While I was in church this morning, dressed in my smart pale pink Chanel suitdress (courtesy of Caleb), trying to stay awake while parked between Duncan and Christian, Lochlan was sitting on the front steps sharing his morning worship with the bottle of Auchentoshan that we keep hidden for celebrations and emergencies alike.
When we came home, he raised the bottle and I realized I had no idea which occasion this was, a celebration or an emergency. I'm not sure he did either, judging by his lack of clarity in speaking to me.
Duncan and Christian went straight in after greeting him and telling him to not have any more, that it's early. Ruth might want to do something today. He nodded and gave up the bottle to Chris, who took it inside with him, leaving me halfway up the front steps waiting for an explanation.
Sorry, Peanut. It's sometimes far better to check out of a stressful situation than to face it like a man.
Is that what Ben did?
Ben? What? No, me. The drink. I mean, I'm sorry. He smiles and it disarms me, melting my resolve just enough for me to need to grip the railing because I'm guessing the resolve hardens in my knees. Now it's gone, and they're weak. Don't smile at me like that. Don't call me your circus peanut. Don't be so fucking cute and helpless and afraid and in love. This kills me and they'll blame you when they find my corpse.
I don't think I can handle this.
What this do you mean, Locket?
Look at you. You're so pretty and clean and sweet and high-class with your pretty designer dress and your fancy shoes and the cavalcade of cars going up the road in a neighborhood so fancy everyone has gates. Look at you sugar-babying your way through life running this sort of mean balance between princess and freak. I cannot give you this. This seems so you now though. Where's my girl with the sugar smile and the bloody knuckles from trying so hard to help me tear down rides so we could get home faster? My life won't have mansions and fancy dresses and big fridges stocked with groceries I can't pronounce. My life isn't this. I'm a transient in my own existence. What's going to happen when you decide you want that easy, pretty life and I can't provide it for you? You move so easily between being two people. Fancy Bridget of the point and Firebaby. My little filthy, hungry shadow. I can give the shadow everything. I don't even think I know the fancy girl.
I strip out of my jacket and my shoes and call for Chris to bring the bottle back. He does in a few minutes with a confused look on his face. I thank him and he disappears again. I pull the cork out of the top and take a big gulp, letting it burn off my hypocrisy and and I tell Lochlan that I don't think I know the fancy girl either and I think he's forgotten that you can take the girl out of the circus but you can't ever take the circus out of the girl.
I ask him if he's going to be okay with this. That we have received a gift from Ben and it would be a waste to let it sit.
A gift? Naw, Peanut. We worked for this. We earned this, fair and square. I'm just trying to decide if I'm worthy to be in charge of you on my own.