Monday 18 February 2013

I'm so far in the doghouse right now I can't see daylight.

He laughed. Yes. Yes, I think you really are. That was quite an operation you embarked on there. Dragging everyone with you, no less. Did you prove your point? Was it worth it, Princess? I told you what he was and you didn't listen.

I look at my shoes. Sometimes..sometimes Batman seems less scary to me.

Less scary?

Yes.

That makes me so profoundly sad. There is no reason for you to fear me, Bridget.

 Sure there is.

I've spent years now trying to make your life easier. Trying to give you what you want and take as little as possible in return. What could you possibly find in me to fear?

Everything. I shrug, looking up at the house to where Lochlan sits on the top step cleaning and refilling his lighter. Within eyeshot from now on. He's barely speaking to me because we came back here but I will abide by his rules without question.

I wouldn't hurt you, Bridget.

Yes, you would.

He looks at Lochlan too. Lochlan stares back at Caleb openly, thinly-veiled hatred in his eyes.

Is that what he tells you?

No. You've shown me. You have hurt me. Coming back here was as hard as leaving.

You belong with me, Bridget.

No, I don't.

You need to stop fighting it.

I don't. And nothing changes. We'll go around in the same circles, fight the same fights, dance the same fucking dance and destroy each other one little bit at a time only I'll be long gone before you even show any wear because there is less of me to lose.

What if we change the rules again?

What do you mean? I stand up. Loch has made a beckoning motion toward me. I'm not going to delay.

What if I made up a new proposal for you that ends your fear?

Oh, go for it if you think you can pull off the impossible. You know where to find me when it's ready.

Doghouse?

Yes.

With the redheaded guard dog out front?

That's the one.

Sunday 17 February 2013

Home.

Homehomehome.

Really glad Satan didn't take the offer so we can have our house back.

No worries. I'll figure the rest out later.

Someone please tell me where the cord is for my macbook. ARGH.
When Ruth said she was relieved to be back here on the point I think I knew it's where we are meant to be. Does that make me horrible? Probably. I didn't uproot them overnight, though. We planned and plotted and schemed and fretted and even with my doubts I went ahead with everyone's blessing but one.

And then I came screaming back in the middle of the night and oddly once again there's a small fraction of the collective who are unhappy and the rest are almost convinced the whole thing was a dream.

Batman said there would be no strings and then he tied us up so tightly I couldn't breathe. What was supposed to bring relief brought a different sort of misery. Evil I can handle easily became evil I don't recognize or understand.

And I've done it before so it comes as no surprise. When faced with a choice between Batman and the Devil, I'll pick the Devil every time.

The mediators think I'm insane, I suppose but Caleb had already complained loudly about the transportation issues involved in collecting Henry for his time, and the issues with breaking down a perfectly good extended support network. Everyone had questioned our isolation in the woods coupled with Ben's issues and the need for the reassurance that came in living close to one another, as unconventional as it may seem.

And Lochlan even doubted that I would do as well away from the ocean again, though he is beyond angry today. Again, his angry is a tsk and an occasional unchecked shout and nothing that I can't soothe with some effort. He will blame everyone else before he gets it through his thick skull that I fucked up, because you can't fuck up when you're twelve, and that's as old as I will ever be to him.

So where does this put me? Squarely in the failure to thrive box, the loser corner, back to the starting line. It has nothing to do with fear. Fear sent me away. Courage brought me back. Living with the Devil is easier than living without. Facing Lochlan's epic frustration and perceived betrayals is better than letting Batman take a bigger role when it's too late to change the play.

I'll take the fall for all of this. And I'll do it with an ocean view. Some things just can't be replaced.



Saturday 16 February 2013

Lesson.

Caleb took one look at me this morning and smiled sadly as I sat across from him over breakfast. What began as a breakfast meeting ended as a rescue mission. Which is why my life is this way. At the end of the day, when everything goes dark and everything's gone wrong I have nowhere else to turn.

I was warned gently four times to keep my composure, that we were in public. He picked up my hand and held it so I wouldn't continue construction of butternauts with my knife and fork instead of eating the smoked salmon and caviar in front of me. I would build little armies and then smash them and laugh but the laughs were ending near tears even though I tried to separate the two.

Pyro's right sometimes, Beautiful. You are a lot of work. 

I think he said I was a piece of work, Diabhal. 

That too. Let me make some calls. We'll have you guys out of there by sundown.

Just....

Just what?

Make it as easy on the children and Ben as possible. 

Ben should be looking after you and maybe if he was this wouldn't have happened. 

He can't. And Lochlan-

I know. That's why I'm happy to take control on his behalf. But Lochlan is so out of his league right now it's almost comical.

But you're not-

Don't, Bridget. Don't you dare ask for help and then try to limit my efforts. Not now. Not ever again. I told you [Batman] owned all of it. I told you he would come looking for his pound of flesh from you but you were too busy running from me. I am not the enemy here. I never was. I never will be. I can make things tough for you or I can make them easy but when all is said and done you are my Universe. As are the children. Our friends. But you are my life. You're my responsibility now.

I squish another butternaut. Caleb reaches over, ripping the knife out of my hand, throwing it down on the plate with a clatter. People stare at us as we stare at each other.

It will be okay, Princess. I will look after you.

Composure asked for her check and fucking left.

Friday 15 February 2013

Exponent.

The worry stone and an old copy of Treasure Island were all I had left when I came home. Taller, thinner, darker. In cutoffs because I had grown and my jeans were way too short now. Pinstripe painter's jeans now ragged shorts, pinned up tight around my waist, covered by my pink halter. Hair tangled into a low braid. White at the end and frothed caramel at the top and I have to focus very hard not to curse when I speak, because I get used to giving Lochlan my uninterrupted stream of consciousness whether he likes it or not and I've picked up some rather colorful phrases along the way. I've picked up two other languages and I know how to do teardown on five out of the seventeen rides. I know how to lie and I know that you can speed a Ferris Wheel up until the screams come out involuntarily.

But it isn't safe, like so many things.

I know now that Caleb is evil and I know that Loch is somewhat either prevented from or unwilling to stand up to him and I don't know why for either but I know that I'll never go back to the Midway show, maybe someday we will do something else but for now I'm sort of glad to be home even though everything is different. The sky looks different in the colors it shows. Food tastes different, as if I don't need flavor anymore and everything I draw is dark and angry.

I don't speak until I'm spoken to. I'd rather read or just sit with my headphones on and stare out the window. I go out with Lochlan for more milkshakes or sometimes to the movies but he always has a ton of homework and I've been failing math all through junior high and should be doing homework but I've lost interest.

Chris sits with me sometimes on Saturdays and tutors me in math when I wait outside the shop for Lochlan to be finished work and he asks me what happened that changed so much this time and I just say nothing and ask what's different. He tells me I'm moody but I tell him I'm just tired.

I should tell him I need help with this but I don't.

I should tell somebody something but I can't.

Thursday 14 February 2013

Aperture photometry.

In the middle
Under a cold black sky
The sun will only burn for you and I
Not sure today if I am ruled by the living or the dead, my thoughts a thousand miles away as rough hands lift me up, razor burn stinging my skin. Taciturn is on, and all I can think is how much Jacob would have loved this song. I could play it for him now but I've lost him in the move and I suddenly realized this late the other night when I went looking for him and came up empty.

I resumed my descent, falling faster still through the dark in the cold night air, reaching out for purchase and finding nothing so I tuck myself into a ball instead and scream with my fingers over my ears. Lochlan makes a grab for me and it holds, ripping my arms out of their sockets as he bears my weight so easily. He grabs my fingers, my hair, pulling me up, hand over hand. When I'm up on the edge he lets go in order to breathe and I slide right back over the side, falling down to the bottom again.

This time when he pulls me up he doesn't let go. Because this one learns from his mistakes and corrects them and atones for them for all eternity. 

His chin presses hard against the top of my head as my skin absorbs his heartbeat. He steps back and begins to methodically remove off every single thing I have on. My earrings. My shoes. Rings. Sweater. My defenses. My thoughts. My defections. Deflections. He smudges my eyeliner with his fingers and tucks my bangs behind my ears.

Now you're you, he says. Now you're mine.

He pulls my chin up until my lips meet his and I don't let go to breathe either. Not anymore. He takes my hands in his and pulls them behind my back, keeping them there, his arms around me, my collarbone pressed against his chest, our hearts fused through bone and flesh like lightning, only slower.

That's what this was like. Lightning in slow motion. I can finish his sentences, pull thoughts from his brain and comfort him like no one else can. He stands in front, torch held out to keep back the monsters, one hand keeping me close against his back. Never too far away anymore but still keeping up the appearance of efforts to teach me self-defense, self-reliance, self-confidence, none of which actually exist, fear and bravery all tangled up, resulting in epic, choking anxiety that has destroyed anything else I ever had. Sleep and affection bring the only sweet relief from what is otherwise life with my breath held.

His lips follow a line down my cheek and against my throat, his head ducked down, warm curls tickling my eyelashes, soft lips tracing paths he knows by heart. He lets go of my hands and tucks his arms under mine, pulling me in tight against him again. I put my arms up around his neck and he lifts me up and carries me back to the darkness but it's okay because he's with me and he will fight for my breath on my behalf and when he turns and gives it to me I will gulp it down and beg for more.

The hours move slowly while we watch lightning strike and rings roll into corners across the darkened floor. The minutes crawl by as we watch each other burn.

Wednesday 13 February 2013

Red velvet cake and scary movies.

Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again
I've just learned that I have a huge crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

Sue me. He looks damn hot in the middle of an exorcism. And I had to find a new movie star to drool over since neither Robert Redford nor Paul Walker seem to make very many movies anymore. But now Jeffrey, see, he's a very busy man.

I've also discovered that iTunes and I are still mortal enemies. Starting with removing my sidebar and then telling me I was not authorized because I'm now using a different Macbook. Fuck you, iTunes. Lochlan doesn't want to hear about my struggles anymore. He told me to look up the solution myself. I made the 'loser' sign on my own forehead and told him Jeffrey would have done it for me. He said Who? and went back to his reading. He tries to force my independence in the dumbest ways and then he'll still open my can of pop for me every pizza night without me even asking, even though I've been able to do it since around the age of thirteen. (I still can't finish a whole can. That hasn't changed since I was eight.)

I found out that August spent months trying to get someone to listen to him about me and they didn't take him seriously. That makes me angry. That deserves a whole post, just not tonight. Another day when I can write it down without losing my mind in the process.

I remembered today that if something goes wrong we are here on our own now. No army to rush in and fix things. No cooler heads will prevail if Ben and Loch get into it. Don't know why I didn't remember this before. I suppose I was in a little bit of a hurry, running screaming from the Devil because I was on a collision course with hell.

I noticed that Sam really needs someone to talk to and what do you know, so do I, so he is hanging out pretty much around the clock. When I asked him what he thought of the house he smiled and said it felt good. That it's a happy house. A cozy house. A step in the right direction. Then he told me he and Matt were working on things. That they were talking and that he feels better about the direction they are going in but maybe he's a bit of a cautionary tale unto himself.

I heard from New Jake. Batman says to be warned, that Jake might do some goonage as required since we are somewhat isolated out here. New Jake called to see how I felt about that. I didn't know so I invited him over for dinner instead. Apparently I don't know the meaning of isolation. Everyone's right here, what are you talking about? We've had more dinner guests and sleepovers than ever before and we've been here a whole four days.

I was assured by Ben that he's not going to go off on Lochlan here. That things are already different. We aren't all stretched so thin or forced to extend to allow for so many extra souls to look after. We're suddenly a tiny little family and we're going to stick together. So far so good. A lot of affection passes between these two. I daresay they missed each other while Ben was away. I have to fight for turns in hugs sometimes. That is so not fair but so awesome too.

I heard that PJ is not so happy, that he is second-guessing a lot of things right now. I sent him an email telling him I wished it was a phone call but since he won't answer my calls I wrote down what I want to tell him and he can read it and think on it or delete it and from here the ball is in his court, so to speak. That I'm gone. That we succeeded in getting out from underneath the devil. That it's okay if he wants to still be friends, he hasn't burned this Bridge (literally). That I miss him so much and I wish he was still wanting to be a part of my life. I didn't mention the children missing him. I wasn't going to play the guilt card right up front. He knows, I imagine. I don't think he's heartless yet. Soon, though if things don't change.

And I am hoping for a fun day tomorrow. It's Valentine's Day. Plans are as listed in the title of this post. Because I'm an incurable cake fiend. And I like ghosts and monsters too.

And love.

Gotta love love.

:)

Tuesday 12 February 2013

So cold when I'm with you.

Me, I'm on the outside, tell me fade away
Drop me down but don't break me
In your sleep

In your sleep, inside
It's in your heart and mine
Whole sea is dark
It's in your heart and mine
You deserve more than this. He's walking through the house, hands in his pockets, murder on his mind, no doubt. I took the flowers Caleb brought and put them in a vase with some water. Surprise. Housewarming treats from the Devil. Red roses and a moment alone, a moment I have dreaded since we sprung our departure on him at the very last second that we could, given our circumstances. Given the fact that he is Henry's father and has to be kept informed.

I think you have that backwards. I am nervous but pretending I can hide it from him.

Do I? I don't think so. You could have had everything, Bridget but instead you chose to indulge your inner carnival freak and trick your way out of one predicament right into another. Typical. You and Lochlan are so full of good short-term ideas without regard for the long-term consequences of your actions.

You wouldn't give me everything. I remind him quietly.

He turns around and stares at me. Bridget. Oh, there it is, another warning.

I shrug. It's true. If you had given me what I asked for, things would be vastly different.

Not for me, they wouldn't and if you think I don't see that con coming from a mile away then you better practice your tricks a little harder. It would serve no purpose to indulge your whims-

Oh, just yours?

He stops his offensive and speaks softly. No, Bridget. I didn't want you to leave.

You just didn't want Lochlan to win.

His whole face lights up in total, unabashed surprise. Oh, but he hasn't.

Monday 11 February 2013

Today is the first day of the rest of my something or other.

Christian called me at nine this morning without any specific reason to.

Come for breakfast, I told him.

Naw, Bridget. You haven't even been there twenty-four hours. Relax. 

I miss you guys. 

We miss you too, girlie but on the other hand, I don't have to put on pants now if I'm not going anywhere. 

Just admit it, you're a nudist. 

Okay. I'm a nudist. 

Nudists have to eat too, you know. 

I don't want to scar the kids for life. 

Then put on pants before you come over. 

I promise I will do that. But really I just wanted to say thank you. 

For? 

Batman's two dudes had me here and set up in under an hour. I felt useless. 

Enjoy it while it lasts. I hope you helped. 

Of course. I felt weird standing around. 

Nice having privacy? 

Sort of. 

It's okay, you know. 

I know. Are you okay, Bridge?

Yup. It's just a little quiet. 

Have Pyro practice his guitar chords. That should be noisy. Holy hell.

Meanie. 

Truth. Or even Ben. Ben's pretty loud. But at least he can play.

He did play a little already last night. 

How's the sound?

Terrific. Great acoustics in the kitchen. 

Awesome. Hear from PJ?

Nope. 

Caleb?

Nope. 

Bridge-

You coming for lunch then if you won't come for breakfast?

Possibly. 

Okay gotta go. I'm starving and I need toast.

Okay then I'll see you soon and I'll harass you then. 

I hope so. I'm having withdrawals already.

Sunday 10 February 2013

Fortunes told.

Now I think I get it in a way that I may have not understood before.

Money, I mean.

Batman had a team of trusted people come in and work to unpack all of our things last night, working until the house was ready. They used photographs and instructions and common sense and they got everything right.

It was more than a little surreal to come in this morning and find my power cord on the desk, plugged in just waiting for my laptop. To open the drawer in our bathroom and find that stupid box of dental tape that I hate because it cuts my gums still in the plastic organizer box, same as it used to be in the house on the point. My favorite lipgloss? Sitting on the counter beside my wooden hairbrush. Where it always is.

In the living room I noticed the wooden articulated figures we use for life drawings still in their obscene positions together. I walk over to the stereo and press play and the CD is still Footloose (1984, not the new one. Geez). Mike Reno is singing. I had taken that CD out and put it away, but it was in the stereo when they did their inventories so here it is back in the player now.

I open the fridge. It's stocked with everything I buy, even though we did a magnificent job at using up all the perishables and giving the rest to Daniel to finish up, since we were the first ones to go.

I couldn't be the last. I just couldn't.

I didn't expect the move to be this painless. Is this how people live? I don't live like this. I rent rickety, questionably-safe U-Hauls and I sign contracts I don't understand and I hope for the best and am always surprised in the end. Always. I go into debt for things that should cost less and I sell the small remaining fragments of my soul to the Devil for the rest and I'm suddenly not supposed to do that anymore but I don't see how that's going to work.

But I really like this new house.

It's smaller, more inviting. The lights glow in warm yellow tones at night and the woods are dark and lovely and peaceful all the way around. There's no wind. There's a driveway and space for two vehicles. There are four bedrooms, as I told you before and at my request the fourth one was made up for when Duncan and Dalton come back. They'll stay here with us for a few weeks while they find a new place. Everyone else is organized but they are flexible enough to want to wait until they are back in the province to look in person. I can't blame them for that. And the added people around me will make this transition a tiny bit gentler and less abrupt.

It helps. I'm a little fish out of water otherwise. I really don't like change and this one was slow and steady overall and the least difficult of every one so far.

The kids like the house. They like their rooms. They like that they can bike on the road. They like the promise of the deep dark woods and they like the idea that they will have to answer to three adults instead of twelve, most of the time.

Ben likes the house. He's very big in it, ducking through standard doorways, taking up huge amounts of room. It's like things were in the castle, only those rooms were smaller still. Lochlan is himself here, relaxed and calm. Certain, somehow as if he is the fortune teller instead of the woman with the skirts I spent so much time with on the road, as she sometimes babysat me for a sixth of Lochlan's pay. He says things will be just fine. She never said that. She warned me that I had a face that would ruin all those who gazed upon it. She called me Medusa. She swore at me in a language I didn't understand and she refused to ever do my reading again.

Now I get sandwich-hugs more than a few times from my loves, both of them surrounding me with their arms. Three musketeers now for real. No help, no backup, no distractions. Just one big fuckup, one little fuckup and a dreamer who can't clear his head long enough to see grey, instead seeing black and white, putting rules to all anomalies until things run straight again without surprise, and then he works to maintain that total control with a huge helping of magic, fireworks, wonderment and ridiculousness on the side.

Yeah, we'll be okay.

And there's cake. Which we didn't have but they left one anyway. :)