Wednesday 8 June 2016

Presence.

But never have I been a blue calm sea
I have always been a storm
I feel asleep waiting for Ben in the big hanging chair in the lounge area of the studio and he woke me with a sweet kiss long past my bedtime when he finally took off his headphones and noticed I was still there. He's been holed up for weeks. Part of me wants to stamp my feet and say it isn't fair, the other part reminds me that this is how he is. How he's happiest. This is what he does, nevermind the others who unhelpfully suggest that this is because I have rejected Caleb at last and maybe now Ben has no use for me because I'm not depraved anymore or maybe because my loyalties aren't as divided  clearly I must be devoted to Loch and now there's no room for Ben to maybe the simple fact remains that he's finally grown bored of me (wow, thanks Duncan) to PJ's incredible suggestion that I should have been down here forcing him out of his rut long before now.

I don't know who is right and who is wrong so I asked Ben and he laughed and said Nobody, but since we're alone, there's been something I've been wishing for. And he unzipped his jeans and grabbed me by the back of the head and made sure no one's going to call me a lady any time soon.

When I was done choking on his absence he wiped my face with his t-shirt and said he bet I didn't miss him anymore and said if I needed my jaw realigned the next one will probably put it back and he laughed and sat down heavily on the floor right in front of where I lay in the chair. Still sideways. Still somewhat sleepy. Still kind of surprised. He puts his head down to match mine. So we can talk.

What did I miss?

Spring. 

What else?

The meltdown-countdown. 

You seem to be doing okay from where I sit. 

Yes, Ben. If you stare down the end of your dick, everything looks terrific. Jesus. You've got the penis-equivalent of rose-colored glasses. 

I told you I wasn't going to fix things. 

You're not even around for moral support though. You've bailed entirely. 

You're safe. And I've got my own shit to fix, Bridge. I'm trying not to drink, here. 

Then let me help you.

Pretty sure you just did. 

Well, then fuck Bill. They should ask everyone if they're friends of Bridget. 

Here on the point, they do. The program is called BB. 

BJ, you mean.

Right. Because that was amazing. I've been missing out on life haven't I?

Yes. 

I'm sorry, Bridget. How can I make it up to you?

Stop disappearing? 

Dammit. I was hoping you'd let me return the favor you just did for me. 

Well...you could do that to. 

Awesome! And before I could say anything else, he got up on his knees, grabbed my hips, pulled my jeans right off and the rest isn't even remotely fit for print.