Gavin is thinner, sleeping with him in the bed is like being locked in a cage of bone. We’re leaving at noon, catching a bus to the ferry and arriving on the Island for Three. Part of me is happy I’m going and another part doesn’t want to to leave. I have unfinished business here this week, I’m almost afraid of being without a connection to my in-box for three days. I can taste my hesitation, a sour tang on the back of my tongue. We will be back on Friday, maybe late, but don’t keep from calling. Sunday I expect people over, though now I’m not certain who. I called True Confections this morning, I’m going to pick up a second cake to keep it interesting, to keep it fair. I’ve no reason not to. Gavin leaves on Monday.
I wonder at myself, that I’m beginning to be demanding, that I’m beginning to express craving in words. “You’re not allowed to carve yourself up over this, you know why? Because that would give me a hold on you that I could never forgive you for.” I walked to Main street yesterday like an angel bearing death. I was blind, one one foot in front of the other, bright flowers in my hand like a weapon.
Radio silence begins here.