There, but for the grace of God (go I).

Be my reminder here that I am not alone in this body
This body holding me, feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion

Maybe by his own recognizance, maybe at Sam's urging, Batman wants a barometer and I'm having none of it. Where was he a week ago? Where was he when I've been hiding in the garage or the library watching my mind squeeze through the cracks in the floorboards and soak into the bedrock?

I've destroyed Caleb's work, I've failed at being trustworthy and oh, yeah, I found my Lateralus CD under the seat in Daniel's car. Because I had to move the seat up all the way to reach the pedals and I saw it when I was getting back in. So I still haven't grown any and that's just the last straw, I tell you. 

Batman puts his hands in his pockets and laughs nervously because when I get going he doesn't know what to say and I know he liked me quiet and easy to lead. He isn't used to strong personalities, he's very unassuming, able to step back and blend into his environment and that's made for an easy time for him here. Sometimes I wish he'd go home. He wants to be my conscience but that position has already been filled by Sam, who reminds me daily that I need to think before I say things and not do so much damage when I spread my moods over the collective like thick warm butter, suffocating every living thing for miles.

If you want to come in and save the day I think you need to start sooner, otherwise maybe you could be my friend? My nosy neighbor? Part of my storied past?

Indeed. I don't want to get involved without being invited but I think sometimes you have resources that you forget about, that would make your life easier. 

I snort. (Easier? Naw, I'm going to do this the hard way, gunning her straight through.)

So I'm here as a reminder, that's all. 

I'll keep it in mind. 

Better yet. Let me deal with him. 

I can deal with him. 

Yes, I see that and I see how poorly you come out as a result. 

I'm fine. 

He shakes his head and stares at me. You're never actually going to let me in, are you?

It's my turn to look away and shake my head. I've got a lot going on. 

Nothing's changed, then. 

Nope. 

Then can I extract a promise that if you need anything, be it money, muscle or just a hug, that you'll come to me? If I can do anything. I feel helpless here, Bridget. 

Don't. You live in a beautiful spot. The view's not bad either. There's New-Jake, shirtless in the driveway cleaning the bike and I gesture at him. Batman smiles.

It's a waste is what that is. 

Maybe he'll be only unscathed one here. But then Jake sees me and hurries over.

I doubt it. 

Me too. 

Thanks for the vote of confidence. 

If I had any confidence in you being able to weather these years relying solely on your own stubbornness, I wouldn't be here right now. You're tough, Bridget but you're no match for this. 

Sure I am. I'm here, aren't I? 

Only because they won't let you go.

I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Right here. Right now. You worry too much.
 

That time Monday turned from black to green.

(So many things have been altered to bring this to the page, forgive me if it seems simplistic or glaring, it was the only way I would be permitted to write about it. Also dealing with big important expensive things makes me cry. Like everything does.)

Caleb's independent board is all but dismantled, thanks to a huge undertaking on my part to offend, disturb and anger each one of them, independently.

They didn't like the fact that I am using de facto household budget logic here, that I pointed out they sign their name on things quarterly, making decisions at random but mostly following the herd and for that they are collecting big fat paychecks.

I slipped in four different caveats and finally Caleb caught the last one, having missed the previous three. It said, "And if Bridget wants to buy all the golden sheep in the land in order to spin their fleece into chains which will hang from the necks of any musicians she encounters on her trips to the New York studio, she will have carte blanche to do so."

They ALL initialled that and Caleb yelled WHAT THE FUCK? so loudly in the boathouse that I heard him from my kitchen, over the sound of the time machine, sans hearing aids, no less.

I texted him immediately. I KNOW RIGHT?

So he called a meeting.

I'm pretty sure you could hear him tearing strips off people. Confirming what I had been telling him all along. All five who initialed the release? Relieved of their positions. Two remaining who did not see these forms but seemed to be so easily charmed? Reassigned back to the legal team where they belong. This isn't a company, this is a family and if he ever listened to me he would keep his fucking money in the bank where it belongs, instead of paying people so he could talk about his board and his capital and his ventures and his seeds. I'm so fucking done with this shit. I've never SEEN so many people waste so much time on so little work.

After things calmed down, after the room was cleared, Caleb turned to me, hands on the table.

Tell me what you're thinking, he demanded.

I'm wondering how in the hell you've done so well for yourself without ever paying attention to what's going on around you. I'm wondering how much you threw away. 

He burst out laughing. You should be counting how much I'm going to save now that the board will be dissolved. 

Depends. Is it a finder's fee? And the board was supposed to be dissolved last winter, you lazy fuck.

I'll ignore the namecalling because your addendums were hilarious. And you're possibly the best money manager I've ever utilized.

Do you use them all?

Only the really pretty one. His eyes flashed and he came over to where I stood, at the other end of the table. He put his head down against mine, pressing his cheek against my temple.

I'm sorry, Bridget. I'm sorry for trying to hurt you, I'm sorry for not softening things. I'm sorry for not being my brother's keeper. You've been instrumental in directing this project and I need to pay better attention. I need to listen to you. I need you to help me.

Three things, Diabhal. Firstly this project is my family and secondly, I already decided I'm not going to believe you. Cole was a lot of things to me but I know damn well he loved me and you can't take that from me. Thirdly, stick the money in the bank and leave it there. Stop trying to stretch everything. Stop risking, stop wasting.

I wouldn't dream of it. Forgive me. His lips are against my forehead.

I want to go. Let's pack up. I step back and his eyes swim back into focus.

Breakfast? (He is desperate to spend more time.)

Only if it's in paper. (McDonalds. Five minutes to order, ten minutes to eat.)

Yes, fine.

He walks back down to the other end of the table to collect his things. I pick up my bag, stuff my phone and my doodle-covered papers into it and walk out. I take the elevator down alone and stand on the sidewalk, breathing the hot stale air of the city, realizing I really surprised myself in not being intimidated by people who are supposed to be so much smarter than I. Relief makes me burst into tears.

Skateboard Jesus slowly rolls past me and he says, What have you learned this morning? 

So many things I can't list them all. 

Good for you. You make Jesus proud.

No, I made Bridget proud. 

Same thing, he says and he picks up speed, disappearing into the crowd.

Enabled, disabled, humbled and done.

Lochlan has abandoned both his man-bun and his razor and says he's going to become wild like the bears. He growled and chased me up the front steps and then told me to go dress for a bike ride. The sunbeam was parked on the front walk. This is a test run at a slow speed through the neighborhood. Yeah right. Half the time we wind up in Maple Ridge (and get to visit his mom, who makes us slushies and tacos) or Whistler (where we can buy tacos for mere hundreds of dollars) so I knew to bring all my stuff in my backpack and wear all the gear, not just the drive down to the Ferry Terminal gear (where you can get chowder! For hundreds of dollars. Damn. I used to buy hot chowder from a guy with a thermos near the public wharf. He charged a dollar a cup.)

And I am right. Seven hours later, two tanks of gas and we are back, with only eight near-misses and two missed exits thanks to Sunday construction and a decidedly distracted Juggler, who's now working on his unicycle skills, entertaining Ruth and her friends and Aurora too.

Because PJ yelled at him when we got home and then Ben did too but not too harshly, just hey, if I can't travel overseas alone with her, then fuck off with your amazingly poor motorcycle skills, okay?

Except that I'm sure Loch's skills are fine, he's just ridden enough in his life that the law of averages kicks in and his odds of drama increase due to miles logged.

Or something like that.

(IRONIC)

We didn't get any tacos today or any slushies. Just lemonade from the 7-11 and then a melted granola bar from his pocket that we shared before finding a little hole in the wall diner in Burnaby somewhere that I forgot the name of that had really great french fries just like the ones in Shediac.

Or maybe it was Halifax. Summerside? Martha's Vineyard. Brigantine? I can't remember anymore. I think the helmet is making my neck shrink, compressing my brain onto my shoulders. Just what I need.

(He just said the fries were just like the ones at that truck at Casino Pier. Yes. That's it.)

Maybe a month, maybe two.

Three hours of Skyping with Nolan this morning and ninety-five minutes of the vet's time and I am now broke and we are hospicing a beautiful older-than-I-thought horse, but not for long.

(I had just decided I would be the headless horsewoman for Hallowe'en, too. Flaming pumpkin and all.)

There are worse places to be if you're in your final days. Caleb remarked that I should have stayed out of it instead of being all upset over the mud or the number for a name and let the professionals do their work. I've had it now. I threw a clean plate at his head. He swore back and I lunged, caught by the braid from a very on-point Sam, who apologized profusely for managing to pick me up off the ground by my hair and also for inserting himself in what probably would have been an amazingly fair fight for once, seeing as Caleb doesn't want to engage in physical altercations and seeing how strong I've become living outside in the sunshine in a surprisingly nostalgic summer thus far.

Ben won't even go see Aurora. He doesn't want to get attached. Same with the kids, though I think that's more PJ's doing so they don't fall in love with her too.  Loch gets attached to everything and will bear the weight. I'm going to be crushed like a bug, sending a horse up to heaven so Jacob will have one to ride since it's been a while.

It's fine if she has an ocean view and a warm salt breeze on her face when she goes. I certainly won't be asking for more than that when it's my turn. 

In the meantime we all get extra snuggles and carrots too.

I want to cry but it upsets her. It upsets everyone but sometimes it's a tap I can't turn off. I asked Sam why I gravitate toward all things that aren't long for this world and he said maybe it's not me finding them, maybe it's them finding me.

Love at first light.

Caleb stood in the front drive this morning, watching. Hands in his pockets like always, face set impassively, expressionless as he remarked on the fact that this isn't what he pictured when he decided to build the stables, figuring we would find a couple of young, well-behaved horses for the children to ride and keep me happy.

I pointed out that she keeps me happy.

She has only been here for a few hours yet. You can still change your mind, Princess. 

No, I'm good, thanks. (I'm still technically not speaking to the Devil).

She was grunty and gentle this morning when I went out to feed her and give her a bath.
She stood well for me, though John was two steps away and she was well secured and had distractions. I never ever want to be kicked by a horse so we went very slowly but she was great save for when I tried to scrub her hocks. I didn't push and she settled again.

Then Lochlan came in and she nudged right past me, crushing me against the wall as she turned. She stuck her muzzle right in his hair and rubbed the top of his head very hard, snorting really loud. I asked him to go outside and I would lead her out to see if it was a fluke. Nope. The moment she came outside she saw him and bent her head and did it again. Harder still.

I went and got a banana for her and when I tried to give it to her she stuck her muzzle against my chest and pushed against me, snorting as if she were laughing. I almost fell over. I think she's starved for companionship and I don't think I'll be changing my mind about her anytime soon. Not if she keeps doing this. I can't wait to see how she reacts to the rest of the boys.

The tiny collector of quickly-beating hearts.

This is Aurora. She's eighteen or nineteen. Her teeth are shit. Her back is shit. Her attitude? Also shit. Her old name was a five-digit number so I chose a new one. I hope she likes it. She lived in eight inches of mud in the blistering sun.They were going to put her down. I know she's going to break my heart but I brought her home anyway.

She's going to be therapy for a bit. She's going to be loved.

My apologies but I'm not sorry.

Ben cheered me up this morning, waking me with his bagpipes as he stood on the platform where we set up the new telescope. It's like a mini-stage so he has a perfect vantage point from the highest point of the cliff, directly on the line where the old crumbling rock wall divides the two main properties. It's far enough back from the edge that I don't worry if the kids play on it when the telescope isn't outside and it's more than perfect for Ben's piper moments.

So there he is in his boots and kilt and nothing else, playing laments and war songs and dance songs and some original work too. I finally took my coffee outside when I realized he wasn't going to stop any time soon and I stood at the beginning of the wall on the grass, still in my pajamas, holding my cup up to my face with both hands. Smiling even. Boats were coming nearer to the bottom of the point, a few speedboats, a sailboat. Some windsurfers. Then some locals in their zodiacs. Then two more larger sailboats, their decks packed with people enjoying a perfect day. Ben got to the end of Scotland the Brave, turning a slow circle on the final notes and when he saw me he yelled out JESUS, FINALLY! and put his pipes on the platform.

He ripped off his kilt and mooned the waterside crowd. Then he left the kilt, picked up his pipes, and went back inside, pulling me by the hand.

Smiling's just a phase.

Look at us now-
Are you happy with the way that things
Are going around here?
Are you happy now?
Opened my skin, made a claim of revolution
Then you let yourself back in

I want to tell you about new music out but I'm afraid there's just too many surprise haymakers, chokeholds, corners and long quiet conversations going on here to just blissfully immerse myself into molten melodies. Too many words to sort through. Too many accusations flying as the Devil makes a blatant grab for a brass ring that's already been claimed.

I liked him better when he was subtle and mean. I liked him better when he existed within the confines of my nightmares, within the bonds of our arrangement and not like this. Don't vilify Cole any worse. Don't make this any harder. I don't write about Cole but that doesn't mean I don't think about him so much. Sometimes I wish he would help me with things, take care of things, look after things. So many middle of the night calls when I would be leaving work and our shitty car wouldn't start and he would get a drive over from one of the others, screwdriver in his pocket and he would tell them we'd be fine, that they could leave and I would always ask him why, what if he can't get the car started and he would smile and say I shouldn't worry about it and he never failed to get it working. Never even once. And he never let me accept a ride home from one of them so that I would be home safe because he always said if he was there, I was safe. He lied too but that's okay because I didn't know any better, because I existed in a weird space where I thought when he said I love you that it meant something and I'm actually sure that it did and I'm sure now that his big brother is forging ahead with yet another phase of this plan to destroy whatever he can't have. I'm sure that the total eclipse of the sun that was Jacob simply slowed down something that maybe should have played out already and now his frustration is showing, he's running out of time. Deprivation didn't work, neither did satiation. What's left? I don't know. There will be no white flags here. I'm not giving in. I was so close to happy I could taste it, breathe it in. Things were getting better.

Amazing how easy it is to control a fortune and how hard it is to control one single little human.

Just amazing.

After I weakened your relationship with Loch I paid Cole to put himself in the line of fire, so that you would be close. I continued to pay him right up through when you left him. That was such a surprise. I didn't actually expect that. You were so loyal to him for so long. I actually thought it fairly uncharacteristic when I discovered you weren't loyal to either one of us.

He didn't love you. He was a placeholder for me. While I went and made something of myself so that you would eventually have security, stability. Money. Basically all of the things I knew Loch would never be able to give you. I couldn't be in two places at once and I knew it would take time for you to forgive me for the sins of my past so Cole was the perfect solution. But don't think for a moment that he loved you. He didn't care one way or another. But he found the whole thing more difficult than he anticipated and I think the pressure drove him to treat you poorly. 

(I want to note 'poorly' doesn't cut it when you're having your head slammed into the floorboards while he violates parts of you that are so off limits they're still technically criminal but I'm still stuck on the 'he didn't love you' part.)

I was busy becoming better than Loch so I could one day come back and take over. So that I would shift back to being the good brother. The way our relationship started was necessary and I am sorry for terrorizing you but I had to do something drastic. You and Lochlan were so determined to be together. I couldn't let that happen. 

But it did, Cale.

But it did, Princess.

He had a voice that was strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade 'cause I'm so
Eager to identify with
Someone above the ground
Someone who seemed to feel the same
Someone prepared to lead the way and
Someone who would die for me

I slid down his knees until we were nose to nose and he frowned and said he would miss our close talks once I hate him again. He put his drink down and put one arm around me. With the other he ran the back of his hand across my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ears, telling me I am beautiful, telling me he never meant to cause so much damage inside my head.

He wants to talk.

I delayed as long as I could, lying on the quilt, watching him watch my eyes for approval as he moved against me. So strong. So full of regret. So evil. So sweet. He kept my hands anchored tight in his fist, held against his chest and with the other hand he held his weight as he drove into me. It wasn't his usual style. His usual style is rough and surprisingly painful. He usually doesn't listen. He usually doesn't seem to notice there's a rest of me. He's usually a monster, disguised in a three-piece suit and when my toes curl up my brain shuts down. But it's awake now. It's curious and unrelenting as I wait for him to begin.

Ask me questions, Neamhchiontach, and I'll try to fill in the blanks and put your mind at ease.

Are you really going to spend the rest of your life obsessing over me? I lick my lips and steal his ignored drink. We're sober otherwise, straight and false.

His medium-blue gaze burns a hole right through. Yes. I've got the most important aspects of you well in hand.

Which are?

Your soul. Your youngest child. Your welfare. Your boys. Your heart.

I finish his drink, watching him pour another with one hand. The tears begin to roll down my cheeks. Or maybe it's bourbon. I have a stuffed up nose and I drank it too fast. Yes, it's probably just bourbon pooling in my eyes. No wonder they sting, like my skin again, tonight from razorburn and not from the sun.

Speaking of Henry-

He's mine, Bridget. I would not play games with the heart of a child. Every minute of every day I am grateful for him. And for you. 

He frowns at me as the bourbon leaks out more quickly now, flooding the moment until it floats up and turns over, bloated and logged. He mistakes my relief for disappointment as I try to picture what life would have been like trying to stretch Henry's strong little heart over someone new. Henry could do it but I don't think I can.

He wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling me in, kissing me briefly, snot, tears and all. Caleb hates germs so this is either an inability to let an opportunity pass or Henry really has changed him. Maybe in the same way so much has changed me.

Then what else is there? I ask him as his teeth linger against my lower lip. I put my hands up to hold his face as his eyes meet mine. He pulls back and stares at me, weighing his words. He drops them on me in spite of the fact that I can't lift them off and I bravely face being crushed.

Cole never loved you.

Oh, see, now that's where you're wrong. I was with him every day of his life right through his last breath so I think I would know a little more than you-

Bridget, I paid him to hold my place.

I try to fight to get off him but he won't let me. I stop struggling and just sit there, head down, defeated. I can't meet his eyes. This is humiliating and unbelievable. This is bullshit.

He did. He loved me, Diabhal. But Caleb isn't smiling. He says nothing. The bourbon pours all over the floor. I swallow hard and nod. You're right. I hate you.

He pulls my fists up and puts them against his eyes.

(It's not a lie. It's not a trick. Jesus Christ I don't think I'll survive this one but I am and I need to go now before I explode into a million little pieces because I loved your brother and I tried so hard and this one would have been something you really should have never told me because I would have been better off hearing anything else at all. Anything but that.)