Textaoke. Is that even a word?

So much for the mighty mouse.

I was doing really good right through this morning, after a wonderful wake up call from Jake at 6 am. It was 8:30 his time and he was waiting for his meeting to start and he missed me so much he said he ached. I know exactly how he feels.

But what a way to put a smile on a girl's face. Which was terrific because the first thing I look for on Mondays now after waking up in his arms is a full coffeepot and fresh bagels from the bakery sometime around 10 am. I got my own coffee and opted to skip the bagels, having toast with the kids at 7 instead.

Right. So as I said, I was doing really well.

Just as we were starting to bundle up for the walk to school he started sending text messages, one every half hour or so. Here's what I've gotten so far.

8:30
i love you

9:00
i have loved you all along

9:30
i miss you

10:00
been far away for far too long

Looks like it's going to be an all-day 5000 kilometer karaoke fest, one line at a time, starting with our song, which I didn't figure out until the last message just now. This kills me. Which is really sweet and kind of funny. So yeah, I'm sort of doing good considering how much I loathe being alone, being without Jake right now, but at least I'm one night closer to him returning safely and he's sticking close where I can reach him when the ache gets really hard to withstand.

Yeah yeah, drama queen. I know.

Corduroy sheets.

I'm possibly the only fool who would use them exclusively. For some reason I can't fathom, I love corduroy. Love it.

And believe it or not I loved it before the coat, which is coming out of retirement with a fresh retrofit-new elbow patches and re-sewn pockets, since it will work well for class where it had stopped working so well for Sunday services.

And yes, I stuck my nose in it too. Just to smell it. Even though it had been put away washed, of course. I stick my nose in all kinds of things, so you know.

Even cake.

Tonight Jacob has to catch a flight home to the rock. He's speaking at a conference and will be gone for three nights-enough time to attend two days of meetings, speak at the dinner and check in with his fading great uncle. While I would love to loudly vocalize my fragility and keep him home because I don't want to be without him that long or because I'm afraid, this is a reality. He can't be beside me every moment and I have to grow the fuck up and live life in spite of the overwhelming want to run and dive into our bed and pull the quilt up over my head, refusing to move until he is safely home.

I'm staring down a very long week, I guess.

Hit the lights.

Last night involved take-out pizza, pink floyd and a winter hat with earflaps. It also involved a couple of lights-out shots, which, for the uninitiated, are shots made up of half vodka and half Jagermeister.

It was a very relaxing night, exactly what we needed. And no, the earflap hat wasn't anything sordid. It was a hat I finished knitting for Henry, and I put it on to model it for Jacob. He thought it was adorable on me and suggested I keep it so I wore it all night, but I gave it to Henry this morning. He always has cold ears so the flaps are a necessity.

So so happy to be done with the antibiotics, done with the antidepressants and pretty much not anti-anything right at this moment.

    Its a sin that somehow
    Light is changing to shadow
    And casting its shroud
    Over all we have known
    Unaware how the ranks have grown
    Driven on by a heart of stone
    We could find that were all alone
    In the dream of the proud

The view from the flannel wall.

If I close my eyes and press my nose into his shirt I smell patchouli and coffee and soap. And love, newly tactile somehow, if that's even possible. He bends his head down and his hair tickles my ear while I shiver as his warm breath touches my back. He sighs and closes his arms tight around me and I feel safe. Safe, loved and almost human again in a way I haven't felt in months. I'm not straying so far from his arms these days, truth be told.

And I feel like this without the checks and balances. without the drugs anymore, without having to rehash every last painful moment with doctors, with family, with friends. With myself.

    Theres a passion in being alone
    A grace in a loveless time
    There's no new cross, there's no new sign
    Only the sun and the changing tide
    And out of respect, well I really must confess
    I never lost your number
    I never lost your address
    And if we remain friends at best
    Sometime later no, no not yet
    We'll smile and remember it like this

Secret guilty pleasure. When I wrote that the other day something snapped awfully hard.

Today I don't feel like sharing anything and that's not cool to me, this is my place to sort through everything and lay it all out bare and unprotected under the bleakest lights, judgments be damned, and yet right now I feel protective and remorseful for sharing so damned much. My very first pang of modesty with my words. You would have thought the pornographic writing would have been the first regret but it's not. I hope I feel differently tomorrow.

I can't put this shit back in, you know. It's out there, cached in the living internet machine and anyone, everyone can see it and I don't like that right at this moment. My, our history, a good quarter of it spilled into cyberspace. In my haste to deal with everything in the best way I knew how I forgot you were all out there watching me collapse. A quarter of it because I'll never tell everything.

Guilty indeed. I know who reads. I stopped posting pictures. I turned off the comments, with help. There are few links save for reminding myself where I said or did something relevant to a new entry. It has become so simple to make it easy for people to keep my words. Because words are all I have to give, and within them I have given you everything. No pressure, come and read, then come back tomorrow, because you know there will be more. Bridget, one molecule at a time.

I rarely comment on other's journals anymore either, I feel awkward and stunted when I try to weigh in on their lives. I have no business commenting on your lives when my own is so fucked up sometimes and that didn't even hit me until this morning.

Was it a bad idea? No. I work through alot. I have a place to hang out. I have an identity I can grasp by reading back. I can see who I am without blinders and editing. I could read about that girl and recognize her instantly. It's me. For fucks sakes, it's me.

I'm simply struggling with how public this has become and so, via my usual beloved words I am exploring how I feel about it.

Because I do that.

So no worries.

Tomorrow I'll share, but with a brand-new monkey on my back. I just have to figure out how to type without waking him up. Because you would have thought for all Jacob's (half-assed) pleading to take down the journal it wasn't him who gave me this pause. It was someone else.

And none of us are happy about it.

Non-conformist noodles.

I crinkled up my eyes and smiled at him from across the table this afternoon. Jake was making chicken noodle soup while I was finishing a short story for a deadline that passed on Monday. Not a fortune to be lost but I waited too long to get my shit together this month and I am so behind already.

Organic chicken soup with whole wheat noodles, organic flax crackers and green tea.

Jacob, this is why I'm dying of colds this year. I have no preservatives in me.

You'll live until you're a hundred if you keep eating right, princess.

What if I don't want to live to be one hundred? I'll be deaf and dumb and probably blind and even more wrinkled than I am now.

You aren't wrinkled now.

Crow's feet. Look at them. I'm an apple doll.

Please, you've had those since I met you.

Right, which means I'm aging dreadfully.

Oh, be quiet and eat your soup.

Well...it is pretty good. Pass me one of those hippie crackers, please?

One hundred, princess. Mark my words.

***

(Save the Bridget, save the world).

I might have t-shirts made. Does anyone want one? Hell, I might wear one myself.

Random drive-by panic attacks are exhausting for husbands. He's not helpless, he talks me down. He talks to me soothingly until my breathing slows and my eyes lose their wild glow and my hands stop with the fucking fluttering. He's amazing. This is why he's going to make such a terrific chaplain, because in an emergency he's the one you want right beside you.

Even at four in the morning, like last night.

I really hope that was just a scraped-up effort culled together by my brain to check for progress. Because I would like to point out how really really good I'm doing. And I'm going to continue on that path, I just need a little more sleep first.

So, meet the sugarbaby.

The friendly giant is awake and drinking coffee, feeling none the worse for wear this morning. And yes, I busted myself by talking about sex. Technically I'm not supposed to be having any. So, shhhhh please don't tell Dr. P.  But really. I feel good and we're not indulging in x-rated Cirque du Soleil here so cut a girl a little slack. And cut me a lot of slack for the location choices of said sex I'm not having, because judging by my inbox you people are even less impressed than I am.

Did I mention slackers? Guess who phoned this morning?

Caleb.

Speaking of which, I remain, faithfully yours, the secret interweb guilty pleasure of repressed Canadian businessmen. You wouldn't believe it if I told you the numbers. If I had a webcam I bet I could make a fortune.

Let me just figure out how to hook up my new speakers and then I'll deal with the webcam in about fifteen years when the technological part of my brain recovers from this latest onslaught. Because! speakers! There's more than one plug and so I'm flummoxed. You should have seen me the other day-the stove element came apart and I considered ordering take out for a good hour before I realized it's supposed to do that.

I digress. I'm tired. Jacob kept me up half the night singing the blues. John Lee Hooker no less. Slightly tipsy ministers have no business singing the blues, you know.

Okay so...Caleb.

Caleb called to thank me for his visit, for the meals, and the company and for the belongings of Cole's that I set aside for him to have. He's having his real mid-life crisis or something. He's broken up with his latest girlfriend (loosely used, that term) and wants to plan to come out once a month or so and spend some time with the kids. To be present to somehow make up for Cole's memories. I assured him the kids have mostly good memories of their dad. He wants to know immediately if we need anything. Again, I assured him that we have everything we need.

And then I dropped the protests, because maybe spending time with his niece and nephew helps Caleb feel better about the time he didn't spend with his brother. I can't deny him that comfort if he needs it and so I relented. As we chatted for a few more minutes I distinctly noticed his sentences changing in form from talking about seeing the children to talking about seeing me. I corrected him twice and he hadn't noticed but I'm left slightly bothered by that. I'm bothered that after five years he's back in my life, just. like. that.

When I told Jacob about the call he winced when he laughed (hello, hangover) and then asked how many sugar daddies does that make now?

I frowned.

I've lost count.

Bottle green.

Or maybe I should call this entry bottle empty, for that's what it was when Jacob was finished celebrating Birthday 2006.

This time I got to play designated driver. Which held way more peril for me than it seems to for him, most likely because if I'm unsteady on my feet, he can simply carry me home. If he's unsteady on his feet I have to enlist at least two of his friends to keep him upright. He's a big man, and it's been a very long while since he's had a drink. Let's just say that he was long overdue and gee, did he ever make up for it tonight.

(The funniest part about Jacob having one too many that embarrasses him half to death is that he'll reach a point where he starts to talk rather strangely, adding a whole round of extra words to everything he says, alot like the Winnie-the pooh-speak and it is the best thing ever.)

We went out to dinner with all the guys to celebrate his birthday, with a sitter at home to keep the kids happy-they don't like Thai food and it is a school night. There was less food and more alcohol than usual. Jacob listened as each of us stood up and said a few words about the past year of his life. Mostly everyone reiterated that he was moving in the right directions all the way around and we were so very proud of him.

He stood up and raised his glass, drinking it down and then he started talking. His Newfie accent is so prevalent when he's had a few, what a riot. It was touching as he went around the table and told each person what they had meant to him and how they had specifically supported him over the past year, and then when he got to me he stopped talking and just smiled broadly for a minute. His eyes were glassy. I smiled back at him. Everyone started to tell him to just get on with it so we could all have dessert (the cake) and so he did.

To my Bridget. My bottle-green-eyed bride of ninety-four whole days, the past year has been impossible with you as usual. You make me so crazy. You make me worry. You frustrate me and sometimes I'm rocked dumbstruck at what it is about you that keeps bringing me back for more. But now that I've held you in my arms and you've become my wife at long last I know the answer and I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you, thank you for being with me. I hope I do you proud. Thank you for this day. For this year.

(He was easy to understand until this point, then it was all downhill.)

He bent down and kissed me and told me he loved me again, while some noisy awwww's rose up from the table. They brought out the cake and we sang and ate and drank some more.

Too much more for Jacob.

Which...well, argh. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or give in.

Finally the simple fact that it was a weeknight brought our dinner to an early close. Jacob seemed okay to walk out and I drove us toward home, perched on the edge of the truck seat because it's difficult to reach the pedals.

I need to stop in my office for a minute, Bridge. Something important must be done and so I have to be there for it.

Okay, I'll wait out here.

No, come in with me because you're out here and I'd much rather see you without seeing you, and it's dark right about now. I think.

Alright.

He unlocked the side door of the empty church and we went in, he grabbed my hand and I followed him down the darkened hallway to his office door. We giggled and whispered the whole way as if we might get caught. He stopped when we got inside his office and I bumped right into him. He closed the door and locked it.

Jacob, why don't you turn on the lights?

Lights? We need those? I see everything I need that was here right behind me and always in front of my eyes. Like magic. Let's keep the dark going. Because then I can do...this.
He bent his head down and kissed me so hard I swear he bruised my lips. His hands searched inside my coat and he didn't stop until he hit bare skin. He tasted like whiskey. He was trying to unbutton my dress but he couldn't manage the buttons and so he went for hiking it right up instead. His hands lifted me up onto his desk and he was pushing me flat onto my back. I'm sorry, God. I tried to take him home. I think his patience rode the whiskey right out of his mind.

Oh, no, Jacob. Not here. This is your office.

Right. It is and my God, it's so messy and I think I want you right now, princess. Right and completely this minute.

Jacob, your office is IN THE CHURCH. We're in the church!

It's not like we're under the pulpit, Bridget. Just let me worry about that and take your damned dress off because I just noticed I think I hate some buttons like these ones here.

Jacob, we're going to get struck by lightning

Then our hair will stand on end forever and make us laugh. We'll finally have black eyelashes and smoke will come out of our noses. Now come here, beautiful girl.

Could I could blame the whole thing on not being able to understand what he was saying half the time?

No?

Well, I never said we were saints. And I never said it was proper. And I will definitely never look at that desk the same way ever again.

Jacob maintains he has had the Best Birthday Ever. We are so going to hell.

German chocolate, please, boxed.

Today is Jacob's birthday. He's 36. He's the walking definition of a true Scorpio. Read for yourself:

    Scorpios are known for their intensity. They are determined folk that absolutely throw themselves into whatever they do -- but getting them to commit to something is rarely an easy task. In fact, it's better not to even try to "get them" to do anything. Solar Scorpios absolutely have their own mind. And, their primary motivation is unlikely to be prestige (like their Capricorn friends), or even authority (Leos can have that, too)--it's real power. Their power can absolutely be of the "behind the scenes" variety, just as long as they have it.

    To others, Scorpios seem to have plenty of willpower. They probably do. Scorpios do know what they want, and they won't go out and grab it at the wrong moment. They simply sit back, watch (quite expertly), and then get it only when the moment is just right. This apparent patience is simply their powerful skills at strategy at work.

    Scorpio isn't afraid of getting their hands (their bodies, their minds) dirty. The darker side of life intrigues them, and they're always ready to investigate.

    Scorpios simply never give up. They have tremendous staying power. They're not in the slightest intimidated by anybody or anything. Confrontations are not a problem. In fact, talk to any Scorpio about their lives, and you'll probably be in awe at all they've gone through. Trauma seems to follow them wherever they go. When Scorpio learns optimism, instead of expecting the worst, they'll find that they possess amazing regenerative powers -- the power to heal, create, and transform.

So do you know what this means?

Of course you do.

Bridget gets cake today!

Update: I had to throw in his very spooky horoscope too:

    The time is right for you to make a career move. Your talents are developed well enough for you to take the next step towards your goals. Go after that promotion or start searching for a better position elsewhere or even go out on your own. You may be a little nervous about, but the planets are in your favor. Act boldly and you will get to where you want to be much quicker.

If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is.

Crush.

This whole teaching gig reminds me of a crush I harboured in middle school. My Junior High English teacher, who was once accused of getting 'too close' to his students. Oh I wished to be one of those ones but I never was. The rumors turned out to be false eventually. I still really liked him.

He was kind and patient and encouraged me to write, because he assured me I was pretty good at it.

Because I got an A+ on my book report for Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself.

He was blonde and blue-eyed too. He wore plaid shirts and jeans and he had a beard.

I'm sensing a trend here...

I told Jacob I hoped he was ready for all the university-girl crushes that will soon follow him from one semester to the next but he assures me it can't be any worse than Mrs. MacAskill down the street. She's 86, long-widowed and I think she would eat Jacob for breakfast.

If she could catch him with her walker.

Parting shots.

Get some coffee, you'll need it.

Yesterday's revelations seems to have rattled a far greater number of cages than the news that I had left Cole ever did(I still write Trey every single time. Stupid Phish. Well, okay, Phish isn't stupid. I can't listen to them anymore though. I never will again. Cole got his nickname because he resembled their lead singer, Trey Anastasio, only darker-haired and better looking. He could also play and sing like him).

I woke up distraught and annoyed today. The phone has been ringing off the hook. I'm not annoyed with any of the callers (okay, scratch that, I'm annoyed with one in particular) but I'm fed up with my hearing aids, which cause me to jump four hundred feet straight up when the phone rings. When we took it off the hook both our cellphones went off instead. Groovy.

Everyone is surprised beyond belief, shocked, happy and oddly relieved that Jacob is switching gears. Most of our friends held him at arms length for so long before they realized he was in no way a reflection of whatever image we grew up with of a 'typical' minister.

Typical is the last label you would stick on Jacob. He surprised us all with his laid-back personality. He has a drink once in a while. He plays guitar, often. He sings rock music loudly. He'll put Zeppelin on in the sanctuary early on a work morning so loud the police have been called. He lives in his jeans for everything but weddings and funerals. He's taught everyone that God doesn't care if you're always on your best behavior. He brought God to us as a cool, supportive force in our lives, not as an almighty disapprover, which was how we all felt before Jake landed in our lives. He'll swear beautifully when moved to and he's...

I think you get the picture.

I really wish the phones would stop ringing already. I can't keep my train of thought like this.

My God, they've lost their fucking minds. Again.

Financially what the hell are we doing? What does this mean for our faith personally? What happens in a few years when Jacob decides that teaching isn't what he wants to do? How far away from God will he try to run next? His father warned him that he couldn't pack up and jet off to the far east or Australia with a wife and two kids and classes on Monday and bills to pay and maybe we should come home and Jake can work through the winter with his dad and we'll live there and Jake can think about who he is and who he wants to be. Jake's dad is a fisherman. His life is black and white. Or grey and gray. He doesn't like bullshit. Jake's mom just said, come home. Bridget can sew and the kids can go to school down the road.

Days later I'm still wishing Jacob would say fuck it and take us home.

On the other hand, this job will come in handy in ten years when there is tuition to be paid.

And frankly, he and I know who he is, God knows who Jacob is and that's all Jacob cares about right now. He has lost nothing here. I'm aware that I didn't write much about Jacob's evolving relationship with God. It's private. I also didn't write much about our actual feelings on him leaving his church with good reason. I'm aware I touched on the logic but not our thoughts. Possibly on purpose. We still have our eyes squeezed tightly shut while we jump and when the time is right we'll force them open to squint and look around and see if we are still intact, if we landed safely. Faith says we will make it. It's all we have left, aside from each other. Exactly what we wanted.

I'll have to save those thoughts for another time while I deal with something else entirely.

I'm shouldering a lot of blame today. Too much and I'm unhappy about it.

A heck of a lot of people have forgotten that Jacob had one foot out the door of that church long before I went with him. And I realized I have dredged up something that now appears to make no sense. And writing about it is really fucking disturbing for me. But I need to do it because of the gaping hole in our history that people keep bringing up.

What in the hell went down between Cole and Jacob with the open marriage bullshit anyhow?

Yes, well, I can try to explain it. I won't promise anything.

(When I first left Cole I alluded to the fact that he had given me to Jacob um....temporarily and that both men expected me to go back to Cole when Jacob moved away. Which is as weird as it sounds, I won't deny it. It's weird and disturbing. It's difficult. So fucking difficult to talk about now.)

Cole was feeling generous. He was so egotistical about his marriage to me. He was the first to know of Jacob's plans for moving. He suggested that Jacob could borrow me. A gift. A parting gift between friends. Mending the war between the boys. Cole knew Jake wanted me so badly but he didn't want to give me up. What he would do, instead was loan me out. Fulfilling his open marriage curiosities (that I never wanted any part of) and being generous, because he knew damn well he could use it against me later however he wanted, and Jacob would then be long gone.

Cole was planning to set me up using the weakness Jacob and I shared-each other. And at the same time, he gave his friend something he really really wanted. Me.

Two free birds, one stone.

Well, Cole, Jacob isn't stupid.

Jacob agreed with him, that he would uh,...well, take me for a week or so. That I would be his for a very short time and then Jake would leave town and life would continue on. It killed Jacob that Cole could offer me up like that. The day Jake came over he was supposed to offer me a week with no strings attached. A week we would spend together and then he was supposed to tell me he was leaving. We could get each other out of our systems once and for all. Then it's over forever. And Cole would have leverage against me for the rest of my life. Which wasn't fair. He had cheated. So many times. But then again, so did I, once.

Jake knew I would never ever agree to that. Cole didn't seem to know, but Jake did. He knew what Cole was up to and he had a different plan in mind. Jacob's plan was risky but by then I think he knew all of us well enough to take the chance. The worst outcome would be nothing at all, in his mind.

Jacob's plan was to simply ask me to be with him forever, because he knew that's the only way I would go with him and the time had come to take the chance or lose it forever, with emphasis on the forever part strictly for our benefit because at that point Jake still planned to leave the city.

When I stood behind Jacob when Cole came home and told him I was leaving him for good it landed on him like a hammer punch. It was the last thing Cole expected (or maybe not, looking back now) and he was strangely humbled. He fell apart to the point that he stopped being a monster again and was kind to me. So kind I didn't know who he was anymore. I was so confused by this. All of the sudden I held all the power. Briefly. Wonderfully for so many days.

And then it was gone again.

Jacob told me about his career plans and made no mistake about it, he was going and I was not even invited. The supreme double cross. He told me he wanted to smarten Cole the fuck up before he left because he knew that I would be going back to Cole. And besides, Jake didn't want me to be alone. The last time I was left alone I tried to kill myself. In his eyes I was better off with Cole behaving responsibly than I ever would be on my own alone. Because Cole knew that Jacob knew everything. Finally. Someone knew all his dirty little secrets. Humbled indeed. Cole knew Jacob would kill him if he hurt me. Which almost happened in May anyway.

Jacob's plan worked really well. Which killed him just a little bit. No, a lot. Too much. And something happened between us and Jacob realized that he just couldn't do it. He couldn't leave me. I didn't think we could fall harder but there was so much more further to take it. It was the most incredible thing I have ever felt.

And so I left Cole a second time and the rest is chronicled right here so that everyone can see it and understand how this happened.

It was a strange end to a strange experiment. The worst part was they knew, they all knew. All my friends knew of Cole's plans and they all lost respect for Cole and then for Jake too, who simply agreed to the open marriage thing, took the judgements that were leveled against him and said nothing of his true plans.

And no one said a word to Bridget.

And eerily Cole did smarten up in the end. Well, if you don't count that one very violent, frightening night that will be forever branded into my heart. He learned that his actions had life-altering consequences and that I wasn't going to be his catharsis anymore, the object of his own inner war with the demons he faced. He learned quite brutally, spectacularly that he had lost my heart to Jacob long before I left him, that emotionally I had been gone for such a very long time and that this was bigger than everything. He learned that Jacob gets where he is by the way he treats people and the good man that he is. He learned that you can go from having everything to having nothing by throwing it all away in a selfish display of bravado and power. He lost, plain and simple, by gambling with his family.

Sometimes I think he was hoping I wouldn't come back, because he was so much sadder than he ever was when I did. But as much as I believe that Jacob and I met and fell in love for a reason, Cole with his violence and his sick brand of love pushed me right into Jake's arms, shoving me right off my feet. Had he never been like that I might not have fallen so hard. I can admit that, it's logical. I was looking for rescue for years. I always thought Cole would change when we got married. Maybe change when we had children. Maybe change when we moved. I never thought I would fall so fucking hard for Jake and lose my mind all around myself. I'm still picking up the pieces, we're still dealing every single day with our hypocritical actions. We are accountable. This happened because we caused it. All of it.

They all say I'm addictive. It isn't me, it's Jake.

But now you know why Jacob was accused of fighting over me like a trophy and why he expected me to go back. Mistakes were made all over the place. We're fixing it as we go. As much as we can. Cole died and left this hole which will be here forever. I will never have answers from him. I will never have absolution from him and I fucking know this. I know it.

I can't look for redemption from Cole because he's gone but I'm here to live with every mistake we made together and I will. Jake and I are trying to make a life out of this mess. A happy one, a secure one. I have said all this before. This change in our lives is another attempt to move forward and put the pain behind us. Does it make me feel better to have explained it? Not really.

Are we running? You bet we are.

    When nobody's watching us
    I missed the last song
    I blame myself for just standing there too long
    I missed the last song
    I blame myself for just standing there
    I miss the love, I miss the holidays
    I miss my best friend, cheap cigars,
    stupid kids and movie stars
    and I missed the last song and I miss you
    and this time this one's for us