Jesus rainbows.

Should I live blog? I should live blog but we're actually late, sitting on the bridge trying to cross to the west end to see the Pride Parade, a caravan of trucks and boys in glitter. We have a place reserved that is a great vantage point to watch and dance and have a blast but it's just a matter of getting there before it begins.

More later. Happy Pride!

The scraps you don't burn/Saturday, August 4, 2018.

All my words sucked straight into the void
Same black hole where my heart was destroyed

The trap is time and no one gets off of this ride alive
The trap is time and no one gets off of this ride alive

Fresh hillside raspberries in a glass of chilled rosé and five men playing water polo, water pouring off their muscular arms, the droplets glinting in the late afternoon sun as they torment one another with gentle insults meant to distract, not crucify.

I'm in heaven.

Absolutely.

Lochlan sleeps easily beside me on the chaise, its sunshade pulled up against that cruel sun, keeping me cool and protected. My book long forgotten in favour of watching the boys play so nicely. Such a rare sight. Such a rare day overall, in which we woke up early, made love easily, hungrily even and then made breakfast, also hungrily, in order to get our errands run and chores done.

So we could do absolutely nothing.  Like right now.

John comes and sits on the edge of the pool. What's for dinner, Bridge?

What are you making?

Let's make tacos. 

Sounds good. We have tortillas and beef. 

Perfect. I'll go pick some tomatoes. He smiles contently. He looks like I feel.

Cool. I settle back against Lochlan, who throws his arm around my neck, waking up slow. I ask him Is this heaven?

The only thing missing is our Ferris wheel. 

Caleb offered to buy us one once. 

We'd never get a permit to build it. 

I like it to be hard to get to. It keeps the magic that way. 

True. It does. I raised you right. 

I think you did. 

You know what we need?

A wakeup like the one we had this morning?

That was stellar. I was thinking an evening like this morning is in order. Maybe some candles, incense, music. Sam can join us, if you're up for it. 

Ben is going to come up early. 

Better still. 

My relief is tempered by Caleb getting out of the pool. I'd watch him any day. Especially soaked. He towels off his face and hands, checks his phone and then comes around to us. Hope you don't mind, dinner is coming and will be here in fifteen if you want to get everyone organized and dressed. 

What is it?

Mexican. 

That's amazing. We were just discussing making tacos. John's gone to pick tomatoes. 

We can have them sliced, along with the dishes I have coming. He grins. It is a perfect day.

Okay. I return the smile. Jesus. Pinch me. There will never be another day like this. Only one thing would make it even more perfect.

The quicksand tugs at my toes and I yank my foot away at the last second. Hey guys? Time to clean up for dinner. We always dress for dinner. It's just a thing.

A chorus of confirmation rises up and Lochlan pulls the shade all the way down so no one can see us before bending over me for a kiss the likes of which I dream about on a daily basis. Time to go, Mrs. MacIntosh. 

This girl is only gonna break your heart.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you,

No, I wanna fall in love

When pressed to choose, I'll tell you that Keith Wallen's cover is by far the best one. Second runner up would be Lochlan, if you can believe it. I might be biased but he can hit the notes and buckle my knees all in one go. The only caveat is he won't (Absolutely not, Peanut) sing it sober and he's rare to be drunk enough to begin in the first place. Maybe tonight if he is angry enough by the time I get home with Sam he can sing it to me while he takes off all my clothes.

Or maybe he'll let Sam do that. I don't know. They can figure it out when the time comes.

My first order of vacation was to paint my nails with glitter. Then I promptly had to take it all off. It was starting to make my fingertips turn red and swell and it felt so heavy. I threw the bottle out and am giving up.

My second order was a long hot bath, in which I put conditioner in my hair, filled the tub to the top with bubbles and then got in only to realize it was too deep to read so I had to let half the water out. Then I dropped my David Sedaris book into the water. Now it's wavy and thick and won't close all the way. At least it's making me laugh out loud regularly, finally after over three hundred pages.

My third was a lemon poppyseed muffin out on the front porch, with a huge hot cup of coffee. I stole Gage's BB8 mug. It's gotta be ten ounces, minimum. I filled it all the way to the top, as I do at work, and easily carried it outside. Yeah, by myself. Without assistance.

(It's the little things that bring me so much triumph. You would be surprised. One attempt to soothe myself out of three worked perfectly so I'll call it a victory while you call it a mess.)

They tried to keep me from seeing the news, but I found out anyway. Rick Genest took his own life yesterday. He was thirty-three. Like Jacob, he did it just before his birthday, except it was a week instead of a day. Like Jacob he's gone now, never to find a way out of the dark. Never to realize how many people were there for him because he didn't wait to ask for help.

For fucks sake, tell someone. Then maybe you'll stay here.

With me.

I need to do something different today. The sadness is quicksand and I prefer to look out into the world from within it, nonetheless. Today I think I should be without that sadness. Dalton and Duncan are taking me golfing. I don't know what part of golfing is cheerful (or even fun for that matter) but I guess it's better than drowning in this hole.

Oh, Duncan just said it's mini golf. Or in your case, normal size, Poem.

Will you let me win?

Hell, no.

The things that make me different are the things that make me.

Joel just left. He came to see how I was feeling, talk preseason Leafs to me, and gossip about Trevor Linden's exit from the Canucks but on the way out he invited me to go and see Christopher Robin tomorrow night. Sam is already taking me.

I think they paid him to offer because they didn't want to have to do it, honestly and he's willing because he vividly remembers Jacob's Poohisms, his endless reflections from the books that broke my heart, and that was before everything else.

Sam says he's going to wear his Tactical Preacher Pants, stuffed with kleenex, sedatives and a bucket to wring me out in, as I haven't made it through the trailers yet without crying. I laughed because he means his cargo pants. They look especially great with his Argentina flag belt buckle. I can't take him anywhere. They're a faded salmon color. When he wears them PJ calls him Mr. Pink Pockets. 

So in a way, it's the perfect thing to wear to a movie about Winnie-The-Pooh.

Joel nods. Glad he's taking you. The aside to this is he's glad Lochlan isn't taking me. Lochlan doesn't have a lot of patience for anything related from the Hundred Acre Wood. I always found that amazing because Lochlan has infinite patience for glitter, sprinkles, sugar, magic and basically anything related to my childhood, but this is just too "Jacob" for him so he gave it a hard pass. They're going to get shitfaced and play pool at Schuyler's instead. He and PJ are, I mean. The rest will drink tea like civilized adults and they'll all be ready for bed by the time we get home from the theatre, I bet.

The other aside to this is that Joel, Sam and August are the father, son and holy ghost of Jacob's memory, as they were his best friends and there's a clear divide right down the centre of my life in that regard. As much as Sam has made the leap from Jacob's person to my person, Joel and August haven't. But that's not a detriment to their character, it's just a fact. August rarely opens up at all and no one's going to let Joel open up ever. But they somehow wound up keeping care of my brain and the rest can fight over my body, I guess.

A tiny little chit-chat, because I'm on my way out.

Oh well, surprise indeed. This morning they closed the beach at Whytecliff, which is the closest one to my house. Because of E.Coli levels.

I've been jumping off the cliff for days and days and like two weeks straight and then I got this 'flu' with some weird and awful stomach aches and the doctor came and left the biggest antibiotics I've ever seen and great. Just what I need.

Don't swallow water, Bridget. 

Kind of hard if I'm screaming all the way down. Because eight years here and it never gets old and I'm terrified of heights and I'm never ready to jump/be pushed/be thrown off that cliff, no sir.

But it will be a few weeks before we do it again.

Ben and I can be the E.Coli twins. Yay. He's on antibiotics too.

Also, guess what? I'm beginning my first vacation from work in almost twenty years. I don't go back until after (shhhhhhh) Burning Man.

I don't even know what to do first. Probably chores. Yeah. Chores. Fuck.

Well one of us watched all of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy all the way to the end.

Ever walk into a room after being gone a while and everyone's holding their breath, waiting for you to notice/comment/react to something that's hugely different?

Yeah. That happened to me this afternoon and even after realizing they were waiting I still didn't know why and I threw my bag down on the island, cracking open a Gatorade because it's three hundred thousand degrees outside still and I'm actually taking antibiotics for a bacterial flu bug.

(But still working because DEDICATION. LOYALTY. WORK ETHICS and also MONEY. And free breakfast plates after 1 pm, huzzah!)

I finally snapped at Dalton with the most Lochlanesque order I've ever given. Go on then. Out with it! 

He nodded toward PJ. I look and then look back at Dalton and then around the room. What is happening. I don't get it.

Then PJ stood up and turned to smile at me and I realized what was different. I may have shrieked and dropped my Gatorade on the floor and now my whole kitchen is vaguely tinted orange.

PJ cut off all his hair. His elbow-length hair. His Obituary hair.

All of it.

He still has the beard and the chops but now he has a wavy, short do, streaked with some serious salt and pepper mixed in with his light brown.

You look amazing. 

I was so fucking hot, Bridge, I couldn't stand anot-

I love it. 

You do?

Yes. Also you look taller. 

See, I TOLD you I did. PJ claps Duncan on the back of the head. Fucker.

Each one more beautiful.

Caleb had my car collected and taken home and was there when I came outside, keys in hand, wondering who STOLE MY FUCKING CAR. No one had, he said, having sent one of the boys who listened, God knows why, and left me captive with my monster the whole way home. I put on Starset in the car, the new acoustic recording of Ricochet, and proceeded to sing along with my newly scratchy lower-mainland-forest-fire-air-quality voice, which is hella interesting to me, thinking he might listen to the words for once but instead he turned it off.

And I kept singing.

They won't know my heart
It's the darkest parrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Neamhchiontach. 

What? (Interrobang. Put it here.)

Are you warm?

What gave you that idea? I'm slippery like a fish, pouring sweat. Soaked through my dress. Wet hair. Completely unintentional smokey eyes. Smeared red lipstick. Hot? Yeah, no. Not me. Not right now.

I was hoping we could go somewhere for an early dinner. 

Sure. Pick something. And I give him my crazy smile.

Maybe another night. His silence allows me to turn the radio back on and I resume my singing. I have no shame.

When we get home I get out of the car, shouldering my bag, staring at him through the simmering waves of heat rising off the top of the car. I note my Porsche neatly parked under the tree by the garage. Good. At least one thing is how I like it today and fuck my legs hurt but I give Caleb my brave smile.

Why did you come pick me up?

So I could talk with you. 

But you didn't. 

It didn't seem like the right time. 

For what?

Another day, Neamhchiontach. For now it was just nice to treat you to a drive home. One less thing for you to do. 

I know what it is. 

Pardon me? 

You're still here, Diabhal. Still an alpha. Still my boyfriend, if that's what you want to be. Sam isn't taking anyone's place. He doesn't come before you. 

He smiles, suddenly looking like that handsome teenage boy who used to offer to drive me home from the beach. Bridget, you've just extended a generous peace of mind to me when I don't deserve it. 

I know. 

Thank you nonetheless.  

I would want to know where I stood as well. 

What do you mean?

If you had..others-

I don't.

What about Sophie?

There is only you, Bridget. 

No wonder you're lonely. 

Yes, well. I made my bed, as it were. I can't even say it's hyperbole but this is what I ended up with by trying to have everything I wanted. 

I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted here. 

Be flattered. I only ever wanted you. Now the time I do get is short and measured, tempered with supervision and suspicion and fear. I didn't want to be a monster but my need for you made me into one. 

Sorry. It's a whisper. He could say here that it's not my fault but it is just because I'm alive. Anyone could protest that I didn't ask for this but I did.

I'm sorry too, Neamhchiontach.  Life could have been so different.

Someone to hear your prayers.

I'll make you a believer

Oh. Oh.

The few few gestures warmed my heart, watching such an easy affection wash over them, as they found their places in the warm early morning against me. Comfort turned to an undercurrent of mild panic as they continued to extend those touching moments, almost threatening to leave me out in the process and I realized why he isn't worried that I'll fall in love with Sam and shut him out again, isn't worried that I want to divide my attentions all the time but also seeks him out, extends invitations without even checking with me first, folding Sam into our nights so easily.

Because Lochlan is in love with Sam.

I don't know if Sam is a life raft in Lochlan's sea of spiritual indecision or a concrete attempt to fill any space Caleb might try and occupy with someone he trusts. I don't know why Ben doesn't take this place as he and Lochlan are always loving and affectionate to a fault, possibly beyond with their grand displays some times and yet this is something different.

It's as if maybe Sam is Lochlan's security blanket. His safe harbour. His own personal Jesus, where Ben carries an air of vulnerability that makes you want to take care of him, in spite of his size and his easy humor in even the scariest of situations.

Maybe it has nothing to do with me, I think as I watch them look into each other's eyes as if they've never seen each before or maybe they have seen each other and they've come back hungry, looking for more.

Maybe it's that I've demanded Lochlan open his mind and accept having his personal space invaded on such a visceral level he's finally embraced it.

But only with Sam.

It makes me wonder if maybe some night I'll come back and my space will be taken, filled in a way I can never hope to fill it. With confidence and strength and righteousness. With a masculine security I seek out too.

But then my fears are smothered by their attention, all on me suddenly, as if they just had to figure out how to coordinate their efforts to bring together the well-practiced midnight choreography I crave so hard it hurts, and my jealousy evaporates in the early morning heat. Now that it's daylight I'm not sure if it really was jealousy after all, or just the usual fear of being left behind that developed at such a young age, imprinting on Lochlan like an orphaned ugly duckling and sticking to him ever since.

Those worries aren't necessary, Lochlan says, bruising his lips against my forehead, hard as ever, stubborn as always. It's just a safe place to get carried away. He winks at me. Lochlan likes to keep his freak flag flying indoors these days, trying to be a standup dad and husband (sometimes both at once with all the wrong people) and keeps his darker side hidden in dark places. Like our room.

I kind of love it. When I'm not scared I'll be replaced. 

He laughs gently in the morning light. That's definitely never going to happen.

But what if it already has?

Say a prayer for the wounded heart within, indeed.

Fade away to the wicked world we left
And I become the dark of you
Say a prayer for the wounded heart within as I become the dark of you

I've been tucked into Ben's arm all afternoon, trying to nap while he reads contracts, jolted out of my daze every now and then when he asks a question about wording, or one about money. I've become his de facto lawyer and financial planner. This is not a bad thing, trust me. He had a manager who fucked him over and then came back and fucked him over again just in case we had any doubts. It hurts worse because he was a friend.

The ex-manager doesn't work in the business anymore because I unleashed Caleb on him. Caleb had him ruined with a phone call. Ben then had a dozen cold calls offering services he never had access to before. Not sure how or why Caleb has such a fondness for Ben but there it is. If only he liked Lochlan at all.

I have headphones in too, so I have to pull those out and my brain isn't pleased for it's too busy digging through riffs and beats looking for the vocals. My ears and my brain don't connect all that well. Once I hear something my brain has to examine it for far too long before deciphering what it might be (usually wrong) and so song lyrics are becoming increasingly difficult. I used to listen to a song a few times and then I could sing along. Now I have to look up the words and memorize them. My brain is so full it's sluggish and no longer jumps to fight through the music for the beautiful words.

But Ben has amazing ear monitors and he had a little set molded just for me and I can hear everything. Well, mostly. I can't wear my hearing aids and ear monitors at the same time so there you go.

Ben's phone vibrates and he holds it up. I see Caleb's name on the screen with a message.

Where is she

Ben puts his phone back in his shirt pocket without replying and I turn the music up louder. Dark of me, indeed.

Little things and big things too.

I came down for breakfast covered with handprints. On my cheeks, my neck, my arms, my ears. Lochlan set us both on fire last night but the heat from the flames blended easily with the scorching heat residue from the sun earlier in the day and it was just like old times. We counted the money from Jay's wallet (a blistering $345 as he isn't a card person and tends to budget in the physical sense. Noted for next time.), tucked it all back in neatly with all of the bills facing the right way and left it on the bureau to return later. We only grift symbolically now, to keep our skills up in case we need them.

(I actually don't think we'll need them again but Lochlan always sleeps with his boots on, if you can understand how that feels.)

Duncan took a step backwards when he saw me. Baptized in ashes, were we?

Something like that. 

I'd be neater, Sam volunteers from the couch.

I shot him a look, poured two orange juices and took them back upstairs. I'm too hung over to banter, too filthy to get close. We drink the juice and then I take a long blisteringly hot bath which somehow became the greatest part of the heat-wave week so far, making everything else cool by comparison. The only handprint that didn't actually come off was the one on the back of my head as my hair is so pale now and the soot stuck fast, staining my hair black in the shape of his hand. I didn't notice it, but August pointed it out later on and I almost smiled at the thought of the shape of Lochlan's hand permanent touching me. Like an angel but here on earth because that's what he is.

We only slept for an hour or so the night before last, as his fuel for blood woke him up soon after we settled, a truth serum that saw him spill his fears into me in the dark, both in words and action as he searched for a way to show me how much he loved me while he told me how scared he is, how jealous he gets, how much it hurts, how badly he wants to fix everything, and how hard it all seems, how hard he works at trying to be cool with everything when right now he's cool with nothing. He talked while he drove against me, keeping me an inch from his skin, keeping me pushed up high against a euphoria I thought we left behind once, a long time ago but apparently we packed it. We brought it with us. And only once we burned off all of that fear, all that nervous energy, all of the alcohol did we appreciate it.

Boy, did we appreciate it.

I don't want for much right now, let me tell you. He strips us of our skin and our false fronts, rips the masks off, takes away the grace and we start again.

After my bath, a clean dress and the inevitable display while everyone arrived to see the handprint on my head, Lochlan made coffee and we took it out to the garden. We talked and we rocked and we checked out the progress of the yellow beans and the tomatoes and the grapes too. And we had a lovely day. A day by the sea, just for two. A day in the sun. A day in love. A day we used to dream about back in the overheated nights in the camper in between work shifts when we had three dollars but no food. A day we've actually never had before.

We topped it off with an early dinner at the diner, because we are creatures of habit, and we came back and lay in the hammock, watching the lights of the boats right through magic hour and then we went upstairs to bed where we actually slept this time, right through the night and I didn't think about grief or Jay or Caleb or Batman. I didn't think about being hungry or scared. Lochlan didn't think about being jealous or fixing things and we woke up and it's today.

Today.

Today I'm going to finish my chores quickly before it gets hot and then I'm taking some iced tea out on the porch. Today I'm going to order pizza for dinner. Today I'm going to be kinder to myself and to those I love. Today I'm going to do everything I want to do and more and also less, because it's a whole new day and that means a fresh start. A re-do. A new chance.

Actually today I need to go and return Jay's wallet. He would probably like it back.