I woke up this morning clasped against Ben, my face tucked in underneath his jaw, his arms tight around me. Not the usual way, as he sleeps flat on his back like a vampire unless he wakes up and drifts off again holding one of us. It felt good. I didn't want to get up and I drifted back off until ten or so when he squeezed me very gently and suggested we go out for breakfast, but first he has business to attend to. He turned me flat on my back and bent his head down, looping my knees up over his shoulders, bringing his hands back up to hold my wrists tight. He wasn't happy until I was screaming into his pillow and trying to pull away. Then he came back up and smiled at me and said that only made him more hungry, that there isn't much of me to eat, not enough meat on my thin bones, and that maybe we should get moving and head out before it becomes lunchtime.

That can't happen. I love going out for breakfast so I jumped up and he followed me into the shower where we actually didn't get sidetracked for once. He promised we could get sidetracked later and we were out the door by eleven and back home by one-thirty.

Sometimes I really miss him. When he's not around or he takes a backseat. Sometimes I wish he hadn't let me go so easily and sometimes I'm glad he forgets that he did.

Grasping at flaws.

Batman finally caught up with the wild redhead, whose ego was leading him around by a leash, who didn't care for any words of patience or thought, not right now, thank you.

He got a solid fifty-minute lecture, emerging pale and stubborn, much the way he would look after emerging from the office at the midway where he would apply over and over for one of the head/titled jobs, year after year, only to be told he was too young.

Nothing says maturity like kicking the doorjamb on your way out of a meeting with your boss. But unlike the old days when he would leave big black bootprints eliciting a threat or a curse in response, today he closed the door gently behind him and walked over to where I waited for my own lecture, which I've already decided to skip because it's sunny and it's a drag.

Bridget.

Batman is in the doorway, waiting, sleeves rolled up as if he is performing surgery instead of teaching discipline.

This could be so easy. Lochlan only works for money. Pay him to keep Caleb safe and happy and the point would be more peaceful than a graveyard. He wouldn't discriminate for a dollar.

It's too nice to be harsh. Let's go for a walk instead. I smile at him. He recognizes the charm of the hustle and frowns.

You too need to stop living in a Bon Jovi song and start taking responsibility for your actions.

Which action did I miss? I'm still smiling though it's just for the show now. This isn't the first time we've been accused of this.

Not you so much as him. We're getting a little too old for fist fights and stealing girlfriends and life-changing stunts to show possession.

Then talk to Cale. He's the one with the issue. He's the one throwing punches.

You're baiting him.

He's earned it! Loch sputters.

Lochlan-

I get it. He's no match for my strength OR my wit. I get that you're all just trying to keep the peace. I promise I will try to behave. He performs a deep bow and Batman frowns.

It makes things better for the entire Collective-

I'm aware of that. But when the history goes back too far for the eye to see, you have to understand-

I understand you got the girl. Let that be enough. For today- 

Oh, just for today? I can handle that. What is it, noon already? 

Christ, Lochlan-

Walk a mile, Brother. No one understands what we went through to be together. No one ever will. Not even him. She is the first victory of my life. Goddamn all to hell whomever fails to let me savor this.

One-eighty.

Ironically the same week the kids start grades 12 and 10 and I see the home stretch ahead of me, Lochlan levels the field by setting off a bomb. I never saw it coming, he now swears it's No Big Deal.

Ha. It is, though.

We should have another baby.

You should get that Tourette's fixed. The things you blurt out. 

It was just an idea.

I don't think it was a good one.

Why? Indulge me.

Oh, I'm forty-five. You're really old. Like you'd be sending them off to college when you're SEVENTY. I also had four amazing difficult pregnancies and two deliveries that required entire floor teams of surgeons, lawyers and exorcists. I can't do that again, even if I could physically do it which I probably can't. Besides, I love the freedom of jumping in the car and telling them we're going out for a meal and they can cook at home if they're hungry before we get back. Why on earth would you want to do that all again?

I missed out, Bridge.

You were right here.

Jacob was in the way. Cole was in the way. I faded into the woodwork.

We don't give you enough attention. I get it.

He laughs. Yeah, that must be it. 

That will change now. Want me to blend your breakfast so I can feed it to you? 

What? No. Gross! 

Exactly. Now imagine that coming out both ends at once. Trust me, you're getting the best parts of raising children right now: they can tell you dirty jokes without apologizing first and they finally offer to drive now when we go out.

'War does not determine who is right - only who is left'. -Bertrand Russell.

Today didn't happen.

Caleb stayed clear until he thought he could get himself under control but he failed and showed up inside the kitchen without warning after Dalton took the kids to school. He shoved Duncan into the glass door to the foyer with warning, breaking it and then charged across the room at Lochlan, who was sitting by the fire reading on his ipad, drinking tea. Loch got up in a hurry as Caleb lunged for him only Sam threw himself in between, because Sam is bigger than Lochlan and didn't want to see an unfair fight.

Sam doesn't know any better but should have. He's seen enough of this to understand you let them go. They love each other too much to exact full pain, they hate each other enough to try anyway so everyone steps back.

Sam didn't, reflexively. He left himself unprotected in the process and bore the full brunt of Caleb's epic elbow to his head that sent us to the emergency room. I don't fuck with head injuries and so after a good twelve hour stint at the hospital we came home. Caleb drove. By ten p.m. there was an extra two grand in the house cash account for the door, the ipad, the coffee maker, the fireplace screen and the cushions that were covered in tea, and a text offer for full salary if Sam needs to take a few days from working.

Lochlan went over after that to 'thank' Caleb for his efforts in disrupting a perfect Utopia and they took down another door and put a hole in the hallway wall. I sent back five hundred and asked if they can just avoid each other instead of all this shit. They both said no. I give up. Caleb has no right to act this way. Lochlan has no need to push his buttons so hard either.

They both told me to stay out of it so I'm sticking with Sam for the night so I can make sure he stays up for a while yet and doesn't have any lingering effects. He's okay. Thank God.

I texted them once I was settled in Sam's room.

What if it had been Henry? 

No response. From either.

Old flames.

The days are long it's like I'm holding on
To the second hand dragging me along
The feeling's wrong but there ain't nothing gone
Baby come back home

I know you want to run away

I know you want to run away

I know you want to run away
Because something this good ain't meant to stay
But any way you cut it I'm built to last
So not so fast

I know we've had better days
But something this good you don't throw away
But any way you cut it I'm built to last
So not so fast

We timed it perfectly and as the last notes of the song faded I took a shuddering breath and blew out the flame, leaving us all in close darkness.

We dressed quickly in the dark as he clapped. A slow, singular noise echoing back from the walls, hyperfocused without the light and the loud music and the visuals we have honed down to a sharp science.

Breathtaking.

I started to smile at Caleb and was about to ask what he really thought when Lochlan took my hand.

Thanks for joining us. Same words as always but he doesn't take his eyes off me, even as he's not addressing me. He kisses my hand and we're gone, but not before I register a look of pure surprise mixed with rage wash across Caleb's face.

He follows us out to the top of the steps.

The hell?

I told you. She's mine. You don't LISTEN.

Loch pulls me along, out into the rain. I'm as surprised as Caleb. I've been worked into an absolute frenzy, sated in plain view (well, virtual darkness save for that flame that we smothered and resurrected all over each other for over an hour) and worked into a frenzy again. I'm ruined, keyed and stunned. I'm singed and sparked. Loch is smug and businesslike. He planned it like this all along. A show to tease and torture ending in one giant Fuck You.

Well, I mean he fucked me but it was a big Fuck You to Caleb, forced to sit and endure a spectacle he assumed he would be participating in eventually.

Oh my God, Lochlan's better at this than I thought. He's waited for this, he's planned for it for decades. He knows exactly what he wants from Caleb. Everything Caleb has ever dished out but tenfold. Every moment of pain or jealousy or longing magnified by the time it took, adjusted for inflation, drawn out in searing blows, one after another. I can hardly catch my breath, I can't even imagine how Caleb feels right now.

I turn and look at Lochlan in the dark, water dripping off the rim of his top hat, eyes flashing, skin warm, breath held just like mine, easily, exchanged from hand to hand as he takes control of damn near everything at last, using a skill set few ever believed in but virtually no one could explain. Well, I know how he does his tricks, I know all the illusions and how they work and I also know he isn't finished yet. Not by a long shot.

You were always too smart for me, Neamhchiontach. 

He took that back too, that name, but I shake my head. No, I guess I'm not innocent, or I would have seen this coming. I thought the night would end a different way entirely.

Silver tongues and transparencies.

La breithe sona duit, le mo ghra go deo.

(Rusty as fuck.)

This morning at four I went and fetched the champagne and the scotch too and brought them back to bed. By eight the champagne was everywhere and the scotch was mostly gone and Lochlan and I were both birthday drunk, sticky and worn the fuck out.

All birthdays should start like that, I think. 

He is fifty-one today. 

We showered and put on jeans and sweaters and took the rest of the scotch and a breakfast picnic down to the dock, sitting with our legs dangling over the side, sharing a thermos of coffee, toast wrapped in foil, oranges and then the rest of the bottle of scotch, passed back and forth until Lochlan tipped the remaining few drops down his throat with a flourish. 

I stood up and made my speech to him. I do it privately now, for it's easier and somehow less and more raw all at once this way, and I can say everything I want to say without any pressure, without any worries that anyone will have hurt feelings or surprise news. 

When I sat back down his eyes were swimming in tears. Half of that is just being drunk at nine in the morning and the other half is a blindside of emotion. 

I did so good with you, Neamhchiontach. So good. He shakes his head in disbelief. He doesn't mean he raised me well, though he really did, he means he is happy I'm his wife, that we're still together. That we picked each other and we kept each other and we persevered and here we are. 

You know how people say life flies past in the blink of an eye? That it's so fast? It isn't. It took forever to get here. 

But here we are. 

Happy Birthday, Locket. 

Thank you, Peanut. I have everything. 

There are still presents, but not until after dinner. 

Speaking of which, you up for a show tonight? 

I choke and inhale the Scotch. Great. Now I'm going to die. 

When I'm done coughing and he's gently pounded me on the back until I can breathe again, I ask for who? Not like I'm going to perform a show for everyone. We're not a family friendly act unless we're busking. I know exactly which show he means but for who is a mystery. Maybe Ben. Yeah, he probably wants to pull out all the stops at last and show Ben how we managed. Where the money came from that we didn't steal. Where the reputation came from when we didn't lie. 

Diabhal. 

I choke again but this time I let myself die. When I recover he takes the bottle and laughs. No more for you. You can't control a thing about your feelings. Jesus. I didn't realize the extent.

There's none left anyway. And we did a show for him once already. 

A full show, Neamhchiontach. 

No use calling me that if we're doing the whole thing for him.

I know. 

What have you done? Did you sell us out to him? 

No, Bridge. I felt sorry for the guy. So I said we'd give him the full show. My gift to him on such a generous day. We head over at nineish, after the party. Once we're ready. He's coming here around five. 

That is generous. 

He's got nothing left. We can at least entertain him. 

But Lochlan always had a masterful poker face, and I know he's holding all his cards close. I don't know what I'm walking into and I'm no longer looking forward to an event I practically live for, cake and speeches, dinner and celebrations. Now I'm dreading the evening ahead, and no one will tell me why. 

Relax, Peanut. We're going to have fun. We should keep our skills up anyway. Tonight's the perfect chance. And he smiles like everything is so wonderful, only I can see so far right through him, it's as if he isn't really even there. 

I hate it when he comes back.

I don't know what Lochlan's up to either but he's a grifter by trade so I don't question him, I just watch and learn and maybe someday I'll understand better how he went here to there, eviscerating a hard list of Don't-Touches that featured Duncan at the top or thereabouts in favor of a night we can probably never speak of again but won't ever forget.

I don't know whether to pinch myself for the dreams or renounce the Collective and spend the remainder of my life in a convent atoning for these sins.

Bless me father, for I am wicked-good, I whisper to no one in particular. I stretch my arms out. They ache today, worse than yesterday. Ben. Ben really liked Lochlan's actions as retold by me and took it out on me from three this morning until about nine-thirty. To that end it was worth the confusion that remains. So worth it.

My phone buzzes softly and when I check it there's a message from Caleb. He's home. See me at four. No I missed you. No I'm disappointed in you. No hint of the carnage and chaos to come. He will be angry. I'm not sure I'm concerned, exactly. I'm too busy trying to figure out how Lochlan is conducting this orchestra. I'm waiting to hear the song.

He just said "Last night I rode a poem", in an Elmer Fudd voice and I laughed until coffee came out my nose so now I have to tell you about it or you won't get the joke.

He came out almost directly behind me, leaning against the french door just outside in the tiny private side yard patio and watched as I sat in one of the chairs, wrapping the sheet more tightly around myself, a strapless dress made straight from his bed. I struggled to pull a cigarette out of the pack on the table and then lit it with the same hand as I held the sheet tightly twisted in my other fist.

My hands are trembling but he can't see that because it's dark save for the string of tiny vintage bulbs they left up from when this was Sam and Matt's place. Always on. The rain spits against the clear pergola cover. It's dry underneath. I take a drag and frown at my shaking hand, passing him the cigarette. As I exhale slowly I remember why I don't smoke.

As I exhale I remember why I don't do this.

Everything okay? The Lizard King speaks quietly as I stare at my hands still. I nod, turning my now-still hand back and forth to catch the light against my ring. Loch comes to the door and Duncan moves away, letting Loch out onto the patio.

It's late. We should go up. 

I nod again but make no move to get up, instead tightening the twist on the sheet. We were watching a movie and I had a drink. Then I had three. Then Loch said if I was going to get it out of my system tonight would be my best chance. The house is quiet, almost empty, the invitation is there. Duncan nods in his icy coolness, whatever disbelief he later admitted to well hidden in the beginning.

My fear of being outclassed disappeared quickly. We followed him downstairs as he turned on lights and once there he made no move to do anything, offering a late night snack instead. Olives. Cheese. Bread and some prosciutto. Ginger ale instead of whiskey to fade the buzz so there would be no mistake. No excuses.

No going back.

But I don't live with regrets and I get tired late at night so I made the first move and broke whatever ice held us paralyzed for too long, looking back at Loch who got closer as the night wore on. Making sure he was there. Making sure he didn't leave. Making sure he was a part of everything and somehow he's almost fine with anyone who doesn't wear the face of the devil. I get that and yet this doesn't make me better, it feeds the beast. It makes things worse but somehow it also took us right past the place where we flirt with danger and opened it right up so that it's no longer dangerous, it's done and somehow that's a better place to be.

Duncan holds the cigarette out and I take it even though I don't want it. I'm already getting a headache. My arms and legs ache. My whole body is exhausted. Then his easy voice cuts into the fatigue like butter.

Before you go, tell me something. Would you do it again? 

I shoot a look at Lochlan. Duncan reminds him that he's not offering a regular thing, but he wants to know if I liked it. He's curious. He wants my approval. Everyone always wants my approval but this is the last thing I expect from the coolest person I know, the one who comes into the room like a God and if he says hello it's like he's doing you a favor and you instantly feel the flush of being popular, like him. And he's asking me if he was good.

Seriously, Bridget. Tell me. 

Oh, here comes the flush. I let him off the hook, rewarding him with a look in the eye the way I rewarded him earlier with a bite against his shoulder, my arms around his back as he pulled me up against him so hard I saw stars and we weren't even outside like we are now.

I'd come back in a heartbeat, Poet. And I might. If Loch is up for it. Loch is noncommital and always afraid I'll bond too closely with those I've already bonded with for life. He gets to choose, and like I said, he's having fun sticking it to Caleb while he keeps me a little bit sick. But Duncan did this on his terms, refusing to come upstairs, instead asking us downstairs. To his world. It was a power play I didn't expect but one I instantly appreciated and respected. He really surprised me, further when I had my own curiosities fulfilled in that he is just as good as I thought he would be. Maybe better.

Definitely better.

But I'm still curious. Your turn, I tell him. Would you? I expected him to refuse, telling me I'm too much trouble, too heavy. Too small. Too crazy. Too risky. Too much. 

Hell, yes. Lochlan's faith in you is clear to me now. Caleb's obsession is completely understandable. But at the same time I feel like the elephant in the room is gone now that I'm on the other side, so to speak. I don't feel so anxious. 

You were anxious? 

Been working toward this or something like it for years, Poem. 

Then you caught Lochlan on a good night. He's using you to twist Caleb's screws tight. You have to be okay with that. 

I am. Not like I didn't get a lot out of it. Jesus, you're sweet. 

It's a myth. In the daylight, you'll see. 

I've seen you in the light. Doesn't change my mind. 

It will tomorrow. Like you said, you're on the other side now. 

I'll prove you wrong. Go get some sleep. Or stay here and sleep. 

We'll go. Loch steps back to my side and holds his hand out. Time to turn back into a pumpkin. I take the proffered hand and he pulls mine up to kiss the back of it, holding it against his lips. See you tomorrow, Brother. He squeezes Duncan's shoulder with his free hand and Duncan pulls him close for a quick hug.

Tomorrow, Brother. Thanks for the evening. 

And we're gone. And this morning when I woke up it wasn't a dream. It was real and my legs still ache but at least my mind is quiet. Lochlan is mildly agitated and takes forever to come down but me, I'm on a high that won't quit. This is what I live for. This is what I came for. This is what the Collective means. A way to bounce around inside and outside of my head with safe danger everywhere. Danger I can reach out and touch only to find it isn't dangerous at all. At least most of it.

A household equinox.

Summer is officially over.

The sun is setting earlier. We're in sweaters suddenly, abruptly as if someone flicked a switch. Pumpkin spice? Sure, I don't care, as long as it's hot. The garden is winding down in a big way with the only thing left being the last few ripening tomatoes, a few cucumbers, two giant pumpkins and a single soon-to-open sunflower, after months of bounty. It fed us for a couple of months and I consider it a resounding success, in that we finally after last years' false start, were able to figure out how to grow radishes and corn and also way more vegetables from seeds than from seedlings. I'm seven times as proud as usual and plan to branch out with even more next year. The only thing that didn't grow at all was the lettuce but even when I could grow it it bolted too fast to be used up and wasn't even that good, honestly.

The corn on the other hand? We've never had better.

I may never run out of basil, either. Of that I'm reasonably sure.

Four days of solid rain out of the past five have made the grass green again and the evenings darker than they should be for this time of year. I'm anxious to put out the Halloween decorations and have a fire going all the time. I'm excited for Thanksgiving and for Christmas too, and yet it seems like there should have been a few lingering weeks of hot weather and light nights after school starts that won't be there. School starts next week. Already. Suddenly I'm a 'Grad Parent' and also the mother of a newly-minted senior high student. They don't need wardrobes, only a few things. They don't want school supplies (rolling their eyes), because the teachers don't care but they will need pens and paper and mechanical pencils and they've already been to school to select and lock their lockers and make sure their friends did the same, close by.

The summer didn't rush by this year. It's a first. It meted itself out evenly, slowly. We did a lot. A lot of work. We had a lot of fun. We stayed up too late and went to bed too early sometimes. We swam constantly. We ate a lot of ice cream. We didn't try a single new restaurant, I don't think and I didn't care (I usually love to do that).

We had another wedding, though it was small and it wasn't here, per se. We rearranged life just a little and it worked out better than I could have imagined. I still struggle with a few things. I still fight the fight I've fought all along.

And now the final weekend is here before school starts. Ruth and Lochlan's big birthday weekend is starting up in earnest. The boys will come back (early) from Burning Man and we'll settle into a new and different routine for the coming season. Like we always do. I've been cooking and baking and decorating on the sly (one closet is FULL of balloons blown up and ready to be deployed) and the presents are bought and wrapped and both parties (one family, one friends) are planned for tomorrow and for Tuesday, of all days and I think we're ready. Bring it and bring everything else too.

I faltered a little, that's all. I'm okay now. Some days are tough but I'm tougher.

Never gonna happen.

I woke up to...everyone. Lochlan was wrapped around me. I put my hand out and touch Dalton who is in front of me. Duncan is beside him. Christian is sitting on the floor on the other side of Duncan, head back, dozing slightly. Sam is in one chair, head bowed as if in prayer but he's sleeping. Andrew is in the other, head on elbow. Ben and Daniel are on the couch asleep leaning on each other too and PJ is sitting on the far corner of the bed looking so pleased with himself. He leans in, wide awake.

Here's the army for you. I'm heading out. Taking the kids shopping. 

I nod because it's a fuzzy thought and I can't get it to focus quite completely but I sit up anyway and rub my eyes.

Loch sleeps on a trigger so he's up instantly. Hey. Did you sleep?

Like someone in a coma. Everyone is stirring. Did you all stay all night?

Dalton is up. No. We came in way early this morning so you would wake up surrounded. 

Jesus, this could only be better if we were all naked. 

I'm game, Ben laughs. He looks tired in a bad way though.

Sam chuckles quietly. Me too. 

Christian stands. This is where I make my exit. A chorus of hilarious protest goes up.  

Stay, I tell him.

You snore, Bridget. 

Please tell me it's a nice snore though. 

It's nice and loud, if that's what you want to hear. 

Lochlan smiles and kisses my cheek. Better this morning? 

I hope so, I tell him. I get up and pad across the room stepping over big feet and go into the bathroom. When I come out half an hour later, freshly showered and in my favorite robe, Lochlan is the only one left. All the curtains and blinds are open and the bed is made.

Your playa name is Circus Peanut and this is your theme camp, the theme being communal living. Here we demonstrate a working commune as run by ex-sideshow freaks. So far so good. We need to disperse the workload more evenly though. You had too much of a share and you crumbled a bit yesterday. 

I need a vacation. 

Then welcome to Point Perdition. It's a mini-burn, just for you. 

Do we have an orgy dome? 

Well, you cut right to the chase, don't you?

Maybe. Do we? 

We might. I'll show you later. 

SERIOUSLY?