No I didn't.
They were on the list.
Bridget, I hate carrots.
What are you talking about? You eat them all the time.
Raw. I hate cooked carrots.
But..every year you've eaten them. I've seen you. You clean the plate.
Right. Yes.
Okay, you've lost me.
Bridget, I only eat them because you make them. But truth be told, I can't stand them cooked.
You only ate them because I made them?
Because you made them, princess.
Well, now, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I think I could fall in love with you.
So we'll skip them? And I love you too.
Are you kidding me? I have to make them now! It'll be a new tradition.
He smiled, defeated, and looked at Henry. Henry reassured him,
That's okay, Jake. I hate it when mommy makes carrots too.
I can't tell you how many years straight Loch and I got shitfaced on cheap wine and stuck Cole with the dishes. I can't tell you how many years in a row Jacob sat across the table after eating almost half of all the food and started a discussion about going out for dessert when everyone else, who had eaten a fraction of what he had, were stuffed. Or how many times we sang Christmas carol parodies until we couldn't stop laughing. I can't say how many times I left the table at the end of the meal and went outside for a fresh breath of air only to have Jake sneak up on me with some funny little present, a hug and a wish for a Merry Christmas in which we held each other a little too hard, a little too close and perhaps a little bit too often in one night.
This year I'm out of luck. We've all got colds, it's been a long, crowded year and for the first time in recent memory there appear to be no stragglers in need of an emergency Christmas dinner. Not to mention it's our first real honest-to-goodness actual Christmas together, married and together.
And since we're so far behind this year, Jacob asked me to make a list and he went to the grocery store to get everything while I helped Henry with a project.
He came home and we switched places, I went to put away the groceries and he sat down with Henry to see what progress we had made.
Jake!
What is it?
You forgot to get the carrots.
No I didn't.
They were on the list.
Bridget, I hate carrots.
What are you talking about? You eat them all the time.
Raw. I hate cooked carrots.
But..every year you've eaten them. I've seen you. You clean the plate.
Right. Yes.
Okay, you've lost me.
Bridget, I only eat them because you make them. But truth be told, I can't stand them cooked.
You only ate them because I made them?
Because you made them, princess.
Well, now, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I think I could fall in love with you.
So we'll skip them? And I love you too.
Are you kidding me? I have to make them now! It'll be a new tradition.
He smiled, defeated, and looked at Henry. Henry reassured him,
That's okay, Jake. I hate it when mommy makes carrots too.
Wednesday, 20 December 2006
Cheer in a glass. Uh oh.
I think Jake has a forehead fetish. He put my drink on the desk and then kissed my forehead and headed out to the garage. Then later he comes back in and smooths my bangs back from said forehead. My forehead is a fivehead, okay, I won't lie. I sometimes put a bit of powder on it so the sun reflecting off it doesn't blind people walking toward me.
Next he rubs his thumb across it when he puts his hand over my ear. My drink? Long dranked.
Okay enough.
This is not a post. This is Bridget enjoying a loopy semidrunk minute far too early in the evening.
What's in the glass is eggnog. Or mostly brandy clouded with just enough eggnog so that it can be called Christmas Cheer and not OhfuckBridgetsdrunkagain. But it is five o'clock and dinner is almost done and I'm cut off and lord I hope no one comes by tonight because this hit damn hard
Next he rubs his thumb across it when he puts his hand over my ear. My drink? Long dranked.
Okay enough.
This is not a post. This is Bridget enjoying a loopy semidrunk minute far too early in the evening.
What's in the glass is eggnog. Or mostly brandy clouded with just enough eggnog so that it can be called Christmas Cheer and not OhfuckBridgetsdrunkagain. But it is five o'clock and dinner is almost done and I'm cut off and lord I hope no one comes by tonight because this hit damn hard
Coming in from the cold.
Jacob came in from the cold at lunch yesterday and said he needed me, come quick, hurry. I ran down to the porch door and he came through it and grabbed me up in a hug, forcing my arms down and then putting his hands up the back of my shirt until I squealed for him to stop. His hands were giant ice cubes. He didn't need me, he just wanted to freeze me out because the squealing is so funny.
I wish he wouldn't do that, but he insists it's payback for when I put my cold toes between his ankles in bed every night. Of course, he doesn't squeal so instead I get a rounded-out litany of swear words with the full-on Newfie accent. So I'll keep doing it forever because he usually keeps the accent in check, except when he's cursing.
He was starting to come around, albeit slowly. My biggest argument against another baby is finally becoming clear to him when he looks at me now. Just now escaping the underweight label but still pale, dark circles a permanent feature of my face. And tenuously clinging to that shred of sanity I talk about that gets rubbed raw and then somehow heals itself. On and off medication. Prone to nightmares and middle of the night crying jags that wear him down and leave me depleted. Not stronger. Coming out of this surprisingly and permanently frail. Fragile Miss Bridget never changes much, you guys.
Somehow balancing my emotional landmines with sex, cake and rock n' roll.
Jacob confessed that one of his earliest dreams after I told him I was pregnant with Ruth was that he wished so badly that he could be in Cole's place from that moment on, waiting for his baby to be born, watching me grow and change, being able to hold the baby and love that child.
And in my frustration at another round of his guilt shoved down my throat I lost it and I reminded him that he did all those things. That he didn't miss a goddamn thing and now he is in Cole's place and he has me, he has two children now that are HIS and why isn't that good enough?
And then Jacob did something he's never done before. He looked at me as if he was hearing me for the very first time and he laid down the gauntlet.
It is.
Then why are we fighting, Jake?
I have no idea, Bridget.
Then we need to stop before we ruin this. You can't have those years back, Jake, they're gone, just let them go. You made me do it and now it's your turn.
He came over to me and put his hands up to my face and he apologized, formally apologized for being argumentative and still incredulous at the fact that I wouldn't stand up to him and say no, instead talking around the issue and making it known that I didn't want this without flat-out refusing him.
You need to say no to me, princess. You won't and when I push you to stand up for yourself you have to do it.
I...I can't.
Yes, you can. It isn't right and you can and I'm not going anywhere and I'm still going to love you.
You say that now.
No, I say that forever, Bridge. Forever. You're right. We really have no business having another baby.
I don't want you to resent me.
I don't. I couldn't. I love you more knowing you would give in because you knew I wanted it.
How is that any different from you giving in?
It's not the same thing. I'm letting a bad idea rest. I got carried away. I get jealous. I get angry when I think about some of the things that have happened over the past few years and I forget where I am now. I'm not perfect. But I'm not going to be a monster, either.
I cringed when he said that. How many times did I describe Cole that way, or insist that he wasn't one?
I had to breathe. I left the house and went for a long walk, alone. He kissed me goodbye, sadly. When I do return I give him back his kiss and retreat to the den to work. He's already cooking something that smells wonderful that I probably won't eat because I don't eat when I'm upset.
But don't talk to me about it because again, the explosions.
You can't be angry with me forever, princess.
I'm not angry at all, Jake. I'm frustrated. I don't know what to do with this. Or where to take it.
It goes wherever we go.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Bridge, everything will be okay, why won't you believe me?
Because it never has been before, Jake.
Maybe we're not trying hard enough.
Maybe we're not trying at all.
I don't believe it. Do you?
Sometimes, yes.
Aw, Christ.
I can't help it.These are some pretty agonizing growing pains.
That's an apt description.
What if they kill us?
They can't. We're indestructible.
We were. Are we still?
Moreso. I love you more now, not less. Coveting wasn't something that magnified my feelings for you, princess. Marriage did that. Arguing does that. Frustration does that. When we need each other the most, I feel the most.
Lucky for us.
It's not luck, princess. It's true love.
Then why can't we sort this out?
Maybe we're overthinking it so that we can put it to rest at last. I'm satisfied, I'm blessed, Bridget. You three as my family is more than I ever imagined and I wouldn't change a thing.
I nodded, still not sure.
What's wrong?
The last two times we fought about this so hard you assured me much the same thing.
And look where it got us? Almost divided once again. I'm done fighting. I don't want to fight with you, princess. I've got too much to be happy about and too much to lose.
So then how do we resolve this formally?
You mean permanently.
Yes.
I'll go see about getting the big operation.
No, I'll go. It's not a big deal anymore for me to be in a hospital.
No, you've been through enough. Besides, mine would be outpatients, I think.
Then you'll hate me forever.
I couldn't hate you if I tried. And I have tried so many times so don't think you're immune.
When?
Just about every time you went home with him over the years, princess.
Wow. That's harsh.
So was watching Cole touch you and knowing what he was. And I promised I wouldn't be anything like him, that I would never put you through pain or fear or uncertainty and that's just what I did and I feel like the monster now.
You're not.
Don't take this personally, Bridge, but you're a shitty judge of character.
I didn't start this argument to rip you to shreds, Jake.
Then just forgive me and we'll call and get an appointment.
Done.
When you pull your head out of your ass you're very easy to get along with, you know that?
Nice, Jake. Nice. I could say the same for you.
Sometimes, princess, I wish you would.
I wish he wouldn't do that, but he insists it's payback for when I put my cold toes between his ankles in bed every night. Of course, he doesn't squeal so instead I get a rounded-out litany of swear words with the full-on Newfie accent. So I'll keep doing it forever because he usually keeps the accent in check, except when he's cursing.
He was starting to come around, albeit slowly. My biggest argument against another baby is finally becoming clear to him when he looks at me now. Just now escaping the underweight label but still pale, dark circles a permanent feature of my face. And tenuously clinging to that shred of sanity I talk about that gets rubbed raw and then somehow heals itself. On and off medication. Prone to nightmares and middle of the night crying jags that wear him down and leave me depleted. Not stronger. Coming out of this surprisingly and permanently frail. Fragile Miss Bridget never changes much, you guys.
Somehow balancing my emotional landmines with sex, cake and rock n' roll.
Jacob confessed that one of his earliest dreams after I told him I was pregnant with Ruth was that he wished so badly that he could be in Cole's place from that moment on, waiting for his baby to be born, watching me grow and change, being able to hold the baby and love that child.
And in my frustration at another round of his guilt shoved down my throat I lost it and I reminded him that he did all those things. That he didn't miss a goddamn thing and now he is in Cole's place and he has me, he has two children now that are HIS and why isn't that good enough?
And then Jacob did something he's never done before. He looked at me as if he was hearing me for the very first time and he laid down the gauntlet.
It is.
Then why are we fighting, Jake?
I have no idea, Bridget.
Then we need to stop before we ruin this. You can't have those years back, Jake, they're gone, just let them go. You made me do it and now it's your turn.
He came over to me and put his hands up to my face and he apologized, formally apologized for being argumentative and still incredulous at the fact that I wouldn't stand up to him and say no, instead talking around the issue and making it known that I didn't want this without flat-out refusing him.
You need to say no to me, princess. You won't and when I push you to stand up for yourself you have to do it.
I...I can't.
Yes, you can. It isn't right and you can and I'm not going anywhere and I'm still going to love you.
You say that now.
No, I say that forever, Bridge. Forever. You're right. We really have no business having another baby.
I don't want you to resent me.
I don't. I couldn't. I love you more knowing you would give in because you knew I wanted it.
How is that any different from you giving in?
It's not the same thing. I'm letting a bad idea rest. I got carried away. I get jealous. I get angry when I think about some of the things that have happened over the past few years and I forget where I am now. I'm not perfect. But I'm not going to be a monster, either.
I cringed when he said that. How many times did I describe Cole that way, or insist that he wasn't one?
I had to breathe. I left the house and went for a long walk, alone. He kissed me goodbye, sadly. When I do return I give him back his kiss and retreat to the den to work. He's already cooking something that smells wonderful that I probably won't eat because I don't eat when I'm upset.
But don't talk to me about it because again, the explosions.
You can't be angry with me forever, princess.
I'm not angry at all, Jake. I'm frustrated. I don't know what to do with this. Or where to take it.
It goes wherever we go.
That's what I'm afraid of.
Bridge, everything will be okay, why won't you believe me?
Because it never has been before, Jake.
Maybe we're not trying hard enough.
Maybe we're not trying at all.
I don't believe it. Do you?
Sometimes, yes.
Aw, Christ.
I can't help it.These are some pretty agonizing growing pains.
That's an apt description.
What if they kill us?
They can't. We're indestructible.
We were. Are we still?
Moreso. I love you more now, not less. Coveting wasn't something that magnified my feelings for you, princess. Marriage did that. Arguing does that. Frustration does that. When we need each other the most, I feel the most.
Lucky for us.
It's not luck, princess. It's true love.
Then why can't we sort this out?
Maybe we're overthinking it so that we can put it to rest at last. I'm satisfied, I'm blessed, Bridget. You three as my family is more than I ever imagined and I wouldn't change a thing.
I nodded, still not sure.
What's wrong?
The last two times we fought about this so hard you assured me much the same thing.
And look where it got us? Almost divided once again. I'm done fighting. I don't want to fight with you, princess. I've got too much to be happy about and too much to lose.
So then how do we resolve this formally?
You mean permanently.
Yes.
I'll go see about getting the big operation.
No, I'll go. It's not a big deal anymore for me to be in a hospital.
No, you've been through enough. Besides, mine would be outpatients, I think.
Then you'll hate me forever.
I couldn't hate you if I tried. And I have tried so many times so don't think you're immune.
When?
Just about every time you went home with him over the years, princess.
Wow. That's harsh.
So was watching Cole touch you and knowing what he was. And I promised I wouldn't be anything like him, that I would never put you through pain or fear or uncertainty and that's just what I did and I feel like the monster now.
You're not.
Don't take this personally, Bridge, but you're a shitty judge of character.
I didn't start this argument to rip you to shreds, Jake.
Then just forgive me and we'll call and get an appointment.
Done.
When you pull your head out of your ass you're very easy to get along with, you know that?
Nice, Jake. Nice. I could say the same for you.
Sometimes, princess, I wish you would.
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