Learning curve.

(I deleted yesterday's entry. He made amends. Well first he made threats but then he made amends.)

Caleb's apology came in a little blue box, weighing in at around one carat each, I think.

Pretty earrings. Who are they for? I push the box back across the table. He frowns.

They're for you. Because I feel awful about the way our trip ended. 

I bet you do. I look out the window, because the view is better.

I'm sorry, Neamhchiontach. I'll make this up to you. 

Then you can start by being nice for once in your life instead of trying to fix everything with more money. 

He sits and stares at me with nothing more than an expression of familiar interest. I get restless under his microscope and finally he speaks again. Point taken. I'm guessing you will be fairly busy over the weekend so I wanted to get a chance to speak with you early and explain that my remarks were not so much about you but about my life experience, age and means putting me in a position to look after you. 

Oh, was that all?

Yes, and it came out all wrong and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?

Will you take the earrings back?

If that's what you would like then that's what I will do. 

I'll think about it. 

That's all I can ask for. Do you like the meal?

Once again he ordered a catered breakfast for two without even asking what I wanted. No. He looks crushed and it's worth it.

McDonalds, right? It would have been better. 

Always. 

I'll remember that for next time. 

Who says there will be a next time?

If I rang you super early and described a....a...Mcmuffin thing you would be in the car before I was finished. Probably still in your pajamas. 

That's not a flaw, it's a perk. 

I'm lucky to have you in my life, Bridget. 

I nod and finally stare straight at him. Yes, you are and don't you ever forget that. 

When no one was looking I put my head down on my toast, butter soaking through the bread and coating my cheek, my hair and one unfortunate hearing aid. My new t-shirt was spared. This one says RUN YOU FOOLS.

Tell me about it.

We got home at four this morning. If you ask me my name I don't think I even know it right now. I couldn't chew until PJ reminded me to eat the toast in front of me. Well, in front of me being now stuck to the side of my face, honey side up.

Lochlan spent from four to five this morning swearing at me, stripping me, firing questions and not waiting for answers. Ben told him twice to cool it but let him slide about fifty times more and I finally burst into tears, yelled at both of them, telling them about the chair under the stupid knob. About how difficult I made things, about having some kind of confidence in me being able to look after myself for once and Mr. Cynical Logical only laughed and said if the Devil had wanted to get to me he would have and I wasn't safe with the chair or with anything else and I shot back that I must have been because the Devil relegated himself to simple requests instead of force and if Lochlan was so worried than maybe he should have come with me. In fact, I asked him to come with me and he couldn't because he had meetings here and WOW. Convenient that business is suddenly more important than my supposed safety.

Ah, yeah, but only if it's his business. Not mine. Not the dealings on behalf of the collective or the trust. Nope, that's not important at all, Locket.

It took us until almost six to stop arguing and forgive each other and by then I'm pretty sure I was near quiet hysteria. Second night zero sleep. Death is fine, I'll take it. Nothing matters any more. Lochlan grabbed me by the head, rocking me against him and reminded me he yells when he worries, as if I could ever forget. I did everything right outside of staying home, it has to be enough. He knows. He nods against my head and it hurts. I'm starting to hallucinate things and my knees buckle hard. Loch scoops me right off the floor and tosses me into the unmade bed and that's pretty much the last thing I remember until lunchtime, when hunger woke me up and I tried to catch a little bit more rest on my plate.

My head hurts. I'm dehydrated and Lochlan, apparently is next door, full of confidence and shit, as usual.

I send the rest over to get him and tell them if anyone needs me, I'll be asleep until the kids get home. PJ tells me he'll bring dinner up but no. I want to see my kids so I'll be back at four.

And now I can't sleep. FIGURES.

(I didn't know about this until he knocked on the back door and asked if I could spare a work day for him. He waited until I agreed to point out it would be on the East coast.)

He ordered coffee and fried potatoes for me for breakfast this morning, knocking on the door of my room, plate in his hand at six-fifteen. I took the plate, thanked him sleepily and closed the door in his face again. I didn't put the chair under the handle again like I had it over night but I think he got the message, after he failed to understand why I upgraded our room using charm and his credit card to a two-bedroom suite, quickly found out which room had the nice view and threw all my stuff in there and went in and locked the door. I yelled through the door that he could just text me the meeting times and I would show up and he finally yelled back through the door that he had a car arranged and not to be ridiculous.

Oh, okay.

Who's ridiculous? His imaginary emergency meetings all over the world or my twelve-year-old maturity level?

Well, okay, both. But I'm making an effort to be a better Human and he's just wrecking all of the efforts I make.

Not to say I didn't have a wavering at around three this morning when he pressed his head to the door and called for me. I wasn't sleeping. I don't sleep when I'm alone and everyone knows it and so I really wanted nothing more than to tuck myself in his arms and pass right out but that never works and isn't fair to anyone so nope. I can wait and sleep when I get home.

I've had fourteen cups of coffee so far today. I can make it seventeen minutes without having to pee and I've given myself a reverse manicure over the course of the morning, chipping off all of my nail polish, biting my fingers down to blood and then finally resorting to sitting on my hands not to gnaw on glistening white bone.

I keep checking the time and the weather as if we'll have time to try Coney again this evening but I asked my evil magic eight ball and he said that all signs pointed to no. He isn't in the mood for favors at this point as he hasn't gotten any in a while and apparently that is my fault.

Nevermind he could buy whomever or whatever he wants at this point. The only thing he wants isn't for sale, never sleeps and lives on sugar and childhood dreams and has no business zipping around the island of Manhattan in a too-tight (Jesus, nachos and Joseph) too-warm boucle dress and stripper heels because I can't pack worth shit under duress and had no idea what to bring so I defaulted to his executive assistant dress code which was just another bad idea here.

Five more hours. Gotta go. One more dinner meeting.

So. Fucking. Tired.

Because the Devil coerced me, making me travel to New York today, I turned the tables and blackmailed him right back. If I had to come all this way for two stupid meetings tomorrow then we were going to make the opening ceremonies today of Coney Island for the season, or at least get there in time to enjoy it before dinner.

But planes and airports and traffic. They suck and we got in very late and everything is closed now for the night. And I'm spooling up to be far more difficult than usual. So is he, though. Great.

Twenty-nine hours left of this shit and I'll be home.

Beareal forest.

Bear sightings #1,#2, #3 and #4 tonight as we came across a mother and three very tiny cubs climbing trees and playing beside the driveway. They were scared of the noise of Caleb's car and took off into the greenbelt before I could take any pictures but they were cute! I like to keep track of how many times I see bears living here. It's a sport now.

On getting bent back into shape.

Sam is indulging himself in his favorite curiosity of all. My brain. I think he absorbed that from Jacob, who, by the end of his time was alternately horrified and fascinated by the things I would say, think and do. It's okay, I was too. Nothing changes much except Jacob isn't here ever again and it stuns me on a daily basis how permanent and life-changing death is for those who stay behind. It's easy enough to distract me from that and Sam is doing his best, asking questions when he should have taken warning already. Or maybe he should have taken cover. That's what I really mean.

Surprising, how?

That the world keeps going around. That I can be happy when I was given reason to cry forever and maybe disappear too. 

No one wants that. 

You don't know what the dead want. They don't spell it out so easily. 

He tells you. He warns you. 

I think that's my imagination wishing to relinquish control of my surroundings. I parrot back things I have been told and Sam frowns.

Maybe it isn't, maybe he wants to protect you and has regrets. 

There is no regret in heaven. At least, I certainly hope there isn't but he gets to know and we don't until it's time. What are your biggest regrets, Sam?

I'm not sure there are enough hours in the day for this sort of list today, Bridget. 

Sure there are. Have a go. 

Maybe I regret not pushing harder for things, taking chances. 

Every decision you make in life is a chance taken, Sam. 

To what end though? 

PJ comes out and does a quick turnaround. If it's existential breakfast, I'll eat inside where I'm not forced to confront my incorporeal self so fuckin' early, he says to me and winks. I wink back, my eyes burning. Lochlan didn't let me sleep but staying awake with him was harsh and beautiful and I feel like every nerve ending is singing this morning. I couldn't sleep now if I tried.

To a bullshit conclusion that never actually resolves, Sam. We just drop it and become distracted by something else while it floats in the background. Only those who die have the guts to confront it head-on. 

Confront what? Ben walks out onto the steps.

One's regrets, to the point where they would be able to resolve them before death so they don't have to carry so much baggage around in heaven. 

There are no regrets in heaven. There's no fear, no anxiety, no wistfulness, nothing. Just happy shit. Pretty girls. And really really good hot wings. 

I turn and glare at him, my hand over my eyes. He turns and goes back into the house too. I'm losing fans left and right with this but I want confirmation still. And I want Sam to open up because he hardly ever does and the day is ripe for confession. We don't do confession. I'd be there all damn week.

I regret marrying Lisbeth because she wasted so many years on me and I should have stopped playing games with her, pretending I could be a good husband to her when I couldn't. 

Does she know this?

Yes. 

Well, that's healthy. What else?

I regret trying to kiss you when you were in my office for help, not innuendo. 

Forgiven. 

Loch comes out. He has a bowl of cereal. What are we talking about?

Sam kissing me trying to see if he was gay, I lie. 

When was this?

Right after Jake. 

Jesus. You're all a bunch of vultures! 

Sam smiles so painfully at Lochlan. We didn't know how to comfort her. But we tried. We were there. I'm busted. Sam's smile turns to a frown. (No, no, don't get into it today. Lochlan can't deal with Big Awful Things. You wouldn't blame him if you knew. He mostly disappears now if something goes wrong. I wish I could change it but it's part and parcel of why we all stick together. It's mostly just in case. They could nail us both to the floor. They'll probably have to.)

Loch lets it slide. He's very open with his own flaws. And?

Nothing. Well, a longing for a longing, I guess but no. I love Bridget as a very good friend or family member. She's like the little sister I never had. 

Did you want a little sister because I have one and she's always been a royal pain in the arse! He takes up residence behind me on the lounger. I am done my food and starting to sunburn. I lean back against him and he complains. Augh! Let me eat my breakfast first! 

I'm going to go in and get ready for the day then. I am tired. I've decided I don't want to be a science or religious experiment today and Sam needs to be let off the hook for whatever comfort he tried to give me. Some things are better left in shade. The point is, he's happy now and that's all that matters. Maybe we're finding a new plateau here. Everything seems like it's getting better. Routines, family dynamics. Emotional outbursts. Suffering.

Maybe it's spring fever too. Or maybe I'm hallucinating all of it because I'm just so fucking happily tired.

One little slice of cheese (good days).

We are fire
Burning brightly
You and I

We light the sky
When we ignite
When we come alive
When we come alive

Last night I stirred my halibut around on the plate and listened halfheartedly while Batman and Caleb conducted the most gentle of arguments over my head during a late dinner in Caleb's kitchen because it's still too cold to eat outside. I would have continued to fill my own wineglass but I really wanted to leave the moment I got there. After dinner, Batman offered to drop me at the house on his way past and I took him up on it, asking for a raincheck on cleanup. Had I stayed I never would have left, for it's far too easy to pick sides when one is dark and the other darker still.

Caleb did clarify a lot of things for Batman, and for me too. CP does stand for contingency plan. In case his efforts fail and Lochlan doesn't abscond with his unrequited windfall as planned. I laughed when I heard that. Lochlan might run but he'll always always bring me with him. Nothing has changed since I was barely eleven years old in that regard, and nothing ever will.

And boy was Caleb unnerved when I left so willingly.

I was handed back to Ben who is surprised that I am sober. That made me mad. Batman says goodnight and we head down to the theater to watch something silly. We wound up hanging out with Daniel (who was equally lost, without his Sky), watching musicals. Ben fell asleep instantly, Daniel within thirty minutes. Surprise is now on me. I extricated myself from Ben's arms, turned off all components and went to bed. Fuck it. Ben can come up when he wakes up.

When I woke up this morning, I was pressed face first against Lochlan's chest. I laughed and he woke up. He smiled and said he took the evening flight out, that he didn't say anything because he didn't want me to wait up.

Ben was pressed against my back. I don't care if I wake him up. Loch laughs and puts his fingers up to ruffle Ben's hair and then to touch my face. Ben doesn't wake up, even though Loch's fingertips are rough and bitten. He's bitten his nails as long as I've known him in spite of all efforts to help him stop, including dipping his hands in kerosene, thinking he would burn his tongue on the taste. He didn't. It didn't even slow him down.

He smiles at me for so long I may or may not have zoned out and his own smile got sloppier and meltier and then finally he said Fuck it, we need some more sleep. 

I got up at quarter to eight to kiss the kids goodbye as they left for school (letting Ruth know her dad was home and sleeping and she would see him after school) and then I went back to bed, crawling up the center of the bed and then back down under the blankets. Loch is sleeping hard. Ben is not. Ben reaches out and smooths Lochlan's hair. The curls bounce back up and Ben whispers to me, Where did he come from? 

Heaven, Ben. Same place as you. 

Ben cracks up. Oh my God, what a little cheeseball you are. Someone got some sleep. 

Yeah, finally. 

Loch wakes up and grins his foolish face off, eyes closed. Nobody move. Freeze time right here. Right now. 

All three of us reach up with one hand and press an imaginary button in the air.  Done.

While the cat's away the mouse...windowshops at Louis Vuitton.

Lochlan had to travel with Schuyler (ironic but it's business. I could be travelling too, with Ben but that would be personal, god forbid.) and so I am being handed from one keeper to the next, it seems. Ben is busy. PJ is tired. It happens. The rest don't like children, I think. They're all suddenly burdened with things to do.

And so today is Batman's turn. He has no idea what to do with me but he's cleared his day so he suggests shopping.

Uh. Okay? I'm guessing he needs some things and wants a woman's opinion. I should have told him to bring Daniel because I don't have any taste, good or bad unless it's black or covered with words or skulls or even better, both.

We wander around downtown for a little while. He shows me things that are not masculine at all and I finally ask who he's shopping for. He laughs and tells me I have a birthday coming in a few weeks.

You don't..I mean..you're not supposed to...

If I want to buy a good friend a present, I should be allowed to. 

A good friend? I'm thinking...what in the hell does that even mean? It means we're still vaguely awkward. That's what it means.

This would have been easier before. 

When I was younger?

Yes. I still remember your ripped underwear when I took your dress off you. 

I turn around and walk back down the sidewalk because blushing. Because I was so young and clueless and didn't have nice things and probably had my shit together more than I do now. Take that, nice things. You're not helping matters. He catches up and steers me back around.

I just mean I wanted to buy you some things then but I knew that wouldn't go over well with Cole. 

So you opened the account instead. 

Yes. Do you still use it?

I've never touched it. 

He stops and turns pale. Bridget, that money was for you to get what you need. Or to get away from Cole. It wasn't meant to save. 

I'm figuring at this point everyone and their neighbor's dog had a bead on Cole and they all just either were afraid of him too or figured I would somehow magically get out on my own.

(Yeah. I did that. I did it. On my own. Okay, well, I stood behind Jake when I told Cole I was leaving but I still did it.)

If you want it back you can have it. 

Of course not. How much is there?

I tell him and he becomes angry. Did he keep you from using it?

He never knew about it. 

Why didn't you take what you needed?

I had money from Caleb. 

Ah yes. Had I known at the time-

Had you known what?

Had I known you were spending time with Caleb with such regularity I would have intervened. 

You know something? Maybe we should go home. I have a lot of chores to do and I know you're a very busy man. 

I'm not to busy to spend a day with you, Bridg-

Like I said. I have chores. 

Asher was supposed to fix all of that so you would never be too busy to spend the day with me. 

Life never works out how you plan for it to. 

No, no, it does not. 

What did you want out of life? What were your plans?

Twenty years ago I probably could have easily answered that, Bridget. Now I'm not so sure. But I think maybe it's time I had a little talk with Caleb and see what his plans are. 

Is there any point now?

Am I twenty years too late?

Thirty.

Loch sent this to my email this morning:

As sweet as Pixy Stix® taste, they are not produced from sucrose or regular sugar. Instead, Pixy Stix® are made from a cornstarch-based sweetener called dextrose. Dextrose can have a much stronger effect on the bloodstream than sucrose, so those who are especially affected by blood sugar spikes should exercise restraint when consuming Pixy Stix®

Pshaw. I could have told him that but he knew. He always tried to nail my fucking hem to the floor of the camper and I'd be out spinning through the trees in the darkness until three a.m., lit from within.

Really, come to think of it, nothing's changed. :)

Eat, stay, love (In which I get a rare turn at being the grownup).

I was happily drowning out the construction noise from the front yard with the television. PJ and I were watching Eat Pray Love. PJ leans forward pretending he's not tearing up but I can barely keep track of my eyeballs for they are rolling all over the place. Mostly I have confirmation that I'm unique and possibly a boy since I would be the target market for this movie and I hate it. Julia's got nothing to work with here. Julia's lipstick is smeared. Her character just needed to loosen the fuck up at home and stop being such a stuck-up bitch and then she would have known exactly who she was.

I was saved with a text message from Caleb. As usual between the hours of eight a.m. and eight p.m. he just says Need you and I can go without question. In the reverse hours I either have to sneak out (not so hard) or jump through flaming hoops.

(That's a literal thing I've done, jump through flaming hoops. It's not nearly as scary as you would think but if I were to ask to go across the driveway properly Lochlan would be sure to set up too many, or put them up too high or something to prevent me from getting through.)

So I walk over in the rain, taking my time, wondering if I'm supposed to be as wishy-washy, unfulfilled and easy to manipulate as the people in that movie.

And then I realized I just up and go right to the feet of the man who sends a two-word text three or four times a day so yes.

The boathouse is quiet. I walk around the island and into the living room and see Caleb sitting on the couch in front of the window. When the projection screen is up he has a wall to wall view of the Pacific. He's staring at the ocean and I stare at him, noting his quite serious stubble and the fact that he hasn't moved since I was here yesterday to initial a whole bunch of changes to a contract after another meeting, which he's had more of since he retired than he did when he worked. Same suit even, except his tie is off and balled up beside him on the couch and the top three buttons of his shirt are unfastened. The papers I signed are still sitting on the table in front of him.

Are you okay?

Some days are like this now. Some days I'm just...so tired. He rubs his face and doesn't look at me. He's looking at nothing. I go and sit beside him. I sat down to take a few minutes to regroup and it just hit me, you know? Aside from a few days where I have unlimited access to Henry I could literally sit here for days and no one would even notice.

When did you eat last?

He finally turns to look at me. I had a tomato and cucumber sandwich from a place outside the lawyer's before I came home. I ate in the car.

That won't do, Diabhal. Oh, I could have fixed him with the amount of food in that movie but we don't live in the movies so I got up and made him some cheese toast and a glass of milk. I made a piece of toast for myself too.

He joins me at the island. He is almost in tears. Great. It's the theme of today. Tears Tuesday.

Thank you, Neamhchiontach.

You would think you've been watching the movie that PJ and I had on this morning.  I tell him all about Julia. He's like a male Julia suddenly. Doubtful, unfulfilled. Questioning. Fed the fuck up. Just sad.

That sounds awful.

It was!

He laughs and tells me he feels a little better.

It's the cheese toast, Diabhal.

No, it's the company. You. You make the world turn, Bridget. I feel better, actually. Less desperate, at least.

I should write a book about my world-turning powers. They can make it into a movie and women everywhere will watch it on Netflix and roll their eyes too.

Some women will watch it and want to be you. 

Those are the cracked ones. Like bad eggs only the cracks are at the bottom so you don't realize they're broken until you pick them up out of the carton. Show a woman my movie and if she begins to immediately fit herself for a tiara, eats too much cake and moves all her friends into her house you'll know she's a total fucking wingnut. 

What about the ones who roll their eyes? 

You'll know they're okay. 

So you rolled your eyes at this movie. Does that mean you're okay?

I hope so. Can you imagine if I was running around trying to find 'myself', identify my power words and act like happiness was some tangible meal I could eat in order to be fulfilled? Because yeah fulfillment! It's right here in this cheese whiz. Caleb, I don't even think this is real cheese.

It's not. 

But you still buy it. 

Comfort food. He shrugs.

Exactly. Because we know who the fuck we are!

Damn straight!