Carve me for Halloween.

I am dozing against Caleb's hard-as-a-rock shoulder. For some reason he isn't as bony as Ben but he's also not nearly as comfortable. It's probably the workouts, as the one thing Caleb refuses to be is the weakest in the bunch. He's a walking Hammacher Schlemmer catalog. Everything has to be The Best or it will never be good enough, and so this quiet morning with a fire crackling and my favourite teal and grey stoneware mugs, long empty is exactly what he wants. At least in this moment he does.

Tell me your thoughts. It's never a friendly curiosity with him. It's always an order.

But I'm ready because there's nothing I like more than to spread my insanity around like a sticky trap within which to catch my men. Or so some people will tell you but honestly I don't get the gossip. Most men don't want 'a handful', they want 'capable'. They want independence. In this day and age being a Knight in Shining Armour is exhausting and they have their own shit to deal with anyway, so put that to bed right there.

I'm wondering what would grow if I were planted right now. 

Pardon?

If I were a seed and you put me in the ground, what would grow? Would it be a tall beautiful flower? Or a little weed? Or maybe an exquisite vegetable like an eggplant or a turnip. 

His shoulders start shaking with laughter and I'm awake now. I have to shift my head because now it hurts to press against his muscles. You're amazing. 

I'm a turnip. 

An amazing turnip. 

Best you ever saw. 

And how.

Overtime.

(Three steps forward, eleven thousand four hundred miles back the way we came.)

You're exactly what I see
Maybe that's exactly what I need
Your heart is working overtime
and your brain is racing out of your mind

the hardest thing about this
is that I can't let you in
You know I need you but I can't see you
without losing everything

It's like a flashlight is being shown in my eyes and I squint, looking away. A throbbing starts in my head, somewhere far back, I can't place it exactly but he squeezes my fingers hard in his hands and says my name. I look back warily. I'm present. Yes, I'm paying attention. If I wasn't I'd be screaming, scrambling backwards, returning to the dark of the cave that is my mind, at once warm and comforting but ice-cold and frightening. He doesn't want to run down there today. He doesn't even want to put a foot in the door.

So he's got it propped open.

Hold the door, I laugh. It's an inside joke, if you know the provenance. I wasn't a Game of Thrones fan overall but that was one singular shining moment, wasn't it?

Three things about the day, Bridge. It's an order. He can do what Joel can't anymore and I love Sam for rolling up his sleeves and standing here in the cold while he tries to call a foolish freedom dog to heel, watching her run the fields in the sun, wholly ignoring him.

The new Wildernessa EP. Espresso. Cole's sweater.

Those are things. I need more. He says it gently. Like I'm trying to remember the answers on a verbal exam and it means my entire future. Okay, so exactly the same thing.

The sun is rising. I am safe and loved. We are okay.

What does 'okay' mean?

Everyone is healthy except for this cold. We're all doing well for the moment. Making plans for the future. We are blessed and have what we need. The pantry is full. The door is secure. The house is warm. The dog sleeps on the big rug in the kitchen. The children smile. We have movie tickets. Music plays all the time. It's really good.

What are your worries?

That my memories will drown all of this.

Can they? Do you give them that power?

I don't-

Bridget.

I try not to-

Bridget-

Okay, let's say I don't. Then what?

Can you drown them with an ocean of gratitude and blessings and maybe even faith that things are getting better?

Well, logically, yes but when did that ever work for me?

And Lochlan starts laughing. That's the best thing about all of this. It doesn't matter how dark it gets, doesn't matter how far down Sam peels my protective layers to get to the dimmest bulb in the garden that is this Collective, Lochlan is right here. Even when he was gone he was always available, never wavered, never put anything above this. Not God, not his own marriage, not anything. It's maybe a faith I have that I put above everything too because we always said we'd be a team and we've burned everything away but this and that's enough for me. I'm not independent and no, I'm not doing this for myself. There is no self. Just us.

I can do that, and I look into Sam's eyes with a determination he doesn't know is from something deliriously unhealthy as I try to please him without even budging. I can trick him by shifting his definitions for my own benefit.

But then he catches me.

Do what, Bridget?

What you said.

What did I say?

I've forgotten-

No, you changed it.

Survival mode? I offer up helpfully while he frowns.

Right. Survival mode. He looks at Lochlan with frustration and decides that's enough. At the door he turns before leaving. She's all yours.

Yeah, I know, Lochlan confirms. He takes my hand, now freezing cold from where Sam let go. You have to work with him, Bridget.

I thought I was.

You're grifting him. It isn't really fair and you don't need to put up a wall right now. Don't play games. It's Sam. He's a gift.

I'm sorry.

Tell him that. And don't start grifting me. Jesus Christ. I created a little monster.

I told you that decades ago.

I'd probably be fine if someone would take away my Sirius XM.

Every time that song comes on I reach out with one finger and turn the radio off.  Sam laughs and points out I've never turned off a fifties-era song before and I raise my eyebrows at him.

That's George Thorogood. 

He covered the Bo Diddley song. My bad. It came out in the fifties. 

Wow. Must have had a whole different sentiment. 

Name some of your loves today. 

Ginger kombucha, tattoo flash, power ballads, TED talks, painting tutorials-

People, Bridget. 

Not George then. Or Bo. 

Go on. 

Lochlan. Ben. You. 

You didn't say Ja-

I reach out and turn the radio back up, all the way. Forever Young by Alphaville is playing now. I wonder if anyone's ever covered it. I don't know if I can get through it. Hits too hard. Like every other eighties ballad I come across, which is why I was listening to this station (80s on 8) in the first place. If Lochlan and I hadn't imploded before I even grew into adulthood that first time around things would have been so incredibly different right now.

I walk down the same path as ever. I never know this fork, that bend. Nothing ever looks familiar though they have shown me the way. They led me down it. They stood at the end and called my name but I never heard them, not even once as I stumbled along, tripping, feeling that cold lurch as my heart, broken and shrivelled, slipped out from between my ribs with their claw marks from the wolves trying to get in and the blown out holes from the light trying to get out. At first I would cry out in alarm and fumble for my heart while they helped. Now I just scramble to collect it and shove it back in painfully before they notice.

This path scares me. It's never daylight. It never leads anywhere. Just when I think it gets to the end, it turns the corner and keeps going. The brambles scratch along my arms and legs, the rocks threaten to dump me on my ass, the mud tries to suck me down.

Lochlan comes charging back, picking up my heart as it rolls to a stop at his feet. He shoves it in his pocket and takes my hand, tucking it against his chest, under his arm and turns to continue on.

Come on, Bridgie. It's not long now.

Leave me here. 

I'll do nothing of the kind, Sweetheart. 

Seriously.

No, I am. I am seriously. Seriously not leaving you here in the dark.

He's drunk. I'm insane. We're perfect for each other.

Deep, deep breaths today. That's all. I keep holding my breath until my head aches and I have to focus really hard not to do that.

Soul reversal.

Jacob was waiting for me when I came down this morning. Just wanted to see if he's in the same place. Just wanted to see if he's aged. Just wanted to know if he remembers me, or knows who I am, or misses me too or regrets any of this at all.

I am. I have. I do. You're Bridget. Of course. I can't answer that. God doesn't allow for regrets because what's done is done and I've made all of my reparations to him and I have been absolved. 

Well..that's bullshit because I haven't absolved you. 

You aren't God. 

Once, you told me I was. 

That was foolish. I've said and done many foolish things and so have you. That's why I'm just a man. We are just human, and there is only one God. 

Right. That lets you off the hook. 

What else do I have, Bridget? 

Solid gold memories. That's what you have. 

That's what you have, you mean. 

Yes. They're priceless and worthless all at once. 

That's a beautiful way to put it. 

No, it's ugly. 

Not coming from you. You can make anything beautiful. 

Flattery won't get you anywhere. 

Where could I go? 

This is true. 

Speaking of which. You should go. 

I just wanted to make sur-

There are no guarantees in life, Princess.

I know that better than anyone, Jacob.

Then go back. 

Wow, you sound like August. 

Well, good. It used to be that he sounded like me.

Deconstruct.

Caleb is there, in close, mouth just about level with my nose as he ducks his head down against mine to talk quietly.

Time this weekend?

I shrug. I'm currently not in charge of my own itinerary, figuring it would be better if I leave Lochlan or Ben to guard the door. If they think I'm up to it, then I will too. If they don't then no harm no foul, no expectations and no hurt feelings.

Ask Loch. 

I was hoping you could come to me. 

I'm sticking close for the next few weeks. 

That isn't necessary. 

It is, actually. I've navigated one successful anniversary out of a dozen. I'm trying to make that a pair. 

Then come and stand behind me. I can protect you far better than they can from your...ghosts.The way he says ghosts gives me pause, makes me crazy, forces me to doubt everything I've ever known.

Not this time. I'll find you before winter. 

I'll be right here. I'll be within reach, Neamhchiontach. 

Not this time, Diabhal. I need to try this and I need your support. 

You have it. They do not.

Never better, I say when they ask, and they haven't realized it's the truth.

It's too early for this. I can't do this for this length of time. Something's not right and they don't see it. As it gets colder and darker outside they all hold on a little tighter but that's all. Sam isn't far. Lochlan won't even move out of breathing room, Ben has been keeping to a steady nine to five for the past few days and I know it will continue for the next few weeks and Caleb has his phone ready to call in an overpaid expert at a moment's notice, failing to register Joel sitting perpetually in my great room (who invited him), sipping coffee at all hours, making notes because the one thing I can't take back in my revenge on him is years of training. Claus remains on speed dial, retired but with numbers and people and the good drugs, easy to get.

The ghosts, easy to get to, not so easy to keep.

He would have been turning forty-nine. Can you picture Jacob on the verge of fifty? Deepened lines around his eyes. Maybe wearing shoes. Probably not. Sandier, whiter hair. Probably a slight paling of his white-blue eyes, or maybe they go darker. There's no room for the color to fade from his eyes. Still not wearing shoes. There's no space to breathe in here, I need Lochlan to move so my brain can explode. I need to do it quietly. I need to figure out a way to get through this. I've had ONE good fucking year since navigating this most holy of anniversaries and I can't do it. This is the twelfth time I'm trying here. How many chances do I get?

Made of sunlight.

Ben pulled a fast one, kept us guessing, took a gamble and I fell asleep last night to the tune of his steady heartbeat, walking six paces away from the day, turning and firing from the hip at the lights and when it went dark I went with it, safely into dreamland where I dreamed that I cut my hair again and then tried to drive the Jeep but someone had put the steering wheel on backwards and it was facing away from me and it went from the occasional death-wobble to a whole new skillset as I tried to keep it on the road. When I woke up my brain was already four or five numbers into Miss Saigon, a spot Ben was able to jump into without hesitation, singing back the parts of Chris to my Kim.

It's always been a requirement that they be able to return the parts of the male counterpart in Once, Phantom of the Opera, Hair or even Rent. What's garnered an odd acceptance is not my love of musicals but the level of insanity that my brain displays at any given moment but most especially in the darker hours where no one is supposed to see. They do (they must have night vision. Goes well with my SLIder nonsense or the telepathic and telekinetic and psychotic tics too DOESN'T IT?) and yet they ignore it, or worse, feed it. Gosh, she's so thrilled to have a familiar and be able to sing the whole song without having to sing both parts, so it must be a sunny, gleeful and crisp Tuesday morning and I'm just about ready to be carted off to a farm somewhere, except the place I went to that one time (okay twice or three times shhhh) wasn't like Ben's five-star rehab and I didn't get a chef and nature walks and music nights. Oh no. There was none of that. I sat in a very ill appointed room and people came and talked at me and I slept a lot and ate shitty cafeteria food and they wouldn't even let me draw because apparently you can hurt yourself with a pencil.

Could I.

I would write myself right out of existence, I told them, confirming their suspicions. But that isn't what they meant and no, I never got the pencil. Now I have five mugs of them sitting on the island, a stack of sketchbooks nearby and we draw group photos or people draw beautiful things and I write words all over them, telling stories, describing beauty, letting it all out like the rain we're not going to have today, and it works a whole lot better than the soft rooms and bad food and endless, endless talking. If you're not singing, I don't want to hear it, I told them and it just made everything worse and I still don't know why.