Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Sleepwalker Samuel.

Take my narcolepsy plus Sam's perpetual exhaustion, prone to napping wherever he sits down, throw in twenty-four hour olympic coverage and an endless supply of firewood and you have a couple of fair-haired snoozers who seem awake less than more and not the least bit apologetic for it. There's something inherently comforting about listening to crackling flames with one ear while the other is treated to a flannel-wrapped heartbeat.

Sam is not a thirty-minute power napper the way Loch is, efficient to a fault, Sam is a lose-the-whole-day-don't-give-a-shit-someone-will-lock-the-church sort of psycho-coma-sleeper who wakes up dazed and sweaty like a toddler. But rested. He wakes up rested. Well, until he sits down again and tries to read and then nods off.

I think I might steal him from Matt. Maybe Matt will take trades?

Sunday, 9 February 2014

Leafs=3, Canucks=1.

After a good twenty-minute exasperated protest by one redheaded wet blanket, Ben settled for decorating the end of my nose with one tiny little rosette of whipped cream and then licking it off.

The whole ice cream and caramel sauce part of the human sundae had to be abandoned completely because we didn't feel like burning all the bedding and shopvacking (I made up a word because spelling vaccume is some sort of curse onto my existence, okay?) my cast. It's filthy already and it's new so I could see that, though since my Leafs won it only seemed fair that I should get to bask in my winning glory but don't you worry, I still got a sweet ride.

Wait. I get that every day. Twice. Sometimes four times. Then I walk around kind of shakily and fucked up and they laugh at me so let's just...uh...change the subject.

This morning the boys were cleaning up and picking up in the living room because I don't anymore after big man-parties and Ben had a whole tray full of bottles and he kept staring at them. I asked if he could just take them right outside to the bin and he did but he never came back. When I went out he was sitting on the back step dangling one beer bottle by the fingers.

I stood and watched him for a couple minutes. I didn't want to jump the shark. I know I should always freak first and sort it out later but I stood with my forehead pressed against the glass until Loch caught up with me, saw what I was looking at and charged outside quite readily.

What the fuck are you doing? He yelled. Ben is five feet away, on the top step. Yelling might not be necessary but freaking out is the way we do this, I guess.

Ben turns around and says he wasn't drinking. He thought about it but he didn't so he just sat there thinking.

Let me smell your breath. Loch gets right in his face and Ben kisses him. I counted to fifteen and then my eyebrows raised so high they floated off my face and up into the sky as the boys finally broke apart.

Fine. Loch says and grabs the bottle. You don't clean up booze, okay? He comes back up the steps with the bottle and goes past me.

Should I be jealous? What a kiss that was! 

I just wanted to make sure I couldn't taste any beer on him. 

So what did you taste? 

Loch just laughed and said nothing while I clued in. Ben got up abruptly and came over and smashed against me, pulling both Loch and I in tight to his embrace and I asked him if he was okay.

Yeah, I didn't actually want it, I just wanted to remember what it was like to not even think so hard about it, you know? Like how you feel about stuff. 

I nodded. Yeah. I know, Benny.

He put both his hands on my face and rubbed his cold nose against mine, while Lochlan breathed on the top of my head. I know you know, Bee, but this guy here's a much better kisser. 

Only cause he has a bigger mouth! I grin at Lochlan, victorious in my burn of him.

That's debatable, Peanut. He grins back, deflecting the flames onto me. I concede. He's a good kisser. They both are.

Fine. But don't leave me out! 

Never ever. I got smooshed in the hug just then. I think I broke something else.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Dark North, strong and free.

Up and at 'em, boys.

Today is a decidedly Canadian sort of day, with the new Maple French Toast bagels for breakfast and a firm confirmation that we actually did the right thing in giving up the Tim Horton's coffee in favor of Best Gourmet. Tim Horton's is much beloved, don't get me wrong, but mostly for their dutchies and maple dips, not their coffee. Small shops make good coffee. Chain shops make desperate coffee.

I make the best coffee. I'm currently using a French press to do so. Takes forever. The Best Gourmet is a localish company from out in the valley near where Lochlan's family is. So hundred-mile organic coffee french roasted, for the win.

Also! Canada has a first bronze medal in snowboarding by McMorris! Hurrah! And Moir and Virtue are first in figure skating! And Alex Duckworth from home is competing in women's snowboarding so we're rooting for her! And we shut out Switzerland (5-0) in women's hockey too! And now two more in moguls, gold and silver from two of the Dufour-Lapointe sisters!

(Sorry, I have Olympic fever hard. Last time around when they were here, ironically, I was in the Prairies selling the castle and packing up life because Caleb. Arse. Whatever. I'm going to eat Sochi coverage for breakfast, lunch and dinner.)


Jesus. It's a beautiful day for the red and white, and for the blue too.

Later today though is the second most difficult night of the year sportswise, in which I see the collective divided sharply down the centre as the Leafs play the Canucks.

Half of us (okay, a frightening minority) are true Leafs fans and the rest are (poser) Canucks supporters. The trash talk has already begun. The bets are being made. The tables are being bolted to the floor and the children sent to friends' houses for sleepovers. Hide yer women. Hide your beer.

Hide your halos because yes, I invited the devil. The amount of time we all have to spend together is non-negotiable anyway, with the amount of family dynamics we need to smooth over constantly and so the sooner he faces all of the boys the better. My bites have faded anyway. My mood is up and my cast is coming off on Valentines' Day if all goes well.

I hope the Canucks don't win. My bet didn't involve money. It involved some vague idea about a human ice cream sundae. And two guys with spoons. If the Leafs win apparently the sundae will be six-foot-four. I've never finished a sundae in my life, and boy, is Lochlan ever in trouble, since he's the only other Leafs fan in the house at present since August went home.

Friday, 7 February 2014

Facedown in the sand.

You would take the breath from my throat
And you would take the cherished people that I hold
Running gets so tiring. So exhausting. Hiding is worse, especially when I'm already afraid of the dark. I find myself inching back toward the light, as far away from the shadows as I can get but then everything just reaches out to grab me and I'm back at square one again and I never drew a map in the first place so I wind up searching from scratch for the right route. I wish Lochlan had sprinkled glitter or something so I would know what way to go but he told me I had to do it for myself. Maybe it's tough love and maybe I hate it for him even though the tiny part of me that is able to tell the rest of me that there's nothing in the dark that's going to get me is the same part that knows he's right.

I inched too far and I ran too fast and I found myself alone on the beach at low tide and everything hurt so much on the inside that it seemed like the only way to exist was to sit down in the wet sand and watch the waves break and then when I got tired and cold I lay down on my back but the light hurt so I turned to my stomach and pressed my cheek against the icy-cold gritty surface of the planet so I wouldn't get flung off of it again but then I went right up into space (Hey there's Orion again!) as Ben pulled me up so fast everything went blurry. He swore at me and stood me on my feet but then my knees buckled like a marionette and I laughed because oh, my brain is so cold right now I can't remember the things I should know by heart.

Thursday, 6 February 2014

We will all take more chances (before our lives end too).

Bring along your tricks and trade
We will lie here, here we lay
And though this ship is out to sea
I'm content to lie peacefully
Claus came back through town this morning, and I was fortunate enough to be permitted to take him out for breakfast, just him and I, to hear all about his adventures on the island. We wound up talking for hours.

He said he enjoyed Ucluelet more than Tofino, that I remained difficult and debilitatingly enabled in my quest to keep my fragile-princess complex and that Ben is a short fuse just waiting to be lit. That I am a good girl for seeing Caleb with my eyes open and still maintaining a functional relationship when it comes to coparenting but I have to work harder to keep physical wants and pratfalls into his mild traps out of the equation. A lot harder.

He still does not understand Lochlan at all and says he would be well to find a little more consistency with me. Then he discounts that analysis with a dismissal about circus people and I frown.

You were but a visitor to that life. Something tells me Lochlan kept you protected from more of it than you realize and perhaps that's taken such a toll on him that he will forever struggle with his parental nature with you. No doubt he loves you more than his next breath, that's for certain.

And I beamed because princess. Because love. Because Ben what? Short fuse? Please tell me things I don't know. Please tell me how to keep him safe from himself for the rest of time.

(Oh and while you're at it, how can I turn off the random, surprise cries that overtake my face without my consent? I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of fighting for happy the way other people breathe without being acutely conscious that they are doing so. 

In other words, you're here. Before you go please fix the fragile princess.)

But he laughed and rubbed the back of my good hand and told me he thinks I'll be okay, still. But then he sat back and asked me if I planned to deal with the things I told him a week ago. I asked why and he said there's probably a very good reason nothing ever changes at the heart of this triangle, that it's going to hold me back because I let it. I reminded him of the stakes and he just shook his head and said he hoped I find true happiness before he dies, that time is short as I well know and that he thinks of me like a daughter.

Are you sick? 

Let's just say I'm an old man and some things are an inevitability. As are our wishes for you to find the happiness you seek. 

I'm working on it. 

Then I will work on sticking around to see it, dear girl. 

*(Don't be alarmed, the title and the lyrics are from Eisley's Many Funerals. The first verse is so beautifully sung. You should hear it.)

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

While I was being silly they were stealing my breakfast.

Duncan is sulking. Duncan LOVES pizza. Possibly more than he loves women and he didn't get any of either yesterday. I try to explain but he's a closed door. A big sulking four-year-old of a door, granted.

It was...private pizza, Poet. 

You could have put on clothes and made it public pizza. Not like you can eat a whole one and I saw two of them go up there. 

Woah. I can't eat pizza naked. Are you serious?

Yeah, that's too dangerous, man. Lochlan is laughing as he leans over and steals a piece of toast. I glare at him.

But you guys are super-skilled. You're probably trained in naked pizza eating in addition to the fire kissing and high wire shit. 

That's transfer of a flame and I rarely do that with her. Besides, Ben ate a whole one to himself. Lochlan justifies so hard he pulls something.

He ate the box too, Dunk. I confirm.

Yup. Loch confirms my confirmation.

Still though. You couldn't give me one piece? Just one public pizza slice for me?

Nope. That was private pepperoni. 

Okay, for the record I was not having an entire conversation revolving around a euphemism. I was talking about actual dinner. 

So was I! The mushrooms were private too. I lick my lips.

And the sausage bits. Tasty. Loch offers with a sly smile. I burst out laughing.

And the cheese, right? Can't forget the cheese. Remind me not to have conversations with you two when you're getting along. Duncan gets up, takes my other piece of toast and leaves the room.

Tuesday, 4 February 2014

I found heaven last night.

It came to me in the form of an electric blanket cranked to HIGH and a pizza.

Pizza in bed.

Like in New York.

I love you Ben.

Monday, 3 February 2014

Everything that's wrong with all three of us in one post.

We are fire
Burning brightly
You and I

We light the sky
When we ignite
When we come alive
When we come alive
Oh please, when I say several of the boys have been over to give Caleb hell, I don't mean he's gotten mild lectures. But I don't know for sure so I minimize it and look the other way. I asked them not to add to the violence and they just laughed with derision. But I know at the end of the day Lochlan has far too much character to do more than throw a few impulsive, wide punches. I don't have to fear for Caleb's life from one of the boys killing him but should I have to fear for my own from him all the time?

Caleb knocked on the door this morning and when I answered it, Lochlan grabbed the back of my shirt, twisting it in his hand, keeping me close. Reminding me that charm is a mask worn by the devil and nothing more. But I don't need to be drawn in, I'm already there.

Caleb had flowers for me. White roses. My favorites. He looked at Lochlan and then back at me, choosing his words carefully as he spoke. He's mirroring me, owning his actions the way I'm trying to own mine. He tells me that in an effort to regain control he would like it if I bring a chaperone when I come over or he will come here, that he is trying. That it's hard. I'm a drug. He knows how Ben feels sometimes. How they all feel. He asks if I'm okay.

Of course I am. A bite is not a death or betrayal, physical pain is a fucking joke. 

I'll try to remember that next headache, Caleb laughs shakily.  I'm sorry, Bridget. I lost control and I'm sorry. And Loch. I'm sorry for hurting her. 

We don't want apologies, we want changes. No more of this or I will fucking kill you. Stop plying her with booze while you're at it, she's a fucking minor! 

I turn and look at Lochlan, my eyes very wide. I joke about being treated like I'm twelve but that comment right there was active denial.


You know what I mean! He brushes us both off and storms out. I turn back to Caleb.

You need to leave. Thanks for the flowers. I will stuff them in the holes you made in my skin and be beautifully embellished. 

Jesus, Bridget. I-

I know. The visual, hey? It's horrifying. 

Sunday, 2 February 2014

I want to say Caleb is scared and taking his fear out on me but I'm not quite there yet. Instead I'm trying to own the night that I provoked. I don't listen to the rules that would keep me safe, I don't stop when I should. I don't pay attention until the fear rolls in and flicks my cheek, waking me up, wide and cold and hurting. 

The new cast is on for a couple of weeks more. The old one was very loose. No damage was done. I think he forgot. I'm pretty sure everyone has been over to give him hell but I think he has enough of it already, don't you? 


I really need to take and keep the blame for this. I do it to myself. I just have to figure out why I can't help it. I need to keep Lochlan and Ben from failing to understand who the real villain is here and I need to keep Batman's nosy face out of it. 

So, yes, it's Groundhog day. I didn't see my shadow though. I think that means there's hope.

Saturday, 1 February 2014

Human pacemaker.

He took a moment and sent a message on his phone and then he walked me to the door and down to the bottom of the steps. I am shoved back across the driveway gently, drunk and ruined, Sazerac running through my veins. It stings.


Caleb bought an Audi R8. Not the crazy one with the wing that's an inch off the ground but a lovely glossy black sedan that goes like fuck and looks so beautiful I wanted to drive it and he said I could but I can't yet. Maybe soon. He took me on a long drive and asked a little about our attempts to wrangle the money and I deferred mostly because I just wanted to look at trees and we drove and drove and drove and stopped twice for food and then finally he brought us home.

This is the last car, he tells me and I smile because he's a Pisces, he can't settle on one thing and he smiled back and said he could, that he wanted to find the right one and he did so he bought it outright. He asked if I would do him the favor of capping off a good day with a drink and then somewhere into the second one I realized he wasn't actually drinking and so for my third I finished his first and then I am up against the door and he's pulled my arms up, pulling my cast right off.

I don't say anything until he bites through my skin and I give him the wrong reaction and he is surprised and punishes me for that too but it's fine, I'm numb. I can't feel anything at all except memories and they don't hurt, they're safe. He asks for a response and I give him a safe word and laugh because I know it isn't safe. He pulls my face up so that I pay attention and asks me to wake up and I try but this isn't like the last time and I don't like him when he's a demon and I like it even less when he puts things in my drink that make it so hard to count to six, which is the number of times he bites.


When I go inside the house, it's so quiet. Lochlan is sitting at the island looking like hell and he rushes over when I walk into the kitchen. I don't stumble in his arms but he's warm. It makes me feel so sick suddenly as we go upstairs. I refuse his order to have a shower and crash in the center of the bed. He pulls me underneath him and makes me cry with shame even as he absolves me of it. We find the same place together in our minds and engage in tearful angry love and we don't speak, we just pull and push and fight until sunrise.

Oh my God, your arm.

 Only then am I granted a fresh start on my life once more. The bites are covered with warm clothes and the shock is covered with sleep. The unspoken agreement to say nothing to each other remains but I'll write about it and then someone will pay Cale a visit and he'll back off for another few months. I keep waiting for someone to call me on the fact that I provoke him, that I tease him and draw him out and ask for it but to them I will always be too young, too small and too innocent to be a worthy adversary. Amazing. I want to ask how it's different? What makes it different? But Lochlan's voice was breaking and his eyes were glassy as he counted marks and asked me so helplessly why I keep doing this but I don't know.


This morning Loch gave me back my phone that he borrowed when he worked yesterday because his was stuck in a sync and he didn't have time to wait. When it was done I put it upstairs on the dresser in our room and he grabbed both this morning. He pulled his out too, to read his messages as we waited for the new cast to be put on. They started with There's nothing so wonderful as a beautiful little borderline/sex addict in my living room. I think I'll fuck her up. and ended simply with the one Caleb deployed just before he sent me home.