Duncan is still not sober so I joined him for a few this morning because hey, who doesn't want whiskey for breakfast?
He is six-two, close to a hundred and seventy pounds. I'm five feet tall and wavering somewhere between ninety-five and a hundred, I don't know but I lasted through two of his drinks and then I was toast and the real talking began, locked on the front porch, the only private place in which to have a conversation without a lot of indignant hotheaded husbands/brothers/uncles/sugardaddies taking over. Besides, I needed him to be honest, not defensive and I've never thrown a punch at Duncan so I figured I had the best chance of sorting him out and keeping the peace besides.
I asked him what happened to recovery and he asked me what the point of it was, that it was less frustrating to be shitfaced all the time and then he cared less. I asked him why he suddenly cared so much and he said it wasn't sudden in the least and he thought with my crushing on him all the time that it wouldn't have taken so long but here he is years later, years older, doing the same dead-end jobs, taking the same trips, suffering through the same detox, and alone. If I crush so hard and he's so cool, then where's the love?
(Daggers through my chest. That's where it is, it all poured out through those holes you just made, Duncan.)
This was designed to make your life easier-
How? I can't bring a girl home! Jesus, what am I supposed to do? This isn't a normal existence.
You don't bring them here..I don't know. Do what Dalton does! Or PJ.
You want to know how fucked up Padraig is from you?
Do what Dalton does. I repeat myself.
Dalton doesn't do anything. He talks so big. Bridget, he hasn't fucked anyone in years. He yanks himself to a picture of you every night and picks a name for her to tell you lies later on. It's all bullshit. No one here is happy. Jesus, look at Ben.
Oh, tell me about Ben before I kick your ass.
But Duncan laughs and takes another drink and just shakes his head.
That's what I thought.
How well do you really know these guys, Bridget? Are you so blind that you can't see the lineup out your fucking door? We wait for Ben to crack, for Loch to get fed up and disappear off to his precious freakshow again, we wait for Sam to really be realllllly fucking sure he's switched sides and then we wait some more. Sometimes we're number one to you and sometimes we're last but the lineup still goes right up around the point.
Do you want to stay?
I want to be here but it seems the price for your happiness is my own.
Then go. Live your life. The door is always open. I don't want you here if it isn't where you want to be.
Or we could have an arrangement.
I can't sleep with you.
Why not? Is it that I don't interest you in that way or because your schedule is full?
I need to go in.
Help a guy out and answer the question. You've done a solid number on my ego over the past few years, grant me that much.
I sit back down and he passes me the rest of his drink which I finish in one swallow. Great. I can't feel my ears and I'm about to break his heart. I should lie. I should make some shit up. I should take the easy way out but when have I ever done that? I opt for half and half.
If Ben hadn't gotten under my skin I would have picked you.
That so? Well, I wouldn't have shared you with anyone. He's fucking insane.
I don't know if I ever gave him a choice.
So I was next.
You were next but you know..you're you. One minute you're the biggest clown in the room and the next you're the ice-king. Too cool for school. I never know which one I'm crushing on.
He laughs. Not your fault I don't have my shit together.
Are we good or is everything going to be weird now?
Weird, as always. This is you we're talking about, correct?
Should I dissolve it. End the whole thing? Disband the collective?
Naw. It's special, what we have here. It's just not the cakewalk everyone imagines it should be. Sometimes it's hard. It's hard to watch you be surrounded by people, know that you feel alone anyway and think I'm the one who could fix it.
I don't feel alone. I have you guys here. You're why I get up in the morning.
Pretty sure Loch's neverending teenage libido is why you get up in the morning.
Shhhhhh, Poet. Don't wake the beast.
