Good is subjective.

You know the heart beneath the waves
The one that I was trying to save
The one that almost slipped away was mine

I was sinking at such pace
Holding breath beneath the waves
The time it takes to compensate is up

I see the waves
And the time it takes for me to be saved
And its easily the most powerful thing I've ever seen
And you have to know
I couldn't see it here on my own
And you have to know
I couldn't see it here all alone

Today will be a wrap-up of some cliffhanger trains of thought. No time to waste. It's Saturday and the boys want to see the new Transformers movie. I want to watch Wolf Creek 2 and Willow Creek and have a scarefest. It's a standoff.

***

Sam got some new clothes. We're really really proud of him. He looks so good. Like when you pour caramel on a vanilla scoop kind of good. Matt finally convinced him that the map of Poland buckle needed to be retired, I told him he looked a hot mess and he grinned until I pointed out it wasn't a compliment. We steered him toward wrinkle-free summerweight pants and some gorgeous shirt colors that highlight that beautiful hair of his. Matt's going to be beating the church ladies off Sam with a stick, sort of the way Sam fielded endless questions about Jacob's relationship status back in the day.

Well, back in the day when Jake was alive.

Jake never had any style either. I think it goes with the territory. God first, self last or something. But damn, some of Sam's jeans were ancient. Like high school ancient and he said everything that is new is nice and feels good. He'll be more comfortable and I'll be less inclined to straighten his collars and remind him he's missing buttons/zipper pulls/the fact that there are holes in everything.

He said You're good to me, Bridget. You're a good person. A good girl. I nodded but didn't reply.

***

Caleb's appointment downtown was met, after all the fuss and it wasn't anything to do with the board. It was at the bank, where I had to sign for my own black card. With my name on it. And not even his last name, for once. It says B R Reilly on it and there is no limit. He said he grew tired of reaching for his card and not finding it, as I made pinching it a hobby for fun but then I would forget to give it back.

I started to ask questions and he squeezed my elbow just hard enough to make me turn it rhetorical so I waited until we were back in the car.

Why would they give this card to someone without a job? 

It's tied to my account. 

So you have to pay the balance?

Yes. Anything you charge will be on my statement, under your number. 

So you can keep tabs on me? And also what if I just go and clean out Louis Vuitton tomorrow?

I can already keep tabs on you quite easily, and Vuitton isn't your thing. I don't foresee any problems with this arrangement, it's simply easier for both of us if you have a card of your own. 

This arrangement?

You get the things you need, I take care of the bills. 

Sugar...?

Exactly. 

Are we formal now?

We've been formal for four years, I thought. 

Oh. 

I didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride home and it wasn't until I came inside that I remembered I forgot to say Thank you so I called him and told him and he laughed and said, Don't thank me. As I've said, you're a good girl. I just want to make things easier. 

But I could hear the smile as he said it.

***

Ben is mostly over his outrage. He's asked a lot of questions and punched a lot of walls but really there's no blame to place anymore and it has no bearing on anything. It doesn't affect me when I'm with Caleb and Ben and so he's agreed to just leave it woven into the tapestry that is my life instead of grasping the thread and pulling until the whole thing unravels. Besides, I pointed out it made me brave and crazy once we joined the circus proper, something I might never have done had I continued to lead such a protected, sheltered life under Lochlan's watch. Loch snorts when I say it and says if anything I was always the brave, adventurous one and he's still surprised to this day that I ever listened as well as I did. I pointed out I'm a good girl and he nodded, defocused and said Yeah, you are. 

The best, Ben repeats. We're very lucky. 

***

Duncan hit the floor hard, falling from the wagon when he hit a bump, laughing too loud and I knew he was drunk when he came home. He called for me and I was already there, standing to his left, just behind Andrew, who frowned and put his arm up to block me. Duncan saw that and lit in to both of us with a rant that left me wondering about the state of his presence here at all, as he railed against the alpha hierarchy and remarked on how he didn't know he was going to be a monk, and maybe I could make the rounds a little bit, keep them all happy, doing my bidding like a proper queen and then he laughed and said, Oh, right, she's not a queen, she's only a princess. Be a good girl and service your knights! And then Dalton knocked him out for his own good and sat there on his brother's legs, apologizing to me until I finally spat Enough. You didn't do anything!

But Dalton said he's been listening to Duncan complain about the state of the collective for years and didn't alert anyone because he was hoping his big brother would just grow up or drop it or something. We'll have a family meeting tomorrow when Dunk is sober and talk about things. I'll have to strap them all in their chairs.

***

We saw this last week shopping and Lochlan brought it home this morning, because we needed a shitty wafflemaker that makes a ridiculously inefficient number of waffles over an even more ridiculously long time period.

But really those issues pale if I can decimate a plateful of clowns for breakfast. I mean, there's so many in this house. I bit their heads off first, so they wouldn't suffer. I'm a good girl like that.

Can't start without me cause I'm the boss.

I've been lounging on Ben's lap in one of the big Adirondack chairs all morning. It's raining fairly hard. We don't care. He keeps twisting ends off of Pixy Stix and pouring them into my mouth. He poured one into my ear and then stuck his tongue in there and then he made a face and I laughed. The wind picked up and all the sugar flew sideways into my hair, sandblasting my face and showering him but all he did was chuckle and reach for a few more paper straws. My lips are coated with pink sugar. He has it in his hair. He drops the remaining ruined candy and takes my face in both hands. The smile leaves his face.

Bridget, you're wet.

My eyebrows go up and my mouth twists slightly but I don't think the punchline here is required. I start shivering. It isn't warm.

He laughs anyway. We should go in? 

No, we should stay here. 

So I get the cold romance and he gets all the hot parts?

Is that what you think?

Hell, no. 

Then why did you say that?

Because now every time I want to touch you I have to stop, drop and roll first. Unintended side effect of being in a marriage with the pyromaniac. 

I wince when he says it and he catches me. You realize he's going to call you Frankenben for the rest of the weekend.

Then proactively, Bridget,  I'll kick his ass. 

No you won't. 

Who will stop me?

I will! 

HAHAHA. How, exactly?

Sugar gives me superhuman strength. 

Prove it. Get up. 

Oh, that's easy. See? I-  I fight to stand up but he won't let me.

See what? 

Not fair. 

Sure it's fair. Sugar is no match for FRANKENBEN! He licks the entire side of my face, across my forehead and down the other side. When I open my eyes he's grinning at me.

I didn't expect you to be so delicious, Sugargirl! 

That's Sugarbaby, if you're splitting hairs. Caleb is standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks incredibly unimpressed. His umbrella drips in a circle around him. It's pouring now.

I should be splitting skulls. Ben whispers to me. He winks, kisses my cheeks and lets me up.

I walk right past Caleb, ignoring him completely. He calls out behind me, We have an appointment, Princess. We're beyond late. 

Then cancel it due to rain!

I go in and run right up stairs. I need to shower and start over. What a mess. I rush into our bathroom and smack into Loch who is just coming out, combing his hair, clean and showered and what I should have been an hour ago.

He grins when he sees me, soaked to the skin, pink glittered sweetness, unable to stop smiling. What are you doing?

Ben and I were out in the rain eating candy! I think I missed a meeting and now Caleb is in trouble because of me.

He grins wider and plants a kiss on my incredibly filthy, sticky face. So it's a good day. 

Yeah, it is.

Breach (2014 Bear sighting #5).

I was electrocuted for NOTHING.

Last night the bears crawled over the stone wall from the house next door and sniffed around the driveway and the backyard for over an hour. I watched from the balcony. They left empty handed. I always feel so bad for them. I want to run out and barbecue them some steaks and say Here! Eat this and now climb the mountains to the top and live up there where you're safe! but I know that isn't how things would go. Soon they'd start trying doorknobs, telling their friends, marking their calendars. It's Thursday so Bridget's probably grilling steaks because by the end of the week she's a lazy little fuck with cooking so come on, line up right here behind me!

This morning Caleb stood out back with his hands in his pockets and said I'm going to have to do the front of the other property too and drive the bears back up toward the highway. I frowned and he turned to me and said, It has nothing to do with water, does it? Your preferred method will be death by mauling. 

John gave him a shove and got a warning. I had to spit out a warning of my own to Caleb but I did so in gaelic mostly because I was hoping he had forgotten certain things. I bet wrong.

I feel like I'm managing a daycare here some times. You know that?

You don't have to stay. 

Wherever you go, I go, he says and Daniel excuses himself to go inside. He holds up his coffee cup as his savior. Anyone want a refill? But I know he's not coming back out until Caleb goes.

It's fairly early for people to be running from you, Diabhal. Good job.

Lullabies and ceaseless roars of my own (SWP is TEN today!)

Last night Loch kissed my fingers and lit them on fire. He's not supposed to do that indoors but I didn't say a word, I just lay there and smelled like smoke and counted stars that I could see through the open balcony doors and bumped against the weight of Ben as he slept hard in spite of our efforts to make that impossible.

This morning he said if we go too far and light the bed on fire he's enough of a heavy sleeper and far too big of a man to be easily rescued and maybe he should up his life insurance a little. I frowned and he laughed and said he was kidding, that something so beautiful couldn't hurt anyone.

That's what Loch said to me the first time he transferred fire to me. That's what Caleb said to me the first time I threatened to pay back the Brothers Grim for their efforts over the years.

Fire is beautiful. I've been surrounded by it all my life. I'm not afraid. There have been few accidents and little permanent scarring from the silent, hypnotic flames.

This morning everyone is up and in smart-casual because it's graduation day, even though the teachers strike rages on and there will be no ceremonies at school, no final chance for exchanging yearbooks to sign, no marks, no report cards. Ruth starts grade ten...holy shit. We made a certificate for Henry since he's leaving Elementary school forever behind. He's in high school now, can you believe it?

Me neither. He was almost three when I started this journal.

And on that news, today marks a decade of writing here, across six different machines no less because I type really, uncharacteristically fast and hard. Happy birthday (anniversary?) to my blog, Saltwater Princess, one of the few places where I always feel safe, no matter what. I'll toast to my damn own self, because I currently exist in the center of a circle made of people who would rather see me drown this website in gasoline, throw down a match and make a bonfire out of all the words I've etched into the screen over the years.

No thanks. I think I'll keep going. Not sure I ever knew where I was going with it but I'll know when I get there. I never needed an audience but somehow I have one anyway, like with everything I do, so as always thank you for reading.

If you really loved me then you'd know I'm not a diamonds kind of gal.

(Hey look. Pretty sure I've written this in some form already.)

The tiny box pushed is pushed across the island this morning. It's early. Sam is up and gone to work, it'll be another hour before PJ or the kids get up and I think Loch and Ben will sleep all day. I left the windows up and our bedroom is cool and breezy and dark.

So I get breakfast with the Devil which he is delighted about in spite of the fact that it wouldn't have been his favorite part if I stayed and I didn't realize how much he actually covets sleeping with me. Actually sleeping, not the other thing. Cuddling down and finding dreams. Letting go.

Lochlan's going to exploit the fuck out of this for the rest of our lives and I could have really used this information back in our Vegas days when I would easily black out on broken champagne glasses, orphan dollar bills and betting chips. 

I've seen this box before.

I think you've earned a bonus. You gave me exactly what I wanted and you didn't talk back once.

I pull the ribbon and open the lid. The diamond earrings. I frown at him. I don't want earrings. Ben just eats them. I hate the way they feel anyway.

These are to replace the one Ben ate and if necessary you could use them to barter with in a post-apocalyptic situation.

You definitely spend too much time in this house. And besides, the ones he ate weren't real. Just glass.

Bridget, I'd like you to have some nice things.

I do. My boys are so beautiful. My children are perfect. I need nothing else. Some of my memories are beyond compare. I dream on a Ferris Wheel every night and I've seen almost everything there is to see. I don't need a flashy pair of earrings because then you may as well hang that Sugarbaby sign right around my neck.

I grow weary of seeing you in questionable quality jewelry. It reflects on me.

Then look at someone else. Also wow. You're a shallow dick this morning. From the fire to the ashes, I see. Which is it? Are they so I can have nice things or are they to make you look good?

Neither. They're a mistake, I gather.

Yes they are. Take them back.

I can't. Your initials are engraved on the backs.

You can have that filed off and pawn them. You probably used the wrong letters anyway.

Who's oozing with class now?

I never claimed to care. I cut my teeth on the freakshow, or have you forgotten?

I wish I could. You won't let me.

It's the only ammunition I've GOT.

PJ walks in rubbing his eyes. Cale, if I have to toss you out could you at least pull this a little later? I'll wear the earrings and be your baby. Just don't you touch my ass.

Caleb stands up, puts the box in his pocket and kisses the top of my head, telling me he'll come back when I've woken up a little. He nods at PJ on his way out and PJ pantomimes running after him with his arms outstretched, making me laugh.

A girl named Monday.

The wind drove me out of the vineyard this afternoon and the rain followed it, chasing me right up the path, up the steps and in through the glass doors in a halo of tangled blonde.  I shut and locked the door behind me and made a cup of tea, ignored all the messages piling up on my phone and decided that yes, I still hate Mondays. I stuck my face in the back of PJ's flannel shirt as he washed up at the kitchen sink and asked him if I could just hide behind him for a day or maybe a month or two but I wouldn't take up any room, I swear. He laughed, giving me a hug, pointing out he thinks he knows that sometimes I miss sitting in the cupboard where no one could find me but where eventually they all knew to look. I nodded. I sure do. I miss it more than he realizes. He speed dials Sam and Sam walks down the hall in bare feet and cargo pants and a white t-shirt, holding his phone and smiling and I feel like I'm in a laundry commercial. Sam ticks through his gentle list of What I Can Do and I follow his instructions, breathing in the long way so I don't swoon on my feet. He tells me Monday will soon be over.

Oh well, good, then. I really don't like her at all.

Polyevil (about last night).

Lochlan was convinced slowly and with a lot of cajoling. Come with me. I'm going anyway, I'd rather have you there. He protests, he wishes he could keep me home, he'd rather have Batman cover the difference and owe him whatever it takes instead of putting me at risk but then I stop cold in my tracks and remind him that he would never wish for that once he thought about it for any length of time.

Besides, this works. This isn't so bad. A little Soul & Cole. A little break from the ordinary that helps cement how safe we are most of the time, a little bend with the Devil to secure our future as a collective because as I always remind them, I wanted to make the collective and I always knew what the price would be.

But once there I still can't get Lochlan to come inside the boat where it's slightly warmer and dimly lit. He's on deck with a beer and a few words for Ben but mostly he's tense and unyielding and fraught with a quiet reluctance that's clouding the night. Caleb goes to refresh his drink and shakes his hand and I know he's making promises and he's doing that horrible, charming hypnotizing talk where he makes you feel at ease. It's the Devil's specialty and this is the only time he uses it.

It's too late to turn back and I take a deep breath as the Devil turns back to me and everything else disappears. He is polarizing, striking, captivating. All the things he sees in me. All the words he uses. Only I have no words when he touches me. They just go away.

His eyes flash in the dark and I feel the heat in my cheeks. He presses his forehead down against mine. You finally came to me. He brings my fingers up and kisses them and then he pulls my chin up to kiss me softly. Barely.

Stay the night with me. 

We can't. 

Just you. 

Ben says his name from beyond the screen door. It's a warning. Those aren't the terms. If I stay he falls in love with me and so it's just better if I don't. I have a hard time holding the hearts that I have now. Besides, Ben won't let me out of his sight. I tell him this is for him because he likes to see things that exist only in his wildest dreams because that's how Ben lives but he also knows I wouldn't only do this for him, that I'm just as selfish when it comes to ghosts and also selfish enough to bargain for the life of my boys as we live it now. It's not that high a price to pay, and it's not as often as it once was. But it's still a tiny bit of Cole when Cole was good and it's a little more security for my little fucked up family, for I once said I would find a way to make things easier for everyone and dammit, I think I did, even if it's a way that brings me nothing but shame.

Shame is what I see reflected in Loch's eyes when I am safely back in the big bedroom with just Lochlan and Ben. Loch inspects every inch of my skin and my heart inside before proclaiming me undamaged and then he takes me too, pushing Ben away, drowning me in kisses, leaving me breathless and hurting and exhausted. He keeps me pressed against him when I can no longer stay awake at all. I hear him call Caleb and he tells him I just fell asleep right where I belong, in his arms and that Caleb can never have that. He hangs up and smiles in the dark and I want to tell him not to be such a drag but I can't wake up enough to form the words.

I like my songs with singers.

I think I've figured that much out. Instrumental jazz like last night with The Gordon Grdina Trio, John Scofield and Medeski Martin & Wood for the kickoff of the Vancouver Jazz Festival wooed me something fierce but I kept thinking the whole time they would all be so much more killer if they just had singers.

I know. I'm an incredibly green jazz fan. So wet behind the ears if you tell me a genre secret you'll slip and fall. I'm a predictably safe jazz fan. Glenn Miller, Ella, Louis. Mainstream, soft and friendly, over-quickly jazz.  Last night was over three hours of incredibly complex listening, rising, falling, give and taking, crazy-making jazz, let me tell you.

I did get to try another new pub too and I also got a refresher course on the art of precisely how fucking dirty Granville street is.  The thing about Vancouver is it tends to be so busy looking at the pretty scenery beyond the skyline that it fails to notice how dirty the window is that it's looking through.

And that's too bad.

But I did really love finally getting to see some serious jazz, even if I know nothing about it, and I got to groove down and out between the masters of music and money while doing so, because Caleb took Ben and I as his guests and yes, of course he wanted something. He always wants something and that something is always me but as a front he said he wanted a one-on-one (HA) chance to talk to Ben personally about everything that transpired between when I turned twelve up until after I got electrocuted. His goal for the night was to make it up to Ben using me, or something that made more sense in his fast talk at the theater than it did in his sheets later on.

One.

When he took my chin in his hand I figured I was about to get another face-to-face can't-get-away-from-me-now-Bridgie lecture but instead he tipped my face way up and kissed a spot just under my jaw.

My knees liquified and I haven't been the same since. But that's how Lochlan and I seem to fight and then make up. Ben came around too, eventually and we went out last evening to celebrate and came home to celebrate a little more. Maybe it's one of those times when we can just breathe a sigh of relief. House is full up. Everyone's okay. The kids are loving the teachers strike. Duncan's employed. Joel hasn't been murdered. No one's killed Bridget yet either. Caleb's eating crow for breakfast, lunch and dinner and Ben is celebrating his AA birthday today.

One whole year. 

This morning Sam put his hand out straight against Ben's forehead and prayed for him and we all watched in awe. Ben is only very receptive to God if he's channeled through Sam and Sam is the closest thing Ben will ever have to seeing success in the program. Duncan is watching with interest because he's only just started and Loch didn't even choose to continue because he and God aren't so close and he'd much rather do it on his own. Loch has an incredible sense of self-discipline I've yet to see in any of the others. He was always older than his years and rarely prone to making a mess of himself that he couldn't clean up easily.

But some of us aren't that good at being independent, honestly and there's more like us than like him.

Everyone's shaking Ben's hand. They can be so formal and it makes Ben blush sometimes as they call him brother with so much love in their voices, love in their eyes.  They pound him on the back and clap him on the shoulders and throw their arms around him and he feels really humbled by this. So he should. Please make it stick.

No more promises, no more keeping score
No more wondering what I stay here for
We broke the awkward silence with polite and practiced lies
But we were just preparing our goodbyes

I'm listening to Phish's new album Fuego today. It's streaming on the NPR website and I am being generously humored because it's as good as Hoist and I keep cranking the speakers up louder and louder. PJ already left and Caleb arrived in his place, lured over after hearing the notes floating on the heavy post-rain salt air, bent on more apologies and further reintegration into a broken and disjointed household.

I'm thinking this is perfect sunny-day long road trip music when he says, This is perfect road trip music. 

My brain wants to take him in that second and darken his hair and his eyes ever so slightly, give him that slow mean smile that used to be deployed like a weapon and call him Cole but my heart isn't even in good-enough condition to flex and include anyone else, not even Caleb. It's too busted up, too patched-together so instead I tell him that I have plans with Loch for the afternoon and there's Loch now, coming in to the library as if on cue.

Caleb asks Loch what our plans are and Loch screws us both by deferring, saying we don't have any plans today. Caleb feels worse because I lied and I feel worse because not only does Caleb think I lied to him, I know that Loch lied to him just to make both of us feel bad.

Effective.

Also shitty.