So apparently as naive as I am, I am worldly too (Part II)

I found a place where the past was forgiven
Where my mistakes met a grace I couldn’t earn
And so I piled up my excuses and defenses in the night
Then I lit a match, stepped back and watched them burn

There was no Jesus in my Sunday this week. Schuyler covering my mouth with his hand seemed to be the theme of the night, as at one point it was covering my nose too and I had my eyes squeezed shut, fingers cutting into my palm through the sheets, other broken hand held tight against my chest, head tucked down against his onslaught, his breath hot and ragged against my skull, his skin warm and hardly marked against my graphic novel of a body. We watched a movie (don't remember), devoured each other and then he took me out for breakfast. Always eggs Benedict and lots of fresh coffee and an amused smile over an-almost awkward (but not quite) breakfast. I spent the night pressed hard into his bed and he's making small talk over bacon. He fought himself so hard for control (Daniel is six-two, a hundred and sixty pounds and strong like a maniac) and maybe he's celebrating the victory. Maybe he regrets every minute. I don't know. 

I had fun though. Not going to lie. And I'm not going to lie that I love the attention. I love having him all to myself. I love the way he looks at me, as if I am such a delicate creature that fascinates him. That's my kryptonite, always. 

Lochlan came back with the first group. Dropped his gear in the driveway, came right to me. He had cell service before they hit the end of the forest road, on foot, and after making sure he hadn't got eaten by a bear on the trip I told him everything. He said we'd talk about it at home. That everything was okay, just sit tight and he would be home in four hours or so and here he is now, pulling me roughly up into his arms, holding me tight, his hand around the back of my head. A kiss and he looks into my eyes and I suddenly feel all the shame rushing in to block the sun but he shakes his head. 

We'll talk about it. It's okay, Peanut. 

I can tell from his voice that he's trying to talk himself into it but I'm also comforted by his lack of removal, his lack of anger. I don't do it to make him angry or to push him away. I do it because not I can't help it but because he told me I could.

I help him bring his stuff in. I can't take my eyes off him. Four days without Lochlan isn't fixed by one night with Schuyler, and I missed him so badly I was easily swayed into total destruction but he needs the strength of the army to soldier on and he needs to know he is not the bad guy or weak for letting me do the things I do.  The other guys build him up, assuage the guilt and keep him moving forward. They remind him of what has been tried and what works and doesn't work and he keeps a perfect balance. I don't need to explain it. They will. 

(To you, I mean. Dear reader you'll never understand the depth of most of this. Half the time I don't either. It's okay though, we're all okay.)

He's about to come back in for another long hug when we see we're not alone. Schuyler's in the door. He looks serious and grim and businesslike. He looks friendly, like the big brother Lochlan always thought he had in Caleb but never did. He crosses the room to welcome Lochlan back with a long embrace and he says it was him or Jake and he's not going to let Jake touch me if he can help it. That I'm safe. That Schuyler won't pass up some excitement but also isn't going to try and muscle in on what we have so he's not a threat. That he definitely prefers men because they are a lot stronger and he felt like he was holding a wounded bird the entire time.

You were. Lochlan gestures to my cast. But then he changes the subject and I leave as all the air is being sucked out of the room. I'm more than a lot annoyed that Schuyler's turning the whole thing into a sacrifice that he made for the greater good, as if he was put out by it or did it only as a favour when in reality at least I had the courage to explain myself without excuses. Makes me wonder if he lies to me or to Lochlan. Maybe I should ask but he's already vanished and Lochlan looks a million times more at peace with the whole discussion so I leave it. I'll kick it under the rug and the next time Schuyler comes over I'll trip him with it before pointing out that if given a choice I would pick Schuy over New Jake any day and if Schuy told me to stay put I fucking would so this whole excuse is bullshit.

It's ironic that the most dramatic boy on the point is also the least dramatic.

So as worldly as I am, apparently I am naive too (an obvious part I).

The way it was told to me was the Schuyler ended up being too tired and didn't go on the camping trip. The way it was told to them was that he was too busy with work, having gotten muscled in on finishing a project and wanting to consider the favour paid, so to speak. 

In reality, he knew New Jake would be around and no one else would be and that couldn't happen. 

Even Lochlan isn't worried. Lochlan can be disapproving later. Lochlan can frown all he likes and eventually he'll get over it. These are not the same as Schuy's concerns. Schuy doesn't trust Jake. Doesn't want to get to know him, doesn't believe a word he says when it comes to me and wouldn't leave us alone for a million dollars. 

This is almost exactly the same way Schuyler feels about Sam at any given moment but Sam is open and honest and so if something goes sideways Sam would probably tell us. Jake would sneak away. 

To that end, Schuyler snuck up on me while I was sitting on the patio steps shelling peas. A big bowl in my lap, basket to my left and mini compost drum to my right. He bent down behind me and covered my mouth with one hand, kissed the back of my head with the other and then said it's okay and let go, coming around to face me. 

He signed It's okay and you're safe as he said it but I didn't really believe him because he should have just called out as he walked. I tell him this. 

I did. Three separate times. You look lost in thought and I didn't want to startle you and have you scream and then-

New Jake would come see what was up. 

You know me well. 

Don't think I do, after that. 

He then deployed his practiced lie and it was transparent and sticky and when I pointed that out he just changed the subject, saying since he was home and I was home and we had time we should spend it together. Just for fun. Movie sleepover. Pajamas and popcorn.

He made a half-assed sign again for safe as he reminded me he was the safest choice here. I'm glad he is practicing, but I think he's wrong. I've been asking them all to start learning ASL with one eye toward the future, pointing out that forty years into this Collective would not be the time to struggle with communication. Someone said that was forty years from now and I reminded them we are mostly already close to that number, if not past it. A sobering realization on both counts and all that effort got me was a mountain of sympathy I don't want or need. 

And yet someone of the boys are exceedingly sensitive and heartbroken over my defects. A lack of hearing is some cause to unapologetically baby me, I guess and Schuyler somehow turned out to be most affected and has therefore put in the most effort. 

Compounding his efforts and the irony that this isn't safe is my open, unabashed and absolutely lethal crush on him. And so he is wrong, and I'm not safe with him. 

What time? I ask. 

Six? We'll have an early start. Before you fall asleep. 

If I fall asleep then there's no one to fight with you about what to watch. So that's a good thing. 

You are right. But six is good. 

Okay. 

Pajamas, don't forget. He signs it too.

I smile. This is great. 

He thinks I mean the movie night plans. Yeah, well, may as well take advantage while we can, right? 

Oh. Right. See you at six.

The psychology of men.

One of the most fascinating points of living in a commune with so many strong souls is that several times a year the boys have all-male events that don't include me. Sometimes it's as simple as a bonfire that runs late into the night, no girls allowed. Sometimes it's an event like paintball or a going to watch a soccer or hockey game. Sometimes they build things like arbours or dig garden beds. It's mostly net-level bonding and it's encouraged all the way around. It's good for them and I get some alone time too which is good for me. Though they are taking Asher this time so maybe that's a lot of alone time and it's a little surprising to me that this would be perfectly acceptable for three nights when last night life was all but child-proofed. 

Since Burning Man is another no-go this year they opted for mountain backcountry camping, and left yesterday mid-afternoon. So instead of worrying about food that's laced or errant people being bad they only have to worry about getting lost or meeting grizzlies. 

Sounds like a fun trade-off. I think I would take Burning Man and its drugs over meeting a giant hungry bear in the middle of nowhere. 

That's why you're not invited. Ben kisses the top of my head. Because you would just get cranky at the bear and make things worse. We will become one with the bear and invite him in for a drink. 

Oh, like in Midsommar?

No, definitely not like in Midsommar. 

I laugh anyway. (Do you feel held by him? Still the greatest question ever posed on celluloid.)

Ruth and Henry are both home and Batman, New Jake and John are also around but I have plans to make a lot of smoothies and read in the hammock and not lift a finger until Monday when they come back. Besides, Henry and I went and had our second vaccines yesterday and I feel a lot under the weather today anyway. By the time they come back, grunting and beating their chests I will be recovered mostly and I'll be able to redomesticate the lot. 

(Kidding! Jesus. I'm the feral one. Remember?)

An attempt was made at safety.

You couldn't save me but you can't let me go
I can crave you but you don't need to know

Did I take it too far?
Now I know what you are
You hit me so hard
I saw stars
Think I took it too far
When I sold you my heart
How'd it get so dark?
I saw stars
Stars 

I woke up breathless in the dark this morning. Mostly same as every day this past week except this time it was Lochlan and Ben's arms around me that kept me in a human cage and I was overheated, claustrophobic and unable to breathe but only once I realized where I was and what was happening. It was calculated and unconscious. It was planned and spontaneous. They both somehow decided to hold me all night so I wouldn't leave. I had no plans to leave. They had no cause for concern. It's not as if I sneak out at night or break the rules all the time and yet I grew up sleeping in a tiny trailer on a single cot with Lochlan who, if he wasn't holding me would have at least one hand wrapped around my elbow, knee or thigh. Subconscious childproofing? Subliminal (or maybe just liminal) fears? 

Either way I am touched. I am floored, actually at the sweetness of it. Maybe moreso from Ben because he is following late learned behaviour. Lochlan can parent from a coma, I think. Either way once I could breathe, once I could sit up and once I realized how little room I take up in our big bed and how close they can sleep together I cried because they try so hard and I'm a jerk to be running off testing tethers and teething on Batman and hesitating far too long on the way home in case New Jake was around to talk to. 

To talk to, I said and I mean that.

And when I got to my own house, the door swung open silently and I looked up to see Ben holding it open over my head and Lochlan doing his half-relief, half-glower face that I adore so much and I did a spin so he would see I was fine and I pointed out I was early and then I reminded him of the amount that allowed me to sleep at night for so many years straight and he just nodded and changed the subject to wondering when fairs were going to come back 'for real' and not just as distanced, low-attendance facsimiles of their former gloried selves. 

And I am so glad to be home suddenly and for that reason alone they didn't need to worry but sometimes I forget to say the right things out loud and so how would they even know?

Pluto energy (back when Pluto was a player and not relegated to the farm team).

The night slides over me, a languid ink that colors my pupils in full dark and serves to highlight the gold and silver on my head and on my fingers. It leaves me gracefully as the sun rises low in the sky to my left, to the East, thankfully, as I don't have to look at him to my right, watching me from the bed, openly staring from where there's no dark left to hide behind. 

Maybe I should have left in that cover, hours ago, but instead I slept easily in good sheets and climate control, in the arms of a man who wasn't going to hurt me so that he could feel good and all I can think at this age of twenty is how I can leave Cole so I can have this. This man doesn't hate me. He is lonely and he wants someone to take care of and somehow in sponsoring Cole's photography equipment and trips he has become my quiet saviour. He puts money in my personal account every month whether I see him or not without fail.

Come back. I'll take you home later. We'll have some breakfast and then you'll be home before you're missed, Batman says with a smile. Really lonely. Probably more than I originally thought.

I turn to look at him. Where's your wife?

London. 

Oh. 

Bridget. We're not together. We just haven't bothered getting divorced yet. You know this.

Every man says that. Did you know? 

He chuckles. This isn't a fling, Bridget. You're important to me. 

I swallow a lump. I wonder if he knows every man says that to me too. I turn, letting the full sun hit my naked skin. If there's one place I have power, it's right here. Can we have eggs benedict? I change the subject. And champagne? 

We can have whatever your heart desires.

(Can you save me from the brothers Grimm?) And fruit! Kiwis maybe. I never get those. 

I'll make a call and have it sent. 

From where?

A restaurant that can do that this early. 

Restaurants deliver breakfast?

No, my assistant will deliver it. Jasper. Remember?

Yes. But I had forgotten. I met him once and I wasn't sure exactly who he was but he brought papers in to be signed and we were half-drunk already and headed out dancing and Jasper seemed annoyed. I assumed he was a colleague or a coworker. That means he can't be annoyed by me, as he serves Batman. That means now I have to see him again.

You forgot. 

It wasn't a proper introduction so I was a bit iffy on who he was. 

My apologies. But he's my conscience. 

Is he now. 

That's a challenge to my statement. Why? I get that Batman is both patient and looking for an equal that I can never be. I'm young and despite my years in unsavoury yet worldly environments I'll never be jaded nor sophisticated enough to spar with him verbally but I'm going to give it my best shot nonetheless.

Is he your confidant though? 

No. But maybe he sees things and wonders. 

Wonders what?

If you're old enough to be here. Who you belong to. 

Oh. 

What should I tell him?

Lochlan's face flashes through my mind like a reflection on water that suddenly forms a wake. Tell him it's none of his business. You're his boss. I say suddenly, annoyed. I've already decided that if Jasper is going to judge me, or Batman, for that matter, then I will judge them right back. When you can bring the world to its knees in such a weirdly powerful way at such a tender age you end up with nothing but false bravado and misplaced ego, and I suddenly have so much of both I can't hold it up anymore and I collapse on the bed beside him. He leans up on one elbow and kisses me. 

You are right and I would be wise to remember that. It's hard when I'm here in this city. I don't know anyone except for you and Cole. 

You should meet Cole's brother. 

Is he an artist as well?

No. He's a rich lawyer (and he's going to want to kill you (and me) when I tell him about you).

Maybe I know him already then. 

He lives in Toronto. 

What's his name? 

Name me the lawyers you know and I'll tell you if you're right. 

You don't trust me. He is amused suddenly. I would think this is a respite from Cole and from his brother. If you don't trust me, are you telling me you trust them? Bridget, you've had twelve years to believe them when they show you who you are and maybe I want to exist as a respite to all that?

Who told you this?

I can find things out easily enough and I don't think your army is functioning the way you hoped it would. 

My brain explodes and I don't say any more. It's been twelve years? It's been half that since Lochlan bailed on me due to pressure from Caleb and ten years since Caleb started touching me and I didn't think anyone knew about it and I don't know how Batman knows about it or if he knew before and he's trying to save me or found out recently and is just trying to save me after the fact. Maybe he just wants a piece of the action. Maybe he's pretending to be a good guy in a bad world and maybe this is just a test from Caleb, just like everything else and I've already failed and he probably is going to kill me. 

Actually, save breakfast for another time. I should go. Cole's going to be worried about me. 

If he was worried about you he never would have let you come to me. 

There's my confirmation. I can trust Batman. He doesn't know Cole (or Caleb) after all or he would know they really get off on this. 

I watch Batman sleep thirty years later. Long-divorced. Jasper is long gone too. The head games are gone, and Batman doesn't even try to pretend he isn't lonely but he also won't make any moves ever again to change that. He and New Jake watch movies together and cook elaborate meals a few nights a week and every few months (or years) I show up and he's marginally less lonely but somehow serves as a huge memory cache for me now as I can put every interaction we have ever had down as a puzzle piece and the big picture is suddenly so clear. He's not an agent of Caleb, an outlier or a whim. He's my true guardian angel and I didn't know it until now.

Drive-by Millionaires.

What are you doing, Neamhchiontach? Caleb kisses the top of my head. The boys are putting all the camping gear back into place in the garage. We did inventory this morning. We are officially out of space, both for storage for all of the out of season clothes, snowboards, sleeping bags, car parts and hair products the boys keep on hand plus boys themselves, as there is no longer any switching up as Dalton and Gage no longer travel and with Asher becoming permanent (did I tell you? We're keeping him) there is not even a spare bed here. Next door there is, as only five of them live at Schuyler's and at Batman's house there is only two so he has loads of space. 

There is no space here. 

(Also Caleb doesn't camp. Hahahahaha.)

I found a place. Seven bedrooms and thirteen bathrooms. It isn't finished yet and so maybe they could throw in three or four more bedrooms. Probably an extra level on top. I don't know. Figure it out. 

Do you want to move?

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed. 

Where would we go?

Home. 

That isn't home anymore. Besides, you're the one who always reminds us home is where we're all together. 

Yes but when I'm homesick I feel differently. 

I feel like the pain is talking for you, today.

Maybe. It hurts a lot. 

It isn't feeling better?

Nope. 

Hmmm. Did you want me to try and get better pills for you? Another kiss on the head but he pauses, lips on my hair. Waiting for my response which comes in the form of a shrug. 

Maybe just enough so I don't want to run. 

Bridget, we have the means to do whatever your heart desires. 

I know. I choke it out. A whisper. I'm so ridiculously aware of his means, and his ability to keep score that I'll just hold tight. 

He sits down next to me, lounging in the chair so gracefully, considering my face as if he's never seen it before. I believe we could add on? A second level for the stables for a guest suite? That would buy you the room you'd like. Or maybe we could expand off the guest wing here. 

I don't want to build to the property line. Maybe the stables would work. 

Well, we can't build vertically so our options are limited. That or you could have Asher live at Batman's. 

He did, remember? It wasn't really working. 

Batman has a lot of space. 

I nod. I could lean on him to house boys in a pinch but he's militant about his privacy. 

There is also more space above the garage we could convert so that there is a second self-contained loft. 

I nod. But it's more work. More construction. More noise and upheaval. 

How about this? When you decide what you'd like to do, come and tell me and I will make it happen.

I nod again dutifully.  

The sky is the limit, he reminds me. 

One final nod from me to show I get it and he stands up, checks his watch and is gone with a final kiss to my cheek. Going for a massage. Do you want to join me? 

I shake my head. I won't let strangers touch me. He always says I am missing out. I always point out that I'm not.

My inspiration for picking up my violin just went to heaven and I don't know what to do.

https://www.nbcnews.com/pop-culture/pop-culture-news/robby-steinhardt-violinist-vocalist-kansas-dies-71-n1274433

I am so sad.

(Falling on) Deaf ears.

I was dead on my feet and Lochlan pulled me down into his lap with enough force that I couldn't pull away, arranging my legs so they were on the sides of his, then putting his legs up so I was pinned there. He made short work of my sundress and what little else I had on (a bracelet, a necklace that he fussed with for a moment before leaving) and then he was whispering a mile a minute, pushing inside me, pulling me down hard onto him before lifting me up slightly, a rhythm that seemed to match the waves for its slow molasses-crawl. I couldn't hear him, I couldn't focus, it was abrupt and fierce and overly-warm and I just wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head against his ear as he did all of the work and reaped all of the benefits too. 

I can't hear you- I tried to tell him but he didn't seem to notice. 

Can we slow back down- I implored but again, no one's paying attention. 

He finally took me by the arms and pushed me down on my back, coming with me, face to face. Attention paid, at long last. 

You're not listening, I told him. Borderline angry now, not really interested in finding out the litany of words he left in the night. Does it matter if a Lochlan speaks in the forest and no one is there to hear him? Is he talking to me, to himself or to God? If he's talking to me, why wouldn't he wait for a response? If he's not, why is he doing it out loud? 

It's not important, Peanut. He resumes a tough pace and I have to fight to keep up again. His hands are vise grips, his heart is iron and his teeth are steel-numb, gritted closed and pressed against my temple as he pulls us into a whirlwind finish, both of us gasping for breath, both of us overheated and red-faced, both of us now annoyed with the other. 

What was it?

A magic spell to keep you safe from the devil. 

Will it work? 

I think so. 

Why didn't you do it before, then?

I do it every fucking day, Bridge.

Little things.

 

Caleb handed me a large heavy bag last evening and inside was this beautiful ink haul. The Lady Rose in Gold limited edition ink along with a Cotton Candy in Blue and a Frivolous Lime and even some fun Glow in the dark ink that he thought I might enjoy (I do! Summer of secret notes begins now!) and then for good measure a dip pen for drawing or writing that I have been eyeing for a while and the coup de grace was a Ferris Wheel fountain pen, which you can't not have if you're buying FW Press ink in that sort of volume. 

Did I miss anything? Did you need paper? 

No. I have lots. 

(Do I have paper. I should show you my sketchbook cupboard. It is full and stacked to the top with unused, new sketchbooks. It's my favourite thing in the world. It's mostly Canson and Legion papers. I have a small problem with collecting sketchbooks and then saving them but I'm getting better. I am technically cut off from buying any more.)

Thank you, Diabhal. I didn't think anyone had any locally, and I didn't want to pay thirty dollars to have a single bottle shipped-

You ask for nothing, Neamhchiontach. 

I ask for the moon and the stars-

No, you don't, actually. I enjoy treating you. 

I smile at him and he smiles back, kisses my forehead and leaves me to play with my new beautiful things. I even let Asher try the dip pen, as I couldn't use it right anyway with my cast.

You'd call it a microscope, I'd call it showtime.

Sam had to put out an email to stop people from stopping by with food/fruit/flowers/wishes for us as per news of my hand being twice as broken as a week ago and while I was truly enjoying the irony of having distanced conversations with people who have never talked to me (and wouldn't) before but are so starved for socialization and contact that they're reaching out all around, he's right. There's a quarter-century+ of adults here on the point at any given time. One going down is not going to mean they all starve. 

But we know you do the lion's share, they wink at me, nameless.

No, actually he does his own share and then some, because I think they mean Lochlan and then I wonder how they learned that nickname. Lion. No one calls him that very often though..

They draw back, confused and dawned that I am probably medicated, and possibly dangerous. They've heard tell of the pretty woman in the floral sundresses, surrounded by an army as if she is the queen. 

Close, I nod. Not a queen though, just a princess. 

They've heard she was raised by wolves. 

Yes, but I've almost domesticated them, I point out. We're close now. They can wear clothes and sit in a room with humans and you might not even notice the difference. I bare my teeth in a smile and they run for their lives, flinging well-wishes and hollow offers over their shoulders, words drowning in their wake. 

Sam smiles in amusement.

Cover your teeth, you're scaring the locals. 

The gall of not understanding that a commune can cook meals en masse-

They aren't here to help. The cost of a closer look was a pasta casserole. 

I'm aware. 

But you let them in anyway. 

It's an appearance, Sam. Like your suit. So they would think we are fine and they would leave us alone. Life is just an act. I get to play the tortured princess. 

The smile leaves his face. Shut up and eat your flowers.