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.

Just a little longer.

I will travel the distance in your eyes
Interstellar light years from you
Supernova will fuse when we collide
Awaking in the light of all the stars aligned

This song is crack to my brain, Starset's Telescope.You put in your best earphones and turn it up all the way and stand outside in the driving wind, closing your eyes. You just listen. It's how I get to know music. Don't fault me, it's the only way I can hear it. Concerts have become a frustrating experience in finding out repeatedly that no, the mix isn't muddy, I'm losing what I have left.

Everyone gives me their most prolific sympathy faces and I stand there pointing out so belligerently that it could be worse, it could be my eyes.

I can do deaf. I'll sing no matter what, I'll play the songs on the radio in my mind but you can't fake sight. You just can't see. It would always be dark out and that scares the life right out of me.

So I stole Ben's monitors that he uses when he's recording, the ones I'm strictly forbidden from touching and I went outside to listen and I got through five or six tries and I realized that sometimes when my brain sings my soul overhears it and I somehow summoned the devil.

I take out the monitors but I don't turn. I wait, studying my shoes. Studying the waves.

It's been weeks, Bridget. We have a lot to discuss. What does a man have to do to see you? 

Sing like an angel. I put the monitors back in and press play.

When I check next (two more rounds) he is gone but Loch is sitting on the steps, smoking a stolen cigarette, wearing his top hat, stifling a shit-eating grin. I can't help myself but I smile back at him so evilly I'm surprised I don't burst into flames.

Transcriptions and telescopes.

You’re out there
I hear you calling from behind the star fields
I feel you radiating energy like eternal northern lights

Far from the the sun
Where no one knows
I’ve watched you from my telescope

When I opened my eyes it was dark and cool. I could hear car horns and faint music. Caleb was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his suit, tie loosened. He tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled. I sit up and rub my eyes, leaving slight black smudges underneath my lashes, finding it weird that I fell asleep so hard. I'm still wearing the stilettos he chose at one of the stores in the lobby.

Everything here is bigger, higher, brighter, louder, he told me. Pick out something that you can wear when we come here.

The strip is also costlier than any place else. The shoes cost close to two thousand dollars. I paled but he didn't even notice. That's four months rent. We came back upstairs so I could change and then he proclaimed me hot as hell. He would know. We went back to another floor, where a door was opened and there was another casino inside, but no signs on the door.

We were handed drinks from a tray and then Caleb turned to me. I have a quick game here. I nodded. I would watch, maybe. He said I am lucky. But he shook his head. I have a job for you. Take these, he handed me two chips. I want you to spend one and double the other. He kissed the side of my mouth and then walked away toward another room. I found a solitaire table and promptly lost three hundred and then I squeezed the other chip and hoped I was as lucky as he thinks I am.

But I wasn't and so I grew paler still.  Another two months rent.  I finished my drink and found an empty space at the bar. The bartender looked at me sympathetically and asked where I was from.

New York, I lied and emptied the rest of my glass.

***

I will travel the distance in your eyes
Interstellar light years from you
Supernova will fuse when we collide
Awaking in the light of all the stars aligned

I see you watching over me across the sky
Overcoming projected on my eyes eternally
I find you in the night

When we first arrived at the hotel he took my hands and placed them against his chest, standing so very close I had to look way up under his chin until he looked down at me.

This is the only way you can visit your soul, Bridget. How does it feel?

His eyes were so blue they turned black and I didn't answer him because I didn't want to believe it was true. Maybe that's why I'm no longer afraid when I'm alone with him. Or maybe that's a myth too.

***

Far from the sun
Where no one knows
I’ve watched you from my telescope

I will travel the distance in your eyes
Interstellar light years from you
Supernova will fuse when we collide
Awaking in the light of the stars aligned

When Caleb found me I had declined a new drink many times over and the bartender had given up, spending his attentions on some flashier sugarbabies at the other end of the bar. The Devil kissed my cheek, apologizing for taking a while, asking how I did with my task. I showed him my empty hands and he laughed out loud and kissed them both.

Well, what did you play?

Solitaire.

Not a lucrative table. Next time try Roulette. He scoops me off the stool and steers me toward the door. A guard hands him a cheque which he looks at briefly before putting it into his pocket. Once outside, my curiosity gets the better of me.

What did they pay you for?

Those are my winnings. 

How much did you win?

Enough to bring us here many times a year and buy you many pairs of shoes. He kisses my cheek again and we go back to our suite.

***

I will find you
I will find you
(I will find you)
(I will find you)
(I will find you)
I will find you
I will find you

I sit on the bed, shoes still on, trying to wake myself up. He takes off his jacket and tie, throwing them on a chair and then he comes back and sits in front of me. He leans in and kisses me hard but I push him away.

I lost all your money at that game. I can't pay it back. 

You're not supposed to.

Then tell me what you want me to do. 

He leaned me right back in his arms until he was lying above me and I was between his hands. What do I want you to do? Simple. When we travel you are to pretend you are my wife. Even when we're alone. There will be no second-guessing, no talking back, no arguments or power struggles. You act as though I am the choice you made. You act as if I am yours and I will provide for you and all you have to do is smile and not drop the act. Do you think you can manage that? It would be from when the car picks you up to when it brings you back. 

No. Because it's a farce. I married Cole. My laugh ends in a sob. I'm so sleepy. I think he drugged my food.

He takes my wrists in one hand and wrestles them up above my head, twisting them against the pillow. The pain makes my knees go up involuntarily and I cry out.

Did you forget who I am? Because I'm not Cole. I won't hurt you and then come back with humble pie and roses. I'll hurt you and then come back and hurt you some more. 

You wouldn't do that. I stare at him with inebriated hate in my eyes, softened only by the sleep I was taken out of.

 Why wouldn't I?

Because I'm your wife. (I can't even hear myself concede in a whisper under the din of the capital of Second Chances).

He smiled and only tightened his hold. That's my good girl.

Lobotomized goodbyes.

August went home today and I have a zillion more cracked bones from his gentle but completely crushing hugs and I have exacted promises that he will be back before Halloween if we're lucky. He stayed a few extra days, as he is without formal agendas these days and is considering hanging out a shingle in the tiny town where he and Jake grew up. It's not actually a town, it's little more than a village and so people there trust him because he's an Insider and also because he's capable. They respect anyone who is capable and fuss after those who are not. He's caught up with all of the work repairing and replacing a lot of things at Jacob's folks place and is finding himself idle again suddenly.

I said he could stay here and Caleb would be able to replace Joel but he said that wasn't so good, that he wanted to be my friend, not the keeper of my mind and everyone but me breathed a sigh of quiet relief because they never trusted me not to charm him to pieces and because I never failed to earn that suspicion. I couldn't help myself.

So off he goes. We loaded up his bag with American chocolate and Japanese sugar and he boarded a plane this morning.

And I didn't cry.

I think my incident a week ago shorted out my misery centers because I haven't actually cried much this week or maybe they are right and he is good for me in that he is like Sam. Positive, comforting and skilled. I think anyone that is soothing to a scrambled brain is automagically a good thing and a very important person to have but he isn't mine and I can't keep him, hard as I try.

I'm glad he came out though. It's very exciting for me to be able to show my friends how I glow in the dark now. It's something you definitely have to see in person.

I'm not sure there was ever time to draw a map of how to be the one left behind when someone dies, whether by their own hand or by God's. I'm not sure I ever wanted to be the flag bearer for a group of people who exist without their consent, and I don't think I want any microscopes or infamy for just putting words down the same way I put one foot in front of the other, the way I can only take one measured breath at a time, the way I put the posts up and take the judgement and mostly otherwise just keep to myself. I'm not your poster child, your how-to/DIY, your widow hack, your curiosity so please don't tell me I am because I don't want to know and I don't want anyone to ever think there's a right way or a wrong way to do anything. Whatever way you live your life is your way and it doesn't matter what anyone else does, says, or thinks, okay?

Okay.

I saw Caleb today and he left me an envelope for tonight. The pain in my head is finally receding like the high tide and I stopped sneaking bourbon in between Advils when Lochlan caught me. He took the envelope and burned it and then he didn't say a word, heading off with Ruth for their day together to celebrate Father's Day. Henry and Caleb started so much earlier, because they are early people and Ruth and Loch are late people now.

Kind of funny how that works.

I may go down to the boathouse just to say hello. It's been a while. Ben said I can have six minutes. I can't thaw him out at all.

Six.

Last night I lay in the middle of the big bed trying to describe my headache to Ben, who was asleep and not actually listening.

It's like I think my spinal fluid is leaking but I'm afraid of the test. Maybe my brain bag is sagging because the pressure's too low because all the fluid is pouring out from when I fell. But it's supposed to go away if you lie down and I still have the pain.

Or maybe it's karma. Maybe it's punishment from God for being so indecisive and subversive with Cole and Caleb for so long. Though Sam says God isn't into that.

You know something? I'll stick with the tumor. It's a brain tumor and I must be tough as nails because it hurts so bad but the headaches hardly slow me down at all and a mere mortal would be on the floor from this pain. But I'm a boeing and so I don't notice. I wish I had a normal pain threshold and then I could just check out of life and sleep but I don't get to do that. 

I kept going. I think he was snoring but I just needed company and a shoulder and he has the biggest one and also is amazing at not fixing things because he has his own things he needs to fix and he treats me like an adult.

Which is kind of funny since I'll never actually be one.

I'm pretty sure at this rate I am marked for death only it's going to be slow and torturous and the soundtrack will be my husband snoring really loudly. Or maybe he was trying to give me a clue, showing me that I could just fall asleep like I was threatening to all along and maybe the pain would go away.

Eventually I did fall asleep but the pain didn't stop and the whole house swung back from Glad you didn't die, Bridget to Maybe you still might and I just want to wave them away and remind them of my wicked constitution and reassure them that I'm okay.

I'm not okay but I'm okay. I just don't want them to worry. I do enough of that for everyone.

'Not only stitious, but stitious to the extreme, hence SUPERstitious', as Loch always says.

If in the next iOS update Apple is indeed going to be able to remind me where I parked, then I'm going to need suggestions on what to do with all the new free time I'll have, that would normally be wasted walking around parking lots with a keyfob out, clicking the buttons to make the vehicle beep and then trying to triangulate where the sound came from with my mediocre acoustic wayfinding skills.

I couldn't go out today anyhow. I had big plans for my last kid-free day before school finished but since the strike notices have been officially tabled that day is today and it fell on a Friday the 13th/Full moon double-whammy and so I'm home because I am the most superstitious person you're ever going to encounter in your life, I promise.

Huh. 

I do have to go out around suppertime to get a boy who will need a ride home but otherwise I think I'll stay right where I am and eat leftover tourtiere and listen to Deepfield and Otis Redding and Medeski and watch my nerve lose itself in the maze that is my little fried brain. I'm a little scared that this Sunday night's Game of Thrones season finale is going to offer me all new characters that I don't remember and possibly be completely unrecognizable. This would be a travesty even Apple wouldn't be able to fix so let's all hope for the best while I keep working on this headache and wait impatiently for the day to flip over to the fourteenth, because safe.

That's me in the spotlight.

Consider this
Consider this, the hint of the century
Consider this, the slip
That brought me to my knees, failed
What if all these fantasies come flailing around
Now I've said too much

Joel says that my OCD tendencies are waning as the weight of the world wrings them out of me, and that's not a bad thing.

August isn't a threat. Neither is Duncan, for the record. Ben understands this. He's bristling at the fact that I have three settings: destructive overwrought emotion, endless nondiscriminatory affection, and abject debilitating terror. August showed up on a great day and got bombarded by my inappropriate affection, God bless him, he never ends a hug first and Ben is tired and sometimes just wants to be The One, much as he loves the others and he doesn't seem to realize that he is The One, but that when he disappears for long stretches I feel helpless and homesick and so I try and spread the love in the form of making sure everyone is always willing with cuddles for me. It makes it easier but Ben isn't around enough to know this.

He's still vaguely pissed about the money thing, not because it was something only Caleb could do (it isn't) but because I happily agreed and it stole his thunder.

It didn't.

I have boundary issues and I never know when enough is enough. Also abandonment issues in that I exhaust myself working for endless confirmation that everyone is still here, that I am still loved, that everything is alright.

We recouped $4250 from the cliff, by the way. Lochlan put it somewhere for safekeeping. Hopefully in his wallet. Give it back? What? I can't hear you. Are we falling back on our old habits of stealing in order to buy small amounts of comfort because it's an easy pattern to fall into to blame the world for everything while we isolate from it?

Probably.

And yes, I am considering the possibility that it was indeed a work trip for Caleb and that the rest is either a red herring to throw me off or he really is dying and wanting to experience everything before he does. I am not afraid of this. I don't know what will happen but it's not the terror with which I consider the deaths of the others. And I just can't, so I'll drop this entirely right now.

And leave it shattered on the floor while I go lie down snuggled against PJ's shoulder while he reads. It's pouring rain today and I have a really bad headache and Joel just won't shut up.

Burning brightly here. Still not allowed outside. FML.

My biggest fear is no longer than Lochlan will die, it's that people are going to start distinguishing time as 'Bridget before' and 'Bridget after', saying I never was quite right after that sunny Monday morning in the woods.

I have news for those people. It wasn't last Monday that changed me but whatever.

I think I'm a cat and I have two lives left, tops.

Just gimme that lightbulb and shut the fuck up while I turn it on using only my lunacy.

Lochlan helpfully pointed out last evening that if I do indeed have the legitimate gift of sight we're hitting the road this week. He laughed bitterly and said this time it would be safer than being home, and the irony was found and dispatched with quite quickly, I'll have you know. I foretold my own death here on Saturday in a post that was meant to be flip and wonderful and then Monday I blew myself to kingdom come.

I replied back that I was too busy trying to give off sparks from my fingertips and no way in hell am I going to tell fortunes, instead I'm going back as the Electric Lady.

I'm okay though! I have a theory in that if you can talk or text you must be okay, right? That's why I posted on Monday as we sat incredulously in the ER with people who had...colds and...splinters.

Eventually I had a whole team of doctors come and visit me, put me through a host of tests and ask me so many questions by the end of it I couldn't have told you where I was even born and then I was released into the wild that is Ben and Loch and as we were walking to the parking lot I managed to get a nosebleed and then promptly threw up on Ben. I didn't mean to, it just happened. Yuck. Jesus.

We went back in to the hospital and this time they didn't let me go home because during/after the nosebleed, my heart decided to find a whole new rhythm.

Huh.

Last night though, I got home. The hospital needed the bed and I didn't throw up again after the first time so they said the whole thing might be just due being in shock and I laughed at the pun. No one else did. Ben washed my hair and my face in a bath, I slept for twelve hours, had some food with Ruth and Henry who asked me to stay inside and then I was soundly refused a request to go and see Caleb, because I wanted to know what possesses a man to put up an electric fence capable of 'deterring' a five-hundred-pound black bear but doesn't let anyone know. 

The only damage done appears to be to my soul, aside from the worst taste in my mouth that nothing seems to touch and the fact that my earrings had to be cut off. They think the bolt went out my head and so the boys have to watch for behavioral changes in case I fried my brain. I would be worried but I wished for this so many times over, maybe it's for the best if it is. And no one knows why the tiny rings I wear sometimes fused themselves because they're barely sterling but who am I to question what happens precisely when you grab a wire and leave the ground because it's a familiar action and not all that hard to do.

I took an ego moment and thought I would try balancing but then I realized in an instant that I had picked the wrong wire to walk on and I'm really glad I landed on some fairly soft ground. I'm even more glad that I wasn't near the cliffs on the other side.

 I'm not allowed out of anyone's sight now, FYI.

Just a precaution.

No one is mad at me anymore, especially since Caleb didn't exactly make it all that clear that he continued the electric fence all around the other side of the driveway from the little cathedral of trees out front to the other side of the orchard when he had the stables built, just in case.

It would have been pertinent information for a girl who likes to wander in the woods away from the house because I figured, oh, I can just climb over this and get back without having to retrace my path so I grabbed it with both hands and the snap I heard before I hit the ground sort of surprised me in that in came from inside my head somewhere.

So yes! I'm pretty sure I might be the only one here in Emergency with 'electrified' on her triage form.

I feel fine. Well, I feel dumb, my eyes are ridiculously bloodshot and there's smoke coming out my ears but really, I'm fine. 

Difficulty level twelve.

I know this isn't what you wanted
Past words in the present are haunting us now
And on and on and on and on
My heartbeat could tell you it's urgent
I try to shout but the words don't come out
I feel I'm slipping away

I lay in a chair on the front porch this morning, scowling at whoever tried to get between me and a mugful of coffee and Louis and Ella on the record player. I play for the trees, I think to myself and everyone and everything else can fuck right off. I took another sip and when I put it down I realized Sam was on the other side of the screen door watching me.

He asked if it was safe to come out and I laughed and said no. He said that was a shame, that he would like to bring his coffee out too and listen to records. I reminded him there's another record player inside, there's actually three or four depending on Dalton's need for expensive needles and headphones. He's retrofitted a basic player into some high end sound device that makes me wonder exactly how much I am missing out with my defective ears.

But Sam isn't interested in letting me off the hook today, because last night I got a little weird and a little needy with August because he hasn't had a haircut or a shopping trip in a long time and he is as close to Jake as I can get this side of heaven. Ben had already written me off for my defection in letting Caleb go ahead and grant a bucket wish on the same weekend Ben worked so hard to pull the Big One off for me and Lochlan opted to just shut down completely, deciding to gut and redo the camper interior and then probably sell this one too and buy another. He says he's bringing them back to life, giving them another chance to be a romantic hideaway for someone or a home for someone else. The worse condition they're in, the more he likes them and the better he can make them look but really I have no interest in sitting in the blinding sun in the driveway while the light and the wind burn the rest of my senses away and he starts talking about all the things I do wrong, itemizing my flaws as if I can just magically wake up and decide to be different or better the next morning. I asked if he wanted to go find different or better because I would always be the same and also worse and he laughed and asked if there was anyone I don't hold a torch for, after seeing such a display when August surprised me, showing up after telling me he wouldn't be out until fall.

Yep, you, I told him, just to be mean.

Good. Me neither, he said and then shot me a look to make sure I wasn't serious and then he kept unscrewing the cabinet frames from the wall, essentially shutting me out again. I took the hint and went inside where PJ decided I had gotten in enough trouble for one brief morning and again, what a piece of work, and then he called me Work for the rest of the morning, giving me chores like peeling hard boiled eggs (a dozen at a time when we make them) and actually Talking To Joel, two things I work so hard to get out of most rotations, when my name comes up to do the shit chores like those.

But then I did it and I felt bitter and spoiled and so I took my crappy little self outside, effectively removing the negative energy from the house. It had to stop somewhere though. Joel reminded me to distract myself from the thoughts that eat me alive and sometimes he's actually good at me.

I nodded to Sam. Come out and sit with me. Ella's making everything better. 

I like her better than Randy Blythe, Sam said. Lamb of God is fine and all but Ella's just so...swell. 

Yeah. I hope someone says that about me someday. 

That you're sweller than Randy Blythe? 

No, that I can make everything better for someone. 

You do. You don't see it. Things are magnified for you right now but they won't be forever, and we're all grateful for you every waking moment. 

Sam, are you lying because it's your job?

No, I'm lying because you're technically my landlady. 

But I'm not. I'm a tenant here too. 

You're a spectre here sometimes, Bridget. You hang on to the dead instead of the living. 

I can make them say what I want to hear. 

That isn't how life works. 

I know. But I wish it was. 

Just hold. Just stay.

Black dress to my knees over jeans and a skeleton key on a silver chain is my thing today and Caleb frowns.

I'm freezing still, hence the dress and jeans. Last night under cover of darkness Ben and I took a rare ninety-minute opportunity by bowing out of a late supper downtown and let them take the kids and we stayed home with Lochlan. In the backyard of Daniel and Schuyler's place I had a quick reminder on which is the throttle and which is the clutch and then I stripped out of my clothes as fast as I could, jumped on the bike, gunned it and almost threw myself off in the process but then got it under control and drove around on the grass in the freezing night, BUTT FUCKING NAKED. Touchy brakes, damn.

It was easily the greatest moment of my existence and the very first thing I ever put on my bucket list way back when I saw Vanishing Point at the drive-in and exclaimed loudly that I was going to do that for a living, like the girl in the movie. Ride around naked on a motorcyle in the yard, all damn day long. The boys laughed.

It was a tiny 250cc bike that I thought they were going to fix up for Henry to learn but I'm slow and it's too small for my son and too big for me. I still couldn't put my feet down flat on either side and holy shit that leather is cold on my bony ass and I was shivering so badly I wasn't sure if I was actually smiling or grimacing in pain but it was SO. AWESOME. Lochlan grabbed me, wrapping his sweater around me before carrying me inside to redress and he asked me how it was and I couldn't speak for shivering but he said it was good right? and I nodded so hard I must have looked like a bobblehead and he laughed. Ben put the bike away and then ran a hot shower for us and I shivered right up until he pulled me under the water and he let me shave his handsome face (ALSO BUCKET LIST WOW) then I slept so hard maybe I should do that every night.

In fact, I think I will.

I'm still smiling standing in Caleb's doorway this morning while he evaluates my outfit. What is the key, is that Tiffany? 

It's the key to the castle. I took all the keys and left a generic one when we came here. I'm so proud of the fact that I did that, moving from room to room pulling keys out of doors and putting them into the pocket of my dress until the cotton ripped and they spilled out all over the floor and then PJ put them in a big ziploc bag and packed them in with the bedding in a big box that said Master Bedroom.

Caleb's whole face frowns. (Yes, your brother bought me an old drafty castle. I flipped it and doubled his money but the new owners won't be able to lock any of the seventeen damned doors. )

He changes the subject, asking what happened to the grass.

Uhh. The bike-

A motorcycle?

Yeah. The one I rode last night! I-

Do I want to know?

YES YOU DO. 

No, I don't. What I want, is for you to have your bucket list item checked off now so we can move on to the next thing. 

Uh. What? I already did-

I thought today it's windy enough and sunny if you want to make it rain I think the gate would be a good place for it. You'll have the most fun. 

You want me to deploy five grand all over the beach? We'll be picking it up all summer. 

Five thousand is a small price to pay to see you laugh. 

I've laughed for less. 

I'll give you five hundred thousand if I can make you cry. 

Shame, I seem to do that for free. 

Okay then let's just go before we wind up arguing. 

Once to the ledge, he puts his arms around my waist and I lean out over the cliff and start sliding the bills out one at a time. Trust is a strange game with Caleb. I'm awkward at first and then I get my wrists into it and soon the money is flying into the air in a steady stream and I laugh and yell that I'm making it rain. Caleb whoops. I didn't know he could whoop. He only whooped in Vegas that one time when we recreated Indecent Proposal. Also with so many bills my fingertips will be blackened forever.

Then as quickly as it begins I am out of money, it stops raining and the clouds clear away leaving only blue skies and a weirdly-sated princess standing above a cliff littered with paper bills like a ticker tape parade. I think we'll be able to recoup most of it but only if we do it today.

I'm anxious to tell the boys all about it and last night too but when we get to the kitchen August is there. August who has a few days to himself and came out for a visit.

Everyone stops when I see him and my eyes well up involuntarily. He's here. I rode the bike with no clothes. I made it rain. Caleb slept with a guy. We're all getting along.

This is probably the part where I die, right?

I never did come out. It was Caleb's day to pick up the kids from school and take them out shopping for summer gear and then for an early dinner so eventually my stomach started to growl, Jake disappeared and in his place stood Lochlan. I looked at his legs for a long time while he spent a few minutes putting away tools from working on the bikes next door and then eventually he walked away toward the door and I closed my eyes again.

When I opened them next he was sitting on the floor beside the door, his back against the wall. Knees bent and out lazily. He's holding a whole bag of pixi stix. Apparently that's how you call out a timid Bridget. With sugar.

Hi Baby, he says. What's up?

I shake my head. Can I have those?

If you come inside with me. 

Never mind, I say.

It's fine. We can stay out here. He nods.

I don't actually want to stay out here. He's gone. 

How is he?

I know he's dead. I'm not crazy you know. I just need..I gesture at the air. Time?  A place to just not have to be perfect all the time. 

No one thinks you're perfect. 

Well, that's good to know. 

But we do have something that will make you feel better tonight. 

What's that?

You have to leave the garage to find out. 

What if I don't? 

Then the opportunity will disappear for a while. It's getting fairly difficult to coordinate things such as this with so many people here. 

What does that even mean?

Well, Caleb has the kids downtown and everyone who isn't working or busy is heading out to dinner. The only people on the point tonight are us three musketeers. 

Is this something sordid? Like an x-rated surprise?

He laughed so loud. Naw, Peanut, but I still don't think you'd want an audience for it. 

Oh my God. Vanishing Point?

I told you, come out and see. 

Just then Ben sticks his head in the door. There you are. He grins and looks down at Loch. All ready. 

Ready for what? I ask. Because curiosity. It kills me.

Come and see. I promise, you're going to love it. Loch walks over to me and holds out his hand.

Thinking my pickups need to be replaced.

His head was sideways when he finally found me, bending to look under the workbench in the garage, where I have decided it's as good a pantry as ever to hide in.

He smiled. Hiya Piglet. You're hiding.

I nod and look away, putting my head back on my knees and wrapping my arms around the whole mess to try and hold myself together but it isn't working and large chunks keep falling off, rolling away to come to rest under PJ's Jeep.

Come talk to me.

You're not real though. What's the point?

It helps?

But does it or does it just haul me back to the starting line again? It's a race I'm never going to finish.

Who says you have to finish it?

Sam says I should at least try and get a good result here and it will be a waste of a life if I don't.

Sam's a good man.

Sam's a problem in that everyone here has a crush on him including me and it's driving Matt crazy.

Oh. I didn't expect that.

Caleb lost his mind and took a sparkly boy to the tropics because of it.

Really?

I thought you could see everything.

Well, I can but I don't look. I'm always watching you.

Oh, Jesus.

Hmmm, well. It hasn't been pretty but it could be worse.

I don't see how. You're not here. How much worse could it possibly get?

They love you, Bridget.

What about you? Did you love me? If you did then how could you do this to me?

I didn't love myself. I wasn't strong enough for you and I couldn't keep my head above water anymore.

Then why didn't you let me save you, Jake?

I didn't know you could. 
 

The tiny little cave-dweller in her tiny little mind cave.

PJ brought me breakfast in bed after I called him and said I wasn't facing the world today. He's an enabler. He brought coffee and toast. However, he's a big jerk too, because he always punishes us somehow.

The coffee was decaf and the toast? Whole wheat.

I ate it all anyway. Joke's on him. Or me. Us, it's on us. He got yelled at for doing it and then so did I and next time I told him we'll bar the door and set a course for far-away shores. The fabric draped all over my bedposts will function as sails and the bed itself can be the boat. PJ can be the captain and I'll be the wench. Or maybe the pirate.

PJ just shook his head sadly and reiterated that his role involves a hierarchy and tough shit for everyone else, because Bridget's at the top.

Remind me to get someone to give him a raise or a perk or something.

He said he would take hugs but they had to be long and regular.

Like a maxipad? I asked him and he said yes but way more absorbant. Ewwwwww, I squealed and he laughed.

We're not dysfunctional, I swear.

I didn't want to get up but they made me anyway because I'm sick of deflecting the threats off Caleb and I'm sick of wondering what the hell he's doing and I'm sick of all of it today. I need a vacation and a long bender.  I need a nap. I need anti-anxiety drugs and a good hard fuck and I need a change of scenery.

Ben said he has a surprise for me tonight. I was so wary I asked if Loch was in on it and he looked at me strangely and said of course. For some reason I expected him to produce a recently-procured pewter envelope but he didn't. He said I should help him paint the new doors. He said I should take it easy though, and go slowly. He said I'm doing really good but when I looked at Sam I could see it was less of an observation and more of a reassurance because it's all bullshit and I'm not doing so hot today.

That's why I wanted to stay in bed but they don't understand that, it seems.

When I'm drunk I understand it perfectly. Sober, not so much. (also his gay didn't stick so fuck my life).

The moment I walked in I was busted because I felt him there. Caleb was sitting at a window table in the tiny restaurant where I had made reservations and planned to meet Luke.

Is he coming all at?

No. Considering his stipend hinges on discretion he thought it best to call me for advice and I told him to skip it and that I would deal. with. you. 

I sit down and the server brings me a stiff drink. My eyebrows go up and then I remembered it's Caleb. He waves a finger and people bring him whatever he wants. Oh, and look, here I am. 

I drink the whole thing and the glass is scooped away before I let go of it, a new drink in its place.

May as well get trashed. I got caught snooping after being told to leave it alone. I just wanted to know what happened so I don't wind up a pawn in the Devil's chess game. I didn't want sordid details, I just want to know if Luke let Caleb fuck him because if he did and Caleb's about to possibly pull the biggest character shift of our lives, then I need to be prepared.

We've always had a plan B (for Bridget) if Caleb pulled the plug on the collective, but I don't like surprises. Are we finally done with the game? Will I grieve for it? How does one flick a switch like that because I need to do it too and this would be a holy grail much like the one in which the Devil brings my ghosts back to life and I don't have to hurt anymore.

Also, curious. Always curious to a goddamned fault, please don't kill me, I can't help it.

He waits until I take a sip of the second drink and then he starts talking. A reprieve maybe from my impending death over oysters, bread and brie.

I watch Sam and Matt together and you know what? They're so at ease together. They're like best friends but with affection and a desire to be together all the time. They want to have a future and they put each other first. It's beautiful. It doesn't hurt that Sam has grown into a handsome man over the past couple of years. Maybe it's his confidence coming back but it makes him shine. 

(Okay. The Devil has a crush on Sam. Check.)

Loch and Ben are affectionate with each other.

Loch fights it so hard.

He shouldn't. It's good to see..

(Okay, CHECK. He's got a crush on....Lochlan?)

Same with Daniel and Schuy. It's something that I wondered if the dynamic is more relaxed if there are certain factors removed. Like physical size. Gender. A lack of competition. Luke is almost my height and seems unattached. 

Seems?

He agreed to the trip so it's a guess. But I felt nothing. It was benign, relaxing and almost pleasant. But I felt NOTHING. 

That isn't how it works. If you aren't attracted to him then it is nothing and you're wasting time. 

That's what a fling is. 

Oh. I get it. But is that what you want? To feel nothing?

I thought it was but then I came back and the moment I saw you it all came rushing back in, drowning me. Now I see your metaphors.

And?

I still want to keep you, to hurt you.

Great. Thanks for the heads up. I'll be going now. 

He stares, disappointed, while I wait for my body to follow the signals my brain is screaming at it. My body betrays me. Not the first time this has happened.

What's wrong. He's out of his chair.

I'm just going to sit here for a minute. What did you put in my drink?

Nothing? You pounded back three drinks at lunch and you're wondering why you're fucked up? We've only been here a short time. Christ, you only weigh about eight-five pounds.

Right then. You can carry me to the car because DAMN. 

Why did you drink so much?

Why'd you order so many? 

I thought this would be harder. I actually ordered one drink for you and two for myself. 

Oh, well then sorry babe. Hahahahaha. I needed it because I thought I was going to lose you to the light side too. 

The light side? 

Well clearly I'm the dark side here. 

This is why I will never leave you. 

But you're not WITH me. 

Semantics. 

Second conversation (out of order).

Have you concocted this to prove a point?

What point?

That people can drive you to do things out of character and that in the end it means less than we think? That it's fleeting and impulsive? That would be nice but it hasn't exactly held true for any of us yet so what are you trying to say, exactly?

It was fleeting with August.

August was a means to an end.

To what end?

To a gradual removal of Jacob instead of the abrupt one. It wasn't a temporary crush. Attraction is either there or not there. It doesn't change because you want it to. You can't control it.

Then be happy I am splitting the difference.

But are you? This is completely new territory.

Look. I had a curiosity. I fulfilled it. You do it all the time. Its over now.

That's different. I'm flighty and weird. You aren't.

Sure I am.

Well, yeah. You are NOW. 

OKAY THEN.

As privileged as a whore
Victims in demand for public show
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
Surrendered, executed anyhow

We've just come in from lunch in which Caleb spent two hours boring me with business talk, asking me questions as tests. I passed because I make decisions based on what's best, not what's easiest or predictable.

He was pleased, I think so I didn't even hesitate when he asked to see my studio. I didn't even hear the change in his voice and he's avoided all my questions about the past week and I'm losing my touch along with my advantage here.

We walk in and he looks around. Do you like it? Does this work for you? I might have had different plans drawn up if I had known you were going to pull this. 

No you wouldn't have, because I told you not to build it in the first place. 

You told me not to. Right. That system doesn't work well for you, does it?

I walk out on him and he follows me closely. When we make it to the driveway he catches up and takes my hand, pulling me toward the boathouse. We still need to talk.

Maybe later. 

Now, Bridget. 

I roll my eyes and he squeezes hard enough to bend my rings. It's going be like that. I look around but the driveway and porch are clear and my nightmares are my own to navigate.

And then it got worse.

Because he told me who he took on his trip. I went from disbelief to shock to some sort of suspended surprise but not any surprise at all.

He took Luke with him. Lucas. The very-briefly employed Instagram-happy executive assistant the temp agency sent over before we fired them too.

I often thought the Instagram didn't do Luke in, his good looks did. Damn. He's only a boy but he'll never need to work if he plays his cards right and-

And-

WHAT THE FUCK.

I asked if it was a work trip. The answer was no.

Oh, well, then. WAIT. WHAT?

Bridget-

Life's always been weird for me but this takes weird to a whole other thing. No, you know what? I gotta go. 

Let me explain. 

I'm not sure you need to-

BRIDGET. 

Just. I can't. No.

Polyamory is hard.

I thought when Ben got home he would head straight for the Boathouse to sort Caleb out and then I figured he would go and ask Batman to leave me out of the sordid gossip and then I assumed he would quiz Sam on the state of me, proper but no.

When Ben got home he gave me a fifteen-minute hug and then we went to Loch and he asked Loch to go and sit out back with him and talk for a few. Loch's pretty okay with things but sometimes his doubts get the best of him too and in this life I'm figuring out the hard way that even the brightest stars are hobbled, almost debilitatingly by huge feelings like love, rage, fear and doubt. They lie in wait to sabotage you, pulling you down off your highest points, showing you who's boss.

It's never you.

Ben reassured Lochlan something fierce. Told him things I might not have even said. I was listening hard, my nose pressed up against the patio door glass, which was open so I could stand behind the curtain. Loch stared at him for a long time, hardly interrupting save for once or twice when he wanted to point out that he will never ever walk away from this and that the bottom line is me.

They all agree on that, always.

Ben came back and got me and we went up to bed and any doubt was run over by the train that is my wreck of a life as it raced down the tracks at a million miles an hour feeling only euphoria as I was passed back and the forth once more and we reestablished what it is that makes us so special as a threesome, the musketeer creed which seems to be that the bottom line is still me. It's a free pass. It's a travesty. It's probably an accident waiting to happen and we should care more about that but sometimes it's a serendipitous moment you will never have again, like seeing the Aurora Borealis for the first time with your own eyes or finding out two people you love love you right back enough that they will work together to see that everyone remains happy.

Maybe it's not so hard after all. When I got up this morning to put the dog outside, I came back to bed to find that Ben and Loch were spooning loosely, having left no room for me in the middle. I wedged my way in there anyhow and in their sleep, they made room.

The calm before today, actually.

Feed me your heart from the palm of your hand now

He came to the door at midnight. Six days without a shave, lightly bronzed, more rested than before but not too much, wearing a rumpled white bespoke button-down and lightweight chinos.

I was on my way to bed so I greeted him wearing a baby-pink tank top and two-sizes-too-big hello kitty pajama pants. He smiled when he saw that it was me and asked where my keepers are.

Busy, I shrug. I'm still persona non grata around here. I haven't looked.

Right here. Lochlan steps into the foyer and wraps his hoodie around me. He frowns at me and turns to Caleb. Safe flight?

Passable. Caleb's gone cold. Just checking on my favorite asset. Burn.

Loch tsks with his mouth and says we'll chat tomorrow, that it's late. Caleb looks up at the sky and nods. Tomorrow, he repeats. I'll swing by and pick up Bridge for lunch.

Loch gives the front door a shove and it swings closed, taking away my view of a golden devil and replacing it with a roaring campfire. Loch puts his hands around my neck and pulls me closer. He slides his hands up around my ears and kisses me hard. When I respond he drops his arms down around my waist and lifts me off the ground. He carries me up the stairs as I wrap my arms around his neck and smush my nose against his.

He smiles. Thought I was going to have to fight for you tonight. His voice is so low, if I blew on it it would build into a high flame.

I shake my head. I told you, no more.

We stagger into the room and land on the floor. He laughs and gets up to lock the door and then pins me down on the carpet, his arms so thick from all the wood chores this year. We have wood cut for well into 2015. His neck has grown, along with his shoulders. He slides my pajama pants down and my tank top up and kisses across my stomach. I loop his big loose curls around my fingers and then he sits up and pins me hard.

I'm still upset with you, Peanut. 

Shut up, Locket. 

He laughs and kisses me again and gets back up, pulling me up with him, dragging me across the room and pushing me down on to the quilt.

Oh, you're the centre of attention, alright. I tell him and he grins.

I only said that to upset you. 

Nice. 

I'm sorry, Bridge. You make me crazy. Do you say you miss me when you have time alone with Ben?

Yes. 

Really?

We're the three musketeers. 

But you know I...struggle with this. When I'm with you I want it to be just us, with your focus on us and not on what's missing and I know that isn't fair to Ben and I can't-

Loch. 

Right. Yes? 

Shut up and take this moment. It's right here and it's yours. 

I don't think I feel the same way he does, Bridge. None of it's fair. 

Save that for tomorrow. Please. 

You're right. We're burning the darkness here. Come here, Fidget. Tonight you're all mine.

Figment/fragment.

Last night I sent Caleb an email with Henry's schedule for next week, figuring he would maybe read it on the plane today but he replied ten seconds later by message. The email detailed which days are strike days and he said I should have allowed him to put them in private school and they wouldn't be forced to be pawns in the public school system. Then he told me I was required to be present when he arrives tonight. Present means not out or otherwise engaged. Yes sir, I replied.

I refused to sleep in the camper last night on account of the fact that it was freezing cold out there (no heat) and I woke up this morning missing Ben like someone had cut off my leg. Loch got crappy right back and said he missed life before I came along, when he didn't worry constantly, when he had best friends instead of being the outsider, when he was the centre of attention. Then he sat back and said Yes, the centre of attention. I miss being that. You took it. 

Then go back to the show. I snapped it. I'm tired.

I would but I can't now. His voice was ragged, exhausted. We fight too much.

I snapped at Duncan, who won't put down his pitchfork on account of Caleb coming back and he asked what he was supposed to do here exactly? I don't know! I shouted in his face and he made a grab for me as I ducked and ran away.

Ben called and yelled at me to stay away from Caleb tonight when Caleb does come back.  PJ yelled at me for not eating my breakfast.  Ruth stomped out when I told her to take her backpack instead of trying to balance her phone/umbrella/textbooks/lunch/purse in the pouring rain. Caleb drives her when it rains. I don't.

I went out to the wall but Jacob wasn't there. I checked the garage but he wasn't there either. Just Cole and Joel, only Joel didn't know Cole was standing right behind him and I took one look and decided I didn't have the strength for either one of them today so I came back inside and climbed stepladders, taking down the curtains in the living room for their annual spring cleaning.

The curtains came out of the washing machine shredded and at least a full foot shorter than they were when they went in. I thought I had put them in on cold but someone used the washer overnight and left it on hot. They were custom sized draperies and now they're garbage and I have to start over.

The dog barfed on the kitchen floor.

And I am done for the day. I'm going to sack out on the couch with Sam (who is still sort-of speaking to me) and watch Ruby Sparks again and dream of a world where I can write the perfect boy the way they all want the perfect girl. Because I keep making bits and pieces but they won't stick to each other to make a whole one. That's probably exactly how they feel about me.

Ruby: Were you disappointed when you got to know me?

Calvin: How can you ask that?

Ruby: I'm such a mess.

Calvin: I love your mess.

Good old days.

Ben had to go to LA  yesterday until Friday so I sent him with Dalton and Corey. Matt has a conference in Toronto and Schuyler is back to New York for a few days. Daniel opted tag along with Schuy but Sam did not go with Matt because Sam has no more time off from work until the fall. Everyone nodded as if this was a good enough plan while I stomped and protested and got all bent out of shape.

I didn't go with Ben because I wasn't allowed. The same person who has my passport took my secret roll of money and the credit card too. He's better at this than I am and I should know better but I keep hoping one of these days they'll start treating me like an adult.

I asked him when that will be and he laughed and said never and he handed me back the roll of bills and asked if I wanted to do something special while everyone is away.

Like what? I asked, my hand shielding my eyes from the sun as I stare at Lochlan, pouting so hard I think I sprained my face.

Like having a sleepover in the camper for the next few nights? He grins. But don't bring that lip. I don't think it will fit in there with both of us. 

Aw, fine. I smiled back and the pout disappeared. His excitement is contagious. Any excuse to sleep in a shoebox we'll take. We tried to invite Ben once but he didn't fit at all so this is rare indeed.

Warm on the surface, cold underneath.

Walking with Batman this morning, sweaters and coffee pulled close as we tracked the receding tide. I'm struck by the fact that he is incredibly put out that I declined his breakfast invitation in favor of a walk on the beach. I'll decline absolutely everything in favor of a walk on the beach.

He doesn't know me. He likes the idea of me. He likes the way I look and the way I defer to men and the way I can be exactly what he wants at any given moment and that I put more value on integrity than wealth but at the same time he doesn't really know that I love the sea or that I worry for them all. He, like the others, doesn't seem to see that I am getting old and losing my nerve again and that I'm afraid of everything.

Or maybe he does and it's upsetting so he just stuffs it deep down inside and buries it with other things. Normal humans can do that. I'm not normal.

I'm not interested in gossip today. 

This isn't gossip, it's potential ammunition. 

Then you use it. He's away living life, which is what I asked him to do. Henry needs a father who is healthy and has a good life. I'm glad he went. 

Bridget-

Can we just drop it, please? Do you want to talk about him on such a beautiful day?

He stops and stands there smiling at me. I'm starting to feel like a mouse in a lab, as people study me for far too long waiting to see if I'll flinch when the shock comes or die in the throes of whatever they've done to me. Or maybe I'm an immortal mouse and I just won't die.

Cool.

Squeak squeak.

You're right. Instead let's talk about Jake. 

My blood freezes, flexes and thaws in the space it takes me to realize he means New Jake and not my Jake.

He's doing really well and I'm thinking of offering him something a little more formal than freelance thug. What do you think?

I think he tries to dumb himself down to be liked and isn't cut out for thug designation. 

Agreed. Then I'll give him the offer and see what happens. We seem to be quietly fading away, Bridget, making plans for the future, passing torches, trying to quietly extricate from a life of nonstop work. 

So you go from trying to weaken your enemies to identifying with them. 

Do you miss anything?

I miss everything. 

I don't think you do. 

That's because you don't know me very well. 

Maybe that can change. 

Or maybe things will just stay the way they are. 

We walk on, silent at last so I can listen to the sea as she tells me things only meant for me. She knows me better than anyone.

That odd little oddly jealous girl on a rainy Monday morning.

Caleb called this morning and didn't say anything much past my name, and after asking him a few questions I recognized that he just wanted to hear me so I told him all about how we've already appropriated the stable as an art studio in which I will paint horses instead of brush them, and I told him about Henry's friend's birthday party plans and Ruth's forties-style selfies and then I started to make guesses as to what he and his uh...friend were up to and how fun it must be to lie on the beach and not wash dishes and clean out fridges and hang curtains and brush little dogs and supervise perpetual homework and cook and he cut me off abruptly and said he missed me, that's all and he was just checking in.

He snaps this after listening to me chatter and ramble for close to fifteen full minutes. It's the most I've said this year.

He said he'll be home Thursday evening and yes, he's getting a bit of rest and enjoying the warmth. That it's been...interesting. The pause was odd.

I said that was good and then he said he loved me and he hung up. I stared at the screen for a few minutes. I didn't understand. Then I put the phone facedown on the mantle and let it there. I got halfway across the floor when it started buzzing again and I ran back thinking maybe he was messaging me back, realizing he hung up so abruptly but the message wasn't from Caleb, it was from Batman.

Did you know you're sharing your sugar daddy? I have some interesting information if you want to come over.

I put the phone facedown on the mantle again. I get it. It makes sense and it's not as if Caleb didn't make it obvious he was taking another woman with him. I don't need Batman cheerfully rubbing it in my face.

And now it's been christened! Oh my lord. Squee! hahaha.

I can leave the mess out now.

Up early again, surprises this time, as the boys are all dressed and coffeed and moving all of my stuff.

I don't have much stuff, I'm a bit of a minimalist actually but I hoard art supplies like you wouldn't believe. I have eleven sketchbooks waiting to be used. Never enough fine liners and I think there are seven dozen tubes of paint here between two easels just because art is a religion too.

So they put all of my art supplies in the stables, because it's a clean building with tons of light, locking doors and heat. It's fully wired in, protected by an alarm and a perfect place to set up because I complained that my little nook in the corner upstairs has tons of light but no actual space and more than once I leaned in to the left side of the canvas to work on detail and somehow manage to clutch my palette to my chest in the process, coming away with a lovingly mixed water-soluble oil rainbow on the front of my shirt.

(Lochlan says my palette is too big and awkward for me anyway and wants to buy me the beautiful Amish one at the art supply store but I've resisted so far. I asked him to cut mine down slightly but he won't. It's a standoff.)

All I have to do is turn away from my easel now and I can see across the orchard and right out to sea. 

 The reasoning behind this appropriation is that now, with my newly installed garden studio, Caleb will have no argument to try and push horses on me. I actually want the horses, but no one else does. They say they're too much work and they're right. It's one thing to board them elsewhere and drive out regularly, it's another thing to have them right here. No way would Caleb demand that a perfect space to work in be dismantle once he sees how truly perfect it is.

There's even a radio. And a thermostat. And windows everywhere. Also a bathroom. I may get someone to move my bed later too and then I can live out there. But It's temporary until the day one of the kids claims it as their apartment (they're fighting already about who gets the loft above the garage and who gets the gatehouse (because we told them not to call it a stable, it's a little too nice for that honestly) but for right now it's all mine.

Gold guns girls redux.

Today I am summoned rather early. Caleb's bags are packed and sitting just inside the door when I enter the boathouse and he kisses my forehead in greeting before pulling me by the hand down the hall into the office. The safe is open and inside are the breitling boxes, two envelopes full of money, Cole's monogrammed cufflinks (same initials, CXC, but Caleb has an identical pair and I wanted him to have these ones too), a small photo album and a big envelope full of insurance photos of Cole's artwork, five inches of legal papers, a bottle of Macallan and five DVDs. Family films? Naw. Future extortion. Don't ask,  I explained it here years ago.

He gestures as if the fact that the gun isn't there is supposed to end the argument. I roll my eyes and ask him if he's put it under the bed or maybe is he dumb enough to fly with it and oh, by the way, what's the trip?

He tells me he's taking a few days to recharge. In Tortola. May I punch him now? I ask if I can come too and he laughs and says if he thought that was an option we would have gone years ago and maybe never come back. But I am too late and he has a companion for the week, thanks.

My eyes widen almost involuntarily. Peyton?

But he shakes his head. No, not her. I'll be back Friday, you have the numbers. Everything can wait. I need some sun and a chance to do nothing. I already spoke with Henry (who said nothing to me, I wonder if he was coached) and I'll bring back treasures for the kids. Please try and stay out of trouble while I'm away.

I nod. Maybe this will be good. As facts and stories trickle down through the ranks here the only thing holding back the pitchforks and flaming torches (ha, that's separate from Loch's arsenal) is me, and I'm not very strong. He does need to clear out for a few days and let things settle again.

I'll hold down the fort. Joel will spy for you anyway. 

He isn't to do anything of the kind. If you need to talk to him, he's here. That's all. He might be busy. Check first. And I'll miss you. But instead of his rare tender stare I get another perfunctory kiss and a brief hug as Caleb practically shoves me out the door so he can finish packing his carry-on bag.

Fairprovingground.

Hi Baby. He smiled when he noticed me standing behind him. He was sitting on the grass in the sun trying to fix a seized engine part and when he started he had been in the shade. That was four hours ago and my stomach is growling. It's our clock since his watch broke. We don't have money to get it fixed yet so he tucked it into the drawer under some papers and said he'll get it done in the fall. In the meantime when we feel hungry, sleepy or the whistles blow it's easy enough to tell the time.

I heard that one. Give me five more minutes and then five to wash up and we'll go in town for hot hamburger sandwiches and fries, okay? He smiles when I nod and goes back to pulling on the wrench. He doesn't really have much in the way of muscles yet so I have my doubts it's going to be a fast job all of the sudden. But Loch says he's proud and that means stubborn. I told him I must be proud too and he laughed and said no, I was just stubborn and there's no pride in there at all. I frowned and he said it was better my way, that pride eventually makes men look foolish and keeps them from getting the help they need to get somewhere.

I snorted because he always calls himself a man. He's not a man, he's a teenager. I'm glad he's not a man. He's just my Lochlan. I'll be sad when he grows up and I don't recognize him anymore.

What? He asks when I laugh out loud.

The man part. 

My man parts? 

No! Ew! The part where you call yourself a man. 

Should I be a....horse?

No! 

A...tiger?

No. 

A monkey? 

Oh, probably. 

Monkey it is, then. Oo oo. Aa aa. That work for you?

No, Be a man after all.

I'm trying, Peanut, hard as I can. 

(OOh hat trick. Been a while. Three tiny posts, one day.)

To add awesomeness to awesomeness Loch waited until long after lunch and everyone was gone again and then he said, oh, by the way, I've got your passport. So he can't take it. 

Fools seldom differ.

Lochlan saw that we were alone. He pulls out his wallet and shows me the place where he's unstitched the leather and has a sheaf of big bills lining the actual bill compartment. Also in there are the numbers for an emergency line of credit he keeps, unused, just in case.

Carnies are weird about money. We plan for a rainy day to the extent that we'd rather die with hundred dollar bills wallpapering a one-room shack for warmth after the utilities cut the power than needlessly spend anything at all.

Where are we going? He asks with a twinkle in his eye.

Charm malfunction.

The irony.

In an effort to not be the bad guy, Caleb grabs my wrist this morning, pulling it down, squeezing my bones so hard I almost bit my tongue in half to not cry out. He wants me to remove my guesses as to what's in his safe. He says the passports are in the group safety deposit box at the bank, which everyone, including me has access to, and that he got rid of the gun months ago at my request because sometimes Henry stays there.

He was smiling when he said it. He's a liar. I also visited the safety deposit box a week and half ago and my passport wasn't there. I'd rather keep it, next to his Visa infinite that I steal every time he turns his head and the small roll of bills I have sewn into the lining of my favorite handbag just in case but apparently no one likes my schemes and plans so what's a girl to do?

Nod and pretend I'll take the words down and then decide not to.

I suppose if I post this I have to give his credit card back again, don't I?

The more they stay the same.

Caleb brought me a stack of one hundred ten-dollar bills last night and the wickedest smile he's ever worn.

I told him a few weeks ago in a moment of weirdo weakness and reluctant truth that I always wanted to make it rain, that it's on my bucket list, right up there with naked motorcycle-riding in the yard (which I hope is next).

He handed me the money and asked how I wanted to pull it off.

I told him to start dancing for me and I'd take care of the rest.

Oh, how he laughed.

He did not want to dance though, so instead we ate ice cream, the bills sitting on the counter between us, and he quizzed me about said bucket list, even though we used to call it 100 things before I die, and everyone spent most of January first of each year hung over and writing furiously.

He reminds me that he can do a lot more than make it rain. He said he could make it snow, make the sun shine and the wind blow too and all I have to do is say the word and I could have my entire list fulfilled handily by dinner time.

You don't even know half of what's on it. Maybe some of it involves people you don't even know, or is time-sensitive to occur at certain times in my  life, maybe some of it is dumb or silly and you're just going to shoot it down. 

Shoot it down? No, that's not what a bucket list is for. Tell me something on it that shames you.

Well I know it's horrible of me but I still want to ride an elephant, a little one because if a big one took off stampeding into the jungle with me on it I'd have all kinds of regrets about the whole thing. But I can't because the way they break them doesn't mesh with how I was raised. 

How you were...raised? 

On the tail-end of circuses having actual animals. Before everyone freaked out and let a few bad stars spoil the whole sky. 

I see. 

Our animals were loved like people. They were children. 

I don't doubt it. Were the children animals or just you?

WOW. Were you waiting to use that your whole life or did your cleverness just wake up and decide to join in the conversation feet-first?

I didn't mean you any harm. 

For once. I'm well aware I was feral when you found me but that isn't his fault, you know. It's yours. 

I think, Bridget, that we'll save this for a rainy day. Caleb picks up the money and heads to his office where he will put the stack of bills in the safe in his desk, right beside the gun, the empty boxes that held our Breitlings and my passport, for safekeeping.

New looks for summer 2014 (as decreed by someone who needs to be featured on the Goths in Hot Weather site.)

I stood behind Daniel this morning while he sat and talked with Caleb. Caleb was waiting for Henry. It's a  school holiday so they are heading off to do some things. Daniel is very patient when I want to practice fishtail braids but today I was distracted so I just twisted his hair up and around and tied it with a black hair elastic so he had a loose bun.

He looks fantastic. Even Schuyler said leave it quite forcefully (LOL) when Daniel laughed and said he should take it out. Huh. I try not to influence their styles with my opinions because it can have hilarious results but sometimes I want to pressure them to let their metal beards grow to the floor or make dreads anyway just because. 

Daniel keeps saying his neck is a lot cooler and he loves that his hair is out of his way. Pretty sure tonight they'll all need tutorials for pinless hair buns, though only Duncan, Daniel and John have hair long enough for it in the first place. Well, Lochlan does too but if I come near him wanting to practice braids and such he'll literally RUN the other way. It's pretty funny, actually.

I think I'll go chase him around the yard threatening to do his hair.

Two showers a day, never by myself.

Each morning Ben hands me his soapy washcloth and asks very sweetly if I will wash his back as he turns away in our glass shower. It's separate from the tub I can swim in, in a little room all of its own. It's amply big for one person but not so big for Ben. Add me and it's a bit tricky to keep his elbows out of my eyes and when he rinses his hair I get rinsed in an extra layer of shampoo.

His back is a wall, a billboard of black and grey work. I always wash the angels' faces first and then the demons on his skin. I have names for all of them. I make him laugh when I greet them and then when their little faces and hands are clean and the whole place is scrubbed and swept he turns back around and finds more space in a perfect way, lifting me up into his arms, my legs around his hips, holding on for dear life, burning as soap reaches places I'm not so sure it should go.

Each night Lochlan and I spend close to an hour under the same hot spray, our skin red not from sunburn but from the water temperature. My fingers and toes are webbed, wrinkled and steamed. One single kiss on my forehead and we're reluctantly finished and the towels go back onto their heated racks and the expensive shampoo (one for curls, the other for blondes) goes back on the shelf for the next night. Sometimes he turns me away and slides his hands around my hips but mostly we just stand and let it rain.

It's a far cry from years and years ago where he would lock the door, press the stainless steel button on the wall that gave us exactly six minutes of lukewarm water with which to wash away salt, sunburns and bug bites, our bad runs and good marks clouding and sweetening our moods alternately until we would emerge fresh and clean and ready for sleep, heading back to the camper in the growing darkness. We would go inside for the night, putting away the little plastic basket of shampoo, conditioner, soap, comb and razor under the bed until the next night, leaving the towels hanging outside to dry.

 Now showers are an event each time instead of a chore, and we don't run out of hot water anymore.

New school preaching.

Sam practiced his sermon on me last evening because it was a bit edgy, even for him. He used the allegory of Godzilla and being prepared for disasters of faith and how beautiful and terrible it is when you see God's work, God's mark on this world with your own eyes, a swath of truth and destruction. Then you have everything because you have nothing. Then you rebuild, always mindful that He is near.

It was totally neato and something Jacob probably would have done. Sam has loosened up slightly and is taking risks with his words, keeping his church open and progressive, the way he thinks it needs to be in this day and age. He used to skew traditional to the point where more than once Jacob told him he might be happier in a Baptist or Anglican environment instead of Unitarian. Sam protested. I think Sam would have followed Jacob anywhere except thankfully not off the roof of a hotel.

Sam knows my mind is starting to wander down dark paths. I've been their sermon pinning board for so long and it's not easy. You coming tomorrow?

No, I've had all my lessons tonight. This means I can sleep in. And I will because Ben doesn't go to meetings on Sunday mornings. Duncan has to though, but I won't know when he leaves because I'll be in my wing, in my bed, jammed in tight between the joker and thief dreaming of a tray with coffee and english muffins that will never materialize unless I go get it.

Sam nods. He's like Pinocchio but he grows with confidence instead of lies and I leave him in a really good place. He and Matt have weathered their growing pains, it seems and are settling in to a nice rhythm with the day to day grind versus planning their future together. I know they won't live here forever so I am appreciating every day they do. 

Let them fight.

Somehow we managed to get fifteen of us in the same place at the same time far from home and checked in at a movie theatre in the valley. The theatre was ghost town- empty (the way Ben likes it) and had a new AVX room with Dolby Atmos sound.

Did you know that sending fifteen of us to that room with popcorn and drinks costs just a wee bit shy of four HUNDRED dollars?

It was worth it. I didn't miss a word. Also my seat reclined so far I kept looking up expecting to see my dentist.

(One paragraph review: Everything about Godzilla was awesome and over the top good, save for the predictable moments where everyone finds their loved ones instantly in a disaster scenario and also a highly unintentional but hilariously suggestive moment between a M.U.T.O., her egg sac and a nuclear missile that had me snorting for far too long. I'm going back to see it again as soon as I can. Such fun.)

Wakers and sleepers and fuzz folk and dandelions and plans.

And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Love to be
In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me

Lochlan isn't that prolific on guitar but he does a few really good quality covers, you see, one of which is Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane over the Sea. He changes the lyrics depending on the day, his accent getting caught on the words as his voice breaks comically and it's just one of those things you can't help but smile at when confronted with it head-on. Especially since he found a guitar strap and now he wanders as he sings like the rest of them. The guitar is huge but he is not so it was a bit cumbersome to hold and play as he walked before. Not so much, now.

It's sunny and beautiful and on the verge of a magnificent wavey-day and a long weekend too and we've all gone a little loopy. I did indeed invite Joel over for breakfast and had to fight my own face not to snarl (lovingly) at him when he walked in. He brought coffee. They do this. Secretly I love coffee. Outwardly it really isn't a great idea if I have more than one or two cups a day, tops, and never after about three in the afternoon, because I'm a waker, not a sleeper and that's a travesty, says everyone.

(Lochlan coined the word shortly after we ran away to the Midway when he realized I'm terrible at actually staying asleep. Now he just takes advantage.)

I think Caleb is regretting his offer to bail out Joel, keep me Afloat& Upright (another Bridget term of endearment, how lovely) and fill the last empty space on the point all in one go, frankly. I've been far too together for the Devil and he's minding it, even as I go so far as to wonder if we should find four more friends and convert the stables to a gatehouse sort of thing. He frowned. I may have winked at him the other day and shared half a drink (it's the only way to be sure that he doesn't drug me while I poison him, you see) but I will defer to Benjamin until Ben is good and ready to talk to him without yelling, so the distance between us will remain for right now.

Ben doesn't want to yell and so Ben and Duncan and Sam head out to lunch and meetings and dammit, I want to go to lunch! I have a thing about lunches. Sandwiches and french fries. I love big crazy sandwiches. Clubs, Montes, BLTs. I'm not so picky. I suppose I could drink more and then I'd get to go but I already told you, I'll keep my addictions limited to boys and music. There's no time for anything else.

Joel ate everything like he was recently rescued from a deserted island. It's the way everyone starts out here. Starving. Deprived. Lonesome. Skittish and unsocialized. Once they fatten up a little and have constant companionship and support they all seem to positively bloom, though, with this one I really don't know what to expect. I guess I'll have to wait and see. I already extended the permanent meal invitation, he still has the treasure map to my brain and no one hates him because I was upfront with the relevant information about what happened and at the time I was vulnerable yet completely unattached and so there's really no blame to lay past the restitution he has already made via giving up his career.

Or maybe it's a double standard simply because he is not Caleb so they can't hate him.

But I invited Caleb for permanent meals as well, though and I may never be heard from again when they all find out. We're going to heal if it kills us, or at least until we've all killed each other.