Part II: Hold your fire.

And so I say to you
Let’s not force a meaning
Forget the lines we drew
Forget your teenage demons

We have nothing to state or prove
We have nothing to fear or lose
And I’ll be trying to catch you hiding
Now all my hiding is seen, circus queen

Four drinks in now and I found what I was looking for, a hole in the dark I could crawl out of in order to run back home. The getaway car wasn't supposed to be to get away from here, it was to get away from me, the me that's afraid. The me that doesn't listen. The me that goes looking for trouble and finds it every time. Just to make sure I can still feel. That I'm not dead. That someone still wants something that's broken and was once told she'd be alone forever. That's not a feeling I can take, and it's a feeling that I push back under, holding her head below every single time she surfaces.

I need you to take me home. 

You shouldn't go anywhere.

Fine. I'll go by myself. 

Jay frowns at me so handsomely my heart breaks. He walks out of the room and returns in seconds, a t-shirt now on his tall frame to go with the jeans. He skips the shoes and holds his hand out for mine.

We head across the grass in the dark. Not talking. The lights are spinning. I smell fire. As we come around the porch I see him. Lochlan, sitting on the top step skipping a single flame across his fingertips. He fumbles it when he sees us, briefly lighting up his entire fist before extinguishing it with his other hand as he stands up. He looks wild, dishevelled and...also drunk. Completely trashed, as he staggers against the step and grabs the railing for support.

At least you're in good hands. Jay rolls his eyes.

Lochlan comes down to the walk, pulls me away from Jay, noting our hands, and gives him a good shove. Jay, to his credit, didn't dent any fridges this time and didn't budge either. He's not the man he was when he landed with us, broken and afraid. I'll have to remember to ask him how he did that when I'm sober, as the rest of us can't seem to figure it out.

Go home, drifter. Lochlan doesn't want to argue so he tries a command.

She asked me to walk her home. I would have let her stay and sleep it off but I figured I owed you more than I can ever pay you back and this is a start. For what it's worth, she only had one drink with me and arrived half in the bag.

Lochlan is staring at me like he's never seen me before. As soon as my flesh begins to blister from his gaze I beg for mercy. Jesus, Loch. I'm too drunk for this shit. Can we just go home?

He nods and tucks an arm around my neck. He addresses Jay with a nod. Lochlan's famous approval that makes you feel like you're okay. Thanks. 

Jay nods and we turn to go back up the steps. At the top I hear my name.

Wait. Bridget?

I turn. Yeah?

Can I have my wallet back?

Lochlan laughs. No. Gotta keep your eye on your belongings. 

Jay is stronger than I thought. I would say the same to you. 

Night, Jacob.

Lochlan tenses but we keep moving forward and soon I am in my big comfy bed and he is wrapped around me tightly so I can sleep.

Part I: Keep the car running.

He called me over for a drink, not liking my words, wanting to fix it, wanting to change things, his voice amused and yet clipped, wounded, dark, almost.

I can't resist so I promise him one drink and I show up at nine, the smoky blue night just beginning to settle over the point. I've seen the world and I want more but I also want to control everyone around me and I can only do it if I'm here. Joel always said that need comes from feeling as if my life is always out of control but I don't know why he says that. It isn't. It's fine. Everything's fine.

One drink turned to two and then three as blue deepened to black and he pulls me into his lap. I cup his face in my hands but I don't kiss him. I just stare into his eyes. I'm not supposed to be here. Not supposed to be like this. Not supposed to want this.

I'll make it twenty-five thousand. 

Now you sound like Caleb. 

Okay, I'll make it two-hundred and fifty thousand. 

He laughs at his own joke, taking a kiss I didn't offer him. I pull back but I can't get far enough away so I stick my lower lip out and extend the dare as far as I can. I don't believe you. 

I told you forever ago I could do whatever he could ten times over. 

He has no conditions. You have so many. 

You accepted my invitation. 

For one drink-

Bridget, it's never one drink and we both, hell, everyone knows it. That's code. That's the dance. The only condition here is timing. 

He doesn't want more than I can give him. 

I don't like your lies. They stain an otherwise beautiful face. Tell me the difference and I'll let you go. I don't think you can. 

He isn't cold, like you. 

Batman stares into my eyes for what feels like the remainder of the night as the heat burns off the hemlocks, settling into the ground, cool air rushing in to fill the holes we're blowing into the dusk, trying to force light in all around us. I stare back in return. Don't call me a liar or it's going to hurt even more. He takes my drink from me and slides me off his lap, standing up, standing me up and turning me away in the same motion. 

Lock the door when you leave, he says and he leaves the room. Just to make sure I was telling the truth, I guess. I thought about following him and asking him to prove I'm wrong but I didn't. It's a first.

But I'm still keyed up so hard, I don't want to go home. Reckless fuel in my blood from the whiskey flushes through to my skin, which screams at the cold air as I head down the hall, knocking on the door softly. Jay opens the door to his rooms, a look of surprise on his face I adore instantly. He's in soft jeans, no shirt, no shoes, in need of a haircut, in need of sleep maybe but he holds the door wide and I walk underneath his arm into his cozy den. He's got a movie on the television and a half-finished beer on the table.

What do you need, Bridget? He says as he closes the door behind us. I should have said Lochlan. I could have said anything. But instead I said I needed at least three more drinks and maybe a driver with a getaway car for when I run. And Jay laughed and thought I was flirting with him and went and got the good stuff and poured me a drink so strong I forgot what I wanted to run from.

Whoop-fucking-whoop, indeed.

Tomorrow I'm being moved again, starting at a different restaurant, one owned by one of my boss's relatives. Out of sight, out of mind? Or cherry-picked to help run a cuter, brand-new place that has a soft opening this week after many delays. It's only slightly higher-end and may be a different crowd, but not too different, and since 2018 seems to be the year of Bridget never being comfortable, why the hell not? My uniform is pressed and ready to go, shoes shined and correspondence with my new boss is in place, as they confirmed late this afternoon that yes, indeed, it's happening.

It's been three months exactly since I got the job and I'm still trucking.

Hard to believe, especially after a very tough day like today, when no one seemed happy with anything, save for a couple grateful construction workers who remembered their manners and were so appreciative of their cold drinks I wondered if I was being punked, for everyone else was SO awful today.

On the upside, Ben phoned me at lunch and said he saw that Insane Clown Posse is coming to Vancouver next month, so if I want my gathering that's my chance.

I'm thinking about it.

I need to blow off some steam.

I'm not sure how any more.

I wondered briefly if Batman knows but every time Batman looks at me lately he throws his hands up in frustration. Like Caleb except Batman has even less leverage and can only stand by and watch now, as he has exhausted his own resources in this matter and it didn't make a bit of difference.

Three months. Huh. Honestly, I've now outlasted my own expectations, and I have $2546 in my account that I didn't have back in the middle of April. I mean money I made without the help of anyone else. That's something. It's small, like me, but it's something.

Pad Bridget.

PJ's crassness yesterday was quickly frozen out by Lochlan, who did that disapproving thing he does which isn't easily quantifiable but causes one to work desperately to return to his favour. He's got a way without words, let's leave it at that.

With his looks, gestures, general tension and disapproval he saw my message on the way home and brought me Pad Thai. Which is pretty close to Vietnamese so I'll take what I can get.

He didn't bring PJ anything. Usually we include PJ in our close family meals unless it's a very specific romantic date but PJ was suitably chastened and made himself something for dinner and then after a few hours of torture Lochlan came around. Lochlan only likes the frathouse humor when he initiates it, sadly, but at the same time if you give any of the boys free enterprise they will take off running and we'd never crawl out of that hole.

By midnight they were back to normal. By then I was hungry again.

Chlorine Jesus.

Might have food delivered out here for an early dinner, as I kind of don't want to move. I already had coffee, croissants and my laptop delivered to me poolside. Got to objectify a few willing people along the way, got objectified in return as I've busted out the new pink eyelet string bikini, which looks great with my perpetual sun/razor burns. Pink is probably the wrong color today, as Caleb is legendary for giving me bad razor burn, but my new striped bathing suit (one piece! I love it but no one else seems to?!) is on the clothesline and I forgot to check and see if it was dry.

The stripes are orange, blue, brown and a dusty rose. It's so seventies.

Hey. I try to get Dalton's attention but the man is out cold. Dalt. Hey DALT.  He doesn't move so I call PJ. Who can organize dinner out here without me leaving? 

You're asking me if I'll bring out steaks and a salad to cook out there?

No, I want Vietnamese takeaway. 

Ah. Going hard on the self-care today?

Huh?

You want me to go fetch you takeout?

No. Is anyone out who can pick some up?

Bridget, I was sleeping. Send out a note. If someone can get it, I'm sure they will. 

I don't know if I want to play that card. 

Why not?

What if I need a bigger favor later?

You know how to suck a dick. 

JESUS, PJ!

My morning routine these days.

I woke up this morning in physical pain, kind of a nice change, if you ask me. I was clutched tight in Lochlan's arms, on my stomach, with my right arm tight around his neck and my left arm tight around Caleb's neck.

Because I choose.

And I called him at three this morning and said he needed to come to me and weirdly he was awake and so he did, stripping down to a t-shirt and his boxers and he climbed into bed and kissed my forehead, stretching out beside us and said Sleep now. Everything is okay. And it was but it wasn't but Lochlan slept, at least. It's as if he knows Caleb isn't the extreme physical threat he once was. It's as if Caleb knows we'll have room for him if he listens to me. It's almost as if we have managed to find a way to take the sharpness from the past, blurring it into unrecognizable shapes, blobs of emotion we have to think hard about to conjure up and that's good enough for everyone present and everyone presently. We seem to need to clear the air on a regular basis first and then everything is okay for a little while.

It's okay, Ben was there too. He was wrapped up like a very large comfortable mummy on Caleb's other side, and takes absolutely no offense to trading spots as sometimes he gets me all to himself and he likes that too but as he says he's getting old and needs help to handle me.

:)

So yes. I woke up in pain, shoulders jacked the wrong way, arms asleep, unable to move or fix it as I had no leverage so I cried out.

Oh my God. Someone help me. 

Lochlan startled hard, almost finishing me off. He reached out and pulled my other arm from around Caleb's neck, moving my right arm back underneath me, ducking underneath it as he turned me onto my right side and slid me back even closer against him, his arms tight around mine, using warmth and pressure to bring the feeling back and take the pain away.

Breathe, Peanut. (I hold my breath when things hurt. And my tongue.)

I did and tingles flooded through my extremities. After a few minutes he told me to go take a hot shower, which was heaven. I stood under the broiling spray for twenty minutes. When I came out Caleb was gone and Lochlan was trying to tickle Ben, who remained wrapped up like a mummy and was too deeply asleep to notice.

I threw on my lingerie and a pretty cotton shift and ran my fingers through my pixie cut. I adjusted my necklace (I don't take it off) and checked my rings and asked what he wanted to do today.

Not the same thing we did last night. He makes a face at me. Also, you look beautiful.

Sharp points (and a lovely literary transition, just for you).

I was a shadow on the screen
I was a drifter on the prowl
Now I’m the lights behind the scenes
Now I’m the wolf that’s yet to howl

Yet to break out and yet to run
Yet to be outdone

Waking up to twelve degrees. The windows are open. My skin is cool, shivering in full effect now. The moment I startle from sleep Lochlan reaches out and pulls me in tight against his chest with one arm, not awake at all but also never completely asleep.

Last night the past clouded the present and he and Caleb argued heavily into the dark and I was brought home. Not going to leave me there, not going to turn his back on the monsters, not going to risk further damage tonight, and definitely not going to negotiate on any of it.

There are no choices here for you to make. The Devil stands his ground, reminding Lochlan. Caleb owns this show, somehow. We are merely the performers. Irreplaceable, sure, but also partisan to each other in a way I never expected. One giant writhing mass of limbs and hearts and tears and when one steps away a hole is created which remains until they return to the fold.

Even for the Devil. Oh, yes.

Lochlan stands staring at him, bottom lip jutted in defiance. He's thinking. I'm sure he's thinking he's going to burn the whole thing to the ground. Again. Instead he kisses my hand and looks to me for his answers.

Tell him. 

I shake my head. I mean no, but Lochlan takes it as fear that I don't want to tell him. It's the same in the end.

Neamhchiontach, please. Caleb would also like to know how this will end.

I shake my head again. I'm looking sideways, up into the night. Tears spill over. So tired of this. So tired of everything. I wipe them away and find a voice that will suit them for the moment.

Another time. One of my famous empty promises. Collected by the armful. Usually resulting in being ordered to do something at gunpoint, with shaking hands and angry voices raised. Like always.

Of course. Ever the gentlemen, not willing to show Lochlan how fierce his cravings really are, Caleb lets me off the hook. He crosses to me, hesitates briefly as Lochlan tenses, pulling me closer by the hand, and kisses my cheek gently.

Get some rest, Bridget. We'll have some time in a few days.

Lochlan pulls my hand hard and we're gone, into the dark, back across the line to the safe side of the world where the lights are golden bright and the hemlocks push back against the monsters.

He's right. You need sleep. Candles aren't supposed to burn at both ends, Peanut. 

They do if you light them. 

He smiles softly in the morning light, bending his head down, leaving a kiss against my lips. It's not a dismissal or a placeholder, it's all of the oxygen in my lungs.

What do you want to do this morning?

Damage control. 

He lets go of me and rolls to his back, covering his eyes. You don't need to do that. 

I do. We're supposed to find peace together. 

Never gonna happen. 

We can try. 

We've been trying for our entire lives. It only works if everyone actually tries, Bridget.

Reasons/Seasons.

It feels like fall, today.

These days no one remembers I like my toast well done. I'm finishing the Gatorade flavors no one likes and I'm craving a long hot bubble bath like it's the best vacation I will ever have. I need color. I need loud music. I need distraction. I need sleep, as always and I needed it last month and the month before that and now with critical mass staring me down I feel as if suddenly I don't need anything, and everything is weightless, unimportant and shallow.

You're stuck in my head and I can't get you out of it

I chased one cool evening with another and I can't remember what day it is. I'm down to reminding myself to breathe, certain my heartbeat no long keeps time, no longer keeps me alive and I feel like the wind is the only thing that matters. Not even the sea, for the sea is the wind's bath, a discarded, long-cold empty vessel full of discarded memories, drowned in a fit of impulsive, necessary change.

Come inside, Neamhchiontach. I can fix this. His voice is soft and low. It sends a shiver down my spine, as always, but I shake my head.

Look at it. 

Magnificent, isn't it? But he's not looking at the dead sea or the live wind. I know this because his eyes are boring holes into my soul. He craves it like I crave that hot bath, like I used to crave the sea before I suddenly arrived at this place where I momentarily don't love him, don't feel anything, don't care. Don't want. Don't look. Don't breathe, Bridget, for he's close enough to touch and you'll fucking care when you get burned again.

Defeatist.

Am I nice? I must be nice.

I approach every new situation as one in which I ask for help figuring it all out and today I was met not once, but three times with people willing and capable of making our lives extremely easy and efficient when they had no pure incentive to do so other than the prospect of helping someone out who needed help.

I needed that. I needed help to make the day smooth and I had to trust strangers. I took a breath and did it and it all worked out.

So the day is wrapping up and I'm taking that breath for the first time since eight this morning.

Things aren't going all that smoothly with my patient. Things are downright rough but after all these ER trips and today a surprise trip to the surgeon I feel like there's hope in sight. I will try to stay positive and tonight I'm going to make my gratitude list here because I need to see it written down. Here's all the things I'm completely, unabashedly grateful for today:

-Queer Eye Season two. (I'm not crying, you're crying.)
-Memes. Because memes.
-The impending picture galleries from the Gathering. Seriously. They're just all spectacle. It's incredible. I love it. It reminds me of the circus.
-A car full of gas and in good repair for my four trips into town today. Easy traffic (well). Worried boys.
-Prayers from Sam for energy and compassion. I am always low on the former and never ever run out of the latter.
-A big old wet juicy kiss from Lochlan this morning, almost in our sleep.
-A text from my boyfriend reminding me he has unlimited, infinite resources, if I need them.
-PJ slipping a granny smith apple into my bag.
-Picking the first cauliflower of the season.
-Henry having a day off the point with friends and having a blast.
-OH. I preordered Alice in Chains' new album, Rainier Fog. I love that name. We see them next month. SO excited. I also preordered Eisley's I'm Only Dreaming..of Days Long Past because acoustic versions of anything make me so happy.
-Ben saved me a chocolate chip cookie for after dinner. I baked a huge ham in between making trips into town. I'm a multitasker, finally.

Stuck in my jumpsuit (a pep talk for one or twenty. You pick).

We never got it right
Playing and replaying old conversations
Overthinking every word and I hate it
'Cause it's not me ('cause it's not me)
And what's the point in hiding?
Everybody knows we got unfinished business
And I'll regret it if I didn't say
This isn't what it could be (isn't what it could be)

You could break my heart in two
But when it heals, it beats for you
I know it's forward, but it's true

A reprieve last evening. Reading up on the news. Watching Selena Gomez and Twenty One Pilots videos with Ruth. Eating fried eggs and spicy sausages. Shopping for pretty shirts to wear when it's too hot outside to breathe. Having lemonade and vodka late, when the temperature dipped back down to reasonable. Being cranky with each other, but mildly, in order to find civility in the craziness. Trying to take deep breaths. Trying to keep up.

Henry's birthday was yesterday. We celebrated quietly over the past weekend, with gifts on Saturday, a special dinner and cake on Sunday and of course yesterday Henry had cake for breakfast and cake for a bedtime snack. You would think he is related to me for the love he has for cake, wouldn't you?

The only person who likes cake more than me is Caleb.

(Surprise, motherfucker. Right?)

(Forty-eight messages on my phone from him right now and I don't know what to do.)

Today is going to be better. My work is cancelled for the week, the heat is supposed to let up after today and hopefully this time everyone is on a roll toward greater things. I think yesterday was a hiccup, a wrinkle in the fabric of time. A bad day, when most of them are actually pretty good.

Let's have a good day, guys.