Cole, you would have liked this one a whole hell of a lot.

Oh my God, I dropped the ball and apparently it rolled away under something somewhere and I just found it late last night. 

Big Boat. You know, the new (new. Ha!) Phish album that came out six freaking months ago? 

That's what I get for not using the internet. I blame everyone on this entire point for not telling me. They're always online somewhere, reading something. No excuses. No surrender. 

It's glorious though. Better late than never.

A little ball of fire, a lot of destruction.

In the shower this morning with Lochlan. He takes me by the elbows and walks me backward under the spray until I'm drowning. Then he pulls me back out, smooths my hair back and kisses me.

I christen you every morning in boiling hot water, Peanut and we start over. I wish I could put in rules. I was I could take you with me and run. I wish to God Sam would stop falling asleep holding a lock of my hair. 

He laughs and sticks his whole face back under the spray. Then he rubs it hard and is back in front of me, where I have made a tower of my hair, full of shampoo, up into a tall soapy point. He looks up and laughs as it falls over and deposits a blob of shampoo in my eye. I yelp when it burns and he takes a damp facecloth and holds it over my face until the soap is gone and the pain with it. He then dips me back in the spray again until I am rinsed clean. He could baptize me a thousand times over and I'm fine with starting over again with every single breath. If this is the way it has to be for him then this is the way it is.

We've taken Sam in as a fixture or something at this point. He's lonely and a little unsure, a little shaky in real life when he isn't on a pulpit speaking as the representative of the Lord and he's cute to a debilitating fault. He's not a threat either. Not anymore. Not how they thought he would be anyway. At least very very few people see him as one, and Lochlan and Ben are not two of them.

Caleb and Batman, on the other hand, well, they bitch long and loud about this.

But it isn't their business.

Sure it is. You're my girlfriend. Caleb's fairly certain he can have a say in all of it. I'm certain he has a say in none of it. Also...girlfriend? He's never ever talked like that in a thousand years. He's transferred all of his energy that used to be used to bully Lochlan and figures he can do it to Sam. I don't think so.

Sure it is my business. I promised to look after you. Batman's still got one hell of a fucked-up allegiance to Cole that seems to transcend any business or personal relationship they had. He acts as if he's lost a lover and he's racked by the guilt. My brain never went there before and I don't know if I want to let it now. Neither Cole nor Batman has ever expressed interest in men but then again I run with a strangely progressive and permissive crowd-

No. You know what he's doing? He's hiding his personal distaste for any relationship I have that doesn't involve him behind his loyal duty to keep a promise to someone who's dead and can't care any more.

Hey, look. It's only the third time I've ever used that word to describe Cole since he left.

He is dead.

Dead.

God, I hate that word so much.

So if I want to fill my wakeful moments and then my dreams with as much love as I can because it feels good, it feels safe and it feels right I will and they can't do anything about it.

Sure I can. Caleb gives Sam a shove when he walks in through the kitchen archway. Sam bumps against the wall and his phone bounces off the floor. It's fine. He's fine. He says nothing to Caleb and collects his phone and heads out anyway, and I turn and stare at Caleb as he takes a seat at the island to watch  me finish cleaning up. He positively glowers with jealousy and I finally ask him to leave if he's just going to spread negative tension everywhere.

PJ stands up. PJ's never all that far away and doesn't like any of this. Not for jealousy's sake, just for peace of mind.

You can sit, Padraig. There's no drama. I promise. I just want to speak to Bridget in private.

That doesn't exist-

It damn well does! Caleb yells at him and I slap my hand flat on the counter and lean way over.

You don't get to speak to him like that. Go. Please.

Neamhchi-

GO. You can apologize to him later and I'll talk to you tomorrow. That's all.

Dismissed. Like that. He won't be over for dinner.  I won't be over later. He lost the day for his temper. I can't give him an inch or he'll take everything and there's no way I'm letting him take out his ire on people I care for just as much. Nor will he be allowed to come in here and start ordering anyone around. I balance up here on such a thin wire of keeping the demon in check with the monster and it hasn't been, nor will it ever be easy but I'm doing it anyway. I'm well-trained and I have a lot of experience staying up here forever and if civility is what makes us work then that's what will be law around here, instead of the wild west it used to be.

I hold on to Lochlan's shoulders and he leans me way back under the spray again, landing a kiss against the hollow of my throat. You get to make the rules now, Peanut. Just make sure you say very clearly what it is that you want. 

Maintenance of a tender heart.

Sam. 

The word I spoke on the porch maybe had more weight than it needed to but Sam let the door swing closed on Caleb's face as they made their way past each other. Sam was going in as Caleb waited for him to clear the door so he could come out. Usually whoever opens the door outward waits and whoever is coming through comes through but Sam chose not to be polite.

He turned and held the door wide with his arm. Sorry. Didn't see you in the darkness. 

Caleb passed him with a nod and came out to sit with me. I don't know if he caught that double entendre but I sure did.

Sam is doing that thing where he's annoyed that I missed church again and even more annoyed that I haven't seen much of him as he hunkers down in preparation for the coming weeks of heavy work. The biggest season of the year for church. It kind of makes me crazy how people who show up at Christmas and then again at Easter in their finest get a pass while I'm singled out in my contentment to give up cookies and get my forehead orthodoxed out with a cross every couple of days while at the same time thoroughly corrupting my minister to the point where hopefully he won't notice my absence in front of him during the weekly sermon.

I think it's working, though.

Caleb and I sit for an hour or so until the tea is cold and so are the tops of my feet. Then he heads inside to bid the rest a goodnight and Sam is back on the porch before I've had time to register that I have the whole thing to myself.

He's here too much. 

What's wrong, Sam? 

I worry about you. I don't know how you can give him the time of day sometimes. 

I forgive easily. I can hold a grudge with both hands and not let go in a tsunami, but I still forgive him. 

Why?

It's necessary. 

But is it? Can't I or someone else take his place? 

Not the same. 

Ouch. 

Jesus Christ. I'm not here for numbers. I love him, Sam. 

Do you love me? 

He stares earnestly at me. I've never seen such hope in his eyes. Even during dark times. It makes my eyes water even as I hold my breath.

It's late. We should go on up. 

Yeah. I have some reading to-

Come with me. You can read later.

There's my answer, Bridget. 

Yes, Sam. There it is.

TX20

Swoooooooooon.

We went to see the Tea Party last night after having listened to them for over a quarter of a century for their 20th anniversary of the release of Transmission tour. It was so good! We managed to get our usual set of tables without a fuss, the Commodore Ballroom is perfect as usual and the band was outstanding. Worth it. They made me cry once, but only when Heaven Coming Down turned abruptly into With Or Without You, which, coincidentally, I saw U2 perform live on their last show here in Vancouver.

I finally feel like I've caught up with the boys as far as attended live shows goes. Finally. And this one last night lands in my top five of all time because it was THAT good. 

The crowd sang along and clapped and we all laughed and Jeff Martin is the Lizard King if ever there was one, but in a very good way. I don't know what people think when they read that, but when I mention it I think of Jim Morrison (of course) and how any man with a shit-ton of charisma, charm and cool who also sports some nice leather jackets and long brown curls is going to wind up in that category. Jim, Jeff and Duncan (my resident LK) are just somehow far better at it (or were, for Jim anyway) than most.

All the fools in one place.

Thank you for letting me sleep, Neamhchiontach, he says as he comes into the kitchen this morning from the living room, blanket still over his shoulders. All eyes shift over to the doorway and he salutes the room lazily.

You seemed to need it.

The house is so quiet. I didn't expect that.

We soundproofed Ben's workshop, PJ says with his mouth full of toast.

What's that? Ben says from where he sits and ignores every last one of us. Lochlan smirks at Ben but says nothing.

Can we continue our conversation this evening? Caleb's still looking at me and ignoring the banter now spreading around the room.

Yes. A group of us are going to dinner and to a concert. We plan to get along. It's working. Somehow. Holy.

Twelve years. Twelve o'clock. Twelve tries to get it all wrong.

I watched Caleb sleep today. I watched him watch the fire until his eyes grew heavy and his chin touched his chest and then he lifted his head and his eyes opened again but only for a minute before repeating his shutdown. He's exhausted. Trying to stay alive in a world like this, trying to outrun his own heart so it doesn't trample him flat, trying to catch my heart so he can add it to his Bridget-collection where for now only my soul and my past wait. Trying to be a big player in a small field. Trying to be the hero when the world is all villains all the time. Trying to win back the trust he took from that little girl in the woods, who tried to lock him out of the camper but wasn't strong enough for him. Wasn't any match for him. And now sits and watches him. Wondering if she really needs him after all. Wondering if she should kill him in his sleep. Wondering if he'd be better off far away from this and wondering if he has room under his arm for her so maybe she can just curl up and sleep for a minute too.

On making do with cheddar bunnies. Sigh.

Here, Peanut. Eat a cookie and we'll call it a great experiment but you don't have to keep it up. 

Yes, I do. Until Easter. That's the deal. 

You're going to keep observing Lent?

Yes, I have to. 

Why? 

I've never finished it. Never kept a New Year's resolution, never followed through. 

You married me. That's following through. 

Naw, I was lucky enough that you married me. 

Bridget, you saved my life. 

After almost killing you. 

Let's not split hairs, Lochlan laughs and kisses the top of my head. The point is you don't need to prove a thing. 

I do to myself. 

Fair enough. He sits down on the step and eats my cookie right in front of me, the shit. God. This is delicious, he says with his mouth full. 

Wonderful. 

It is, isn't it? You see, Bridgie, there are benefits to being a heathen. 

On the road to Emmaus.

Today was full of good things. Like heavy soaking rains, a daughter who turns out has incredible hustling skills, a son who suddenly decided an old leather jacket was much cooler than the hoodie he lives in to wear to school (he's right), eggs Benedict and bottomless coffee. Like french fries in the oven just after five o'clock and one more episode of the Walking Dead before we're all caught up and eventual sunshine to dry things off just a little bit before the rain moves back in overnight.

I backed into Skateboard Jesus today in a storefront as I turned too quickly from a display of Wonder Pots (do I want one? Or at least four of them, for that's how many I would need to cook for this house. I'll wait until the crockpots break, I guess) and he put his hand on the small of my back and held it there for a moment so we both wouldn't fall.

Sorry! I turned too quickly.

I was too close. My fault. Hello, Bridget. I'm glad I ran into you, even if it is literal. It's been almost a year and the watch you gave me works a treat. He shoots an invisible french cuff out from where he's holding his backpack straps and I see Caleb's watch glint in the light from the burdened sun.

I'm glad to hear it. 

Every time I look at it I think of you. How goes the battle against the chocolate chip cookies? 

Thirty days without one now. I've set a lifetime record. I really want one, though. 

Don't worry. In a little over two weeks I'll be back and you can have one. It'll be a miracle if you still want one by then, I bet. 

Or it will just be a miracle. Right?

He smiles, puts his skateboard down, one foot on it and he's gone.

Staring at this yellow-haired girl.

Smiling in the bright lights
Coming through in stereo
When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely

Better today! I get down. It happens. I fall into a deep hole and then I reach up and try and pull as many people into it with me as I can, for company. I get lonely even though the house is full. I get scared behind the very army who's more than capable of protecting me and I get this weird combination of wanderlust and wanting to hunker down that makes me want to stay inside and just contemplate fleeing forever.

Of course it doesn't make sense. Time is flying. Things are happening. Life is changing even as I fight to keep us firmly wedged somewhere between 1983 and 2007. Formative years, you know. Not everything in between but those years are major players and I'll not accept it nor will I move on. I will mark them with reverence and respect for they shaped me profoundly. 

But at the same time, I'm not wallowing. John sang Counting Crows songs with me all morning while we tried and failed to make tortellini from scratch. It wasn't...good so we ordered pizza for dinner tonight. Actually five of them. The pizza was very good and more than made up for the metric ton of wasted ingredients from the pasta. 

But did you have fun?

I had so much fun. 

Good, then next time we'll add another person and we'll keep adding people until everyone is having fun. 

You're like the resident cheerleader. 

It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. Can you imagine if it was Ben? 

HEY. Ben picked that exact moment to come upstairs. Actually, later he admitted he came up and heard me laughing so he waited at the top of the stairs, enjoying the sound. I'll have you know I can cheer her up just fine. But it's an easier job if she's naked. That's all. 

Nice, Benny. 

Actually it's VERY nice. But not if this is the soundtrack. This has got to go.

Bumblebee (more than meets the eye).

The children (I need a better descriptor for them, they're bigger than me and driving and university-deciding and showing up at all hours now) went back to school today. It's Ruth's last term in high school altogether and Henry has a scant two years remaining. I have a weird feeling I'm going to cry all the time when they leave home, like Mrs. Witwicky in the Transformers sequel when Shia LaBeouf went away to college until they calmed her down with a pot brownie.

Yep. That will be me, except for the grace that they won't be living in residence because they'll go to local universities. They freaking love Vancouver. I would have too, had I lived here since the age of eight or ten, because it's a cool place and you never have to wear a coat, technically. Plus things like noodles and bubble tea and pretty much whatever your heart desires, framed by beaches and mountains everywhere.

Plus, as I found out this afternoon, King of Donair is finally opening a shop here. Or at least I hope they are.

Dies. Life complete.

I'm about to get fat.

Really really fucking fat.

And I don't care because the boys will be even fatter. And we're all okay with it. We'll run it off some other time.

But where was I?

Oh yes. The children. I really missed them today when they went back to school. I filled my morning up with grocery shopping and new-windshield wiper hunting, and laundry and dishes and baseboard-scrubbing and I started spring decluttering a bit and yet it was all done with that tiny thread of unease that reminded me constantly that they weren't home. That this is an all-day every-day life and that I really need to work on my abandonment issues because I'm here digging my own grave while everyone happily comes and goes.

You're the anchor, they tell me.

I'm drowning here, wedged on the bottom and yet I'm the only one who will be able to save me, because that's how life works and I can't seem to figure it out. Now I'm getting passed by my own kids and I'm so damn happy they're successful I don't even care about me much anymore.

That's not a good thing, everyone says.

Yes, I know it isn't. But I'm honest at least. My one and only sterling trait.