Drama, bullshit, maintenance, peanut butter and jam.

My lunch date was cancelled on my behalf, by someone loathe to fix anything but happy to mess with the Devil ad hominem.

So instead of going downtown to a fancy place I go down to the kitchen to make something. Lochlan joins me. Silently we get out bread, peanut butter, jam and cans of pop because that's what we always made in the camper and it's sort of a habit. Also a habit is Lochlan putting the second can back because I've never finished a can of pop in my whole life. They're too big somehow. I don't like eating out of cans. It has nothing to do with anything,  I like metal in my ears, not my mouth (SHUT IT, BENJAMIN).

We each read one side of the paper while we ate, me on my knees (SHUT. IT) on the bar stool, leaning way up on the counter at the island (JUST..)trying to keep up and failing, reading a third of each article while Loch motors through everything like he's in a hurry.

But he's not. Batman gave both my boys a little time off. Ten days to get our shit together because it's not and no one can work like this and he spoils me even though I don't actually pick up his calls or reply to his texts much because can't you see? I have everything under control here.

Snort.

The Devil sent a message telling me he was sorry to miss our lunch and that he would go it alone and I replied to that because most of the time I prefer replying to his texts than having to see him in person because he makes my knees shake and I don't know why. I said Have Fun as if I was sad just because when he says he's eating alone I want to cry. But also I want to shake myself and ask why I even care but I know I would reply something snarky like Stockholm Syndrome so I won't ask at all.

Lochlan holds out the can of Ginger Ale just like he has since I was eight and a half and he realized I was wasting a lot of junk food he was paying for. Take a drink, Peanut, he orders and I listen, just like I always do.


***

A lot of people want to know what the boys are up to. It's easy to reach me. Just click on my profile, up to the left and once there you can see what music I like most (this week anyway) and how to reach me via email. Sometimes I even manage to reply, I swear.

Let's see. 

 Ben is working at home because he has time off, you see. So uh..yeah. There's that. He's great at drive-by affection as of late. He also almost fell asleep at the wheel the other night because he stays up half the night talking and other things. He still makes no apologies and no attempts to fix, he just watches me as I flop around like a psychological fish trying to sort it out myself, God bless him, he's the singular person in my life who doesn't treat me like a child. Which is why I married him aside from the glaringly obvious necrosexual aspect of my attraction to him (vampire rock stars are where it's AT). He's so depraved he makes me blush and nothing can make me blush anymore so that's saying a lot.

 Lochlan  is doing a lot better, almost to the point of cheekily thumbing his nose in the direction of the boathouse. This is progress. A few days ago he was in a fetal position on the floor so I'll take this any day. Ben cuddled him to death because Ben has a crush on him that's barely veiled so he didn't complain and pretty much volunteered but if I tell you that I'll be murdered so let's keep it between us. Loch is drawing a bit and otherwise planning work in his head. Batman keeps him fairly busy with a constant stream of commissions. I think to give him a steady cheque, not so much because his painting is up where Cole's was, collector-wise. Well, maybe. I don't know. The only thing Loch says is that it's temporary and soon he'll be back to a regular day job. I don't know what that will be but to him a regular job means busking more than one weekend a month. Watch for him, in any case and give him some money, okay?

Caleb is doing pretty good. He's part-time schmoozing, part-time money-laundering, part-time Porsche-shopping. He had his visit with his cardiologist and he's doing great. He tires more easily than he should and the headaches are sometimes very bad but he is managing pretty well, all things considered. He's excited to get back to diving but the headaches keep sneaking up on him. I don't think the stupid trips help him feel better but he says they, like me, help distract him. I'm sure it's a ploy for attention same as when he ties me down.

PJ's heartbreak is ebbing. We can joke about it now without him punching us. I just duck but the rest of them are slow, I guess. He said he's considering going the way of Sam because men are so much easier to get along with without drama and bullshit and maintenance. Finally! We agree on something! We also agree on Epic Metal Beard and he's growing it back. She didn't like it so he SHAVED IT OFF. Guys, if a girl tells you she doesn't like your beard?

Run.

August is doing great. In between hippie music festivals he is currently staying with Jake's parents who can't keep up the homestead anymore without a lot of help. He's getting everything done that they need. They were relying on neighbors and hired help for everything from yard work to household cleaning and such but it's coming to a point where they need to make some decisions, I guess. That will probably be to adopt August and mix up his name alot. Apparently Jacob's mom cries every time he walks in the room. I know that feeling well.

Jacob? Still dead but possibly visiting the garage again. I still miss him every single minute of every single day. God, my brain is so broken sometimes I don't understand how I can figure out how to brush my teeth every day but let's keep going.

Cole? Still dead with wings black as night and completely and utterly personified in Caleb so really that's the draw. Cole was magnetic, enigmatic. I can't help myself.

Matt goes to work every day, comes home every night with a kiss for his bride and they talk quietly, play some guitar and help with meals. He irons a lot of things. Like everything. I told him that is a cry for help, that he's looking to make life neat and orderly so it manifests itself in wrinkle-free clothing and he stared at me forever and then burst out laughing and said, no, Bridget. I was raised to always look my best. And it's true! He comes out in the morning in pressed pajamas and a pressed t-shirt with combed hair. He's like the Humphrey Bogart of the hipster set.  I'm sure he'd like to chase me down and iron me but I've truly been rocking this unkept bed-star look forever and he'll have to live with it (Twitch. Twitch.).

Sam loves it here. Loves being right by the water. Loves praying on the cliff and loves counseling everyone without having to arrive or leave. His pajamas are not ironed (yet) and he's giving a great indication that he's going to be the best runaway bride ever so I don't know who's counseling who exactly but I love having him here too. Mostly to steal his CD collection. And his coins. Shhhh.

Duncan S. Thompson is doing great. He has no jobs on the horizon until September and so he is On Vacation. Which means he drinks margaritas for breakfast and tries to get me in trouble all damn day. He's writing a book. He's pretending he's a monk. He loves the cats and they love him back to the point where I have started calling him the Crazy Cat Man. That made everyone happy, they didn't like it when I called him the Lizard King. He is still mostly in charge of my health and safety since PJ flipped out. We could change it back but why fix what isn't broken? I think it will be changed back soon because Lizard. Yeah.

Dalton/Teflon Jesus is a heart-stealing gypsy vagrant. The drummer he marches to has odd timing though. He disappears for days at a time and staggers back all smiles. He's a vegan suddenly which is getting lots of jabs from the others and he still works far more than his big brother. He takes every job he can get, even the shit ones. He's stockpiling money for a long trip I think, though he won't say in as many words. He shows me pictures of all the girls he sleeps with. It's like a yearbook of pretty hopefuls starting at the midlevel to reach the stars. He certainly doesn't mind. I told him he wasn't vegan if he was eating them and he laughed for days. If they only knew that he was worth seducing and the ones farther up are not but you can't tell a girl that, they have to learn for themselves. Some faster than others.

That's it for this house. I'll catch you up to speed on the next-door boys next week sometime in between life and love, I guess. Same as always. :)

Demon laughter.

A man can be destroyed but not defeated
Even when he's lying black and blue
Living on a faith above his ceiling
Never going to know if it rings true
There's a voice inside that keeps him
On the path of righteousness
You can't break his stride or change his mind
'cause he won't second guess

I took the money to the bank this morning and put it all back in Caleb's account. Then I went next door with the receipt and the now voided agreement. Because in it he says I can cancel at any time.

He met me at the door, offering me coffee. I refused politely, telling him I just wanted to drop off some paperwork. He took it from me, leafing through the forms, lifting up the deposit slip and then smoothing it out, his brow furrowing. He looks at me and then leafs through the forms again just to be sure. Then he asked if Lochlan is making me do it.

I told him I had expected it to make things easier for myself and for Lochlan too but it didn't work out that way.

Ah. By reverting back you do understand that this will make your life harder, do you understand?

Oh my God, such a lawyer.

I'd rather fight you than give in. 

It sounds so extraordinary when phrased like that. 

You're a sick fucking pervert, you know that?

Yes, I'm aware. But only with you. By day, I'm the mild-mannered Lord of the Underworld. 

You admit it! 

Who wouldn't? It's an honor and a privilege. Now what did you want to do about our lack of arrangement? Shall I harass you right now or would you like to have lunch first?

I...what? I forgot what I wanted to say. 

Exactly as I directed, via my overwhelming powerful evil powers. Lunch at two? 

Sure. 

NO VACANCY yet again.

I can't do a standard post today after all. Gage arrived right after breakfast when Ben was still in full-on metal-cookie-beast mode.

Say it with me now. Gaaaaage.

Poor Lochlan. Every time he thinks he's found a new spot to set up his painting supplies someone comes along and turns it into their space. Gage gets August's old room here in the main house, since it is still somewhat furnished. I don't know how long he is staying yet. We'll discuss that tonight, but it's sort of uncanny how he appears when the grapevines sprout and leaves just after we harvest the grapes each year. So I still don't know if I should get attached again or not, because it sucks when he leaves. I suppose it sucks more for Schuy but he can write his own blog.

He'd actually be pretty good at it, I think.

Cheer Factory.

You what the funniest thing about today is? That T-1000 comes on the stereo and Ben sings the whole thing in his Cookie Monster voice. Or rather, he yells the song. It's not exactly melodic or anything.

Time out.

Ben is home today (because by late last night there was absolutely nothing left of anyone). I stared at him from the doorway this morning as he slept. I had my nose pressed against the wooden trim, so only one eye was on him. I remained like that for so long he finally acknowledged me, because he wasn't sleeping and I could tell.

Pretty cyclops. Going to make me a waffle?

No, you can make one for me though. 

Why just one? I know you'd eat about seven of them. 

Better get cracking then. 

Will do. He flings the sheet off and stands up. He's lost all of the extra pounds he gained in March and is back to his very pale, very thin self. He's all sharp angles and sweet translucence. He's my vampire and I can't look away. Savior and sinner rolled in to one. Ben has no moral compass. He has no sense of past or future. He has no regrets and he won't surrender. He also won't apologize but I know this and I've gotten used to it. He is who he is and the only thing he's actually truly sorry for is the fact that I knew what I was getting into but I married him anyway and for that and only that I have his sympathy, or so he tells me semi-regularly.

What about Cale-

We'll sort that out later. Right now I just want to eat waffles off my bride. I mean with my bride. No, wait, the first one. You game?

We stand there grinning at each other stupidly. Because we're stupid. No hidden reasons there.

12:37 left in the third.

Leafs are up 4-1 over the Bruins.

Ben came home to eat some crow for dinner and watch the game with me us.

Things are going to change.

In need of a prophet.

I opened the garage door and just barged in, hands full with the recycling bin, skipping the light, I don't need it. I began to sort things into bags-paper in green, plastic in purple, metal in orange, when his voice made my heart stop.

What are you up to, Princess?

I drop the tins and turn around and there he is, leaning against PJ's jeep, which had the soft top stolen off it two weeks ago in Burnaby and so it's been parked in the garage because we live in a rainforest. He ordered a new top from the dealer but it takes forever.

I thought you weren't coming back here, Jake. 

What's wrong?

Nothing. 

You haven't greeted me like that since that one time you tried to leave me. 

I'm tired and I have a headache. 

So then tell me what's going on with Lochlan and with Caleb and then you can go get an aspirin. 

Why? Not like you can fix it. 

Maybe you can talk through it with me and fix it yourself.

Channeling Ben today, are we?

He's not around enough.

He flew in to sabotage my trip and then he went back to work today.

Sabotage how?

I shrug. You know Ben. 

Jacob's whole face changes and his generosity is gone. What are you up to?

I stand in front of him and play with my rings, I feel very small all of the sudden. I stick my lower lip out unconsciously. It's complicated. 

Uncomplicate it. 

Gee, how? Apparently they are all evil. 

I think you're the evil one. 

Fight fire with fire, Jacob. 

Bridget, this isn't you. You aren't vindictive and shallow. You don't play people. You just need everyone. But it doesn't look like this when you do it. This is deviance. 

Defiance. 

Both, then,  from where I'm standing. 

You're not actually standing here though. I'm just crazy. Why make the effort to be anything else anymore? If I'm going to spend time with Caleb I'm going to take the rest of his money, clear and simple. If Ben is going to work around the clock and then demand my loyalty then I will punish him too. And I don't know what to do with Lochlan and that's why my head hurts so much all the time from thinking too hard. 

You're right. It's complicated. 

I can't fix this anymore, Jake. I can't even see which end is up. And now you're back and everyone's just going to freak out over that too. 

Bridget? Who are you talking to?

Lochlan's standing in the door. He still has that awful look on his face from when he confronted me hours ago with the rest of the money from Caleb. The money I tried to hide until I figure out exactly what to do with it, because I've never had this much at once before and I've decided that I have to come first so I'm not even considering giving it back. He didn't expect to feel this way about it. It's as if he's waking up finally. Motherfucker. I love him and I hate him. It's exactly the way I feel about myself right now.

No one. 

Jacob, you mean.

No one, I repeat and he dissolves into frustrated tears.

What are we doing, Peanut?

I wish everyone would stop asking me that. I don't know! 

Heavy traffic.

And tell them I couldn't help myself
And tell them I was alone
Oh, tell me I am the only one
and there's nothing left to stop me

I am sober, unpacked and rested when I am summoned back across the driveway for a post-mortem on the trip and also because Caleb can't decipher my drunken scrawled expense notes and he wants to on Sunday morning. Mother's Day for crying out loud.

I appear in the kitchen and he hands me a fresh mug of black coffee which I take, gratefully.

How is he? He, meaning Lochlan, who understandably doesn't do so well with these trips, or my absences in general.

I wouldn't know, I haven't had much time to see him yet. I am cross at Caleb. Good coffee doesn't change that. If he's going to monopolize my time then I'm going to let myself out of our contract so ungracefully he'll wish he never met me.

Let me know if he gives you any problems, please, Bridget.

What? No. This is none of your business.

It's my business, he assures me. Speaking of which, I have your renumeration here. He hands me a white envelope. It's sealed, monogrammed. Thicker than it should be for a single cheque.

Your wages plus stipends for each day plus a bonus for the short notice and the efficient work.

I nod, slowly. I don't understand, though.

I need you with me, Bridget. I work better with you around.

Oh. I'm around.

I mean when you work here.

Sorry, Boss. Not going to do that again.

Let's wait and see, shall we? Good luck with Lochlan. As usual, he doesn't deserve you, and you're the quintessential hybristophiliac, running after him anyway.

You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?

Yes. I'm aware. He grins. Take that back to him and open it together and someday you can tell me why I entertain this charade so generously.

He steps toward me, kissing my cheek roughly before opening the door for me. I hand him my still-full mug and he takes a sip. Thanks, he says. See you tonight for dinner.

(The kids planned a big Mother's Day dinner. Guess who they invited?)

I realize I didn't explain my notes to him the moment I stepped onto the deck. I go back to the house and find Lochlan. He is stirring slowly, still in bed, his tousled curls making him look chaotic and beautiful and insane. His hair grows like grass in the rain. I wish I had that problem.

Where'd you go? He mumbles, eyes still closed.

To get my paycheque. I open the envelope and pull out three cheques and a handwritten note. I look at the cheques and my eyes get wider and wider. Then I look at the note. 

Well? Loch says. He hates this but at the same time, this is the con, alive and well and executing perfectly, with everyone understanding who is conning who.

Except me, I've lost track.

I pull one of the cheques out to show him. The smallest one. The rest I fold back into the envelope, pretending it is trash to be thrown away.

That isn't a paycheque, Bridget, it's a purchase. I think he just bought you. What in the hell is this?

If only he knew.

I used to believe in Forever.

I suppose I could continue on with the whole phenomenon about how Caleb is only actually nice to me when we're alone and when anyone else is around he becomes a quiet psychopath, or I could talk about the fact that Ben had loaded his laptop with the most amazing Soviet Winnie the Pooh movies, that I didn't know existed! Jacob would have found these hilarious. I've always been sad at the Disneyfication of Pooh since they bought the rights and I was already pissed when Classic Pooh turned into wacky forties t-shirt Pooh. So this made me happy. I watched it the whole way home on the plane. And I'm only a little drunk now so there. A wee bit. Celebrating being in one piece, always. Still. Mostly. Ha.

Circus Circus.

(Where there is that broad, sweeping warm daylight there is also narrow, cold half-light in which we exist between the fires Loch starts and the ones I put out (or maybe it's the other way around). But Lochlan isn't in this post, sorry. Ben is. Ben flew in yesterday afternoon to wear the crown and Caleb has turned back into a frog.)

We both know this ends
But what if no one knows
No one knows how to kill us in the end?
This is all you need for who you are
This is how a good man goes too far

I don't need much to show you
Only enough to control you
Bury your head inside this
And gather the darkness that finds it

I think I'll die if you deny me
Swallowed alive in eternity
Give me a way to be the agony
That knew you all along

Caleb draws his thumb across the tip of my nose, his fingers touching my ear, just enough that he and I both noticed I was holding my breath.

He bends his head down close to mine and lifts my head up at the same time until my nose bumps against his cheek. His breath is warm. He smells like bourbon and cedar and smoke.

Breathe, Bridget. 

I shake my head and swallow. His other hand comes up to cup the back of my head and I resist until it's too late. I always figure Caleb will someday just pull me off my feet, twist his hands and that will be that. If I don't get pushed off the cliff first.

This way he could just say he didn't mean to, but he broke his doll. Then he'll find another one. Or maybe not. Not like this one was mass-produced. She'll be impossible to replace. Some delicate balance of that knowledge keeps me alive, I'm sure. Or maybe I'm wrong and it keeps murder in the forefront of his mind.

Ben pushes me forward still but I lean back against him.

No, I say. Clear as day, break the mood like glass under the full moonlight.

Cole is the only one who could ever soothe your homesickness away from Loch. Use that, Bridget. You'll feel better if you just let go. Just a little. That's my baby girl.

Ben's hands release me while the others tighten slightly. Here we go, lift and snap. (Just get it over with but don't kiss me. I don't want you to kiss me, Cole.)

I put out my hands and push hard against Caleb's chest. I don't go anywhere. Neither does he.

Don't make this difficult.

Don't do it then, I whisper in his face.

He abruptly drops my head and turns away. Maybe she needs another drink, he tells Ben.

Ben runs his hands up over my shoulders and pulls me back against him firmly. He doesn't do anything else. I turn my head to the side and inhale his flannel shirt. Soap. Rain. Uncertainty. Resignation. My perfume on him. Flowerbomb. Transferred by touch.

She doesn't. And she doesn't need you either, I slur but they completely ignore me. Jesus. For good measure I yell my safe words. Gingerbread! Wenceslas! Fucking listen to me!

Ben ignores them like he always does, his fingers squeezing my shoulders, his thumb rubbing against that trigger spot. I'm like a dog, half-expecting my leg to start twitching in time with my heartbeat involuntarily as he rubs. I'm frustrated that Ben caves in so easily without even pausing to recognize my concerns. He has tunnel-vision. He's oh-so-very-easily swayed. He was told I needed him so he got on an aircraft and came to me. Only I was doing okay. I don't need him. I don't need any of this but I'm glad he's here now and I'd do anything for him.

Even that.

Caleb appears in front of me again with a glass, which he forces against my lips. When I try to resist Ben's hands tighten around me. Drink some. It'll help you relax. 

Only God can help me now. 

He smiles. Then I guess you're on your own.