My hands were taken and brought up for a kiss and I was passed through the night into the morning back against the cool skin of the giant statue who holds no guilt, only shame. Only regret. His pale arms fold around me and his head presses against the back of my own and I sleep at last.
***
Oh father, you oughta be thereThey are planting the memorial trees in the back garden and I am back under the watchful eye of Christian the rock climber in lieu of Jacob, the giant Newfie Viking ice-climbing Reverend who no longer exists (unless Caleb is right) save for inside of me.
I'm gonna go to heaven when I die
(I want to go to heaven)
roll jordan, roll jordan
Christian is too permissive and far too far away from me to do anything to save me now. I am standing on the cliff letting the wind blow the dust and the neglect from my soul. The edges uncovered reflect the light while the rest remains smudged with black soot. I smile because it feels good and it feels good to be this close to death without the net. My swing is the cloud a little to my left but I would wait for a crowd larger than this. Today is not a show day.
I look at Lochlan. He's wielding the shovel like a true worker bee. He is digging the second hole. The one for Jacob's tree. A gracious move in light of Caleb always telling him how he was equally hated by Jacob. Just as Caleb was. Everything in my memory is ordered in pairs. The children. The ghosts. The secrets. The lies. The present. The hate. The love. And now?
The trees.
These are supposed to replace the plaques down there. If I stare straight down into the sea I can make out the shapes in bronze but not the letters because the water has come in to wash away the names and the dates that are seared into my brain and will never heal.
They think the trees will make things better. They are false comfort and not for me. No one wants me out here on the cliff and Chris still isn't watching me. I am watching him while he texts. Probably with Dylan or Rob. They are away.
Just out of curiosity I take a step. The shovel stops.
I step back and the movements resume. I turn my back on the sea. The deep fickle comfort would be shortlived and mired in a brief resentment and I hate that feeling. I need to see how this story ends.
****
(We are only blessed with that faint Scottish accent when he's yelling).
A shoving match erupts.
Bad job, brother.
She was safe.
What kind of dreamworld are you living in?
I can hear you Lochlan. I admit it, thinking he will back off from berating Christian for imaginary dangers. Lochlan's demons run so deep they choke off his nerve endings and hum a steady drone through his very being. He doesn't use alcohol to dull them because he said it doesn't work anyway. He uses the alcohol for the way it allows him to admit his feelings to my face. Because I am an adult now and he can't reconcile that.
Stay out of it, Bridge.
No. Leave him be.
I got it, Bridge. Loch, I was there when you were gone, man. When she was with Jake. I think I know her well enough that-
I've been responsible for her since she was eight years old! Don't you think I know her better than anyone?
As an adult. Lochlan-
Don't even. I don't fucking believe this. I know her heart. I know all of her like my own face in a mirror. And if something happened to her because you assume she won't do something than think again. You ever notice when she's out there with Ben (His voice broke. Oh my God, here we go) he doesn't even let go of her? You can't trust her with her own life. It isn't her job to be responsible for it anymore. She lost that privilege and it's never coming back.
She does just fine.
Then you can take the fall for it when she disappears over the side of that fucking cliff. Okay? And you can take the brunt of my rage. It won't be pretty, Chris. And you're done. I'll ask someone who cares enough to keep her on this earth and not make fucking assumptions.
Chris is nodding. His ears have turned pink. You do that, man. You fucking do that. I've got things to do. He walked over to me and gave me a quick hug and wouldn't stop long enough for me to talk.
Christian, he's just-
I know, Bridget. He's afraid of losing you. Wish he would figure out that he did that years ago and just get on with his life already.
But he didn't-
Jesus, Bridget. Cut him loose already. You're giving him false hope.
I'm not giving him anything.
EXACTLY!
The horror of Chris raising his voice to me shocked me to the point of hot tears and I turned and headed back toward the kitchen. Chris grabbed my shoulders and steered me back around to face him but he couldn't find his words fast enough. I found mine.
He knew the deal. And he took it anyway. How is this my fault? My voice is so small. I can't hear it.
Did you really think he would refuse? Bridget, do you really think people can think or act rationally when you're around?
They can try.
Yes, sweetheart, they can try but it very rarely works. He wants you so badly he isn't rational or fair. Ever.
It's the way things are, Christian. Can you just leave it? Please?
He shook his head and left, grabbing his helmet on the way out. There's a row of helmets on the bench. Everyone was here today to get the garden done, since the week ahead is supposed to be nice.
***
I'm standing in the driveway. Another helmet. Another motorcycle, only this time it's the very seriously lethal black Ducati and Lochlan has it loaded to the hilt. He should just take the truck. He's distracted and frustrated and exhausted and I don't know why he doesn't just take the truck.
Lochlan.
I'll be back in a few days.
Which day?
Next Tuesday. Maybe the Wednesday. Thursday. I don't know. It depends on a lot more than me.
Yeah.
You'll be fine.
Yup.
Bridge, don't.
Okay.
Seriously. I will stay.
Someone has to go.
Schuyler can do it.
He's already there and no, he can't.
Someone else then.
There is no one else. I know that, Lochlan.
Right. So hold tight and I'll see you in a few days. Nothing bad will happen.
I shook my head.
Just stay the fuck away from that cliff. You promise me, Bridge? Promise me you'll just hold tight and I'll be back before you miss me.
Not possible.
God I love you.
He kissed me and climbed onto the bike. He fastened his helmet and got on the Monster. Time to go. He fired it up and I can't hear him anymore. He salutes me and then he's gone. Just gone. Up the drive and out onto the highway heading East. All the way to Toronto. He was probably there before I turned finally and walked back to the house. He drives that bike like a fool.
Love you too.
I said it to the fucking wind, I guess. He never would have heard me. He never expects it back and I don't either when I say it. But we both know we say it back. No one ever lets it drop. It's like a three-decade game of Hot Potato.
***
Caleb strolled in through the front door just before dinner.
Is that little fucker gone?
No, she's right here, I said as I stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall.
His face fell briefly before he recovered his expression into something resembling controlled evil glee.
It's going to be nice for us to have an entire week without the pyromaniac ruining every attempt I make to get close to you.
Ben will look after that.
But he doesn't, does he? That's the fun part. The good part. Ben lets you be yourself and you can have as much Cole-time as your little heart desires and Loch isn't around to ruin everything or tell you your head is messed up. I give you everything you want and what does he give you?
He gives me everything I need. Now get the fuck out of my house. It's not your night to see Henry.
Caleb is surprised and he steps back, expression clearly unchecked, venturing from surprise into quiet anger.
I'm going to go see what your neglected husband is up to while you see about changing your attitude just a little. It will make things easier for you later.
I have already tuned him out on my way back through the kitchen to the back door, where I can make my way down the steps, across the concrete patio, past the new garden and back to the cliffs where the sea will warn me away from men who don't have my best interests at heart and allow me to miss the ones who do.