Equinoctial points: when night and day are equal.

How can I be lost
In remembrance I relive
So how can I blame you
When it's me I can't forgive?

I woke up this morning, pulled on Ben's dress shirt and walked out onto the wrought iron balcony to watch the huge v-shaped formations of geese flying south over the Russian district in the cold blue skies. The early morning temperatures sent me quickly back inside, where I could see breakfast set up on the table already in the otherwise empty loft. I ignored it. I woke Ben up, passing him back his shirt while I started pulling my dress back on.

He got up and started to dress also, wordlessly. I found my watch and fastened it around one bruised wrist and he passed me, landing a kiss on the top of my head and taking a moment to hold me. Our eyes met when we pulled apart and we made one last survey of the room before turning to leave.

The car was waiting downstairs. Good. Drive of shame. Mike didn't say anything other than Good Morning. I didn't reply. Take me the fuck home so I can sleep. So I can wash Caleb's indelible fingerprints off us and spend a little more time talking about what sort of effects this spectacular new venture is going to have over time.

Goddamned precious time.

In a nutshell (thought it's incredibly complicated and I'm leaving things out) the boys have created an umbrella company that will allow them all to, for sake of argument, freelance at what they do best and they will share equally in revenue while still having independence in the far-flung corners of the different creative elements they represent. I will be looking after the administrative end of this new company and nothing more. So I no longer have to be involved in Caleb's other business entities, though with the connections he has there is no way this can fail.

There's been a lot of restructuring in the past few weeks. Including Ben who came home, had a few drinks and decided he was too old to be on the road anymore. He and Caleb spent a lot of time together because I didn't want Ben here, and they came up with this company, though I imagine Caleb already has the company well underway and has just been waiting to collect my boys to make colored flames in the fires of his hell. Like those little paper packets you can buy at the corner store. I always liked the blue flames best but somehow I associate the blue with Lochlan, if we're assigning colors to them.

Lochlan is on board easily. He's already been freelancing forever and he can't argue with stability for us/me. PJ is automatically on board for anything and everything if you end a sentence with "and it will be good for Bridget." Daniel and Schuyler are in. Chris, Dalton and Rob are go. August and Joel will be wealthy, wealthy individuals. Duncan, Andrew and Ben will have their creative hands in all kinds of projects. John switches careers entirely. He concerns me the most right now because he could easily wind up on the wicked side of this whole operation and so I will keep an eye on him. Well, they all concern me but dinner and beyond last night cleared up a whole heaping pile of my fears and I'm left wondering why they didn't all get together and do this ten years ago.

Sam has an open invitation he will not accept. His allegiance to Jacob's church and Bridget's ungainly faith is something Caleb's evil can't penetrate and that's fine with me. Sam and Caleb have done nothing but argue over me for days now. Sam is like I was yesterday but I couldn't persuade him to come out with us last night in order to clear the air. I will talk with him today after church.

This massive undertaking is good for everyone. Not only does it mean that with small exceptions here and there, everyone will be home all the time, but the boys who had to work harder for less will now be standardized so that they will continue to work hard but see a faster return for their efforts, an ability to enjoy the finer things now instead of waiting for later. Honestly, a few of them are already well off and they work for fun. Their needs are few. None of them have designs on expensive lifestyles anyway. This isn't a bid for material wealth. More a bid for security, emotional well-being and actual community within our collective, instead of timeshares. Instead of these horrifically crowded calendar pages in a dayplanner that goes around and around.

Instead of goodbyes.

No. more. goodbyes.

Caleb did this for me. He is the only one who could do something like this for me. Who would refuse guaranteed wealth in exchange for permanence? We're not twenty years old anymore. Life on the run gets hard after a fashion. That's why the boys didn't argue, though I'm not sure they understand fully what happens when they go to sleep at night and I am with the devil.

The catch, I mean.

There is always a catch with Caleb. He didn't get where he is by giving things away for free, as philanthropically-minded as he is publicly. Privately, there is always a price to be paid.

When so summoned, Bridget must wake up in hell. But oddly enough, she must bring Ben with her. That part almost made it okay. We know the rules of that game, we've played before. It gets easier. We're a team. We don't have to say goodbye all the time anymore.

That was worth my soul. That and the $2.99 for a packet of Mystical Fire to bring along.

Satan, reader of blogs.

First hat trick of the season, three posts in one day. I'm either drunk or my head is so full the words are pouring out my eyes at this point. Okay, both.

He had every intention of taking us out for dinner. You know, to celebrate the fact that he will be financing our lives in order to prove that he has my best interests at heart.

I should be grateful.

I'm just tired. This is almost everything I could ever ask for, short of bringing back the dead. Right result, wrong methods. Though, I should really just ask about the bringing back the dead thing. It seems like since God won't, maybe Satan will.

Like you wouldn't switch sides for that.

Scorned.

I think the most interesting part of today's revelations are that the angrier I got, the darker the skies became outside. A collective ambush would have been better served warm, with warning, instead of under bright lights and scrutiny inside of a difficult place in which there was so much background noise it took me a full hour to piece together what has happened to the brains my boys used to have.

Oh, that's right. Caleb had them stolen.

I'm really hoping I find the ransom note soon. I'm sure I have something of value I could use to get them back. In fact, I'm positive I do, which is why I really don't get why this happened or how to fix it or really if it's just a bad dream and instead of a handful of hours of sleep, perhaps I am still in my bed and none of it happened.

I haven't actually said anything out loud for close to two hours. They have stopped asking for reactions. The phone has stopped ringing. I failed to extend dinner invitations in my shock and I don't think anyone expects me to make dinner right now except for Ruth and Henry but they don't have a clue and that's fine with me so perhaps food will materialize and if six o'clock comes and food doesn't, I will make soup for the three of us and the rest of them can go to hell find something to eat. Elsewhere even.

I sat down to work through things but it's not coming because the pulse of adrenaline is making my fingers slow and unhelpful. I'm trying to not be dramatic. Or panicky. Or passive-agressive. Shocked. All in stride. Best scenario for everyone. Stupid justifications thrown out as balm on an itching rash. What the fuck.

Bridget, everyone will be here. All the time.

It sounded so amazing. Until I remembered who would be holding their souls. What the fuck, indeed, boys. This isn't a good idea and you know it. After everything we have gone through, you're still collectively underestimating Satan's power.

And I don't know why.

I already sacrificed myself to him. I do what he asks. I'm going back to work for him. So if you're doing it to protect me, you're decades too late.

In my head I can hear Cole laughing.

It's raining now. Maybe I can toss in some thunder and lightning. If I had that kind of power right now I think I'd zap that smug fucking smile right off his face. Then I would burn him to the ground. Alive. And I'd stand there and laugh while he screamed.

What the fuck, Ben. Lochlan. All of you. Equal partners? There's nothing equal here at all, I don't care what it looks like on paper. You guys have made a huge mistake going into business with Satan.

It's really too bad that you can't figure it out. Maybe he needs to kill me instead of EVERYONE I LOVE and then you might all get a clue. He's told me it can be arranged, but then his fun will stop, and we all know how special Caleb's brand of fun is.

This is delusional. I must be asleep.

Sleeping in the car.

Hold me closer let me be
Hold me closer let me go away
Barely know you know my name
Trip the witch and ride the shame

Good morning.

It's very early and we're going to some sort of function that sees me attempting to put perfect lip gloss on at seven in the morning. I'm not sure I enjoy these very dressed-up events that require me to be alert when my body hasn't had time to acknowledge the coffee I sacrificed to it yet and sleep was in short supply thanks to a combination of a late night outside talking, the dog being awake half the night, the city on a Friday night in full glorious stupidity and Dalton and Emery showing up and bringing this event to us on a day when the larger plan was to..well, rest today.

Instead, God no, I get to sit here in this dress that highlights the fact that I've been sick (it is very black and I am so very pale) and it's a teensy bit snug (shut up) and the shoes just HURT (but they look HOT) and I didn't paint my nails and my ringlets are falling out and Lochlan is staring at me with that Oh, fresh-baked princess kind of appreciation and Ben is calm and happy and handsome this morning and the kids get to go play all morning with their friends and I mentioned Dalton was here which is huge because he was supposed to be gone for so long and sometimes the calendar just straight out tells bald-faced lies and that's okay with me.

God, I hope they have more coffee there. I can't even think.

And Emery. Christ, I haven't even introduced him to you yet.

Later.

Going now. Have seven whole minutes to sleep in the crook of Ben's elbow in the car, and I'm going to take it. Somehow Mike is delivering us there? No idea. Like I said, coffee isn't activating Bridget and Bridget is not going to be so sparkling today. Have to go on looks, I guess.

Unglued in a really good way.

All is not lost. I just scored the best block of seats in the house for Stone Temple Pilots.

Come home to mama, boys.

Addictive.

What a long week. I'm capping it off with the cold from hell, as that's where they are born. I lost my voice a few times already, a squeaky Kirstie Alley kind of twist to my words that everyone finds so amusing. Once my head was upright and there was coffee poured in it, I feel a little more capable. Have already cleaned up a bunch of things and am ticking through the inevitable list on the counter because I don't remember things anymore. I'm going to be the old man in that mental illness commercial in a few years, the one who buys lemons every day and there are lemons on the shelves and in shoes and pockets, too.

Oh hell yes, that will be me.

Ben fixed my iPhone. It is lovely. Just one or two little issues remain keeping me from loving it. Namely the low volume, lack of ringtone assignments for text messaging and horrific reconciliation with my email on the PC. But it works and that's the main, awesome part. I am leaning toward keeping the Berries going until July though when my contract rolls forward, so we have a backup iPhone in case he or one of the children drop HIS phone. Because shit happens and those phones are not indestructible.

Of course I can break things with my mind, so perhaps these are issues mere mortals never have to experience.

I told you I was special. You didn't believe me. Ha.

This is the last hot day of the summer. I plan to get some groceries and then some vodka and sit out on my Victorian stone patio and relish the last rays of the sun all afternoon with my love. I haven't seen him. There is no time that we have, only that which we borrow, and then we have to return it or pay fines we can't afford. No vacation loans, no renewals, because this is a bestseller.

It could be a keeper, but no one will allow it. I learn so slowly to do for me, it's an impossible task sometimes, like climbing a mountain without shoes on, like flying without visible wings.

How could you?

I feel perpetually left behind. Like everyone took their life instruction books and ran off and I can't find a book, no one included me when they were given out, there wasn't one with my name on it and I don't know what to do. I have no answers, just the try. Always the try. I've gotten good at failing first, almost to the point where I have gotten reckless and I do the opposite of what I plan to do because hell, it can't be any riskier.

Nope.

No riskier.

Riskier doesn't look like a word.

Who cares.

Loneliness is an incredible, completely mental condition. Lobotomy for one please, because it's all in my head. So the next time you grab your handbook and take off for life or escape into life or hide out from life, for Gods sake, take me with you.

Please.

I wish I could see inside his head. Sometimes I wish they could see inside mine. Open books but muddled storylines. Tales crafted with words pretty enough to obscure the truth and hide the ugly realities from our gentle eyes.

Time doesn't stop for us.

Scott, this time I'm kidnapping you to add to my collection.

What a day so far. Smashed my ankle on a railroad tie, waiting to hear about a financial matter that could save me hundreds but probably won't, and I have no earthly idea which side of the licence plate I'm supposed to put the renewal sticker on for my car and far too proud to ask.

I'm waiting to sneak a peek at Ben's truck when he comes home and then hopefully go from there. It's confusing here. Back home it was simple. But back home we also had a single laminated card for a license and here it's a three-piece dealie with a laminated card and a paper card with a bunch of information and then a plastic sleeve. It does not fit in a wallet.

I don't complain though, every other single thing is easier here for some reason. Except learning to live with the cold. I see this coming week we'll hit our first zero for overnight temperatures and so I should be covering my gardens until I have them wrapped for the winter.

It's difficult to think of all this on a beautiful day like today.

When Ben gets home from running around with the boys, we're going out for Thai and then will grab some coffee on the way back. Maybe if I'm lucky we'll get to check out some other things along the way. Putter around, drive around in the truck listening to music with the past looming large in the rearview mirror and the future laid out on the highway in front of us, invisible roadkill we will drive over leaving marks on the asphalt but not even feeling a bump. I'll wear my seatbelt pulled tight and low over my hips and never find a comfortable way to put my head back to close my eyes because the headrest is so high and I'll have my window all the way down to feel the warm wind.

I'll forget about the sticker and the new ankle bruise and all the other stuff.

Just for five minutes.

Five whole minutes.

Jacob always said it was there, I just wouldn't claim it, always giving it to someone else first, a narcissistic martyr of the highest degree. You know you are loved and you exploit it and then make it impossible for anyone to do anything different.

This is my fault.

Over two decades now with the barest shift in the roster, the changing of the guard and we're still here. Hell, Jake is still here if you come knocking on the darker, windier days. My link to Cole comes through Satan, because depraved and evil older brothers are better than cake sometimes until you reach too far and find out you got quite badly burned indeed. I have zero business playing in Caleb's power playground but I persist because he appeals to all those parts of me that you only see on those days.

So there. Part of it is putting myself in the line of sight so that Caleb stops corrupting Benjamin, because he can so he does. He thinks it's fun. Pull the strings. Puppet, dance. If I take Caleb's focus off Ben then maybe, possibly Ben can get away.

Part of it is like I said before. Caleb brings the evil. Bridget has never pretended not to like that. To a degree. There's the catch. I like it until it goes too far. Don't we all.

Part of it is because we're irrevocably tied together in more ways than we can count and so it's a long slow dance of agony until eventually one of us will die.

I know who goes first, for once.

Oh dear. I've gone and darkened the sky just a little again. I had to, the glare was making it so difficult to see. I'm going to go now anyway. We're headed out for lunch now. I'm wearing flats because my ankle is sore and it will be lovely because I'll wind up with armpit head from constantly being tucked under various and sundry overwarm boy arms.

Worse things could happen.

My Dayquil could wear off.

I need one of these for Ben.

An Elizabethan collar. Maybe a psychological one and then he couldn't tear open the wounds in his soul every ten minutes. Oh, the analogies I can make right now but I won't because my eyes are closing.

The last load of laundry is in. The giant tattooed Benjamin is upstairs fast asleep under my Leafs blanket and I'm contemplating a cup of coffee. Just a regular one, nothing fancy. It turns out Bonham has an ear infection and some eye problems and scratchies from having too many baths with a dog shampoo that doesn't like his skin and so we have drops and washes and plans to not keep him fresh smelling all that much. I have this feeling this little dog is going to give us a run for our money, literally, for the next decade or so. That's ok. He's a pretty good dog, and soon he'll feel alot better, I hope.

Ben too.

Puppy has barfies. News at eleven.

Hectic day today. Kids to school. My parents left to catch a flight out an hour ago. We have to take the dog to the vet (terribly swollen eyelid, scratchies and pukeys too) and then I have a mountain of sheets and towels and all our regular stuff to wash. At some point. Probably long into the dinner hour and beyond, tonight. Maybe we'll go out for dinner. Who knows? Depends on what's up with Bonham and if we can leave him alone for a bit.

It was a good visit. Tense in a few moments for me as Ben tried to work his ass off downtown at the studio and then come home and be a social animal for a few hours, usually missing dinner but picking up right afterwards. He was too tired for all that but he did it anyway. And my parents had fun. That was all that mattered. We needed a good pulled-together visit and it happened, finally.

The really good news is the next twelve days are all mine. He will be home. Not just home but here. In the house even. Resting and sleeping and having fun and hanging out. Time we need. Then it all goes to hell at the first week of October again.

So I will just enjoy the next couple of weeks instead and not worry about anything else.

Well, except the dog and the wagon and the ghosts and all the usual things. But right now I have the sads for my puppy. So he takes first watch. Then I'll deal with the rest. Oh, and I have a cold even. It was six degrees this morning! But HEY, I CAN BE POSITIVE TOO!

Pft.