I considered submitting the words "hope" and "blanket" to "Associations" by chrysalis escapist but this came to me instead. (= (on a side note: c e - if you want to use the words, by all means.)
Don't own: if I did Mac would be mine. So since I can't have him. I'll give him to Stella.
I sit in his office wrapped in his blanket. My blanket. Our blanket. By dint of ownership the blanket belongs to Mac. But he calls it my blanket because I gave it to him. We both use it (him more than I) so I guess it could be called our blanket. I bought Mac this blanket last year for Christmas. He sleeps in his office so often I had figured he could use something like this. It's nothing special, at least not to look at. It's very "manly"; a soft fleece thing, more of a throw, dark, royal blue, with a white overlock stitch on the edges. No design or pictures and certainly no fringe. When folded up and tossed over the arm of the couch it does not stand out. It blends in quite nicely with the rest of the office. There is another exactly like it in my apartment. Only to be used when absolutely necessary. It has been used exactly twice. Mac does not know of it's existence.
The one in the office gets used often. More often than I think it ought to be. But at least I know he has something to keep him warm when he insists on staying late to finish a case, only to end up sleeping on his couch. I always know when it's been used. He tries to hide its use: but I take notice of this blanket every morning. I notice if the fold is slightly different, or the location is different than that of the day before. The casual observer might not notice anything, but I'm paid to notice small things. And when the small things are connected to someone I care greatly for, the differences are all the more noticeable.
I only use the blanket on occasions such as this; when something's wrong. This time he's on the top of the Empire State building. Not the top floor. The top; where the antennas are. Though I'm not there, though I know he will take all safety precautions, I'm still petrified. You see, I'm scared of heights. No one knows this, not even Mac. Usually I'm able to deal with it; deep breaths and look down as little as possible.
I know I'm supposed to be working, but I can't. Not until I know he's safe. I shiver again and look at my phone. I don't want to call him just to make sure he's ok. That's foolish, and would tip him off about my fear. I just have to wait and hope he will call me. And hope I won't get a very different type of call. If I get that call the blanket at my place will get used again, possibly get put to long-term use. The first time I used that blanket was right after the mess with Drew. The case was closed and I was so relieved he was safe. I went home, wrapped myself in "his" blanket and cried myself to sleep. The second time was more of a long-term use; when he had been taken hostage after the bank robbery. The few hours I was home during that time I spent wrapped in Mac's blanket (for that is what I call it). And again, once he was back and the case closed, I came home, wrapped myself in it and wept.
These blankets are my way of being close to him when it is otherwise impossible. They are my way of drawing comfort and hope from situations that would render me crippled with fear. Knowing he uses this one causes in me an unnameable feeling. I almost feel as if I have given him some form of protection, some way to keep him safe. So my using this gives me hope that he is still safe.
Still no call. The stress of the situation causes exhaustion in me. Unwillingly I sleep. And am awoken by the sound of my name and a gentle hand on my cheek. And am reminded of a verse I was made to learn at the convent; "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life."
Reviews are always enjoyed. I'm sorry I'm so bad at replying to reviews but please know that I read and love all of them! Hope you are all enjoying your holidays!