Oh, lifeI was in a rush so I'm wearing flats and he frowns when he sees he'll have to carry on conversations this morning with the sun reflecting off the top of my flaxen head. He much prefers the less-innocent shoes that I need a ladder to climb into. But I'm not putting on costumes today. I'm not going to be anyone else. I am taking control now, and they can be who I tell them to be. At least for today.
It's bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
What do you think?
I walk in ahead of him. He appreciates the vaulted ceiling, briefly and then proclaims it rather decadent for a glorified boathouse. The moniker is a farce. There are two bathrooms and a rustic designer kitchen. I think it was a bachelor hangout for the grown son of the wealthy couple who used to live here, when he was home from university in America. Caleb thought it suited PJ quite well when we bought the property, but now that PJ is moving into Daniel and Schuyler's floor (which will soon be vacant) what he isn't so sure of is whether or not it will suit him. Can the Devil exist in such an environment?
Sure. Why the hell not? Caleb can be close to his children, since he's virtually adopted Ruth as his anyway and since Henry won't go anywhere without Ruth as it is.
Why the hell not? With that thought, I drop back in to the present. He is talking about whether or not his things will fit.
It's larger than your condo. I remind him.
Possibly.
He is feeling me out, creeping me out and turning me inside out. What he wants to know is not if the space is good enough or big enough but if I actually want him to be in it. So close I could walk out on the balcony off my bedroom in the main house and throw a rock through his bedroom window. The boathouse is just on the other side of the driveway and down on the edge of the cliff where the water meets the earth just before you go all the way around to the other side of the grounds in the back, where the beach is at the bottom of a very steep cliff.
I wouldn't have offered it to you if I didn't think you should take it.
He is humbled, lost for words. Brought down dozens of pegs all at once, until they are popping out cartoonishly all over the place and he has slid back down to the floor.
Why, Bridge? I know sometimes you regret bringing me back into your life at all.
I meant to say Life is short but it strangled itself halfway out and I couldn't say anything so I crossed to the living room window and motioned to the view.
He came over and stood right behind me, his breath on the top of my head. I felt him put his hands up but at the last second he opted not to touch me.
You don't have to do this.
Just take it before I lose my nerve.
What are you afraid of?
I waited. I swallowed the lump. I found the bravery buried underneath my fractured heart and I turned around and smiled and completely ignored his question. It's going to be good for the children to have you close by.
And then I walked out the door and left him standing there.