Under Loch and key (first bonfire of the year).

(It doesn't matter what date you put on this one. 1983 or 2012 will be fine, really.)

If I had a gun, I'd shoot a hole into the sun
And love would burn this city down for you
If I had the time, I'd stop the world and make you mine
And every day would stay the same with you

Give you back the dream, show you now what might had been
If all the tears you cry would fade away (away, away, away...)
I'll be by your side, when they come to say goodbye
We will live to fight another day

Excuse me if I spoke too soon
My eyes have always followed you around the room
'Cause you're the only god that I will ever need
I'm holding on and waiting for the moment to find me

I am buzzing with the effects of the alcohol and the cool night air, sitting on the sand, wedged tightly against and in front of Lochlan, his arms down around me. He tilts the bottle toward my lips, just enough for a small warm sip of burning fluid to trace down through my body. When I try to have more he says That's enough, peanut. You're too little to drink much of this. He laughs and raises the bottle to his own mouth, swallowing several times. He is warm. Too warm. Lochlan-warm which is less human and more fire. We watch the antics of the others on the sand in front of us as we lounge close to the bonfire against a log. He puts his head down against mine, his lips against my ear.

I missed this. I love you.

I pull the bottle back and take a huge gulp before he can stop me. Before I have to answer. The pause is so loaded he's been shot before I have had time to aim.

You shouldn't. I have too much baggage. I'm watching Ben as I swallow. He is standing down by the water talking to Caleb and Sam. Tide's out. Sea monsters are everywhere.

Better Bridget with baggage than no Bridget at all. He says it quietly and I smile. No Bridget at all was tough. No Bridget at all was a difficult time period that we don't talk about anymore, much.

Ben walks up the beach and I am shoved roughly to my feet and in his general direction. I turn and pass the bottle back to Lochlan who has turned to talk to Christian and fails to acknowledge me. I kick his foot and let go of the bourbon. It falls vertically, caught easily by the juggler. He looks up at me and smiles conspiratorially. He gets away with so much. His endless, automatic charm and pragmatic attitude make for such easy prominence within the collective. His long red curls are pulled back in a simple ponytail, he's in new cargo shorts and a black tshirt. The most unassuming king of all.

He leans forward with a torch and lights it from the burning wood. Time for a show, peanut. Be a good girl and stay close, okay? I'll need help putting everything away and you're the best helper I've ever seen. 

Second thoughts.

He's home in one piece, sort of a nice surprise compared to the last trip he took alone, where he didn't come home at all and instead we went and collected Lochlan and the pieces of his motorcycle that remained. I threw myself into his arms and was rewarded with a brief hug. A ten-second hug which is very unlike Lochlan at all and then I realized why.

He brought flowers for Ben. He reads everything. I knew he would but I didn't think he would go all out like this. The bouquet is huge.

I attempted to keep my composure and failed, spilling it all over the floor in muted peals of dismayed laughter. I will clean up the mess later. He and Ben clapped each other on the back wordlessly and then Ben opted to stare at me for around seven hundred seconds, maybe deciding if he wanted to start laying down even more rules and then he chose wisely, excusing himself to go and get some work done.

Another truncated hug from Lochlan and a kiss on my forehead as I am inspected, ruefully.

You drug your freckles out of winter storage while I was away, peanut.

I frown in response. I hate my freckles. Every last one of the millions there are.

You look beautiful. He waits. I know he wants to inspect me for himself to make sure there are no marks, no seared-in cloven footprints, no lashes from a forked tail or tongue. I make no move to reassure him. I know the marks are there. They already scar his soul.

I distract instead.

Hungry?

Starving. He smiles. That's his promise to let things go for a second. We'll pick it up later, as always.

He reached out and pulled me against him, my back to his chest, and held me there, one hand around my neck, not so gently after all, the other hand gripping my hip bones until they grated in protest. He picked up speed and rode me through the darkness and just as the sun was threatening to blow out the nighttime sky he brought his other hand up to my throat, tightening his hold. When I saw the stars he named them after me, each and every one, whispering my name into my hair, his voice hoarse and ragged.

Trying to get them all to read the same thing at the same time.

Raising the alarm for what?

This war. 

There is no war, Bridget. Things have been pointed out to me and so I am trying to prevent a lot of heartache. 

Who is going to get their heart broken? 

Me. 

Oh. But you don't worry about Caleb walking around flashing his millions and assuring everyone within a thousand mile range that he will be victorious in the end. 

No, because you don't love him like that. You just use him to hold on to Cole. 

You don't think he would know that and understand it for what it is? 

Maybe he's delusional. Ben grins.

I am trying not to laugh. This is serious! But I cave in and smile at least. That he is. And so are you, because I am not trying to break your heart. 

Is this like that Wilco song? 

No, that's 'I am trying to break your heart'.

I see. Well, what if you don't know what you're doing either? 

Oh, I know what I'm doing. 

How is that? 

I have experience. 

In what again? 

I punch him square in the chest. Being married. 

Right. You have a fabulous track record, Ms. Taylor.

Wow. 

A spade's a spade, Elizabeth. 

Fuck off, Ben. It's a warning. Both my previous husbands stopped breathing before anything was official so unless you're looking for a hat trick you should change the subject. 

What if the pyromaniac comes back and you guys decide to make up? 

It's not possible. 

I want to know why. How can you love someone like that and not give them everything? 

You know why, Ben. And I was the one who told you, if you want him out of my heart, he's out. We've been just friends before, we can go back to that. 

Ben snorts but doesn't say anything.

This is very tiring, Benjamin. And if you're never going to let me sleep then you can't expect me to make any sense. 

He's coming back this weekend, Bridget, and I'm nervous. 

Maybe he'll bring you flowers. 

Your turn to fuck off, princess. But he says it quietly to soften the blow.

Stop worrying. 

It's hard. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm not going to let Pyro or Satan, for that matter, fuck it up. 

Then stop listening to both of them. You never used to. 

I've lost my edge again. Fuck. This keeps happening.

We can put up posters around the neighborhood. Maybe someone has found it, like last time. 

Do you think? Jesus, Bee, in the wrong hands that could be downright dangerous. 

"There are more things to alarm us than to harm us, and we suffer more often in apprehension than reality." ~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

I tiptoe into the room where Ben is sitting on a low armless chair, headphones firmly in place. He is playing because I can see his arms moving but I can't hear anything. He is facing away from the door.

I lean against the wall and wait. I haven't thought this through. I want to be careful. I look down at my toes. Sky blue polish. Glitter. I frown to myself. It's more suited to Ruth only I'm the one who still feels twelve. When I look up again Ben is watching me. He has twisted around and pulled off his headphones and he laughs and asks Why the sad face? Could you hear the song?

No, I tell him, I can't hear anything. I was just thinking.

He puts the guitar down and comes over to the door. Great. Now I'm intimidated by his attention. He's looming over me so I duck around him and go and perch on the chair he was just on. It will force him to sit on the floor. We're at eye-level.

What about? Have you decided what you want to do tonight?

No.

I have some ideas. He smiles at me but I remain determined.

Did you have something to do with Lochlan's trip?

Yes, he says, waiting for the next question. I'm surprised into silence for a moment. I figured Ben would say Of course not and pretend everything was just fine.

Why?

Simple. It's our anniversary, not his. I wanted to spend it alone with you.

But Caleb-

Today. I meant today. Last night doesn't count as our anniversary, does it?

No but-

Bridget, just say it. Look, I know you didn't like the way last night turned out but-

You have regrets. About us.

Is that a question or a statement?

Both, I whisper.

Yes and no.

My turn to wait for him to talk. We've worked very hard on listening to each other. It's obvious.

I don't regret anything we have done but I regret how I've behaved, Bridget.

I keep listening.

I regret that I didn't set limits in the beginning. Because I don't think I want Loch this close to you.

He isn't close. He's very far away right now.

Yes and you're miserable.

I'm sorry.

Don't be. If I thought you could help it I would take that apology and expect things to change but Caleb's right. Loch is...He's your other half.

I shake my head and my eyes begin to well up but Ben is immune.

If I wanted to be with him I would. I'm not. I'm with you.

You're with him, Bridget. I don't know if I'm a novelty or revenge but you're with him. Always have been, as far as I can tell.

I spin away from him in the chair so I am facing the door. So I can look anywhere but at Ben's face. He takes the chair and turns it back.

I'm fixing it, Bridget. I think I know how to fix things.

Is there a hit out on him?

What? No. Jesus. I don't function like that. If I wanted to kill Loch I would sneeze and he'd fly off the edge of the cliff. Featherweight.

Then how do you fix things?

I set limits. I make rules.

On how you'll interact with him?

No, on how YOU will interact with him. New limits for you. To keep you in line.

To keep me in line. I'm repeating him slightly disbelievingly. Everything coming out of his mouth is something I have heard before.

Caleb-

Yes, he's been helping me a lot. He knows you best.

No, he doesn't-

After Lochlan, of course. But how do you approach your adversary and ask him to teach you how to make him go away.

I thought you loved Lochlan.

Oh, I do, Bridget. But he's non-reciprocal and I finally realized that he is simply waiting me out. He doesn't care about me. I don't think he cares about Ruth. The only thing he sees is you.

That pisses me off. First of all, he's a good father. Not like he's had a lot of time to absorb all of this. And second, I have no intentions of being with him exclusively.

The ring.

Was a gift.

It's a band, Bridget. Do I look that stupid?

This was YOUR idea. The commitment ceremony, the sharing. All of it came from you. I asked for none of this. I didn't ask for last night either. Caleb-

MY MISTAKE, Bridget. I screwed up. I was fine with it until I started watching the two of you and I realized I was on the outside the whole FUCKING TIME. Maybe last night was retribution against both Lochlan and myself. Maybe I'm just punishing myself.

But you're NOT on the outside. Lochlan is. He's the one that's not here.

And right now, sorry, honey, but neither are you. Your heart went with him. And somehow I don't think it's coming back.

I get up. I'm not going to do this today. I cross my arms and rock myself. I didn't come in here to fight with you about Lochlan. Or talk about last night.

Liar. He says it softly.

You should talk, I whisper. Looking to the devil for advice, Ben. How could you do that again?

Caleb still has complete control over you. That tells me all I need to know. I watched you. I SAW him order you to do things last night and you didn't even hesitate.

But he doesn't-

You're here aren't you? He told you to ask me about Lochlan and HERE YOU ARE. If that isn't control then I don't know what is. Jesus, I'm in third place after all. It's worse than I thought.

But you're NOT!

I had hoped I wasn't but your behavior tells me different. He pulls me down onto his knees abruptly, pinning my wrists at my sides, forcing my attention. I asked you to tell me if I was a sitting duck but you're not being forthcoming. I am shaking now and he just holds tighter. How do I get that control, Bridget? How do I get you to follow my lead the same way they do? Huh?

The tears multiply until they begin to drop over my lids and soon the rivers down my cheeks have begun in earnest. Ben is horrified suddenly and he drops my wrists and throws his arms around me. He sits back on the floor and begins to rock. I am holding on for dear life. He pulls back and wipes his thumbs across my cheeks. He's saying Shhhhh. I look up into his eyes, breath hitching and I say Happy anniversary. Four years, Benny. Can you believe it?

Then, true to recent habit I push off him, stand up and walk out. I hear him throw the chair but I just keep going.

***

He finds me later, buried in a book, curled up on the couch, forgotten cup of tea next to me, determined to die a slow death of ennui in order to protect myself from a war with four sides. That is, if I get a say in my life. I don't think I do, however.

He gets down on his knees and puts his head on my legs. I start to shift and I hear him say Just stay like this, Bridget, please.

Bridget, please. So much of that lately. I should just draw and quarter myself and then everyone would be happy. The fourth piece would be all that's left and to that I would stake my claim and make my own decisions. But I give in, because I love Ben. I PICKED Ben.

I reach out and run my fingers down the side of his face. Let's do something tonight. Just the two of us. We need some alone time. You were right.

He looks up hesitantly. A little boy, hopeful and anticipatory. Look, I'm sorry about last night, I get carried away-

Onward and upward, Benjamin.

Oh, there's Zero's line again. You need your own catch phrases, little bee. But his mood has changed one hundred and eighty degrees and he looks relieved. We spend our days going out of our way to sabotage each other and then making up. It's a slow doom. Perhaps if he holds tight to my hand we can outrun it. My legs aren't long enough to go very fast but his, well, he's very tall.

And I'm not letting go.

He takes my hand in his and pulls it up to his mouth to kiss it and then he answers, as if I spoke out loud. I won't let you go. But then he gives me that smile again, the one that doesn't reflect in his eyes and I'm left wondering how much of his allegiance is mine and how much has returned to Caleb. Two against two.

(You're dreaming if you think this is a fair fight. It won't be fair at all. That's what last night was all about. Not being fair. I am a living warning now, meant to cause alarm. Or raise it, at the very least.)

Misled/Miss Lead.

I will survive cause I want more
And I will create a bigger war
Then I will rule over and give you hell
And then you will do as I command
Cause I will be here when you are gone
Yeah I'll still be here when you are gone

The envelope arrived this morning by courier. White Canada Post, so I opened it right away, standing in the front hall in my pajama pants and a baby-pink tank top. A printed email fell out, folded and taped to a pewter envelope with nothing written on the front. I frown. He's just not going to dry up and blow away. I look at the email first. It's a directive from his lawyer, pointing out an option to have my lawyer direct me to visit with Caleb if I won't abide by the rules of our custody arrangement. I roll my eyes. This has nothing to do with Henry. I can email my costs for Henry's spring pictures and new clothes to Caleb. He's just decided to make things difficult because he misses me. Or something. Maybe the Devil is hungry for another soul. God only knows, he likes to lick mine and taste his future.

Curiosity (killed the princess) leads me to open the pewter-colored envelope as well. It's on his monogrammed letterhead. Two words, handwritten in his modern scrawl.

Bridget - please.

I sigh. It's going to be a long day.

I head upstairs to get ready. I am so tired. I need some coffee. I need breakfast. I shower and grab a black dress from the closet without looking. I zip myself in, carry my high heels downstairs and put them on by the back door. I grab the envelope of receipts and my phone from the counter and head outside. It's raining. Great. My hair curls as I cross the driveway and by the time I knock on the glass door of the boathouse I feel like wilted lettuce at the grocery store.

Caleb opens the door quickly and I give him my look. The look that says I know what you're up to and I don't want to be here.

Notice I didn't actually choose to involve the courts, Bridget.

The effect is the same. What do you need? I take several steps into the room as he closes the door behind me. I drop the envelopes on the counter and weigh them down with my phone.

He comes up behind me and puts his hand around my neck, pulling me close against him. You. I need you, he whispers.

I reach out and pick up my phone and turn at the same time. He is smiling. It's not a hopeful smile. It's one of those lie-smiles, where he decides for both of us whether this will be easy or difficult.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, princess.

You know, I haven't found that. Strange, isn't it?

He picks up my hand and shakes the phone out of it. He counts my rings. There it is. An extra. Are you ready to explain why you're wearing a ring from Lochlan?

No? Last time I checked I didn't have to get your permission to accessorize.

How quickly you've forgotten.

I'm not playing your game anymore, Caleb.

Sure you are, this is just one of those times where I have backed off in order to see what you do.

And what did I do?

You got closer to that fucking redheaded freak again. But where is he today, Bridget?

He headed out early this morning for a short trip. I frown. I don't need this shoved down my throat.

What do you suppose your husband said to him to make him agree to leave you here alone in the company of wolves? What do you think Ben would have to accomplish to make Lochlan leave, just as things were getting interesting around here?

Ben had nothing to do with this. Loch is going to see his father. It doesn't happen often but it was a good time for him to go. Who am I convincing? I sound doubtful to my own ears.

Is that what you think happened? He laughs. You might want to take a good hard look at your husband's attempts to suddenly set rules for you. Do you feel like you're back to obeying someone? That you're taking orders? He moves in closer and brings his hands up to my face so I can't focus on anything but him. Do you think at last the big beast is trying to rein you in just as you were finally settling into a pattern? My brain is hurting so badly. Still no coffee, and Caleb is trying to make me think about things I've been pushing away lately because it's too disturbing a place to go. You always submit so willingly to authority. It's so beautiful.

He runs his thumb across the center of my bottom lip and I suddenly bare my teeth and give him a shove. Ben doesn't do that. Stop it!

He decides releasing me is best and heads around to the other side of the kitchen, turning on the coffeemaker and giving me a generous smile. You might want to think about that, Bridget. And also? That beautiful new dress you're wearing? He's going to be angry when he learns you wore it for me.

As I'm walking out the door, he calls to me. You always pick the hard road, princess. You should really do something about that. My offer still stands, whenever you're ready. As long as it takes, I will wait for you.

I want love to walk right up and bite me,
Grab a hold of me and fight me, leave me dying on the ground.
I want love to split my mouth wide open,
And cover up my ears and never let me hear a sound
I want love to forget that you offended me,
Or how you have defended me when everybody talked me down
Yeah and I want love to change my friends to enemies,
Change my friends to enemies, and show me how it's all my fault.

Last night I took a glass of wine (which I swear I don't drink any more but you see we have a tiny vineyard and there's thirty bottles of wine in the cellar, which is not actually a cellar but the space above the cabinets as you head toward the dining room proper. It was wasted space so I christened it the wine cellar) and a box of strawberries outside to hull with Jacob's old pocket knife.

His favorite one went to Henry and I keep a different one for stupid chores like sitting outside wishing he was making fun of me for so much wastage on each berry at the expense of keeping my flesh intact. Because he would never cut himself and I always do so it's easier just to buy more strawberries than I need and sacrifice fully a quarter of each one to the slice of a blade wielded quite awkwardly. I was never good with knives.

I was humming along with the song I could hear from the driveway. Lochlan is in the camper. The lamp is on inside. I can hear the song plainly which means he is busy. Probably sleeping-busy. He could sleep on a roller coaster if only I wasn't screaming. It's one of the few sounds he won't sleep through.

And wow, I've told you nothing so far, but with so many words.

Anyway, Caleb came across the driveway and sat down beside me. I stopped humming and started listening. He asked what the star was next to the moon and I answered automatically, without looking. He shook his head. Interesting, since the cloud cover is too thick and there are no stars tonight, Bridget.

I look up into his face and see disappointment.

You want to argue.

Of course not, you're holding a knife.

I'd be better equipped if I smashed the top off the wine glass and used that.

I don't doubt it. You fight like a long-haul trucker.

Nice. Thank you.

Put the knife down.

Tell me what's on your mind and I'll decide if I'm going to put the knife down.

When are you going to come and see me? I have a list of things we have to go over and it's been weeks, Bridget.

Months, actually.

I'm well aware.

Then keep waiting. Unless you just want to have a throwdown right now. You're unarmed and I am dual wielding. It'd be perfect.

Not as easy to manage your life as you thought it would be, is it?

I throw the knife in the bowl and look at him. Is there something else you need or can I have some time to myself?

He leaned in as if for a kiss, pressing his cheek against mine. I had to listen hard.

Just remember, Bridget, when all is said and done, I will be your saving grace. He pulled back briefly, long enough to plant a long kiss on my lips and then he got up and left.

I walk the fault into the cold
The fate can take your breath away
I hope you don’t open the door
To see the ghost walk through walls
I know the smoke can choke your hope
A lesson learned push comes to fall
They walk away, they walk away
(I hope you don’t) walk away

Oh, why did you take flight?

And I'm not even drunk.

The new plan tonight is to sell everything and buy a houseboat. And live on it. On the water twenty-four-seven with the lights and the breeze and the sun and the rain and the seagulls and the whales and never ever ever have to pay property taxes or utility bills again.

I would have to give away all of my shoes. And probably my dresses too and the four drawers full of lingerie and the snowglobes, four couches and my books. The pets. The cars, too. Possibly some of the boys.

I am fine with this, I like small spaces and minimalist living.

I like the sea.

(Update: two glasses of wine later, Caleb texts me that I can have the yacht whenever I want it. I said houseboat you asshole. And I can't afford any of these ones that I'm looking at anyway so no one hold your breath. Now if no one minds I have half a bottle left and I'm going outside to enjoy it on land. I can look at the water, at least.)

Forty two inches minimum height.

It's called the Round Up. Other places call it Meteor or Zero Gravity sometimes.

Here, come and stand on the edge of the world, Bridget.

He smiles and I let go of his hand as I am buckled in tightly. He gets in beside me and fastens his own restraint without help. He'll be checked nevertheless but I am always momentarily envious of his self-reliance.

When the ride begins to move I close my eyes. Within a moment I feel his hand close around mine again and then something deep inside my chest soars just like that feeling you have before you burst into tears. He squeezes my hand and calls to me, Open your eyes! You're missing it!

So I do.

We are spinning up on one end at a dizzying pace, the lights leaving trails in my eyes, the music loud, so loud it almost hurts, but in a good way. Smiles and squeals of laughter are all around me. I scream and it comes out in a high peal of sheer delight that lasts on average twenty seconds. He always laughs so hard when he counts and then again when he tells me my new high score. I can't help it. To be honest, I can't hear it and I can't control it either.

I am in Heaven and Heaven is the midway.