I should really be throwing books off the cliff but it seems wasteful.

I finished Child of God. Nowhere near on par with Outer Dark or The Road, it is presented as a shocking, edgy drop-you-in-the-middle of a moment in time with a serial killed story. In reality it's a lazy write, a snippet Mr. McCarthy didn't know what to do with so he published it. It's neither shocking nor edgy nor compelling and features a whole one delicious line compared to a watershed of beautiful prose as evidenced in the other two. I flung it across the room at the wall just as Lochlan was leaving the bathroom. It missed his head by about four inches.

Didn't like it, I see?

Nope. Not in the least. 

Now I begin House of Leaves (Not McCarthy. Danielewski, I think). I'm so excited to finally read it. I had to wait as it made the rounds to me. One of the sheer joys of an intentional family is that we have an endless library of books and media to pass around, only in addition to being the smallest human of the bunch I'm also the slowest reader so I get every book last and demand no spoilers. Duncan just grinned and said It's really weird but very, very good, and that's enough for me.

***

Yesterday's tally was two hundred kilometers, three spare owls and that Monte Cristo sandwich I longed for, minus the bourbon because we were on a bike and a good amount of different scenery to squash the insular nature of our intentional family. Sometimes weeks go by and I don't leave the point except for a quick lunch out or a trip to the grocery store. Everything else comes to me. PJ even suggested we have groceries delivered a couple of times a week to make things easier but I feel like if we do that I may as well kiss the outside world goodbye.

I could so easily, you know. I could give away my car keys and burn all my shoes and live an idyllic existence here on the cliffs without ever driving up that road ever again, cut off from the pedestrian daily existence. But then Sam would bitch about how little time I spend in church (as if he doesn't already. I get half my sermons in the kitchen now) and we still don't have that personal Ferris wheel required to actually cut ties with the outside world. (Oh and concerts. Can Ed Force One land on the future helicopter pad? Somehow I doubt it.)

Once I get those two things sorted, I'm all in. Duncan will buy the books, PJ can smuggle in the whiskey and Lochlan can do the burning. It's perfect.

Right this moment, absolutely no cares. None. Happy. Breathing.

Light a candle, blow the world away
Table for two on a TV tray
It ain't fancy, baby that's OK
Our time, our way

So hold me close better hang on tight
Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride
We're two kids hitching down the road of life
Our world, our fight

If we stand side by side (all night)
There's a chance we'll get by (and it's alright)
And I'll know that you'll be live
In my heart till the day that I die

Cause you were born to be my baby
And baby, I was made to be your man

Lochlan has borrowed the Sunbeam for the day to take me for a ride. New Jake is generous, moreso than Lochlan would be if given the chance but they somehow didn't go down that road even Ben, Caleb and Batman went to string up New Jake for something that was my fault. Lochlan gets it. He should have been the one to burn down the point, and yet here we are borrowing motorcycles instead.

New Jake oozes cool. Almost as much as Duncan, but in a completely different way. Neither one of them could hold a candle to Lochlan though, because it would melt instead of burn. He's the coolest even when he's hot under the collar or just hot and bothered or completely dorky. He could never be as dorky as Ben so he's better at the other end of the spectrum.

(Caleb told me a few weeks ago: In the beginning I had planned to ask him if he wanted to be my partner and we would grow the business from the ground up and he'd be rich too, but then you got in the way and that was that.

I'm always in the way. Because I can't hear you when you tell me to move.)

We're going to go look for owls, Peanut. And get a picnic. Sound good?

Sounds like heaven.

It's not. We're here. We're alive. So let's live. He puts on his helmet and then he puts mine on me, fastening the strap, checking the bluetooth by singing a song he's been singing to me since I was seventeen (and he was twenty-three. He's FIFTY now. FIFTY and he still looks just the same). I nod and sway.

Say something. 

Stop talking and let's go, Locket.

With lungs full of acetophenone.

I am not what you have waited for

It's four in the morning and I can't sleep. Can't settle. Can't soothe myself, can't find anyone awake to do it for me. Lochlan's in a dream, in his own joyland right now, so deeply asleep I was able to pull his arms away and get up without him even breaking his breathing. The dog didn't lift his head up from his spot on the floor. The motion sensor lights didn't come on and there's no one around who would normally be awake at this hour to ambush me. I'm on my own in the dark and it feels unfamiliar, a stranger to a girl who, believe it or not, prefers the sun.

I made rounds first. Checking each room. Doors, windows, thermostats. Boys. Cats. Children. Lights in the other houses. Alarm last. I get some orange juice and head back upstairs, rushing just a little bit because the lady from The Conjuring 2 movie trailer just landed on my brain reminding me of what happens when you walk around in the dark alone. I make it back upstairs without being haunted, crawling in from Ben's side since I don't have to climb up the middle when he's away. I put my hand on Lochlan's forehead and consider waking him up.

I'm awake. He startles me and I peep really loud. He bursts out laughing as we shush each other.

Sorry.

You're supposed to wake me before you leave the room, Peanut. Why are you up?

Just checking doors.

Trying to escape? He frowns in the dark.

I smile bitterly and throw my hands up. Nothing I can say to that.

What would make you happy right now, Bridget?

A Monte Cristo with fries and a bourbon.

How specific. I thought you would say Ben.

I'm hungry. I shrug. I'm also full of shit.

How about for lunch later but sleep for now or you're going to be a little maniac later today.

Okay. 

We settle back in, Loch pulling the quilts up around my back, tucking me in underneath him where it's warm and I can't breathe. He is back asleep in what seems like seconds and I lie there in the dark, eyes wide open, watching the ghosts stare back at me over his shoulder but longing for the living like you wouldn't believe.

An albatross that grows bigger by the hour and heavier by the second.

My mistake was I thought I knew you
Caress
Bleed through

They finished the wall.

In a bid to be crowned Most Useful both Batman and Caleb worked hard at perfection. The lines are straight. The paint? Flawless. The trim around the door replaced so that you'd never know it was ever splintered beyond repair.

The great front hall is the palest of greens now, a sage so faded it's close to white but not quite. Almost an antiquey-beige but with a greenish cast. It looks beautiful. They did well. I did the final inspection just as fresh flowers were delivered from Ben because it's been a long couple of weeks, truth be told. That's probably all I'll tell for now on that front.

I put the flowers on the table, kept the card for myself and dismissed both titans, who angled for lunch and dinner, respectively and whatever else I have that I might give them but they both left with empty hands and free afternoons. I already have a lunch date with Sam (who I found at church, facedown in the sanctuary at on the floor listening to How to Save a Life on repeat and it took far too long to change the Jakeness about him), and a dinner date with Lochlan, who quit once again and says he meant it even as Batman refused again to accept it, and went as far as to change into his painting clothes, tying his hair up in a knot and heading out to the camper to work on things he likes working on. Things that pay little but mean he can be outside working with his hands and not cooped up in a stuffy building in a dress shirt and pressed pants wearing shiny shoes being a yes-man for someone he doesn't even like and owes nothing, frankly.

I don't know but things like that seem to destroy these guys faster than I can. They won't admit it and continue to blame me but I know better and try to encourage them every chance I get to do what, and be who they want.

My plan is to ask to go for Thai for lunch and Vietnamese for dinner because I love noodles. And chopsticks. And taking forever to eat. That is the best part. Then we can come home to this newly intact but achingly empty house and figure out what's next.

Whole conversations right in the middle of fucking each other. I shit you not.

(I'm never sure if I love it or hate it, truth be told but it's certainly different. Like he is. Okay, well now it makes sense when put that way.)

Come on down to the Mermaid Café and I will
Buy you a bottle of wine
And we'll laugh and toast to nothing and smash our empty glasses down
Let's have a round for these freaks and these soldiers
A round for these friends of mine
Let's have another round for the bright red devil
Who keeps me in this tourist town

I wake up falling or drowning, I'm not sure which as my arms flail through the dark looking for something to hold. They find what they're looking for and I open my eyes but he doesn't.

You got away from me in your sleep, Fidget. I won't let that happen again.

I reach up and stretch out a long red curl, tucking it behind his ear. He frowns, pushing my hand away. What're you doing?

Admiring my prize.

Thought that was my job. Still with eyes closed, he leans forward, kissing my shoulder, rolling his weight onto me.

Here for your admiration. I surrender to him, letting him pin my hands above my head, arching my back to share his heat, coming away with a kiss and a smile as he finally opens his eyes but they're already awake and smiling.

When are we going to talk about it?

Never and keep this perfect day. 

Peanut, it's an albatross.

Everything is. Leave this day, please. 

Tomorrow. 

Maybe something will change and we won't have to.

You sound like you dread this. 

I don't, I just don't want to close doors. You always told me to be damned sure before I closed a door or burned a bridge. 

I burned you every night once.

An illusion. 

Same result. 

Not hardly. 

Have you made any decisions aside from what we talked about? 

No surprises, Loch.

Oh, yeah? That's good. Maybe my hair will stay red a bit longer instead of turning white.

I'm not the cause of your stress. 

Tell me more stories. I have all day. 

Yes! I'll tell you the one about the little girl and the sugar tornado. 

I wish you'd share that stuff instead of stupid moments when I was fifteen and so clever I pissed in the lake and you believed that I could warm it on command. 

Maybe I will. 

Eventually you'll be sharing photographs of my junk, I bet. 

No. I have a classy blog. 

It isn't. It's porn and angst and nothing in between. 

Just like me.

Yeah, just like you. 

No swimming today, it's six fucking degrees.

One of the most satisfying parts of raising children is in teaching them that their actions will always have consquences, i.e. a hug will help to comfort someone, or if you put a hole in a wall, you're going to fix it yourself, even if involves a lot of dust and a day week of work lost somewhere else.

It was incredibly satisfying to teach Batman and Caleb how to hang drywall, how to tape, mud and primer it properly so that it blends in seamlessly to the rest. Since the hole they made was too big to patch. Sigh.

How do you know how to do this, Bridge? Batman always seems so surprised when I exhibit actual, useful skills, outside of playing sugar baby or giving blowjobs or something. Caleb damn well knows I can do this. He kept flying in to check on the progress of the castle I sold in 2010 since Jake had torn apart several rooms that remained unfinished when he flew. I finished it all alone. I had never drywalled a fucking thing in my life before then.

(I actually do give a mean blowjob too. Though no one..would...call it......mean....exactly...)

ANYWAY. The two titans get to spend a few days working together. I get my wall back. Life will continue on. Just now with drywall dust everywhere. I may go live next door for the duration, except that they need constant supervision from the bickering and PJ refuses to referee.

(What they don't know is it won't be a patch paint job either. Once the wall is fixed they're going to paint the entire foyer a new color because I have decided there is too much white in this house, so it's going to be a pretty pale green, then I can keep a huge vase of white flowers on the table with the lanterns and the driftwood and it will be really pretty without being so stark.

They should be done by the end of the week if they work hard.

And hopefully they've learned something, like the others. If you've got a bone to pick, take it OUTSIDE.

Like I need any reminders about how well the Leafs are doing.

I stared at the monitor on the wall for a good ten minutes before he pushed the button again.

Bridget? Are you still there?

Yes.

Can you open the gate, please? Joel is sitting in his car at the end of my driveway and I don't feel like letting him in. Come on. We can watch the demise of the Canadian side of the NHL. 

None of our teams are going to make it to the playoffs. No bets have been made. But still I can't bring myself to buzz the gate open.

Today isn't a really good day for a visit, Joel. 

Duncan said it was. I turn and shoot laser beams from my eyes at Duncan who smiles lazily from the kitchen door because he follows me everywhere sometimes. Especially on days after Caleb seemingly does everything right. He takes guarding my body far too literally and I should know better but I don't. I know nothing but Duncan knows even less this morning.

He might not have all the information one needs to make that determination. I tell Joel and I can see as he rolls his eyes.

Bridget, I'll just jump the gate. 

You'll get shot by the turret guns.

Jesus Christ. You have guns now?

Jump the gate and find out.

Put Duncan on the speaker, please.

He isn't here right now.

Bullshit. He's behind you.

Duncan laughs and reaches over my head and in front of my face to hit the button that opens the gate. Let him in, Poem. He's a good antidote for Caleb's poison. 

He probably just heard about the bikini and wants to see it. That isn't going to happen.

I'll just show him the photos.

You took pictures of me?

I'm not a monk, Bridge.

You might be after today.

The Devil and the pink bikini.

The really stupidly expensive one that Caleb bought for me last year that I told him to return? He didn't and I tried it on this morning and decided I would go and check out the pool, which we had checked and filled the moment the roofers left and I figured it might be finally warm.

It was so why not? It's April third in Lotus land which is totally pool weather, even though the rest of the continent is still having winter. We've got the seeds out for the garden. We're in shorts.

Except for me. I'm in that pink bikini.

Which is nice. It fits well. It isn't see-through when wet (I showered in it to check) and it doesn't gap at the back above my tiny little behind like everything else I own (even the cashmere underpants). It just fits. And it's beautiful, a ballet-pink that somehow enhances my paleness and endless ability to blush and yet also makes it striking.

Hey, freckle-face. He is already in the water when I walk down, a stack of towels in my arms for the tiny poolhouse (a glorified shed they put in next to the new sauna, which holds a whopping eight of us) a light kimono wrapped around me, tied with a pale pink ribbon that matches the swimsuit perfectly.

Hey, yourself. How is the water?

Come in and find out. He smiles, gliding away from the edge into the deep end.

I take off the kimono and do a curtsy. It fits.

I knew it would. I had it made for you.

How do you know my sizes so perfectly every time?

From decades of touching you.

Oh.

Oh is right. Come in while you can. It's supposed to rain this week.

I walk down the steps into the warm water. Goosebumps announce my presence. His eyes mark my path. I walk until I am a third of the way across the pool and that's where my feet leave the bottom and I need to swim. I turn and go back to where it laps against my shoulders and he frowns.

Swim to me? It's warmer over here.

Did you pee?

Pardon me?

Lochlan used to pee in the lake to warm me up when I'd be cold. He told me it was magic. It was years before I realized he was peeing around me.

That's disgusting. And also genius.

I know, right?

I have a different idea to warm you. I reach him and he puts his arms around me, pulling me close. I put my arms around his neck and hold on so I don't have to try and stay above water.

Better?

Yes. But it isn't better, it's worse.

What makes it worse? (stop reading my mind.)

It's you.

I'm not so bad, Bridget

You're not so good, either.

Time won't let go/Sorry/Not sorry.

Would you have come to work for me if he hadn't had reservations?

Reservations? Such a mild word. I have come to get a cheque from Batman for the damage caused. Caleb already covered the other half. They made a new door from the front hall to the library. Avengers assemble.

Sorrow will find you
Its voice has given way to mine
Heart pumps death into our heredity
Who wants to come with me

Bridget- I have failed to pay him attention.

Sorry. I have to try and keep this straight.

You can do whatever you want. Does he threaten you?

When?

Now, Bridget.

Not really. I just know my place.

I don't think you do or you would be with him. You're not.

There are issues.

Is he fixing them? Is he the end game?

No. He's not because he can't fix what he broke.

What did he break, Bridget?

Me. Her.

Jesus. You can't hold this together.

I'm fine. It's probably for the best.

Who's best. His? I'll do more than put him through a wall.

Don't touch him. I didn't ask you for help.

No. You didn't. Others have.

Others being Cole? Have you noticed he's been dead for almost ten years?

Oh. Wait.

When did that happen?

I made a hasty goodbye and walked up around the front of Batman's house, walking along the road, turning off far past my driveway to the locked gate by the orchard. I use my key, I always have my keys in my pocket, and I come in, following the wall along the cliff until I run out of cliff and have to cross the driveway. I use my key again and let myself into the boathouse. He is surprised but not surprised as I put my keys on the counter and ask the Devil if he knows how long it's been.

Since my only brother died? Yes, I know. It will be a decade soon and I'm not prepared for that kind of milestone. 

Teach me to survive it? 

I'll do my best, Neamhchiontach. 

Crawling all the way back.

Oh Jesus, don't bug me, this song is on a loop. If you preorder Katatonia's new record (I did! I was probably first in line too) you get Old Heart Falls as a giftie to tide you over. It's like a very cold bleak Toollike song but with more emotion. Sigh. Kill me to this, please.

For every dream that is left behind me
I take a bow
With every war that will rage inside me
I hear the sound
Of another day in this vanishing life
Returned to dust
And every chance I've pushed away
Into the night

Asher also turned out to be otherwise engaged and so Batman will have to make a new plan altogether, unless he reoffers to Jasper but really I think that ship has sailed. And I am still busy. Busy juggling fire of my own in the form of men. Busy dealing with the crushing guilt of Caleb's outward loneliness and inward promise to not be the man his brother was. Busy caretaking my ghosts. Busy welcoming spring after a winter of crushing headaches and other issues that diverted all my energy into not spending the day screaming Fuuucccccckkkkk at the top of my lungs long and loud until the dark fell back down over us. Busy trying to keep this perfect balance, so obviously weighted down on one side. Busy watching Ben fight his demons, watching Lochlan fight mine. Busy watching my children grow before my very eyes. Busy not finding shoes I like enough to buy and living in my docs. Busy buying shingles and labour because I won't let the boys do the roof themselves. Too high in several spots to be safe and they are too proud to tie in. Busy considering Caleb's request of a helicopter landing pad and a new kitchen on my side of our line, drawn in the brick. Busy wondering why he needs helicopters here. Busy wondering about everything. Busy keeping up with them, and falling behind, as always.

It's been a bit crazy here. March break was so nice and now it's done and the kids had a short week back and I'm playing catch up because I was busy spending time with them. Next week should be back to normal though from here it looks like a clusterfuck of chiropractors (because headaches. I need to fix them) and car appointments because I'm the dealership queen or something.

I need a vacation but if I say anything four different people will book one. Yes, first world problems, I understand that but what you don't understand is that loyalty is a shell game and I've never been a very good politician.