I'm not very good to myself.
I ration things for myself like coffee, warm baths, painkillers, alcohol, sleep, sweet dreams and breaks like a drill sergeant and then I wait until I'm hanging by a thread, til the nightmares catch up with me, til I'm not sleeping through the night more often than I am, until my nerves are riddled with holes, until I realize I walk around holding my breath and the headaches have reached critical mass and then I implode slowly, from the inside out, a distant scream sounding faintly in my ears that just grows louder and louder until I can't hear anyone anymore, can't do anything right and can't pull myself up over the edge of the hole I fell into because I'll suddenly weigh tons instead of ounces and it's too much for me to deal with by myself.
I wish sometimes that the screaming would just start on the outside and drive them crazy instead of me. They would hear it long before I do, before I even know what's happening.
That would be so nice.
But my brain doesn't work like that. Sometimes I think it doesn't work at all. Sometimes I think it was a practice brain with a wiring diagram posted beside it but no one checked to see that it was done right and hoo, boy, will they be surprised someday, when it's cracked open like a coconut and they will peer into its depths and nod somberly.
Yes, this explains everything.
I donated my body to science after I die but at this rate I'm going to give it to them early, just rip off my skull and hand it to them and say here, it's a present. Just tell me I was right. Tell me you'll never let a practice brain go off the assembly line without being inspected ever again, because it really wasn't fair to me or to the people I love.
But they're not real so they'll just stand there unfeeling, still nodding robotically like mass-produced bobble-heads. Like me. The test subject. The practice girl. The not-quite-ready-for-the-real-world girl after all.
With no off switch, no filters, hearing messed up completely and the weird uncanny ability to conjure up imaginary holes that she then falls into for real, breaking all her limbs and all of her resolve too.
Why would you fight over that?
Wednesday 10 December 2014
Monday 8 December 2014
Hooks and loops.
I didn't realize how much I was missed until Caleb came home last night and then proceeded to show up bright and early for breakfast today and after helping to clean up he has proceeded to follow me around for half the day.
My reaction to this? Horrifically, brutally flattered.
I'm that awesome? DAMN RIGHT I AM.
Ben actually told him to skedaddle at one point. I wonder if anyone even uses that word anymore. Oh wait, BEN does. Ben was as impressed as Lochlan was with Caleb's attempts to 'catch up' and 'get ahead of all the news here at home' and various sundry bits of information about how much Henry grew in the few weeks Caleb was away and what the kids got for marks and how Duncan is doing with being home from camp.
(They call it 'camp'. Ben does. Caleb does. Pretty much everyone does as if you can drink your face off, go on a nice cushy woodsy vacation and then come home and be coddled forever. It makes me want to cry. You should have seen the dirty looks when I corrected them by saying re-hab-il-it-ta-tion really slowly like a little asshole.)
Duncan is doing great. As long as *I* don't talk to him he does great. If I talk to him he gets all shaky and weird and 911s someone else to take him to a meeting.
Because camp. Maybe he should have stayed longer. Unless this is going to be one of those things where we spend the money three times over before it takes. I think they throw a wrench in the works just before they send everyone home the first few times just to keep the money train rolling.
But like I said, I'm a little asshole.
Especially when I'm trying to catch the Devil up on news about his son and everyone keeps redirecting me, or telling him to leave. Let me get this done and then I'll send him home. All it did is drag it out for the whole morning and then finally I ran out of news and told Caleb that any further information could be had from Joel who did his due diligence in Caleb's absence and probably has a host of interesting 'notes' about me.
But Caleb looked so sad when I said it and there, I should just wear a sign that says 'Little Asshole. Enquire within'.
I'll make it when he leaves, which at this rate will be never. I missed him a lot too but YEESH. He's doing that thing where he's super-perfect and he's smiling and that's how we know he's up to something. Couldn't even make it a whole day before that happened.
My reaction to this? Horrifically, brutally flattered.
I'm that awesome? DAMN RIGHT I AM.
Ben actually told him to skedaddle at one point. I wonder if anyone even uses that word anymore. Oh wait, BEN does. Ben was as impressed as Lochlan was with Caleb's attempts to 'catch up' and 'get ahead of all the news here at home' and various sundry bits of information about how much Henry grew in the few weeks Caleb was away and what the kids got for marks and how Duncan is doing with being home from camp.
(They call it 'camp'. Ben does. Caleb does. Pretty much everyone does as if you can drink your face off, go on a nice cushy woodsy vacation and then come home and be coddled forever. It makes me want to cry. You should have seen the dirty looks when I corrected them by saying re-hab-il-it-ta-tion really slowly like a little asshole.)
Duncan is doing great. As long as *I* don't talk to him he does great. If I talk to him he gets all shaky and weird and 911s someone else to take him to a meeting.
Because camp. Maybe he should have stayed longer. Unless this is going to be one of those things where we spend the money three times over before it takes. I think they throw a wrench in the works just before they send everyone home the first few times just to keep the money train rolling.
But like I said, I'm a little asshole.
Especially when I'm trying to catch the Devil up on news about his son and everyone keeps redirecting me, or telling him to leave. Let me get this done and then I'll send him home. All it did is drag it out for the whole morning and then finally I ran out of news and told Caleb that any further information could be had from Joel who did his due diligence in Caleb's absence and probably has a host of interesting 'notes' about me.
But Caleb looked so sad when I said it and there, I should just wear a sign that says 'Little Asshole. Enquire within'.
I'll make it when he leaves, which at this rate will be never. I missed him a lot too but YEESH. He's doing that thing where he's super-perfect and he's smiling and that's how we know he's up to something. Couldn't even make it a whole day before that happened.
Sunday 7 December 2014
The Devil is in the details.
Ben calls it Loched.
The way I wake up barricaded in Lochlan's arms. Stuck against him. Overheated. Completely limber, fluid. Hot. He doesn't let go, not anymore and I sleep wrapped up in his arms with his hand cradling the back of my head, my cheek against his collarbone, my eyes heavy and seeing in dreams.
My toes stick out the bottom of the quilt in the middle, though. I wouldn't be able to do it otherwise. I would self-immolate. I would perish.
In spite of Ben's cutesy term for it, I still don't think he appreciates it at all even as he says he doesn't mind, because he can't sleep any way but flat on his back like a vampire. I don't think that's exactly true because I remember things differently and he often revises small bits of history just to keep the peace.
And it was peaceful but now the Devil is on his way home, having been picked up at the airport by Joel, eager to report, no doubt, trying and failing to straddle the line between trusted and turncoat.
This exasperates me and at the same time I had a great weekend and am looking forward to seeing Caleb because it's been several weeks and I've had more than a few moments where I felt very cold and open, sick to my stomach thanks to his absence only because I can't stand to have anyone missing.
He will take it personally.
I'll let him.
He is on his way (any minute now) and I'm beating double-time from the inside out, fairly thrumming with anticipation. He says he bought all our Christmas gifts overseas and that he can't wait to give them to us. He says he can read and that we didn't have to have his house cleaned and stocked in his absence, that he's decided to extend his time off until the beginning of the new year because enough is enough and his exhaustion was barely touched by a week of rest. That maybe he will let go of some things.
I wonder if he means me.
The boys here are not as anxious to see him, stuck between loyalty to the one who pays the lions' share of this life altogether (me) and the need for autonomy within. Torn by their strong desire to protect me while at the same time respecting history and my own desires to flout the past and find a future in this, somehow.
Maybe.
We shall see.
I have a proposal of my own to present. And while absolutely no one is going to like it, I think it's perfect.
The way I wake up barricaded in Lochlan's arms. Stuck against him. Overheated. Completely limber, fluid. Hot. He doesn't let go, not anymore and I sleep wrapped up in his arms with his hand cradling the back of my head, my cheek against his collarbone, my eyes heavy and seeing in dreams.
My toes stick out the bottom of the quilt in the middle, though. I wouldn't be able to do it otherwise. I would self-immolate. I would perish.
In spite of Ben's cutesy term for it, I still don't think he appreciates it at all even as he says he doesn't mind, because he can't sleep any way but flat on his back like a vampire. I don't think that's exactly true because I remember things differently and he often revises small bits of history just to keep the peace.
And it was peaceful but now the Devil is on his way home, having been picked up at the airport by Joel, eager to report, no doubt, trying and failing to straddle the line between trusted and turncoat.
This exasperates me and at the same time I had a great weekend and am looking forward to seeing Caleb because it's been several weeks and I've had more than a few moments where I felt very cold and open, sick to my stomach thanks to his absence only because I can't stand to have anyone missing.
He will take it personally.
I'll let him.
He is on his way (any minute now) and I'm beating double-time from the inside out, fairly thrumming with anticipation. He says he bought all our Christmas gifts overseas and that he can't wait to give them to us. He says he can read and that we didn't have to have his house cleaned and stocked in his absence, that he's decided to extend his time off until the beginning of the new year because enough is enough and his exhaustion was barely touched by a week of rest. That maybe he will let go of some things.
I wonder if he means me.
The boys here are not as anxious to see him, stuck between loyalty to the one who pays the lions' share of this life altogether (me) and the need for autonomy within. Torn by their strong desire to protect me while at the same time respecting history and my own desires to flout the past and find a future in this, somehow.
Maybe.
We shall see.
I have a proposal of my own to present. And while absolutely no one is going to like it, I think it's perfect.
Saturday 6 December 2014
Friday 5 December 2014
Naughty or...yeah, you know how this goes.
Shhhh.
While the team of people are cleaning all three houses (because Merry Christmas, guys) I had New Jake help me cart all of the boys and kids presents into the library (cleaned first) and I'm wrapping and labeling today, up to my neck in ribbon, having gone through four rolls of tape already.
The doors are locked, the music is loud (I'm playing Pallbearer's version of Gloomy Sunday on a loop) and I still have half a thermos full of coffee. Yay!
While the team of people are cleaning all three houses (because Merry Christmas, guys) I had New Jake help me cart all of the boys and kids presents into the library (cleaned first) and I'm wrapping and labeling today, up to my neck in ribbon, having gone through four rolls of tape already.
The doors are locked, the music is loud (I'm playing Pallbearer's version of Gloomy Sunday on a loop) and I still have half a thermos full of coffee. Yay!
Thursday 4 December 2014
He's a hunter.
I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something today. My lipstick is called 'Underage Red'. My nailpolish? 'Black Out".
***
Christian was over bright and early to scope out the kitchen before going to work. I'm not sure how his, Daniel's and John's first turn to cook involved wrecking MY kitchen when they have a larger one next door, technically speaking. Ours is more of a great room with a whole open seating thing plus a den with a fireplace so you can actually hang out there all day and be perfectly content. I have normal sized appliances. There is never enough fridge or oven space and we'll fix that in the future but not until something breaks because I'm not one of those people who just magically decides they hate what they have and replaces it all.
It has to be necessary.
But next door they have a butler's pantry and a separate station for baking and a cold storage section in the cupboards and a giant double fridge and a gas stove. Marble-topped everything. It's a cooks dream.
I never go in there.
Christian tells me dinner is pork tenderloin, grilled. Rice and maybe turnip. Fresh tomato slices and cake for dessert.
I did stick around for the meal last night and it didn't disappoint. I wasn't sure Keith had any kitchen skills past opening beers. I filed that away for future reference because when I ask for help usually he is magically busy or 'not so good with that stuff' as he told me point blank once.
The big LIAR. It was perfect.
I actually think they're easily intimidated by two things. Firstly, the sheer number of people sitting down to a meal here. In two shifts no less so not only do you cook for a dozen or two but you have to figure out how to keep enough and make sure it's still hot for round two without drying out.
Secondly, Caleb and Ben over the years have taken me to some pretty exciting places where I have proven myself to be both adventurous and discerning when it comes to dinner so there are standards to keep.
?
This is at odds with my incredible love of breakfast sandwiches and deep-fried anything and Kraft Dinner, I know.
I can have both, can't I?
And PJ wasn't watching porn when I went down to see how he was enjoying his break.
He was watching Pitch Perfect. Which just about made my day. That's where the title of my post came from. Worth it just for that one line.
***
Christian was over bright and early to scope out the kitchen before going to work. I'm not sure how his, Daniel's and John's first turn to cook involved wrecking MY kitchen when they have a larger one next door, technically speaking. Ours is more of a great room with a whole open seating thing plus a den with a fireplace so you can actually hang out there all day and be perfectly content. I have normal sized appliances. There is never enough fridge or oven space and we'll fix that in the future but not until something breaks because I'm not one of those people who just magically decides they hate what they have and replaces it all.
It has to be necessary.
But next door they have a butler's pantry and a separate station for baking and a cold storage section in the cupboards and a giant double fridge and a gas stove. Marble-topped everything. It's a cooks dream.
I never go in there.
Christian tells me dinner is pork tenderloin, grilled. Rice and maybe turnip. Fresh tomato slices and cake for dessert.
I did stick around for the meal last night and it didn't disappoint. I wasn't sure Keith had any kitchen skills past opening beers. I filed that away for future reference because when I ask for help usually he is magically busy or 'not so good with that stuff' as he told me point blank once.
The big LIAR. It was perfect.
I actually think they're easily intimidated by two things. Firstly, the sheer number of people sitting down to a meal here. In two shifts no less so not only do you cook for a dozen or two but you have to figure out how to keep enough and make sure it's still hot for round two without drying out.
Secondly, Caleb and Ben over the years have taken me to some pretty exciting places where I have proven myself to be both adventurous and discerning when it comes to dinner so there are standards to keep.
?
This is at odds with my incredible love of breakfast sandwiches and deep-fried anything and Kraft Dinner, I know.
I can have both, can't I?
And PJ wasn't watching porn when I went down to see how he was enjoying his break.
He was watching Pitch Perfect. Which just about made my day. That's where the title of my post came from. Worth it just for that one line.
Wednesday 3 December 2014
Rises and sets. Rises and sets.
Here I amA final set of x-rays this morning and Lochlan has gotten his all-clear. No permanent damage that we know of. No lasting effects from inhaling fuel at Ruth's birthday party during his fire-breathing show and most important of all, no well-meaning lectures about considering putting his torches away for good. It won't happen. This man is made of flames.
Playing with those memories again
The relief? Palpable. Tangible. Heavy. I was crushed underneath it just walking out of the hospital and then was pulled out by my hand just as my last breath began to leak my life away.
Told you I was fine, he says. There's no room for gratitude here, he has already moved on. I run to catch up.
There's no harm in feeling grateful that you weren't hurt worse.
What purpose does it serve? I'll take responsibility for what I do to myself.
I trip on his words and fall behind but I don't think he's even noticed. He's done with this. Done with doctors and hospitals and machines and instead of thanking his lucky stars that he's in a time and place where he can get help if he needs it he just laments the wasting of the time that he could have used in a better way. When he drops me off in the driveway at home before heading in to Schuyler's office he tells me I worry too fucking much and he doesn't know where I get that from. I turn around ready to tell him exactly where it came from but then he drives off before I even get an I love you or a See you soon out of my mouth, if I would have picked something nice to say instead.
When I go inside Keith and Gage are...making dinner.
And not just any dinner. They are making coleslaw from scratch, eggplant parmesan and actual bread. It's rising on the windowsill with my favorite Irish linen tea towel over it. Duncan is slicing cabbage at the sideboard and Dalton is filling ice cube trays. I am speechless. Gage smiles and elbows Duncan who starts talking as if he is a little kid reading from a cue card, words all mashed together and robot-like. It's adorable.
We decided as a group that since you do so much for us and work so hard that we're going to take turns cooking dinner each night in order to give you the break that you deserve. We love you, Bridget.
Ben appears from the side door. He has some jars of spices stolen from Caleb's house. He doesn't know where I keep mine. I'll need to fix that.
Where is PJ?
We sent him to a spa.
No, seriously. What have you done with him?
I don't know, Bridge! He's probably downstairs watching porn.
Why would you think that?
Wouldn't you be doing that if you didn't have to cook dinner right now?
Yes. That's exactly what I'd be doing. Watching porn.
Ben shoos me out of the kitchen. Then get at it. We have work to do.
I look at the single casserole dish that Keith is layering food into and ask How many for dinner?
Huh? He asks.
What's the headcount for tonight?
Twelve. Give or take John and Loch if they make it home in time.
You're going to need two more of those pans then.
Seriously?
Dude. This is like a prison kitchen.
Told ya, Ben says. (So proud, this one.)
I have a headache, I tell him. I think I'll skip the porn and quite possibly the meal if that's okay.
Five sets of eyes tell me the disappointment they show won't be worth the break I get.
Okay, maybe I'll stay for a little.
Five sets happy.
Loch is better, I point out. Eyes shoot all over the place.
Just in time for the Devil to come back, Duncan says.
Yeah, I know.
Tuesday 2 December 2014
Don't pinch me, he's perfect.
Actually pinch him, because his birthday is today.
Ben is forty-six and hasn't matured past midteenage levels, at best but I wouldn't have him any other way. He can be incredibly detail-oriented, deep-feeling and thoughtful when the mood strikes and when it doesn't he's like a force of nature. Who ever said There's a storm coming probably saw him at the end of the road.
He still thinks it's possible to live on chocolate and fast food and that anything healthy is fair game to be thrown, overhand if need be, at someone else. He has learned to curb that over the years, but only by a little. He's the only member of our family who could put the Christmas lights around the edges of the front roof without needing a ladder or a helper and he's insistent that he's going to go to another meeting even if he's been to ten already this week because he promised himself he would be forever straight. He refuses to get his cholesteral checked because Yolo and double Big Macs, Little Bee.
And then he grins and he stops looking like Frankenstein's monster and instead looks like the handsomest man in the history of all time and it's hard not to hand him whatever he wants.
I'm pretty sure that's why Lochlan is with us and that it has less to do with me than you think.
I'm sure of a lot of things with Ben.
But I still treat him with kid gloves even as he shoos me away to go find Loch or Sam or whoever (just not Duncan right now, not these days until I tell you it's okay, Bridge) and he'll frown because he says he doesn't need to be coddled but I know he likes it in the same way he tells me he's far too manly and big for 'lady' bubble baths until I lead him right into one and he settles back with his arms out wide amongst the candles and he puts his head back, closing his eyes before asking if I have any of the lilac soap I love so much and could I wash his shoulders for him and so I swim around to one side and scrub him down and he smells so good and is so relaxed at the end he's usually asleep in seconds and then I tell myself I'm never running a bath for us ever again because it saps his energy.
When he awakens the next morning smelling like lilacs and sunshine he makes up for it without fail.
Who am I kidding? He's a night and a morning guy but only for me. Half the time when they think he's able to somehow sleep for twelve or fifteen hours at a stretch I don't have the heart to point out he hasn't/didn't/can't and we were up all night positively fucking each other into oblivion. I can't say that. Pretty sure it's obvious though and that's fine too.
(Snort.)
Tonight is the big huge dinner with both houses here, and yes, I'm making corn dogs. PJ is making lamb (whole legs and all I can picture are fluffy sheep blobs dotting a mountain field) and I am well-prepared for any food fight that may ensue. For the first time in the history of anything I let PJ talk me into having the same company that is coming to clean the boathouse while Caleb is still away do the main house too. It only upped the bill by like a thousand dollars.
Jesus Christ.
Happy birthday Benjamin. I love you so much it's gross. Just like us.
Ben is forty-six and hasn't matured past midteenage levels, at best but I wouldn't have him any other way. He can be incredibly detail-oriented, deep-feeling and thoughtful when the mood strikes and when it doesn't he's like a force of nature. Who ever said There's a storm coming probably saw him at the end of the road.
He still thinks it's possible to live on chocolate and fast food and that anything healthy is fair game to be thrown, overhand if need be, at someone else. He has learned to curb that over the years, but only by a little. He's the only member of our family who could put the Christmas lights around the edges of the front roof without needing a ladder or a helper and he's insistent that he's going to go to another meeting even if he's been to ten already this week because he promised himself he would be forever straight. He refuses to get his cholesteral checked because Yolo and double Big Macs, Little Bee.
And then he grins and he stops looking like Frankenstein's monster and instead looks like the handsomest man in the history of all time and it's hard not to hand him whatever he wants.
I'm pretty sure that's why Lochlan is with us and that it has less to do with me than you think.
I'm sure of a lot of things with Ben.
But I still treat him with kid gloves even as he shoos me away to go find Loch or Sam or whoever (just not Duncan right now, not these days until I tell you it's okay, Bridge) and he'll frown because he says he doesn't need to be coddled but I know he likes it in the same way he tells me he's far too manly and big for 'lady' bubble baths until I lead him right into one and he settles back with his arms out wide amongst the candles and he puts his head back, closing his eyes before asking if I have any of the lilac soap I love so much and could I wash his shoulders for him and so I swim around to one side and scrub him down and he smells so good and is so relaxed at the end he's usually asleep in seconds and then I tell myself I'm never running a bath for us ever again because it saps his energy.
When he awakens the next morning smelling like lilacs and sunshine he makes up for it without fail.
Who am I kidding? He's a night and a morning guy but only for me. Half the time when they think he's able to somehow sleep for twelve or fifteen hours at a stretch I don't have the heart to point out he hasn't/didn't/can't and we were up all night positively fucking each other into oblivion. I can't say that. Pretty sure it's obvious though and that's fine too.
(Snort.)
Tonight is the big huge dinner with both houses here, and yes, I'm making corn dogs. PJ is making lamb (whole legs and all I can picture are fluffy sheep blobs dotting a mountain field) and I am well-prepared for any food fight that may ensue. For the first time in the history of anything I let PJ talk me into having the same company that is coming to clean the boathouse while Caleb is still away do the main house too. It only upped the bill by like a thousand dollars.
Jesus Christ.
Happy birthday Benjamin. I love you so much it's gross. Just like us.
Monday 1 December 2014
BRB, carving an x in my head.
This begins with food and ends with conviction and bullheaded stubbornness. I don't care what anyone says. This subject isn't up for debate.
Of course, I snapped at him, too.
But then I nodded kind of slowly because I do, I make them every chance I get.
He took me to a place where nothing is under two digits (even a half-glass of juice) and we had a big fancy psychotherapy breakfast but I don't know if I felt better at the end, just full and tired and then we came home and he asked if I would hang out with him for a bit and help him nail down Christmas present ideas for his family. That maybe we could make some more coffee or some popcorn and watch a movie or something. If I wanted. If I was free.
I did and I was but I said no anyway and asked if he wanted to come hang out with PJ and I for a bit, that he was welcome to. He said no but he kissed my cheek and thanked me for the company over breakfast. I hesitated before asking but then just steamrolled ahead. Was this for a report? What does Caleb need now? I blurted it out before I could pretend I was oblivious when I know all along.
Joel looked surprised. That was breakfast. If you think I only speak with you when Caleb is concerned about you then you're mistaken. I care about you, Bridget and I want to help. So if I can still listen or guide you a little bit so you stay in a good place then it's the least I can do and you're a generous soul for allowing me the honor.
I don't have a soul but if you're telling the truth then maybe we can make this work, but only if he remains honest.
Only if you do, you mean.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Bridget, you've left a big black hole in your discussions with me. At first I thought it was a time constraint issue. Then I wondered if it was a conscious effort and now I see that you are willfully redirecting every conversation I start with you about Lochlan. Why is that?
He's not up for discussion.
He's fundamentally responsible for your upbringing and possibly for some of your issues now. If you don't see through some of your illusions about him then he'll continue to hold power over you-
Joel, you could have just come right and said you were still sniffing around on Caleb's behalf. Not sure how I wind up trusting you so easily but I'll be sure not to make that mistake again. Have a good day.
I walked to the main house and PJ opened the side door just as I reached it. Everything okay?
Sure. They think Lochlan is Charles Manson now and that I'm under a spell. It's just a typical, average day. Call me a disciple. Feed me a line and keep me in another.
But did you make butternauts? (PJ is just thrilled I can extrapolate Joel's deceptions so easily)
Of course. I made whole armies of them.
Then nevermind the rest. Come in and we'll make some more coffee.
If you don't mind I need to make a few calls.
Okay, I'll start without you.
I kiss PJ's cheek because he has the perfect blend of ironclad guidance and generously-granted privacy for me. Then I go to the library and close the doors to call Lochlan.
I relay the conversation with Joel to him and he asks me what I think. I tell him the truth, as he has always instructed me to do. That Joel is probably right and this isn't a commune, it's a cult, only it doesn't revolve around me, it revolves around Loch (which is what I always say anyway), who calls the shots and somehow managed to get someone who hates him to bankroll enough space to have all of us live together as a family and everyone defers to him and it's pretty weird, isn't it? Let's not even begin with the fact that at a young age I was separated from my family and friends in order for him to have one hundred percent control of me. I was taught to steal, taught to listen to him and no one else. I've worshiped him ever since.
He didn't say much. I could sense him smiling though. He'll let me believe whatever the hell I want until I move on to the next idea. If he never confirms Joel's fears then he doesn't have to answer to them and then he can forever feign ignorance even though never once has a single human that we've met ever thought of any of this as normal.
Why would they? It isn't.
And then I realized exactly what Joel was trying to do all morning, most likely as per the Devil's instructions. In Caleb's continued absence? Drive a wedge.
Sorry, Diabhal. It won't work. The sun rises and sets by the redhead and that ain't ever going to change.
Yesterday is nothingSo far so good for a Monday. Caleb called to thank me for having flowers and cheese toast delivered to his suite shortly after he checked into the resort. He forwarded a few pictures of his view and I may have proceeded to spend the next half-hour snapping and frustrating my way around the house until Joel appeared out of nowhere and asked me if I still make butternauts.
I have half a life to rewrite
Of course, I snapped at him, too.
But then I nodded kind of slowly because I do, I make them every chance I get.
He took me to a place where nothing is under two digits (even a half-glass of juice) and we had a big fancy psychotherapy breakfast but I don't know if I felt better at the end, just full and tired and then we came home and he asked if I would hang out with him for a bit and help him nail down Christmas present ideas for his family. That maybe we could make some more coffee or some popcorn and watch a movie or something. If I wanted. If I was free.
I did and I was but I said no anyway and asked if he wanted to come hang out with PJ and I for a bit, that he was welcome to. He said no but he kissed my cheek and thanked me for the company over breakfast. I hesitated before asking but then just steamrolled ahead. Was this for a report? What does Caleb need now? I blurted it out before I could pretend I was oblivious when I know all along.
Joel looked surprised. That was breakfast. If you think I only speak with you when Caleb is concerned about you then you're mistaken. I care about you, Bridget and I want to help. So if I can still listen or guide you a little bit so you stay in a good place then it's the least I can do and you're a generous soul for allowing me the honor.
I don't have a soul but if you're telling the truth then maybe we can make this work, but only if he remains honest.
Only if you do, you mean.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Bridget, you've left a big black hole in your discussions with me. At first I thought it was a time constraint issue. Then I wondered if it was a conscious effort and now I see that you are willfully redirecting every conversation I start with you about Lochlan. Why is that?
He's not up for discussion.
He's fundamentally responsible for your upbringing and possibly for some of your issues now. If you don't see through some of your illusions about him then he'll continue to hold power over you-
Joel, you could have just come right and said you were still sniffing around on Caleb's behalf. Not sure how I wind up trusting you so easily but I'll be sure not to make that mistake again. Have a good day.
I walked to the main house and PJ opened the side door just as I reached it. Everything okay?
Sure. They think Lochlan is Charles Manson now and that I'm under a spell. It's just a typical, average day. Call me a disciple. Feed me a line and keep me in another.
But did you make butternauts? (PJ is just thrilled I can extrapolate Joel's deceptions so easily)
Of course. I made whole armies of them.
Then nevermind the rest. Come in and we'll make some more coffee.
If you don't mind I need to make a few calls.
Okay, I'll start without you.
I kiss PJ's cheek because he has the perfect blend of ironclad guidance and generously-granted privacy for me. Then I go to the library and close the doors to call Lochlan.
I relay the conversation with Joel to him and he asks me what I think. I tell him the truth, as he has always instructed me to do. That Joel is probably right and this isn't a commune, it's a cult, only it doesn't revolve around me, it revolves around Loch (which is what I always say anyway), who calls the shots and somehow managed to get someone who hates him to bankroll enough space to have all of us live together as a family and everyone defers to him and it's pretty weird, isn't it? Let's not even begin with the fact that at a young age I was separated from my family and friends in order for him to have one hundred percent control of me. I was taught to steal, taught to listen to him and no one else. I've worshiped him ever since.
He didn't say much. I could sense him smiling though. He'll let me believe whatever the hell I want until I move on to the next idea. If he never confirms Joel's fears then he doesn't have to answer to them and then he can forever feign ignorance even though never once has a single human that we've met ever thought of any of this as normal.
Why would they? It isn't.
And then I realized exactly what Joel was trying to do all morning, most likely as per the Devil's instructions. In Caleb's continued absence? Drive a wedge.
Sorry, Diabhal. It won't work. The sun rises and sets by the redhead and that ain't ever going to change.
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