James & Jyn.

I went to see Rogue One this afternoon with half the boys, packed in the middle of our block of seats, escaping for an afternoon.

All I'll say about it is go watch These Final Hours, a 2013 Australian movie about the end of the world and then watch Rogue One. There's a really pivotal scene in each and gosh darnit, it was exactly the same.

It was also a lot darker than the last Star Wars movie I saw, and I'm told if you rush home and watch A New Hope it flows seamlessly right into it. Which Ben says is a very good thing. I just find them so dry and not really my thing. But I go to be one of the boys, just like I did at six years old when they were all eleven and older when they would have seen it for the first time and we were on whole different levels of movie preferences. I didn't know them yet. I think I cried when 'Dark Vader' came on screen and he's been scary ever since. That's not going to endear me to this franchise, sorry folks. Hate me if you like but don't tell me you come here for my vast knowledge of the Rebel Alliance.

(I have absolutely none.)

Waning year.

There's something about the waves when it's cold. They're icy, clear and pale blue at the top and then they gradually darken into a cold steely teal color I can't duplicate no matter how hard I try. It doesn't come out right in photographs or paint swatches or memory either, it's just one of those things you need to see for yourself. Like the Collective itself. We don't translate well to these little vignettes, to the stunted, edited, chopped out stories I share. We sound disjointed, hedonistic and out of control.

We're not.

I'm not.

They keep me locked down to a tight schedule. They keep me safe and busy and entertained and emotionally raw. That's the glue, for us. Feelings. After they taught me to feel big I taught them how to show it. It's the one constant when everyone wants something different on the big screen, a different condiment in their sandwich and a different sexual position in their bed.

The variations in one house alone is stunning. We have mayonnaise, chipotle mayonnaise, sriracha mayo, mustard, horseradish, honey mustard, and butter. There are more but those are the favorites.

Bet you expected a different list right there, didn't you?

Last night I fell asleep sprawled on Ben while he watched MASH seasons in full. His arms were warm. His breath was warm on the top of my head, and I'm pretty sure he drifted off for most of it as well.

He stirred around two and we woke up and realized Lochlan was there. Curled up next to Ben, with his hoodie on with the hood up and the body pulled down over his knees. I wouldn't have seen him in the dark save for the shock of red curls coming out of the hood opening.

The screen featured Netflix politely asking if anyone was still watching. I didn't realize Ben had switched to Sense8 from MASH at some point during the evening. Ben pulled a second blanket off the back of the sectional and covered Lochlan with it. Loch startled awake and then smiled and asked if we minded him crashing the party and crashing literally.

No, brother. Go back to sleep. Ben shifted me off him, dumping me down in the middle between them under both blankets. I blinked and it was six in the morning and the projector was off and we had been given pillows. Lochlan's alarm was beeping. Time for a new day where it's still cold and the waves are still those beautiful icy shades of blue and we still feel everything really hard but we can't seem to capture or harness any of it, ever.

Hindshadows.

They should have a tour at Christmas.

I keep staring at the midway lights. Lochlan is replacing bulbs, standing in the back of his truck to reach. I'm in the cab. There's no window between us, he took it out because he won't let me sit in the back of the truck while it's moving and he couldn't leave me behind. He has to do this job at night so he can see which lights need replacing. I hand him the proper colors as he calls for them.

No one would come. People are home with their families. Plus it's too cold to spend the evening outside. Imagine being in the camper in winter? There's no heat. We'd freeze. 

We wouldn't freeze. We would just snuggle down and be warm. Also, what about people that don't have families?

They go to spend the holiday with friends. 

What if they don't have any friends? Like me. Where would I go?

What are you talking about, Peanut? You have all of us.

But you're all so much older and you all have each other. 

And you. We have you. I need a red.

So I can spend Christmas with all of you when I grow up? I hand him a red bulb. He takes it and smiles at me.

I sure hope so. I'm counting on it.

Credible threat.

Haunting my reflection
A bitter thought comes to my mind
I made known my objection
About how you had come to die

His hands cover my head, clutching my skull against his chest. I let out a deep breath and he asks me something but I can't hear him so I lift my head up to look at him.

I asked you if you want me to get Ben too.

No, this is good for now. We can call him up later.

You want me to get- I can feel him stiffen even before he asks.

No. Just you.

He relaxes again and my heart flexes and fuses part of itself back together.

I'm not a wolf, Bridget. I'm trying to give you what you need. If you want to be free the door is open. You know the old adage 'if you love someone set them free, if they come back they're yours', well, you keep coming back to me. Every time. You're mine and I know that and no one's going to take that from me so you can go off and explore your feelings all you like. At the end of the day you're mine.

What if I get hurt?

I'll protect you.

What if you change your mind?

I won't.

What if-

We could do this all night. It won't change a thing. I love you. I'm trying to give you what you need. Take it before I lose my nerve. 

***

When I woke up again Ben was breathing on my head and Lochlan was gone. I extricated myself from Ben's light grasp and went to find Lochlan. I saw the light on in the library and as I got closer I could hear his voice and Sam's. I couldn't make out what they were saying but it was calm and thoughtful at least so I turned around and went back upstairs to bed, pulling Ben around me. He turned willingly and woke up, and without a word he stripped me out of my pajamas and held me against him. Tighter than usual too.

Pale shelter.

Curiousity and mild fright morphed into visceral rage somewhere in the long dark and it all caught up with me in a hurry as I stood at the door looking out into the cold endless night, now dusted with snow, holding my hand behind my back, fingers crossed. PJ made me a drink that wasn't quite meant for my weight class and so I can't feel the cold or the remnants of the fear but I can feel the anger coming like arrows lit with fire. They're all aiming for my heart. One will always be closer than the rest but the others still make their mark and I am left riddled with holes, brought back to life by the good graces of the sun in simple daylight, torn apart before then because that's what wolves do.

And this is my pack even as I stand out like a kitten who made a wrong turn in the forest.

I'm only hurting myself on purpose here, no one else. To Lochlan it's just another test of my loyalty. To me it's a challenge to see if I can take it. To everyone else it's a foolish risk and a chance that shouldn't be taken and a Just Plain Bad Idea but they don't get to decide. Selfishness shines like pride and I know exactly what any one of them would decide on my behalf.

And so I waltz into brave ideas like a clumsy dancer, tripping over my own feet, sure of the music I can't hear though I know it must be there and when I'm in someone's arms sometimes it makes sense and this is one of those times. I haven't set times or made promises but I haven't written him off either. I am thinking. I don't know much of anything except how to steal important things like hearts and money but I do know when things shift a little and I think I can make some room. I always have a little wiggle room. It's made up of the spaces left over in between the pieces of my heart, where I tied them all together as tightly as I could but the wind still whistles right through it as I stand here with the door open looking into the trees, a row of sentries looking back at me. At least these ones don't yell.

Everyone has a thing. This is mine.

When Lochlan leaves the room I am turned back over. Hands hold my face up, strong arms keep me close, and a strong unfamiliar cadence moves us both.

God forgive me, he says to me.

I'm not God, I tell him.

He ducks his nose down against my ear and resumes a stranger's pace as I close my eyes. He smells like cedar and woodsmoke and old leather. His hands are shaking. His breathing is quiet. The pressure on my bones increases incrementally. He's holding me harder and tighter with every passing minute until my bones threaten to break and I am released and then with a lingering kiss he is gone and my heart beats a new rhythm I can't quite keep up with, all of the sudden.

***

Everything is different again. It's weird. Usually everyone gets mad. This time they're afraid. I haven't seen this kind of undercurrent of fear since Jake elbowed his way into the group so many years ago.

God works in mysterious ways.

***

Honesty left me stripped like a tree of its leaves in winter. I'm chilled to the bone, bare and harsh against the clouds, thin and spindly and unable to block the wind that threatens to pull up my roots and blow me over.

What if you fall for him? 

I stand up and smooth out my coat underneath me. Then I sit back down. Better. It was all bunched up and I was even warmer than usual. What if I do? I like the fear rolling off him in waves. Truly I do.

You already have, haven't you?

I ignore his observation. Can we just get coffee? The third degree never leave me with an appetite.

Can't you exist without falling in love with every man you come across? 

You know what? Thanks for the invite but I'm really not hungry or thirsty anymore.

The truth hurts, doesn't it?

No but I'm guessing the jealousy does?

Touché.

Indeed. 

Were you this open with Lochlan when you talked about it? 

We don't talk about it. 

Maybe you should. He needs to know what he's getting himself into. 

He knows me better than anyone. 

In this case I'm thinking I'm the only one who realizes just how quickly you fall. 

Not that again. 

What?

Trying to pretend as if there was something wrong already when you came on the scene and that's why I fell for you. 

I'm certain that's what it was. 

You're wrong. 

You couldn't have possibly known at the time. You were a chi-

A child. Right. I remember. 

Wolves at the Gate (bait them and switch).

I know who you are, you wanted to be perfect
In all that you were, but you bailed, you bailed
I know who you are, you wanted to be worth it
In all that you were, but you failed, you failed

The snow falls steadily outside the windows.

I close my eyes.

Lochlan slides his hands up underneath my back, pulling me in close against him. He cradles my head, keeping his weight on his forearms, keeping my face pressed in close against his skin. His breath comes harsh against the top of my head, the music so loud in my ears from the headphones.

The instructions are always simple. Let the music take you. Wade right into it and float there. I'll be here. I'm not leaving.

My arms are locked tight, wrapped around his shoulders, my teeth bared against his shoulder, my legs aching as he drives before slowing to a delirious crawl. Then there are other arms there, pulling me out from underneath, taking his place, this time giving me nothing to hold on to except dear life as I am blinded and deafened, facedown in the quilts. The snow is gone, the curls are gone but the music is still loud and the courage has arrived as he was told to join in as soon as he felt comfortable and instead he's just taken over.

This doesn't surprise me one bit. It's always the quiet ones that come out of their shells in what you would think would be the most awkward or difficult of situations.

Lochlan comes back later. I am alone again and just about asleep, watching the fire, buried in blankets, my skin flushed and burned and consecrated again. Jesus bed, I'll call it.

FIVE GOLDEN RINGS.

What's a partridge?
What's a pear tree?
I don't know so please don't ask me
But I can bet those are terrible gifts to get

Some idiot gave me the Let it Snow Baby...Let it Reindeer album so I've been singing badly with my fledgling cold all day.

There's snow.

It SNOWED.

IT DIDN'T EVEN MELT YET. Well, not completely anyway.

This is perfect. I have nothing left to do. I did all my chores. I'm going to make a cup of coffee and watch Netflix and crochet a scarf.

So PJ ruins it.

What do you want for Christmas, Bridge?

(They've been bugging me for a list for a few days now. Days. Not weeks.

I was done shopping slightly after Halloween. Everything was mailed off late November that had to go across the country and I finished all my wrapping a week ago. I'm READY. Earlier than ever. Next year I may leave it until December twentieth just to enjoy the panic.

Or not.)

I square off with PJ. Oh, honey..

Don't Oh-honey me, just name something you want. 

Dalton?

Bridget, CHRIST! I mean something I can buy locally. 

Find me a good book. 

Nope, you read three books a year and at this rate your night table contents will be finished around when you turn sixty years old. 

Imagine-

I can barely deal with you now. 

That's like fifteen books? 

God, your math sucks. It's almost fifty books. 

Wow. I hate math. Get me a math tutor. Better yet get me a butler who does math on the side. 

God, I thought you said does meth on the side. Imagine the entertainment value?

How about you get me a pair of cool socks instead?

You wear all black. 

I know. Good luck. 

Bridget-

You know what I'd love? Some more of that English toffee syrup to put in my coffee. 

You're going to be a raging diabetic before you finish all those books, Baby. 

Look, if you're just going to trash all my other ideas, just go with the drugged up butler. You can't go wrong! Then you can make him shop for you instead of leaving it until the last minute.

3 Gs: Just like astronauts feel heading into outer space.

(All I want for Christmas is this.)

Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices

That seems to be the common theme for the point for 2016: Grief, greed and guilt. We are evenly split, divided into thirds, standing under our respective accusations as if they are our own personal planets and yet the moment we all stepped down off our pedestals and acknowledged our positions, we turned a corner so hard we drifted just a little bit and wound up in some new galaxy.

I squealed. It was cool.

We're going to call it The Future and as soon as we're settled and we don't feel these Gs anymore from rocketing around so much between the past, present and tomorrow we're going to be okay.

Hysterical deafness.

(This is probably disjointed. I have a stabbing headache from the cold.)

Lochlan is patient, accommodating and open. I wanted to go for a walk on the beach today before it gets covered with snow and I'm no longer allowed. The rocks get so slippery and you have to balance on them to get to the sand. Ironic since I used to walk the high-wire for a living. Ironic because when I was little he used to demand that I grow up and once I did that he regretted it profoundly and has wished ever since to send me back to childhood. But I got my walk and a long talk with him with no shouting or bickering, for once.

He's also talking to Sam because he thought maybe Sam was steering me straight into Caleb's arms but Sam is actually trying to teach me how to navigate by myself without plans or input from anyone. Besides, Sam and Caleb, as the living angel and the fallen angel in this story, don't exactly get along. Lochlan has some deep seated awful guilt that he carries with him as a huge chip on his shoulder and all of this has to be shifted or remolded into something we can all live with and something we can use productively, because we all have to live together. 

Or rather, we want to live together. All of us. But Caleb sometimes makes that very hard. 

One of the things Lochlan promises is that in the spring we'll cut a proper walking path to the beach so I can come down here on my own (never mind the steps I'm forbidden to use. Maybe he's putting in a giant escalator because we all know how much I love THOSE) which would be nice. 

In the meantime, he tells me to enjoy the view because we won't come back down until it warms up, that it's fucking cold and if I want to look at the waves I can use the binoculars and look out the window. 

(That wasn't a bicker, technically because I failed to reply, instead soaking up the sun and the salt as much as I can before we retreat indoors for we have become lightweights.)

Sam stopped short of telling me I should go to the beach alone if I want to after weighing the risks and benefits. Not as impartial as I thought. Caleb called and said if I wanted to go he can take me, not to worry. He works hard at finding their weak spots and punching right through, which I can appreciate but I see how it fractures the Collective as a whole. Maybe I always did but I chose to be blind. 

I hope he can unlock my hearing next. Maybe I just refuse to listen. Maybe it's a defense mechanism so I no longer have to hear the awful things I was told as a child, awful things that were done that left me at that age forever. As Sam likes to remind me, I have the grief under control lately. It's everything else I can't manage now but that doesn't mean I won't be able to in the future.