B is steadily becoming one of THEM. Them, being my father and brothers. They have completely highjacked him and not only is he suddenly the expert moose tracker, he can also advise on how to handle a car that might decide to break down in these freezing temperatures as well as account for why the steam coming off Lake Fryken turns into such thick, grey fog. It’s B they all fuss over, and beyond being the mother of their beloved grandson/nephew/cousin Monkey (and I do therefore hold some level of importance, albeit not much except ensuring he is taxied around to whoever wants Monkey time), I am irreversibly in third position now. After Monkey and B. I suppose that makes sense as my son is just too damn brilliant and incredible, and B is the most wonderful person on the planet alongside him.
Monkey doesn’t have to pass any tests, of course. He is their flesh and blood, so their love for him was always there by default, and I’m pretty sure he could have turned out to be a little shithead and they would have been crazy about him anyway. B, however, came after a couple of disastrous relationships (the latter my failed marriage to the guy I not so affectionately refer to as ‘Hitler’) so they were all pretty sceptical to say the least. That vanished within just moments. OK, perhaps not moments, because anyone can pretend for ‘moments’. Certainly any doubts were gone within days of first getting to know B. My mother was the least enthusiastic at the idea of me introducing someone new, yet two weeks later (B first met them all when he came with us to Sweden a year and a half ago for a couple of weeks) when she dropped us back off at the airport on or way back to London, she hugged me and whispered into my ear: “look after that man”.
I intend to. Someone like B you just don’t risk losing, so I’ll keep on loving him stupid and will spend my days falling over myself to make him happy. Let’s hope I can.
There weren’t any tests, but I’m sure my father didn’t expect B to take such a keen interest in his passion – moose hunting. B came along out into the woods, stood there quietly for hours with Dad and my brother D, and any chance he got asked questions and generally wanted to find out more. He went shooting with them, and did well – also probably unexpected. And now he makes fire.
B makes FIRE – my father openly told him only yesterday how fond he is of him and how they all love how he’s now a part of our family. Nice, eh? I’d like to point out that the best compliment my father has EVER paid any ex of mine is not wanting to use the person in question for target practice, so for him to actually express fondness is pretty spectacular. Not that I’m surprised – I can’t see how anyone could do anything other than adore B. And so here we are now, at my father’s paradise aka Falla, and for the first time since it came into his possession there is somebody other than my father himself allowed to make a fire in the old fireplace: B. You can’t score any higher than that with my father. Any ex wasn’t even allowed in here, for God’s sake.
Everything fell into place with B, and aside from how I feel – he is the great love of my life, my best friend and I have never been happier – I also see the love my whole family feel toward him (and he towards them) and it only emphasises how right this is. It’s forever.