At the bottom of everything.

Watching DVD’s and drinking my body weight in coffee was my usual Sunday at Castle Bam. I retreated to the upstairs bed room so as to avoid the commotion that usually occurred down stairs. This being the case, if April was around she always brought me up sandwiches and such things; the woman really was too good. Bam occasionally dropped by to give me a kiss but otherwise he was busy and I didn’t discourage him. My own solitude was greatly appreciated.

I could never remember the movies I watched on those lazy Sunday’s. I didn’t sleep, or do anything else but stare blankly at the television screen either drinking my coffee or smoking a cigarette. Being an ex alcoholic was hard when this sort of thing happened, like any addiction I had always turned to it in times of trouble; or just in general ‘times’ really. Now, I felt the need to drink until I could no longer remember my own name. But I didn’t. That, I guess, I am proud off but I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. If you’ve ever had an addiction you’ll know how horrible that feeling is. Your body shakes with the struggle, your head says No when your being screams Yes.

I shook, I curled my body up tight and I tried to stop thinking about my family. Sometimes it worked and I could concentrate on the haze of the television; other times I gave in and wept.
I was notorious for being an emotional wreck. At least, I thought I was. You never think as highly of yourself as others do; funny isn’t it?

That got me thinking about my friends back home. I missed them horribly, along with the bitter northern winds and the fine cut cigarettes. We communicated by e-mail or text but I had rarely been on the internet in the last month and my mobile was always misplaced one way or another. I was lucky that they still considered me a friend with the way I was ignoring them, long ago I would have called it quits.

Problem is I was doing that to everyone these days; everyone but Bam. And I didn’t want to become one of those people who made their lover be the centre of their world and said ‘Fuck’ to everyone else. But all the God’s in heaven couldn’t motivate me to change.

I always said ‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’

***

Elsewhere in castle Bam, according to the grapevine, suspicions over my mental health were being brought to light. April and Bam were in the kitchen at this time, while the rest of the Viva La Bam crew were ‘playing’ in the snow. They way I heard it Linde had called Bam worried about my lack of contact, April had kindly taken the phone call and explained things how she saw them. Sadly, she saw them precisely how they were; mother instinct I’m guessing.

The conversation was roughly replayed to me later that evening.

Bam, accompanied by his mother, brought coffee up to the bedroom. I was lying curled in the sheets with my head resting on a pillow and my eyes drooping; All this lazing around was exhausting.

“Coffee?” Bam smiled and sat on the edge of the bed.

I groaned inwardly, “Sure, why not?”

“You didn’t touch your sandwich?” April scowled.

“Wasn’t hungry.”

I pushed myself up into a sitting position and took my coffee from Bam’s grasp, offering him a peck on the cheek as a Thank you.

“Linde called.”

April hit Bam gently on the arm, “Don’t be so blunt about it Brandon.”

“Why did Linde call?” I question, ignoring the family tiff unfolding in front of me.

“He’s worried Ville. W-we all kinda are.” Bam admitted.

“Why? Worried about what?”

Playing dumb and acting as if my brief conversation at breakfast yesterday was a myth was the only way I could see out of having this conversation. Sadly it wasn’t bullet proof.

“You,Ville. You aren’t yourself. You’re moping and avoiding all contact with anyone. Fuck sake! You aren’t writing or painting or…or anything.”

Of course I wasn’t myself. I didn’t even know who myself was anymore. I neglected to answer him and allowed him to continue his rant.

“You need to call them Ville, or something.”

“I will.”

“And…and you can’t let this family thing get to you. O-Okay?”

That annoyed me. I pulled my knees up and rested my coffee on them. My head was bowed and I stared darkly at the contents in the mug. From the corner of my eye I saw April give Bam a disapproving look.

“He just can’t forget it.” she whispered.

“Ape, they are treating him like garbage!” Bam snapped back, “They should accept him however he is.”

“I know Bam but that isn’t always the way. You have to understand that it’s hard for some parents to see their children grow into someone that is, was, considered a sin. It’s hard and difficult to come to terms with.”

“You and Phil did alright.”

“That’s because I can see past that. I am just happy for you both and I was never particularly religious to begin with anyway.”

“Can – Can you both just stop talking. Please. Thank you for trying to help but I just need some space and time.” I sighed.

“But Willa, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m scared of you doing something. Y’know?”

“I won’t.”

I didn’t promise because I knew, somehow, I would end up breaking it. April left after that while Bam remained with me. He pulled me into his arms, my head rested against his chest and he pulled the throw rug up over our bodies. He smelt like the snow and had that musky scent that most men have. Me? I like I smell like cigarettes and cinnamon.

“Willa?”

I nodded into his chest, “Bam?”

“I love you, y’know?”

“Kittos. I love you too.”

“Willa?”

I giggled and nodded again, “Yes Bam.”

“I love it when you talk Finnish just to confuse me.”