Right now, this second, I miss the Winnipeg Zoo. I miss my leg warmers from 1981. I miss my mom's chocolate-chip zucchini bread and I miss my Right Coast.
Right now I'm craving chocolate and bourbon and ice skating and James Bond movies.
Right now I'd like to fall asleep for two or three hours and try again later.
Right now I'd like to finish the book I'm reading.
Right now I could use a hug.
Right now I'm cooking dinner. Baby potatoes, green beans, baked chicken and rolls. Milk and water to drink, cookies and tea for dessert.
Right now I have a very sore left hand, same issue as before, staring down surgery, fun fun.
Right now I realized I forgot to wear my hearing aids again today.
Right now Ben is at an evening meeting. He gave me his 60-day medal the day we left.
Right now I just set the table with the silver service and wondered why everyone isn't helping.
Right now the sun has finally come out and the wind has died down.
Right now Cole is dead.
Right now the dog is asleep and so are both cats, Duncan and Schuyler too. I only know this because they haven't answered the group text chat AKA dinner call. Not the pets, the boys. The pets don't have cellphones.
Right now Lochlan is upstairs shaving off his beard in a hurry before supper. He's the only man I've ever met who looks worse with a beard instead of better.
Right now Jacob waits.
Right now it feels like fall.
Right now the tide is coming in and a silver envelope sits on the table in the foyer. Again.
Monday, 19 August 2013
Sunday, 18 August 2013
Freebird is now stuck. in. my. head.
(That doctor turned out to be a veritable anomaly in the day, as everyone else I met was warm and accommodating, open and helpful. They were patient and kind. When I saw the mean doctor again outside, he ignored me. Ben said very quietly that he's actually really good at what he does, he just isn't all that amenable, okay he's terrible outside of his office. That none of what he said about Ben being off-limits holds, Ben just doesn't want to play out any of our issues here. This is a different form of sanctuary for him and the doctor was mindful of that and doesn't know me from Eve so there you have it.)
I actually had fun yesterday. They have a wee baby zip line on the wooded trail and I did it twice. I squealed and Ben finally cracked his face into a laugh when he caught me at the end of the second trip.
Later on we sat in this big sunny room that was all windows and talked. We talked about so many things including pressures and the dynamics of living with so many strong and flawed personalities. We talked about not shutting down. We talked about ways to be supportive and we talked about Ben and what he's going to do. Then we talked about unrelated things like IKEA and horses. They have horses here. I didn't see them.
The hugs got infinitely better as the day wore on as well. PLUS.
Ben still is hugely uncomfortable with me seeing him like this. He would hide from me, remove himself from me and generally always keep his struggles from me. It's going to take time on both our parts to deal with this and weirdly, WE'RE DOING IT.
That's why I had to come here.
I see that he's still alive. I see how much work he has to do, how much we all have to do and I finally understand the whole one day at a time logic, of not crowding up a list of worries, pressed against the day as if it were a door and they are blocking it from opening. I see how he lives in the moment and I can say for certain that there is no certainty in life so I had to step back and simply watch him as he tries to get better and learns to live without anesthetic.
And I must be flawed because all I can think is since that's how I live, on a white-knuckle emotional thrill-ride that never ends, I wouldn't wish it on him because he isn't as strong as I am and he probably never will be and the only way I manage is to divide myself into make believe to save myself from reality. No one does that like I do it.
I know that doesn't make sense but in terms of Ben's new Big Picture, it's as clear to me as this day. We're heading home midafternoon. First I didn't want to stay and now I don't want to go but we'll go home and muddle through many more weeks until Ben comes back with us, renewed and ready to take on..absolutely nothing. His projects have been closed down or shifted to others. He is officially retired and I couldn't be happier.
(Special note: I believe they are putting Benjamin to bed around eight o'clock each night. Which is really good but also funny. They must have tranquilizer darts for him like they do for me at home.)
I actually had fun yesterday. They have a wee baby zip line on the wooded trail and I did it twice. I squealed and Ben finally cracked his face into a laugh when he caught me at the end of the second trip.
Later on we sat in this big sunny room that was all windows and talked. We talked about so many things including pressures and the dynamics of living with so many strong and flawed personalities. We talked about not shutting down. We talked about ways to be supportive and we talked about Ben and what he's going to do. Then we talked about unrelated things like IKEA and horses. They have horses here. I didn't see them.
The hugs got infinitely better as the day wore on as well. PLUS.
Ben still is hugely uncomfortable with me seeing him like this. He would hide from me, remove himself from me and generally always keep his struggles from me. It's going to take time on both our parts to deal with this and weirdly, WE'RE DOING IT.
That's why I had to come here.
I see that he's still alive. I see how much work he has to do, how much we all have to do and I finally understand the whole one day at a time logic, of not crowding up a list of worries, pressed against the day as if it were a door and they are blocking it from opening. I see how he lives in the moment and I can say for certain that there is no certainty in life so I had to step back and simply watch him as he tries to get better and learns to live without anesthetic.
And I must be flawed because all I can think is since that's how I live, on a white-knuckle emotional thrill-ride that never ends, I wouldn't wish it on him because he isn't as strong as I am and he probably never will be and the only way I manage is to divide myself into make believe to save myself from reality. No one does that like I do it.
I know that doesn't make sense but in terms of Ben's new Big Picture, it's as clear to me as this day. We're heading home midafternoon. First I didn't want to stay and now I don't want to go but we'll go home and muddle through many more weeks until Ben comes back with us, renewed and ready to take on..absolutely nothing. His projects have been closed down or shifted to others. He is officially retired and I couldn't be happier.
(Special note: I believe they are putting Benjamin to bed around eight o'clock each night. Which is really good but also funny. They must have tranquilizer darts for him like they do for me at home.)
Saturday, 17 August 2013
On keeping a paper bag in the rental car to breathe into.
I chose wrong. I watched him bearhug everyone and then I was shoved to the front and he did not hug me.
Ben put his hands in his pockets and looked at Lochlan and asked, Are you guys okay?
He meant something else entirely and I knew what he meant, I just haven't actually acknowledged it yet.
Yes. Lochlan said it like a challenge, he's trying to own the moment and I stepped back behind him slightly. PJ shoved me back in front.
Ben's eyes flit to me again. You okay, bee?
No. I say only that. I don't feel like doing this with an audience. Ben's assigned family weekend facilitators are standing there, both with practiced poker face. It's awesome. I'm getting madder by the nanosecond.
Can I speak with you privately?
I can't, Bridget. I don't have much privacy here.
Oh. I see.
Hungry?
Not anymore.
For brunch, I sit between Ben and Lochlan at this giant round table that precludes conversation. I look at Ben as he eats slowly and sips coffee and smiles and laughs at the stories the boys tell. I watch him as he answers questions easily. He isn't laid back but he isn't tense either. He seems really glad to be with his friends, and touched that everyone came down to see him.
Almost everyone.
I ask him a question and he answers with as few words as possible and then smiles without his eyes as he turns to field yet another topic-change across the table. I was answered professionally, in his work-voice, that he uses with people he hardly knows in a business capacity and nothing more. I was relegated to the sidelines with that voice.
I sat there pushing food around on my plate and tried to tell myself all sorts of dumb things like he's just having a hard time letting me see him like this and he's worried I might doubt his ability to follow through. He's doing his best. Etc. Etc. Etc.
I let myself get mad because it's easier to control the inevitable tears that way and I would be damned if I were to let him see me cry.
When breakfast was finished we walked back to the area where we will be participating in some therapy later today, late afternoon. First he has a meeting and then we're going on a group hike so we are to change and then meet up and I turned to him and asked if I could have an actual hug. He looked pained but I got another eight milliseconds of contact.
Then he was out the door and I was left standing facing it, my back to everyone else as they chatted with some of the people looking after Ben and each other. No one was watching me.
So I followed him.
Down hallway after hallway, I watched him hunch over lower as he went, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the floor pass beneath him as he made his way back to his room. People said hello to him and he answered kindly. He knows everyone here. All of these people have a hand in helping him, but he people thin out as we walk. Finally there is no one for two hallways and I am just about to make my presence known to him when a doctor or someone important steps out of a side door and says hello to him and asks him something. I stop and wait. Then the person leans out and looks at me.
Can I help you?
Ben turns and looks back. His eyes widen and I see his brow go up, but only on the left side of his face. He smiles slightly.
No, I just need to have a word with my husband, thank you.
My hopes are dashed. I'm sorry, Mrs...uh... we don't allow for much private contact on family-designated days. We want to keep our residents emotionally level during these times. I understand it can be stressful-
Stressful is an understatement. Who are you again?
My apologies for not introducing myself. I'm Dr.______. I oversee Ben's treatment.
Then why did you pretend you didn't know my name?
Bridget, I want to assure you we will have time for guided conversation this afternoon in family session. I don't want you to feel as if your needs and questions are not being met. However, it's my first responsibility to see that Ben is-
I have no intentions of sabotaging my husband.
I think you know what I mean.
Maybe.
Then may I ask that you work diligently at following the rules while you are here as our guest? We all want the same thing for Ben, and he's doing well. If he seems a bit removed, please understand how overwhelming this is.
I raise my hands up and let them fall. Tears. Fucking tears are rolling now and he softens slightly. Ben stands there staring at me without moving or speaking as the doctor softens further.
I understand this is hard. From what Ben has told me you and he and the others have an incredibly close bond and live within an highly unusual set of circumstances, and I have been made aware that you have been through a lot in life. I want you to know that we are here to help facilitate all of you in creating a healthy environment in which you will all thrive and move forward. You're not going to get left behind. He isn't going to be someone new, he'll be Ben but with better tools to utilize to cope with stress and challenges.
Do you think you can fix him?
He is fixing himself. We only guide his efforts and support him. The same as you do.
I nod and wipe my cheeks and Lochlan's hands close around my arms from behind. His voice cuts through the weight of the air in the room as he apologizes to both men. She got away from me. She's so quick.
The doctor looks at Lochlan and nods. It's fine. I think I've eased her mind a little. Have I...?
Bridget. My name is Bridget.
Bridget? If there's anything else I can do, we will have time this afternoon in our session. I look forward to having some time with you to discuss your fears and maybe connect you with someone you can work with as well. Is that okay?
I don't know. Is it?
He looks at me curiously and then looks at his watch. I have to leave, but we will reconvene at three forty-five. See you then. And he shakes Lochlan's hand and then heads down the hall away from us. Ben tells me he will see me for the hike and comes back, thrusting a kiss onto my forehead so hard I lose my balance and bounce off Lochlan. He steadies me and Ben smiles. I see a briefest twinkle of bullshit in his eyes and he turns and walks away.
We are back now at the hotel to change. I put on my docs, skinny jeans and a Coney Island t-shirt that Batman got for me and I put my hair in a ponytail. I didn't put on any makeup. I expect to cry pretty much all afternoon. I know now why Ben didn't want me to come here. This is too fucking hard.
Ben put his hands in his pockets and looked at Lochlan and asked, Are you guys okay?
He meant something else entirely and I knew what he meant, I just haven't actually acknowledged it yet.
Yes. Lochlan said it like a challenge, he's trying to own the moment and I stepped back behind him slightly. PJ shoved me back in front.
Ben's eyes flit to me again. You okay, bee?
No. I say only that. I don't feel like doing this with an audience. Ben's assigned family weekend facilitators are standing there, both with practiced poker face. It's awesome. I'm getting madder by the nanosecond.
Can I speak with you privately?
I can't, Bridget. I don't have much privacy here.
Oh. I see.
Hungry?
Not anymore.
For brunch, I sit between Ben and Lochlan at this giant round table that precludes conversation. I look at Ben as he eats slowly and sips coffee and smiles and laughs at the stories the boys tell. I watch him as he answers questions easily. He isn't laid back but he isn't tense either. He seems really glad to be with his friends, and touched that everyone came down to see him.
Almost everyone.
I ask him a question and he answers with as few words as possible and then smiles without his eyes as he turns to field yet another topic-change across the table. I was answered professionally, in his work-voice, that he uses with people he hardly knows in a business capacity and nothing more. I was relegated to the sidelines with that voice.
I sat there pushing food around on my plate and tried to tell myself all sorts of dumb things like he's just having a hard time letting me see him like this and he's worried I might doubt his ability to follow through. He's doing his best. Etc. Etc. Etc.
I let myself get mad because it's easier to control the inevitable tears that way and I would be damned if I were to let him see me cry.
When breakfast was finished we walked back to the area where we will be participating in some therapy later today, late afternoon. First he has a meeting and then we're going on a group hike so we are to change and then meet up and I turned to him and asked if I could have an actual hug. He looked pained but I got another eight milliseconds of contact.
Then he was out the door and I was left standing facing it, my back to everyone else as they chatted with some of the people looking after Ben and each other. No one was watching me.
So I followed him.
Down hallway after hallway, I watched him hunch over lower as he went, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the floor pass beneath him as he made his way back to his room. People said hello to him and he answered kindly. He knows everyone here. All of these people have a hand in helping him, but he people thin out as we walk. Finally there is no one for two hallways and I am just about to make my presence known to him when a doctor or someone important steps out of a side door and says hello to him and asks him something. I stop and wait. Then the person leans out and looks at me.
Can I help you?
Ben turns and looks back. His eyes widen and I see his brow go up, but only on the left side of his face. He smiles slightly.
No, I just need to have a word with my husband, thank you.
My hopes are dashed. I'm sorry, Mrs...uh... we don't allow for much private contact on family-designated days. We want to keep our residents emotionally level during these times. I understand it can be stressful-
Stressful is an understatement. Who are you again?
My apologies for not introducing myself. I'm Dr.______. I oversee Ben's treatment.
Then why did you pretend you didn't know my name?
Bridget, I want to assure you we will have time for guided conversation this afternoon in family session. I don't want you to feel as if your needs and questions are not being met. However, it's my first responsibility to see that Ben is-
I have no intentions of sabotaging my husband.
I think you know what I mean.
Maybe.
Then may I ask that you work diligently at following the rules while you are here as our guest? We all want the same thing for Ben, and he's doing well. If he seems a bit removed, please understand how overwhelming this is.
I raise my hands up and let them fall. Tears. Fucking tears are rolling now and he softens slightly. Ben stands there staring at me without moving or speaking as the doctor softens further.
I understand this is hard. From what Ben has told me you and he and the others have an incredibly close bond and live within an highly unusual set of circumstances, and I have been made aware that you have been through a lot in life. I want you to know that we are here to help facilitate all of you in creating a healthy environment in which you will all thrive and move forward. You're not going to get left behind. He isn't going to be someone new, he'll be Ben but with better tools to utilize to cope with stress and challenges.
Do you think you can fix him?
He is fixing himself. We only guide his efforts and support him. The same as you do.
I nod and wipe my cheeks and Lochlan's hands close around my arms from behind. His voice cuts through the weight of the air in the room as he apologizes to both men. She got away from me. She's so quick.
The doctor looks at Lochlan and nods. It's fine. I think I've eased her mind a little. Have I...?
Bridget. My name is Bridget.
Bridget? If there's anything else I can do, we will have time this afternoon in our session. I look forward to having some time with you to discuss your fears and maybe connect you with someone you can work with as well. Is that okay?
I don't know. Is it?
He looks at me curiously and then looks at his watch. I have to leave, but we will reconvene at three forty-five. See you then. And he shakes Lochlan's hand and then heads down the hall away from us. Ben tells me he will see me for the hike and comes back, thrusting a kiss onto my forehead so hard I lose my balance and bounce off Lochlan. He steadies me and Ben smiles. I see a briefest twinkle of bullshit in his eyes and he turns and walks away.
We are back now at the hotel to change. I put on my docs, skinny jeans and a Coney Island t-shirt that Batman got for me and I put my hair in a ponytail. I didn't put on any makeup. I expect to cry pretty much all afternoon. I know now why Ben didn't want me to come here. This is too fucking hard.
Friday, 16 August 2013
Checked in.
Another week, another suitcase. Hopefully this trip will be as successful as the last one.
Ben doesn't know I'm here.
Every weekend families are encouraged to come and participate in workshops and activities and therapies and so yeah, here I am.
Ben expressly said he did not want me here. Not sure if he did that to protect himself in case I wasn't planning on coming anyway or if he's going to be really unimpressed to see me. It could go either way but frankly I really really want to see him so I don't care.
Wish me luck. Tomorrow at six in the morning (breakfast) will either be amazing or terrible. I hope it's amazing.
Ben doesn't know I'm here.
Every weekend families are encouraged to come and participate in workshops and activities and therapies and so yeah, here I am.
Ben expressly said he did not want me here. Not sure if he did that to protect himself in case I wasn't planning on coming anyway or if he's going to be really unimpressed to see me. It could go either way but frankly I really really want to see him so I don't care.
Wish me luck. Tomorrow at six in the morning (breakfast) will either be amazing or terrible. I hope it's amazing.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Fierce auras.
The bursts of uncontrollable psychic energy continue, in which I demonstrate handily how to kill a four-month old iPhone 5 and a fourteen-month-old perfectly good vacuum (fuck you, I figured out how to spell it finally, I think) in the span of no less than nine hours. Simply by being in the same room with both objects, neither of which showed any damage whatsoever but were unrepairable.
Thank you Apple genius for the new phone. Wish you made vacuums too.
Thank you Apple genius for the new phone. Wish you made vacuums too.
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
Better angels.
Batman is not affectionate. Never was. His hand-holding fetish is control only. Direction. Containment. Proximity. He's all business vertically and horizontally too. It kept things simple, I guess. It made decisions pretty easy. Sort of like his formal, cold demeanor that hardly cracks except for now and again when I stomp my feet and demand that he feel something or show something or be something else. He'll refuse, amused and continue being aloof and I maintain my close distance, wishing he would soften or thaw or something.
He doesn't. He acts so pleased with my recent attempts to convince myself of the least of all the evils. I just can't figure out why.
***
Caleb passes me a mug of coffee, handle towards me so that he can burn his fingers and I have something to hold.
Speaking to me today? He smiles, letting his bottom lip slacken, and oh God, it looks good.
Maybe. I say it with a small smile, because I have Stockholm syndrome and he is all ears and eyes and time for me today.
Glad to hear it. Did you sleep?
I roll my eyes at him and sip the coffee. He's heavy-handed with the grounds. It's strong.
Do we need idle chitchat?
Maybe we do, yes.
No, we don't.
Whatever you say, Bridget.
***
Ben calls my phone and I stare at the number for a long time before it hangs up. Shit. It rings again almost immediately and I hit the button at the same time that I jump out of my skin.
Danny says you're punishing me for leaving and I should be wise to know that you might not come back to me when I leave here.
Danny has a big mouth for such a little boy. Wow. We haven't even said hello yet.
Is he the one with the big mouth? I'd say it's you.
Those are fighting words, Tucker.
Maybe I feel like fighting, Bee.
I hang up.
He calls back.
Don't do that, Bridget.
Do what? Make myself unavailable and hard to reach? Oh, I'm sorry. Did you need me and I'm not there? Feels great doesn't it, Benny? Only eight weeks? Jesus FUCKING Christ.
You know what? I'm trying to steer you towards Lochlan because I know how to get you back from him. If you drift toward Caleb instead I don't know what I would do.
You come back and be a man.
I'm working on it, Little Bee.
I know you are.
How are you doing?
Fabulous.
No, really.
You know where I am. You come see for yourself.
I'm halfway through, Bridget.
And?
This is bullshit but I'm doing it.
Who are you going to be when you come home?
I don't know yet. Hopefully the old Ben.
Jesus, no. Anything but that.
He laughs and it's the best sound in the world. You know you miss that guy.
Like hell I do. I liked the Ben I had.
Naw, Bridge, he was a fake, a joke.
He was mine.
You were mine once. God this sucks. Wish I could convince you to hole up with Danny and Sky until I get back.
Great choice of words, Ben.
That's my girl.
***
We've cleared late evenings, me and Loch, and have been staying up til all hours watching The Walking Dead. It's fantastic.
Slow to the party, Dalton tells me. He's all caught up. What do you like best?
The tension between the characters. The gore. The part where the dead are shown eating the living and ripping their stretchy skin off makes me squeal.
God, you're a sick little fuck. Every other girl thinks it's gross and horrible. What makes you so different?
I was raised by wolves, remember?
Oh, yeah. Good to know who to blame.
I know, right?
He doesn't. He acts so pleased with my recent attempts to convince myself of the least of all the evils. I just can't figure out why.
***
Caleb passes me a mug of coffee, handle towards me so that he can burn his fingers and I have something to hold.
Speaking to me today? He smiles, letting his bottom lip slacken, and oh God, it looks good.
Maybe. I say it with a small smile, because I have Stockholm syndrome and he is all ears and eyes and time for me today.
Glad to hear it. Did you sleep?
I roll my eyes at him and sip the coffee. He's heavy-handed with the grounds. It's strong.
Do we need idle chitchat?
Maybe we do, yes.
No, we don't.
Whatever you say, Bridget.
***
Ben calls my phone and I stare at the number for a long time before it hangs up. Shit. It rings again almost immediately and I hit the button at the same time that I jump out of my skin.
Danny says you're punishing me for leaving and I should be wise to know that you might not come back to me when I leave here.
Danny has a big mouth for such a little boy. Wow. We haven't even said hello yet.
Is he the one with the big mouth? I'd say it's you.
Those are fighting words, Tucker.
Maybe I feel like fighting, Bee.
I hang up.
He calls back.
Don't do that, Bridget.
Do what? Make myself unavailable and hard to reach? Oh, I'm sorry. Did you need me and I'm not there? Feels great doesn't it, Benny? Only eight weeks? Jesus FUCKING Christ.
You know what? I'm trying to steer you towards Lochlan because I know how to get you back from him. If you drift toward Caleb instead I don't know what I would do.
You come back and be a man.
I'm working on it, Little Bee.
I know you are.
How are you doing?
Fabulous.
No, really.
You know where I am. You come see for yourself.
I'm halfway through, Bridget.
And?
This is bullshit but I'm doing it.
Who are you going to be when you come home?
I don't know yet. Hopefully the old Ben.
Jesus, no. Anything but that.
He laughs and it's the best sound in the world. You know you miss that guy.
Like hell I do. I liked the Ben I had.
Naw, Bridge, he was a fake, a joke.
He was mine.
You were mine once. God this sucks. Wish I could convince you to hole up with Danny and Sky until I get back.
Great choice of words, Ben.
That's my girl.
***
We've cleared late evenings, me and Loch, and have been staying up til all hours watching The Walking Dead. It's fantastic.
Slow to the party, Dalton tells me. He's all caught up. What do you like best?
The tension between the characters. The gore. The part where the dead are shown eating the living and ripping their stretchy skin off makes me squeal.
God, you're a sick little fuck. Every other girl thinks it's gross and horrible. What makes you so different?
I was raised by wolves, remember?
Oh, yeah. Good to know who to blame.
I know, right?
Monday, 12 August 2013
Not a great day.
His hand is under my head when I wake up, his nose against my jaw, breath hot on my throat. He's so far gone into dreams his muscles are tensed and it takes me a few tries to slide out of his arms without fully waking him. He wakes up anyway and opens his eyes briefly to ensure that I'm still there before turning over, and taking the sheets with him.
Be up in a bit, he mumbles.
Just sleep, I whisper back.
***
I win permission from PJ to go have breakfast on the wall. He gives me a curious look and hesitates just long enough for me to blurt out a time-limit promise and then I am off with my coffee tumbler and a wax-paper wrapped piece of toast with cinnamon sugar, which I will forget about the minute I get there.
Jake. I invoke the name that still hurts to say out loud. It makes ache-pangs in my heart that echo in waves all over the inside of my body and the only way I can stop it is to hold my elbows tightly at my sides and bite the insides of my cheeks.
No one answers. The wind blows.
JAKE.
Jake died five years ago, Princess. He stepped off a fucking roof in a fucking far-away city and he's not coming back. Caleb is following me around the property lately. Wish he'd stop.
Not sure I believe that all the way, you know.
Yes, I'm aware. Your doubt is staggering, under the circumstances. Like the rest of us, Bridget, do you think he would stay away if he were still here on this earth?
You told me once that he was indeed still here.
When you hurt me the urge to hurt you back is fierce. I got a very good look at where your loyalties lie, Bridget.
It never mattered if I hurt you first, Diabhal. Don't make it seem as if it's equal.
What did you plan to talk with him about?
Ben.
Ben's gone and traded you again, hasn't he? 'Align with Lochlan and I'll be back soon and we can figure it out'. Is that what he said? Batman has done a number on Ben's mind. Do you really think he's doing that for Ben's benefit or for yours, for that matter? Bridget, you're not keeping up very well with your own games.
Ben hasn't factored in the aspect of me punishing him for leaving.
I see.
Maybe by the time he comes back there won't be anything left to figure out.
Because you've let yourself get closer still to the rat.
Maybe because he doesn't try to stand on everyone else to reach me.
He's the master, Bridget. Don't think for a second he isn't acting, here.
I know every aspect of that man. Don't even presume to tell me otherwise.
He surprises you often. So that would be your first lie of the morning.
I climb down from the rocks and turn back to pick up my coffee and toast. The wind is stinging my hair against my eyes but I stare evenly at Caleb.
Don't wreck my breakfast. I have plans and they're not with you.
Where are you going now?
None of your business.
You're going to sit on the filthy floor of the garage and eat your breakfast and hope that Jake shows up in your head? What if Cole shows up instead? What if you have lost your little mind? What if the fucking sky opens up and eats all of us whole? Bridget, I think it's time we got you some help. You're more than a little bit stalled here and I don't think having tea with Sam every day for five months fixed what's wrong with you.
There's nothing wrong with me.
He stops abruptly, ready to say more but not doing so. Push too hard and lose so much ground, right? I challenge him with my eyes to keep going but he's smarter than that and he gives in. Don't you dare tell me I'm crazy until you've seen what I have seen and felt what I've felt. Toast is a fucking accomplishment, as are words and feelings and trying to reach out with my arms and grab life rafts as they float by me as I drown here.
Follow me and I'll never speak to you again, Diabhal.
Threats work too.
Be up in a bit, he mumbles.
Just sleep, I whisper back.
***
I win permission from PJ to go have breakfast on the wall. He gives me a curious look and hesitates just long enough for me to blurt out a time-limit promise and then I am off with my coffee tumbler and a wax-paper wrapped piece of toast with cinnamon sugar, which I will forget about the minute I get there.
Jake. I invoke the name that still hurts to say out loud. It makes ache-pangs in my heart that echo in waves all over the inside of my body and the only way I can stop it is to hold my elbows tightly at my sides and bite the insides of my cheeks.
No one answers. The wind blows.
JAKE.
Jake died five years ago, Princess. He stepped off a fucking roof in a fucking far-away city and he's not coming back. Caleb is following me around the property lately. Wish he'd stop.
Not sure I believe that all the way, you know.
Yes, I'm aware. Your doubt is staggering, under the circumstances. Like the rest of us, Bridget, do you think he would stay away if he were still here on this earth?
You told me once that he was indeed still here.
When you hurt me the urge to hurt you back is fierce. I got a very good look at where your loyalties lie, Bridget.
It never mattered if I hurt you first, Diabhal. Don't make it seem as if it's equal.
What did you plan to talk with him about?
Ben.
Ben's gone and traded you again, hasn't he? 'Align with Lochlan and I'll be back soon and we can figure it out'. Is that what he said? Batman has done a number on Ben's mind. Do you really think he's doing that for Ben's benefit or for yours, for that matter? Bridget, you're not keeping up very well with your own games.
Ben hasn't factored in the aspect of me punishing him for leaving.
I see.
Maybe by the time he comes back there won't be anything left to figure out.
Because you've let yourself get closer still to the rat.
Maybe because he doesn't try to stand on everyone else to reach me.
He's the master, Bridget. Don't think for a second he isn't acting, here.
I know every aspect of that man. Don't even presume to tell me otherwise.
He surprises you often. So that would be your first lie of the morning.
I climb down from the rocks and turn back to pick up my coffee and toast. The wind is stinging my hair against my eyes but I stare evenly at Caleb.
Don't wreck my breakfast. I have plans and they're not with you.
Where are you going now?
None of your business.
You're going to sit on the filthy floor of the garage and eat your breakfast and hope that Jake shows up in your head? What if Cole shows up instead? What if you have lost your little mind? What if the fucking sky opens up and eats all of us whole? Bridget, I think it's time we got you some help. You're more than a little bit stalled here and I don't think having tea with Sam every day for five months fixed what's wrong with you.
There's nothing wrong with me.
He stops abruptly, ready to say more but not doing so. Push too hard and lose so much ground, right? I challenge him with my eyes to keep going but he's smarter than that and he gives in. Don't you dare tell me I'm crazy until you've seen what I have seen and felt what I've felt. Toast is a fucking accomplishment, as are words and feelings and trying to reach out with my arms and grab life rafts as they float by me as I drown here.
Follow me and I'll never speak to you again, Diabhal.
Threats work too.
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Tofino + Ukee.
Many of you wanted to see the offerings we found on the edge of the world. The larger sand dollars are six inches across! Mutant sea monsters, well, they be here.
Saturday, 10 August 2013
Give me things that don't get lost.
Lullabies, look in your eyes,I stood sunburned and sand-fidgety for inspection. My hair is still tangled and dry, my skin raw to touch, my grin unending. Lochlan knows how to show a girl a good time. There's no Eiffel Tower or canals or priceless artwork or Malibu cliffs. Nope, there's just an endless beach (with free parking), a watch removed from my wrist, and an invitation to walk for miles, days, even until I've had enough and I want to go back to the truck.
Run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.
I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.
We shared a bed, a cheap bottle of wine, and every single shower, hot or cold. I don't think my skin is raw because of the sunburn, I think he wore the top layer of me off just holding me.
Exclusivity seems to be the most valued commodity of all. I knew this and yet I ignore it. I can't make promises with a fractured heart. I don't think it's possible and yet my mind knows. It just knows and sometimes it doesn't tell the rest of me.
..?
Oh, shit, Caleb has asked me a question and I didn't hear him, I was too busy thinking about skin.
Pardon me?
I asked if you had enough time to be selfish.
Never. A wicked, defiant grin spoils my face, and also makes it awesome. No one can resist a happy Bridget, even when she is a brat.
He stares. His face is so handsome and so scary too. His face is pure jealousy wrapped in self-control with a sprinkling of exasperation on top. Bridget came back and she's twelve again.
What was the best part of the trip?
The time-stoppage, Diabhal.
You always like that best.
Yes.
So when can I be selfish?
I shrug. I'm not the one in charge.
Where is he?
Sleeping. He did all the driving. I cuddled the dog and looked out the window and played old Canadian rock songs in my head as I counted trees. I couldn't count that high though, same as the time I tried to count the loops on the scrambler and then threw up right outside the gate as we exited the ride.
So maybe you can stay and have a drink with me on the boat?
Now?
Now. You can tell me all about your trip.
Sure? I shrug again. No one is keeping tabs today. They've forgotten I am to be watched. Well, all but one did. He was waiting for this moment, when everyone scattered back to the post holiday ennui and dropped routine and rigid emotional rule.
Gin okay? I have some olives and bread and cheese too.
I'm actually starving.
Good, I can look after you. I'm hungry too. A week is a long time to be without you.
I don't think he means food anymore and the conversation has blown out the sun in favor of the shade but I pick up my phone and follow him down the steps.
Hey, Bridget, maybe if everyone is busy tonight you can stick around and we can have a sunset, he offers, ever the opportunist.
My mind knows more than I do and she's tight with her plans. I shake my head. I have to get back and wake up Lochlan before that.
Well, see how he does. Maybe he'll want to keep sleeping and if so you can come back.
Maybe.
Dumb that he knows. He knows Lochlan falling asleep during the day is a huge odyssey of wasted hours spent because we're all incredibly certain that Lochlan never actually slept on our trips, either on the amusement circuit or in the circus and so he has many, many years of sleeping to do to make up for it.
I used to sit and watch him sleep though, he didn't seem awake, he seemed so far away when I needed him sometimes and I would sit and feel alone in such a tiny room. I would sit beside the bed on the floor with a stolen book about whatever I was supposed to learn and he would wake up when I sneezed or exhaled too loud or got too despairing. He would hold out his arms and promise me something wonderful and I learned to believe that if I waited long enough, he would come through.
Oh shit.
What is it, Princess?
I have to wake him up.
I have to see this through.
Nothing. I just don't think I feel well enough tonight. I'm sorry. I pass Caleb the container of cheese and slip past him. I'll try and come down later.
It's a lie. Well, I think it's a lie but I tell it anyway and decide not to care how it's taken right now.
I go back to the house and walk the labyrinth of hallways until I reach my room. Our room. The room that seems so empty sometimes without Ben but that seems so small sometimes when stuffed with deployed memories, nostalgia spilling out into the hall. I open the door and Loch's eyes open. He looks sleepy and alert at the same time and I see how he's managed to survive. He's exhausted, aged and content all at once. He's burdened and on guard and resentful and repentant. Capable and prepared and hopeful, now.
Come lie down with me. Where did you go?
I just had a walk. Figured some things out.
What things? But then his words slur off and he's asleep again and I lie against him with my burning skin and it feels like home, just now. Yes it does. It feels like everything I need.
And it doesn't cost a thing.
Friday, 9 August 2013
The circus returns.
The best kinds of vacations are the ones in which you are so far from civilization that your phone says NO SERVICE and your GPS tells you it can't manage turn-by-turn guidance because it doesn't know where you are and when you tilt your head way back until your neck bends in half and your sunglasses (that you don't need because it's Fogust) fall off, you still can't see the tops of the trees and the dog falls asleep on your lap in the car somewhere during hour four but you keep riding and looking out the window and waiting for adventure that is all around you. You find it easily, handily and you wish you were someone else, living there all the time instead of sticking out like the outsider that you are. You wish life were a vacation punctuated with small spats of work here and there instead of the other way around. You wish you had some clean clothes but actually you don't really care. You wish you had comfortable shoes to walk in or some conditioner but you didn't bring either so you resort to bare feet and tangled hair and you reacquaint yourself with the things you always forget in the crush of real-life that chokes away the make-believe. Then you blink and it's over.
We're home now, in other words.
We're home now, in other words.
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