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?