Friday 2 February 2018

Spanners in the works.

He stopped moving all at once, one arm wrapped around me, the other pinning me down, hand wrapped around my neck. Sometimes that's the only way I can do this, with him, when we slide backwards into horrible roles too familiar and comfortable to give up easily.

Listen.

But I hear nothing.

Shhhh.

But he's pressing me against the sheets and I panic, I don't know if the army is about to storm the gates or if it's thundering outside, a good bet mixed with all this rain.

He gets up, pulling me up to sitting with him and then goes to open the window.

Listen, Bridget. Spring.

Then I hear it. A bird chirping. Maybe one of the ones we watched yesterday. They're coming back. Imbolc used to be a winter celebration and my most disliked one of all thanks to the long dark days and cold nights but here you blink and winter is finished. The seasons are vastly different from elsewhere. Here they are rain, cherry blossoms, more rain,  and forest fires. So the birds aren't ever gone for long.

He leaves the window open, returning to me, stretching out, his weight around me like a cage, knees and elbows enabling his direct attention, face to face. He's inside me again, an evil machine hellbent on being a part of me no matter what else or who else happens.

But on the upside, it keeps him nice as he's back to talking about nature and done with his threats to end my life.

At least for the moment.

A lingering kiss and he resumes his inward focus. I close my eyes. No medium blues. I don't want to see the set of his mouth. I don't want to be here so I go away, back to the lights, the screams, the fast-forward tick of the prize wheel, the cheesy scary music of the haunted house, the barkers chiding those who walk past their booths without stopping. I take my seat on the Ferris Wheel. Lochlan winks as he locks the bar across the front and I am whisked backward once he steps back to the lever, away from him. He grins as I disappear and he loads the rest of the wheel.

And then I am falling through stars.Who needs birds when you have this?

When he stops the wheel and pulls me out of my seat (eventually), he asks where I went. I don't know what he means until he explains that every rotation of the wheel sent me past him with a faraway, unfocused expression on my face. That it's like I forgot where I was.

I did, I tell him. I was in the stars. I could touch them but you told me not to stick my hands up on the rides.

He smiles. Glad you're listening. More glad that you have a happy place.

A happy place?

Yes, it's a place you can go, either physically or in your imagination that brings you comfort.

Suddenly his whole face changes and it's Caleb. Instead of green eyes and red curls I get blue eyes and dark hair.

Where were you? He is finished and my whole body aches like it always does.

I was in my happy place.

He looks so proud, briefly.