Maudlin baby bright.

The running joke around the house these days is that English is my second language. Fun fact: it actually is, in written/read form. Who knew?

Well, everyone here did but you didn't. I learned to read and write in French before English. I pronounce many words rather creatively as a result and can't spell a lot of words that I should have no problem with save for they're in English and needlessly complicated. I also have good working use of several other completely useless but crushingly romantic languages from which to choose though most of the time I'm a mumbling, silent and mostly completely oblivious little shit.

(That last part is Dalton's depiction of me. It's not wrong so in it stays.)

The joke came from the fact that something's happened at Apple and we can no longer text each other with ease. I think it's from the last update but I used to be able to mash the keyboard and it would spit out exactly what I needed to say without me having to spell or fix a thing. Now it just sends gibberish. It's so awful it's become funny. Caleb implores me to go back to the Blackberry but the iphone is still more fun overall, even in spite of the virtually unusable keyboard. And I have tiny fingertips. Imagine the boys with their big paws.

This isn't even the main part of my post and I'm already rambling. Christ.

***

This is how I know he's not going to work with them. He's going to hold his own instead. 'His own' being me.

He slides a small box across the table after our plates have been cleared.

Diabhal-

Neamhchiontach, this is how it works. If we are in a sanctioned, public relationship, I'm permitted to give you gifts. 

Yes, but-

And just because he doesn't have the means I do doesn't mean I need to procure anything less than what I would chose for you any other time. I'm not going to bring down my levels to his simply because that's where he is. That doesn't make any sense. 

Well, you also can't leapfrog over-

Just open it, Babydoll. Please. 

I follow every direction he gives me. Always have (Hands behind your back, Neamhchiontach).  Inside is a beautiful necklace. Gold with a tiny heart-shaped frame filled with a pale green faceted stone attached to the chain on both sides of the tiny heart rather than from a single apex at the top. It's very delicate and beautiful. The nicest shade of pale emerald. Almost sage.

It is an emerald, he confirms. Probably worthless now that I've had it cut but it suits you. 

Oh. This is- Wow. 

Do you think it's too much, and Lochlan is going to pitch a fit? 

He will. 

Then send him my way and I'll explain. I want you to wear it, Neamhchiontach. Wear it because it's your heart instead of someone else's. Wear it in the garden, in the sea, in his arms and in mine. Keep it on. 

He stood up and came around the table, taking the necklace from me, attaching the clasp behind my neck.

It brings out the colors in your butterflies.

I look down and I see tattoos but I can't see the necklace and that's funny.

I like seeing you happy. 

You're behaving. 

It shouldn't be contingent on me. 

My face falls. But it is. This is by your design, Diabhal. 

Then we'll rework it for today and tomorrow. This can be the first day. 

That was in August.

That wasn't me.

About last night.

We didn't get our romantic dinner for three. I went under thanks to some mixup in communication over when I had last been medicated and missed the night completely. I woke up and my dress and shoes were still ready to go in the door of the closet.

Lochlan forfeited a princely sum to cancel the reservation on short notice and so Ben sprang for a pizza which they ate together while watching movies with PJ and Sam, while I snoozed upstairs. Someone came up every hour to check on me just in case but I wasn't in danger, I just fall asleep if the last dose hasn't worn completely off by the time I get a new one.

Sigh.

No amount of begging on my part has allowed for a do-over in spite of the fact that it wasn't even my fault, as I don't get to dispense my own meds anyway. So I don't get my fancy Valentine dinner, didn't get any pizza, and didn't get to wear that red dress.

Caleb was happy to offer to fly me somewhere (my choice) for a romantic belated dinner. I rolled my eyes and told him he isn't allowed to preempt anyone who lives in the house.

PJ showed me his Tinder date that never happened. She was barely a she, he said, and he got spooked and left her (him?) sitting at the bar. Says he lives with enough guys to know a guy when he sees one, and is giving up on finding a date for any holiday forever.

I pointed out how cute Sam is and PJ threw a piece of toast at me. Crabby Paddy.

(He threw it underhand, at least. That's important in this house. The throwing technique signifies intent. Underhand is mildly annoyed. Overhand is downright rage.)

Sam pointed out that PJ is indeed cute but his behaviour yesterday morning wasn't cute or helpful. PJ offered to suck his dick for him (gross and also only a joke) to make it up to him. Sam declined.

(I didn't expect him to decline that, in spite of it not being a serious offer or the least bit civilized. Oh well. The things you hope for when you're trapped in a house with a bunch of manboys.)

August got an update and threatened to fly back. From now on only PJ is allowed to dispense anything for anyone, no matter what.

PJ asked for a raise.

I gave him one. Happy belated Valentine's Day.

Cole-fired furnace.

Trying to make it to six pm. I woke up on the wrong side of myself and can't seem to get my act together. By nine Ben stepped in with fresh arms, a Xanax for me to take and an offer to go hang out in the sauna for a little while and then get ready for the day. I snapped at PJ, hung up on Caleb, cried for Lochlan to hurry up and come home and then the pill kicked in or the heat or maybe the coffee and I feel like a turtle now, only with a mild undercurrent of screaming noises dulled by every other effort to see this through.

Caleb came over when he saw us heading back to the house in our pool robes.

Everything okay?

Bad day, I tell him. I'm so informative. Useful. My lip is quivering and I'm trying not to cry and I just want to curl up and dissolve. Ben hasn't let go and won't let go. Lochlan's working double-speed and trying to call in reinforcements. PJ deservedly told me to go fuck myself and took off for the day, since it's Valentine's Day and he was put off to begin with and Sam is hovering like a bumblebee, trying to be near if we need him and away if we don't. August left for the East Coast before the storm. Duncan and Dalton are probably both sleeping.

And I have lost my mind.

Maybe we should watch a television show, maybe distract her just a little bit. 

Too far for that now, Ben says quietly, as if I'm not even present.

You need to go. You look too much like your brother today, I tell Caleb. Part of this was a valentine memory that came raging back at me in my dreams last night and I woke up unsettled and afraid, dreading breathing. Dreading standing up. Ben's policy is one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute at a time.

Caleb nodded at Ben and Ben tightened his hold on me and I asked if we could have a walk on the beach once we got ready.

See if I let you out of the shower, Ben smiles. He's up to no good. He's the king of distractions and sometimes immersion. Whatever works. Get through it and then figure out what it was and what worked or didn't but right in the middle is not the time and while that seems incredibly logical, no one else subscribes to that method and so he's just as thrilled to be taking charge and I'm grateful it's him and not Lochlan, honestly. Lochlan takes it personally. He takes everything so hard.

The shower was long and hotter than the sauna by far. I felt like I couldn't get enough air and Ben held me tight, washing my hair from within his arms, scrubbing me all over and then lifting me up against the wall. His visceral distractions worked wonders and by the time he switched us to cooler water so we could rinse I felt somewhat renewed. I need sleep and maybe a stiff drink but I don't feel like the world is coming apart at the seams right this minute. We went down to the beach, joined by Caleb again (to prove he's no one but himself) and by Christian, who said I was fast and tricky and Ben puts too much faith in my promises while Christian always expects me to run right off the rocks. So all three hovered while I bent low at the water's edge to find a few treasures but it was suddenly cold and I didn't want them to worry so much so we came back up quickly enough. Then Ben went to a meeting and left me with Sam (because I had to ask Caleb to go again) and Christian for a bit and I mostly read while they ignored me, ears open, ready to move but otherwise content to catch up with each other.

I fell asleep halfway down every page but I stopped thinking about Cole and then Jake too and by the time I finished the chapter Lochlan was back and promising that from now on he'll wake me up before he leaves, that he can make sure I'm okay before he's gone off somewhere. I try to tell him that Ben did really good, that Ben always does well with me but Lochlan's guilt won't let him listen hard enough. He holds me close and then shakes Ben's hand when Ben comes back and they both say that dinner will be fun, that the day will get better. That nervous fake assurance that no one ever believes but everyone invokes all the same. Maybe it works anyway.

I know it will. It already has, actually. I just wish my brain had an off-switch, and that my memory had cloud storage. So I could keep it all offsite until I decided that I wanted something, instead of being ambushed by it.

Troika.

Lochlan said he's made reservations for tomorrow night at a very romantic restaurant. For three of us! Yeah!

I thought our romantic dinner was last evening.

What? No, that was our Nostalgic dinner.

Ah. I was wondering why you cut up my chicken for me. 

I did that because bowls and knives don't usually work well together. 

Lochlan, I'm forty-five. 

Don't remind me. 

Someone should. 

You want to go out for Valentine's Day or not? 

I do! I'm excited. Are we dressing up? 

If you like. 

Does Ben know? 

Yes, he and I chose the restaurant together. 

I smile.

You're excited, Peanut. 

Of course I am! When we get formal, I know we're serious. 

Then we'll dress to the nines. Although I don't think my wardrobe goes past seven. Maybe six and a half.

Wear your top hat. Then it all goes to eleven. 

Let's dress to the eight-and-three-quarters. Then we're safe. 

But will you wear the hat?

If you want me to. 

Of course I do. Jesus. Have you met me? I love that hat. 

Yeah, you're the only girl who ever did. 

Is that why you married me? 

Of course it is. That and you make me look positively normal in comparison. 

So you think, Lochlan. 

I don't look normal? 

The question is, do you feel normal? 

Hardly never, Peanut. 

Then there's your answer.

Rituals.

We made dinner last night. By candlelight. Two burners, two pans. An old favorite comfort routine brought forward by pushing everything else back. Battered emergency candles. Mismatched cutlery. Paper towels folded nicely for napkins. Chicken breasts stuffed with mushrooms, cheese and parsley and potatoes boiled in the skin, plus carrot sticks, served in a cereal bowl.

It's one of the very first romantic dinners we ever shared together in the camper when I was around eleven and one we try to find a chance to recreate a few times a year. The caveat is we no longer steal the chicken (from the grocery store) or the potatoes (from a field) and we tend to use real marbled cheddar now instead of Kraft cheese product slices. Oh, and we have parsley which never actually existed in the camper timeline. We've also added a bottle of wine more often than not (but no glasswear because we're sideshow heathens) and the elbow room required to make the meal is a little more generous than it was but the end result is the same.

Special.

Just for us.

Lochlan surprised me with roses when he came home. I already had the chicken breasts stuffed and was struggling to open the wine. The kitchen was off-limits to everyone else, the house reminded to use either the front or the patio door and not to bother us. No one did. We took the wine, left the dishes and came upstairs, where Lochlan finished the bottle and I fell asleep early in his arms. He put his head down against mine and said quietly that if he were to be honest, he would tell me he really liked the Kraft cheese better than the real cheddar in the chicken.

I am surprised. So did I. It's just...creamier somehow. Less rich. 

Yeah! Exactly. And we nodded at the ceiling because we'll make it the old way from now on.

Speaking of markers..

We went to see John Wick 2 this afternoon. Every man in this house regrets his life decision not to become an assassin and I think I need a job working in Accounts Receivable as an operator at the Continental.

It was awesome. Go see it.

Cabin-fevered afternoons.

Lochlan is mad, but he assures me he's mad at himself and pretty mad at Duncan too but not at me.

(I feel like that's misdirected.)

But I couldn't talk about it, because once Lochlan let me up for air (because he hides his ego in the strangest places and when you least expect it he reveals it to you like a rabbit from a hat) Batman called and I had to go to work, putting in my ten hours hours for the week because I haven't been lately but he's been continuing to pay me.

You should stop that, I tell him in between filing and cross-checking invoices. (Who are all these people and what do they do?)

That is your regular stipend and not your salary. I don't give you a salary if you don't show up. Don't you check that account?

If it's just sugar then no, I don't. 

How much is there? 

How much have you put in? 

He puts down all of his papers in surprise.

Don't look at me like that. We've had this conversation before. I told you I haven't touched it. 

I thought you were being demure. 

Who, me?

Yes, just like that. 

No, I was being honest. I don't have to act. It's just what comes out. 

Are you that ridiculously casual about your money? Now I understand why you left Caleb to sort out his transfers. 

That's a whole different subject. 

Apparently not. 

I know what's there. I just haven't touched it. 

Why not? 

The minute I do I have...obligations. Right now I can call the shots with you.

You think if you spend the money you can't call the shots with me? 

Most definitely not. Then it's ownership. This way I can throw it all back in your face and say no to whatever I want. 

You can say no to anything. I'm not Caleb. But I'll double what's there if you leave the rest of them alone. 

I beg your pardon? 

Loch, Ben and Caleb. That's your triad. Nothing with anyone else. Unless you want to visit me, that is.

If you're serious, I'm leaving. 

Consider it. It's an easy way to double your money. And that's just what's from me. 

If you care about Lochlan so much maybe you should try touching him. I smile big. He's glorious. 

Right so why Duncan? 

I have issues. 

I think the word you're looking for is 'excuses'. 

Should I throw the money back at you now and walk out or do you need me to go to the bank and physically bring it here to throw it at you and leave? Because I'm up for either. 

Touchy. 

Just because I write it down doesn't mean it's up for discussion.

Then what on earth is it there for? 

I told you. I'm insane. Some people rock back and forth. I write it right out of my head. If you think because I'm functional I must be fine then keep your fucking money. I've got bigger things to worry about. 

You definitely do. 

I'm going to go get it and throw it at you. Overhand. 

Look, Bridget, my own reasoning will correct me on this before you make it to the door. Will you accept my apologies for the sour grapes that they are? 

Can we please just change the subject?

What would you like to talk about?

You have lots of money. Can you put Eco-Challenge back on television? 

What a strange request, Bridget.

It isn't really, but I do have some weird ones if you're interested. 

Oh! Write them down already and we'll go over them. I'll go put on some coffee.

Forewarmed.

My heart jumped a thousand feet in the dark. I went all the way down to get a glass of orange juice when I should have been trying to sleep, and when I walked into the kitchen there was a man standing in the light of the patio door, looking out.

Poem, said Duncan and my heart slowed briefly. Come see this rain. 

I dutifully abandoned my juice plan and went to the big glass doors to see. He was right. It was a wall of steady water, as if we suddenly were in a secret lair underneath a waterfall, like spies. It wasn't the usual rain, instead a windless deluge. Had we been outside we would have been soaked to the skin in seconds.

Wow, I tell him. Cozy though. 

He nods. Depends. 

On?

Whether or not you're alone. 

You can come upstairs, you know. 

Or you can come down with me. You know I like to be alone. He laughs so gently I don't know if he's teasing me or embarrassed.

If you want to be alone I can't come with you. I lob his joke back equally gently, underhand.

He catches it. I don't want to be alone, Bridge.

I follow him through the house in the dim grey light, the nighttime sounds of the house dwarfed by the rain pounding down. It gets quieter as we go downstairs and then loud again once we're behind closed doors because his windows are open slightly. He turns around to face me, pulls his shirt off and then pulls mine off too. His hands come up around my head as he kisses me hard, walking me backwards until the backs of my legs touch the bed. He pushes me straight down and then pulls off my pajama pants and steps out of his own. His room is warm and cozy but I'm a map of goosebumps.

He wastes no time at all getting down to his knees and I twist my fingers in his hair, trying to hold him in one place and pull him up to me at the same time. My back arches off the bed and he reaches up to cover my mouth as I cry out but then his weight is on me. He turns over onto his back, leaning back against the pillows, pulling me in tight against his chest, almost sitting up but far more leisurely and hot as fuck. It feels incredible, unfamiliar and really really good but it hurts too and I have to ask him twice to let up a little. I know they can't help it. He finally ignores me and goes over the edge, drowning in the sound of rain. His hands remain tightened around my hips. His arms stay locked. But his face is a wash of relief.

So sweet, he says.

I nod. You are. 

Stay and sleep? (One thing almost every man has in common, they want to nap afterward forever. It's maddening.)

I shake my head. I need to go get my juice. 

I thought you weren't going to come to me ever again. 

I thought about that. 

What changed your mind? 

You didn't ask. You waited for an offer. 

Lochlan's going to be pissed. 

He'll be fine. 

He's pissed at August. 

I go there too much. 

How much?

Way too much. 

How much is way too much?

More than Lochlan likes. 

I get it. You keep your cards close enough to keep us guessing so what's one more mystery? Okay, get out then. He smiles but my whole face falls. Those words are starting to make me feel so sad.

What'd I say? 

Nothing. Get some sleep. I'm going back up. 

Need me to walk you back? 

I think I'm safe in my own house. 

You think you are. You probably aren't though. 

I didn't ask what he meant, because by the time I thought through his reply his eyes were closed. I closed the doors quietly as I left, making my way back upstairs to the kitchen, where I opened the fridge and drank directly from the orange juice carton. When I closed the fridge door Caleb was standing behind it.

FUCK!

Have a midnight stroll, Neamhchiontach? 

Just thirsty. Lochlan's waiting for me. I turn to go back upstairs.

Does he know about all of the different places you go when you're thirsty? 

Go home. It's late.

Contrary to that view, it's early! Early bird gets the worm, or I guess in this case she gets her Poet. 

Jealousy is a horrible colour on you. 

On everyone.

Yes. 

Then stop making us work so hard for your affection while those of no consequence step in and get it for free.

Maybe this is none of your business. 

What if it is? 

Then I guess you'll have to deal with it because I'm going to bed. Also I'd like my key back. You don't need to be lurking around the house this time of night. 

Then tell your friends to lock the door. 

Great. I'll do that. 

Think the monsters live outside of this house, Bridget? Think again. He opens the door, blows me a kiss and steps out into the downpour. I lock the door behind him.

Second warning, same night. Guess who's not sleeping now?

The space between us.

They don't know my heart

I decided this week that Starset's Ricochet might be my favorite song in the world right at this moment in time. It starts a bit weak but then from 2:30 into the song onwards it's magnificent. My brain screams along with them right through the piano notes at the end.

So beautiful.

***

He founders for a place to lay his blame. It's heavy.

Good morning, I said to his closed eyes. He's awake. Just 'resting', as he always used to tell me he was doing when I would find him flat on his back in a field in the shade of a half-assembled ride, his baseball hat down over his whole face, curls fanning out like the tentacles of an octopus around his head.

Tell me you didn't just melt my eyebrows off with your dragon breath, Bridgie.

I can't do that, Locket. You're going to look permanently annoyed. 

I think I do that anyway. He laughs, still without opening his eyes. It's only because of your morning breath though. 

I can wake up elsewhere. It was a harmless comeback but once it was out I couldn't put it back. His eyes are now open, the jealousy volcano is filling up and ready to erupt and yes, he looks permanently annoyed.

Where would you wake up? 

On the kitchen floor? So I don't irritate you with my breath. I'm trying to save the mood but it's gone.

You think August pushes you out abruptly, go try this breath on him and see yourself outside in minutes. 

This has nothing to do with Au-

This has everything to do with him! 

I'm listening. I roll onto my back and wait for him to spew his green lava everywhere. I wait to be condemned by it, buried in it, burned in it and reborn from it as new. I have to find the silver for all the hot rocks or it would destroy me too.

He's not helping you, Bridget. He's making it worse. 

I wait. If I defend, I'm guilty. If I attack, ruined. I lie there in the ash and smoulder like the good little firebaby that I am.

He's got you wound up in some guise of helping you but at the same time he takes whatever he wants and then just pushes you right out the door. Sam said you were acting strange before I came in. I refuse to let anyone set you back. I don't know what he's doing. 

Have you talked to him? (Good girl, Bridget, just shut your mouth, oh shut it, baby, don't say too much)

No. He's not going to tell me the truth. 

Then you can't give weight to fears and ideas. That's what you tell me. 

He nods and closes his eyes again. I know. I don't want anyone to touch you but if they're going to anyway I don't want them to hurt you. Your heart or your body. 

No one can hurt either. 

But you're glass, he whispers.

August isn't your enemy, Loch. 

I know, but Jake is, and August is the closest thing to him that I have. 

That's why I go.

BUSY.

Today was the calm before the next storm, getting out and getting groceries, gas and cash while the sun shone. I really really wanted an espresso but I didn't feel like going in to a restaurant and really I don't know if coffee shops do that to go, or if they're all fancy mixed coffees or what have you. I don't get them. I just want a tiny cup of really strong coffee. Actually scratch that, I just want my bed and a little more sleep. I have chocolate though. That will do!

Also Ben got a new medal this afternoon and gave it to me for safekeeping. He gave me a kiss too and said I was worth the fight. He makes me cry. I mean everything does but he is something else entirely sometimes. I kissed him back and he complained about snot levels on my face and so we agreed to wait until later to fool around.

Or he can just go ahead, because like I said. I'll be asleep. Maybe mid-chocolate like that one time I fell asleep holding a cookie and when I woke up the next morning, well, what a mess.

Okay, I lied.

It's happened a few times, actually.