Made sense of it myself, since no one else could.

(Over the weekend Ben had some sort of episode. An acute anxiety attack, they say. He had some tests and he's fine. Fine. Still 95% goofball, 5% big scary metal rocker. I thought he was having a heart attack and I'm afraid I did not deal with things very well at all.)

I've been watching you with my terminal view
As you struggle to rise to your end
I laughed hard at the insults we threw
As the weight of the world found revenge
Revenge
Revenge

I sit on the floor, my back up against the concrete wall, one bare light down at the end by the door swinging gently, failing to cast enough light for warmth or safety or vision. In my arms he sleeps. Sprawled across my legs uneasily. Maybe he doesn't know I am here. My chin hits my chest and I bounce awake abruptly. I will not sleep for as long as it takes.

I will remain here with my hands pressed over his heart and search for the pattern that allows me to breathe when otherwise I will hold my breath tightly until the room turns black without even realizing it. Right now my hips and my head ache but you can't take him. Oh no, not on my watch. He may be, we both may be beaten down and tested and scarred and ruined and afraid and maybe you won this round but you will not take him from me.

On the other side of a sunny afternoon the showman removes his hat and grins. He'll be fine, it wasn't anything, he reassures. I shake my head and turn away from the bright lights. I don't believe you, I say. He laughs and fades from the moment.

In his place sits Jacob. I am startled. He is sitting in a chair. New lines extrude from his eyes and mouth. Today his shirt is grey, bringing out the ashes in his hair, muting the twenty-four carat gold crown that fits perfectly. He is silent and serious. The chair is new, I didn't put that here.

I did, he says gently.

Oh, I think. You can do that?

You need to let go of him, Bridget.

Don't even fucking start with me, Jacob!

Put your arms down. You think that declaring vigilance over the spacing of Ben's heartbeats will give you comfort? In order to have that you need to accept what God gives and what he takes away.

God doesn't interest me tonight.

God gave him back to you, as he does each and every morning, and you fail to appreciate your gifts because you are too busy making up stories and worrying about the wrong things.

I was scared. My voice is defensive and annoyed. Jake laughs and rakes his fingers through his hair. It's so long. How did it get so long?

You react with the knees of a jerk, princess.

It's an old in-joke and it stings to hear such funny words from him after all this time. I clutch my arms tighter around the heart I am holding and Jacob shakes his head. Your energies are misdirected.

Did I ask for help?

Sure. I heard you pray to God for a break. You have it. So let go.

And then what?

Then take a breath.

Why would I listen to you? You bailed, preacherman.

I'm the only one rooting for the two of you, princess.

That actually makes three of us.

It won't be enough. You're outnumbered, and I don't think some days that he's as tough as he wishes people think he is.

You don't know him like I do, Jake.

I can't protect you from here.

Protection? I'm not asking for protection!

YOU SHOULD BE! He roars and I flinch a thousand miles away and back. Life doesn't hold any guarantees, Bridget. Shit happens. And you need to let go so you don't get hurt.

I put my head back against the cold cement and closed my eyes. He keeps going.

Are you listening, Bridge?

You need to stop talking now, Jacob. I got to my knees and then stood up shakily, leaving Ben sleeping on the floor. You need to stop telling me what I should be doing and just help me.

I am. I'm trying to help you. You don't listen.

Surprise. No, I don't. Is everybody happy now?