Monday, 9 February 2009 - 7:51 pm

Soft beds and closed doors

We finally settled down for the night spread across three apartments.  Sally and Masterson took one, which we were all grateful for. They can be… obvious, shall we say. They don’t make much noise, but a little carries a long way in the darkness.

Sax and the kids took up residence in the apartment at the other end of the floor. There was a bed for each of them, and I’m fairly sure that I caught a glimpse of Dillon bouncing on one of them. Nugget was watching, her arms wrapped around the cat, as usual. Sax has been more distant from the littlest one since he visited his daughter’s empty home, but he’s still keeping an eye on her. I’m hoping that she’ll draw him out again.

So that left the last poky apartment on the floor for Thorpe, Ben and me. I asked if someone should keep watch – we usually try to have someone awake for most of the night, just in case. Ben said he would do it, walked into one of the bedrooms, and closed the door behind him.

It was so abrupt that I stood there blinking at the door for a few seconds. Thorpe asked me what the hell had happened between us, and I had no answer to give him. I have no idea what to think about Ben’s moodiness.

Thorpe offered me the last bed, probably because of all of this. I told him that I fit on the couch better than he did, so he might as well take it. Now I’m sitting here in someone else’s living room, lit only by this laptop screen, wondering where my friendship went.

If I’m honest, Ben’s attitude hurts. Thorpe seemed to think that whatever it was has something to do with me, and I’m starting to think he’s right. This has gone on for too long. I had hoped that he would unbend and talk to me again, but it only seems to be getting worse.

He’s still awake – I can hear him moving about. I’m going to talk to him, to see what this is all about. In a minute, when my heart stops beating so fast at the idea.