Some People Do

9: Wake and Bake

SOOKIE

I'm used to being up with the sun these days. Artis and I go for a run in the morning. Then I come home, make a smoothie, and take a shower. She retires to the balcony to bathe in the sun while I check my emails and make phone calls to clients. Work gets done over the next few hours. At lunch time I usually sit out on the balcony and meditate for a bit to help keep me centered and focused. It's not unusual for Artis to end up with half of my sandwich. We go for a potty break walk that lasts about a half hour. Then we return to my condo to work for a few more hours. I don't accept business calls or answer business emails after four o'clock, Hawaiian time. Very rarely am I willing to make exceptions.

Boundaries are important.

Working from home makes it very easy to say that I'm just going to take one more call or answer one more message. If I want to continue to work on whatever project I'm working on past that point, that's on me. But I will not negotiate rates for new work or have any customer contact until the next business day. I get back to people in a timely manner during my business hours. I don't believe in being accessible twenty-four hours a day. That's not the way I operate. If that's what a client needs, then they need to go to someone else.

Since I'm up with the sun, I get out of bed and quietly close the door behind me. Björn isn't in the bedroom, so I'm not worried about trapping him inside. I find the dog I don't know as well lying on Bear's bed. I know it's Bear's bed because his name is embroidered on it. My heart hurts for that dog. I walk over to him and crouch down to give him some pets. One eye opens and he looks up at me all sad and confused.

"I know, Björn, I know. I'm not even going to tell you that it gets better. It sucks. Someday you'll be together again. That I can promise you. All goodest boys go to heaven." I lean down and kiss the top of his head. "You want to go outside?"

He closes his open eye. I take that as a no. After a few more pats, I get up and walk away from the dog. I wash my hands. I rinse Eric's mug from last night's tea and put it in the dishwasher. After inspecting the pantry, I locate a container of flour, some baking powder, and a healthy amount of butter is tucked into the freezer. I help myself to two sticks of it so I can make biscuits. Eric doesn't have buttermilk, but I'm not surprised by that. I haven't made biscuits in more than a decade, but I know the recipe as sure as I know my own birthday. Gran taught me how to make them a long, long time ago.

It doesn't take long to get them rolled out. A drinking glass works just fine for cutting them since I'm not about to go rifling through drawers and cabinets in search of a cookie cutter. Anytime I ever made cookies for Eric in the past it was always Snickerdoodles or basic chocolate chip cookies. Sugar cookies were never his jam. The biscuits get laid out on a cookie sheet. The dough rests for just a while in the fridge while the oven heats. Coffee gets made. Not much has changed in regards to the kitchen layout. Eric hasn't reorganized things or moved them around much.

He does have different dishes and silverware since the last time we shared a meal. I don't know if he just got tired of looking at the old stuff or if he had one of his outbursts and broke all the plates in a fit of rage. Either one is possible. There's no point in asking. I can tell that he's different.

There used to be this energy rolling off him, like he was just looking for a reason to snap sometimes. That explosive chemistry we once had is gone, but I'm not upset about that. While there were certainly good times that stemmed from that chemistry, it also led both of us to self-destructive behavior. We hurt each other a lot. I made mistakes and so did he. We've grown, though, which is more than a lot of people can say. We're trying to be better people. I can't be mad about that.

Once the oven is ready, I slide the tray of biscuits in. Around that time, Björn lets me know he's ready to go outside. I pour myself a cup of coffee and then go out with him. We never let Bear out there alone and I assume it's the same with Björn. He likes the company and I like to make sure that he's not getting into something he shouldn't. Mostly, I don't want him to run off. I don't know if he's capable of jumping the fence. If he is capable of it and he ends up getting hit by a car on my watch, I would never forgive myself. It would be bad enough on any given day for that to happen, but considering Bear's only been gone about twelve hours...