(Inwardly I felt as panicked as he looked. Outwardly though, I was ice.)
Matt's here. He seems to be a hallmark of the seasons changing these days, as he and Sam refuse to commit but can't be apart. This is maddening and heartbreaking and yet it's exactly what happens when there are complications in a relationship.
Complications like...bees.
You've been with Sam for almost a year now. Matt lobs it gently toward the water as we walk. It's a flat sentence and so it skips once, twice...three times before sinking below the surface.
He's keeping track.
I wait for him to drown me in the surf, taking me out of whatever imaginary competition or obstacle he thinks I am but he walks on, picking carefully over the rounded wet rocks that force us to consider each step we make with an undeserved concentration.
(It's a metaphor. Roll with it.)
I don't respond. I wait. I'm a good listener when you need me to be.
What is he to you? What are you to him?
Comfort. Faith. He's a constant. He's a lighthouse.
You've got ten guys who could fulfill that role. Why'd you have to touch Sam?
It's a broken question from a broken man.
He touched me first.
Bridget-
You weren't there for him.
I was working.
You don't put work first in this life. Maybe Sam and I have seen that and we know it. Maybe you're just learning it now.
What does the future look like, Bridge?
If only I knew.
He stares at me. Why do they all stare at me? How do I do this if you're in the way?
I'm not in the way.
Yeah, you are.
Then I'll move over.
What if I want you to leave and not just make room?
Sam made his wishes known over and over and you ignored them. The one thing I'm not going to let you do is hurt him. We just finished fixing him.
Oh, is that what you think you've done?
Matt's here. He seems to be a hallmark of the seasons changing these days, as he and Sam refuse to commit but can't be apart. This is maddening and heartbreaking and yet it's exactly what happens when there are complications in a relationship.
Complications like...bees.
You've been with Sam for almost a year now. Matt lobs it gently toward the water as we walk. It's a flat sentence and so it skips once, twice...three times before sinking below the surface.
He's keeping track.
I wait for him to drown me in the surf, taking me out of whatever imaginary competition or obstacle he thinks I am but he walks on, picking carefully over the rounded wet rocks that force us to consider each step we make with an undeserved concentration.
(It's a metaphor. Roll with it.)
I don't respond. I wait. I'm a good listener when you need me to be.
What is he to you? What are you to him?
Comfort. Faith. He's a constant. He's a lighthouse.
You've got ten guys who could fulfill that role. Why'd you have to touch Sam?
It's a broken question from a broken man.
He touched me first.
Bridget-
You weren't there for him.
I was working.
You don't put work first in this life. Maybe Sam and I have seen that and we know it. Maybe you're just learning it now.
What does the future look like, Bridge?
If only I knew.
He stares at me. Why do they all stare at me? How do I do this if you're in the way?
I'm not in the way.
Yeah, you are.
Then I'll move over.
What if I want you to leave and not just make room?
Sam made his wishes known over and over and you ignored them. The one thing I'm not going to let you do is hurt him. We just finished fixing him.
Oh, is that what you think you've done?