Black Rock City.

August just arrived at Burning Man and sent me a selfie. I should be congratulating myself that I don't have to be planning the huge decontamination ritual for when he comes home but instead I miss him so.

No one from the house is going to Burning Man, either. I think I've gotten a little too princessy for these sorts of things, frankly. If I deviate from my standard routines all hell breaks loose.

For example, yesterday. I grabbed the nearest body wash in my rush to get a quick shower, using a tiny bottle Lochlan brought back from our trip. Had a huge allergic reaction it and went to bed last night softly whimpering and jacked out on allergy pills and calamine because hives, inside and out.

So somehow I don't see myself living in a dusty tent for a week, in spite of the fun it must be.

August loves it. I think he does a lot of drugs while he's there and only while he's there. I think he uses it as a place to have some sort of spirital out of body experience/awakening and I've learned not to ask too many questions about it because it sounds amazing and horrifying all at once.

This from us, the crew who can't even seem to get to the Chinese night market. Because meh. Too far. Too late. In my pajamas. Concerts are pretty much the only reason I leave the house anymore.

That and trips to go get more cake.

I bet they don't have cake at Burning Man. I mean, the kind that would be safe to feed your kids.

(If you need me I'll be in my ivory tower.)

Half-formed points.

Today, I:

• Found Humans of New York and read as many stories as I could. It's fascinating. I love people, really I do even though I also hate them. I always hope everyone has a story and that they are actually willing to step out of their comfort zone and tell them to me. That's how I make friends, you see. 
• Ordered the Christmas Wishbook because I'm a holiday masochist and because I can buy things from it, unlike the Neiman Marcus fantasy book, even though that's infinitely more fun.
• Crave Thai food and won't be getting any because we're all sick and there's a quaratine so no one's going out and delivery of Thai food is suspicious and unpossible. 
• Used the wrong body wash in the shower and now am one big little itch that needs to be scratched. 
• Did not sleep in even though I should have. A lot. A whole lot, if you want me to tell the truth (cranky face).
• Helped Ruth go through her closet, realizing she's outgrown exactly half of the contents inside. What remains is all Dauntless, all the way.
• Have three big garbage bags full of clothes to take to the donation bin by the Hardware Store. 
• Watered the lawn and changed the beds all by myself. I call it gym-time. Since I'm far weaker than I should be and I refuse to join a gym. Changing beds is sweaty and requires strength to lift mattresses to put on new sheets, so there. 
• Decided I need to go through my clothing too and weed out all the things I no longer wear.  Did I mention I hate shopping for clothes? I'll shop for anything BUT clothes. Mostly food. Okay, only cake. I'll shop for cake and then I'll just eat it naked. Then everyone's happy. Especially me. 
• ran into a timing block and have not see a single Walking Dead episode since last Tuesday. So close and yet so far. 
• Am patiently waiting for the first minute of Divergent footage during the MTV Video Awards tonight. Then I'll turn it off because they don't do good music (metal or seventies) and I don't ever know who anyone is anymore. I'm kidding. Get off my lawn. (Update: it's up right here. OMG *fangirls*)
• Have the worst sore throat + headache today but I'm hiding it because others are sicker and they need to be looked after. I'm such a mom sometimes, geez. 
• am having dinner with the Devil tonight because I like to visit my soul. Also, maybe he'll venture out for some Thai food for us. That I won't eat naked because boundaries, people, I obviously have none.
 

News I can use.

Today I'm listening to acoustic Motorhead songs on Youtube, and I've bitten off all my lipgloss as I fight a growling stomach, a really bad cough and the urge to laugh as Lochlan quotes William Blake and juggles and tries to keep his rhythm in spite of so much distraction.

So..who can juggle to Motorhead? I think it's probably a thing, like licking one's own elbow.

I talked to Ben this morning. He's going to be home next month. He says it all casual-like, as if we are talking about the weather (we did that too) and then he pauses and asks if I heard him because I'm sort of dropping the phone and running around in circles in super fast-forward mode because coffee + good news.

I come back and he's all self-conscious and silent.

Did you say next month? Is that like three weeks early?

Yeah. Look, can I talk to Loch?

No! Talk to me! Jesus, you're always so fast to get off the phone, Ben! 

There's a lineup of people I need to talk to, to verify that you are doing well. 

So ask me instead and save time.

You tell such sweet little lies, Bee. I never believe you. How are you?

Fine, I lie. My lip starts to quiver.

Sweet, tiny little liar, he accuses gently. Talk to me, Bee. 

I think you fucked up, Benny. This would have been easier if I had aligned with the Devil while you were away. 

He lets out a long breath. No, Bridget, it wouldn't have.

Status quo then. Why didn't we leave it alone?

It's a natural inclination. I'm secure in my beliefs that you needed this time with Lochlan as much as I needed it to myself. 

Great. 

It is, actually. You'll see. Want to put Sammy on for me, babe?

Sure. Fine. 

Hey. Don't do that. September something. I'll be there. I'll be home. Love you. So much, Bridget.

The thought makes my head all jello-y-weird like it always did when Ben would come home after a long absence. As if I couldn't place if it were dread, excitement or just sheer joy. I'll go with a mix of all three.

I'm going to spend the rest of the day trying to lick my own elbow. My luck is changing, so you never know.

Black Sabbath.

Benjamin, you missed a good show.

Burning the lot.

(You just watch them. Watch as they never change, seeing opportunity to take around every corner. That's what those career carnies do, you see. They take. They take it all when you blink and when you open your eyes again you just feel stupid for having been robbed because you thought, like everyone always thinks, that it wouldn't happen to you.)

Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd, smiling
Merciless, the magistrate turns 'round, frowning
and who's the fool who wears the crown
Go down in your own way
And everyday is the right day
And as you rise above the fearlines in his frown
You look down, hear the sound of the faces in the crowd

When I brought my hands up to touch his face he smiled. I leaned up on my tiptoes and pulled him down until my forehead was pressed against his, his earnest eyes looking right into me, past the harm we bring and the lies we tell to ourselves, never mind to each other.

I reached down, taking the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his chest, shrugging it over his arms. He helped. The smile is gone from his face now, replaced by something better. I bite his bottom lip and go to work on the button on his jeans. He reaches down and unfastens it with one hand. I slide my hands down his hips inside his waistband as his hands slide around my back. With a shove his pants hit the floor just as he pulls off my dress. We are undressed, exposed. Raw-form, with no preparation or alteration.

Me with the tiny white check-mark scar under my nose and the larger cesarean scar besides, he with the long straight lines on his hips where he rode the pavement like a wave not once but twice in his life falling off motorcycles and the little crescent moon divot on his right shoulder where he hit the net hard during practice and someone had left a bolt lying in it and we had to dig it out of his shoulder while he bit down on a facecloth backstage. He always maintains that it was lucky it didn't happen to me, for the bolt would have gone right through me and come out the other side and that wouldn't have been pretty. I trace the small pink line on the right side of his temple where his eyebrow is cleaved in half and won't grow anymore because Ben got him with a hockey stick and he had to have six stitches.

This is not a love story. There is no happy ending here. Just moments strung in between life events where we affirm that our souls are one in the same, if only the pieces could find one another. We come to each other beaten, broken and scarred and we see right through the marks and the damage to what used to be innocent and whole.

He steps out of his pants, tossing them on the chair along with his shirt as I step in close again. I pick up his hand and kiss his palm. He cups my face. His other hand comes up and smooths my hair back out of my eyes.

I don't lead very often. I mostly let him direct me. I always have because he was so much older and I had no idea what to do. I didn't learn about sex at home or in school. I learned everything on the road in the Midway in a tiny airless camper. The good and the bad.

I push him down and climb under the covers next to him. I pull myself in against him and kiss him so hard he fights to breathe. He flips me down onto my back, thrusting into me hard, no waiting, no foreplay. He rises up on his elbows, my head in his hands, driving so hard it hurts all over but it's so good. I dig my nails into his shoulders and he dips his head down to mine for another kiss. We can't keep it together, he's pushing too hard so he moves so his head is just over mine, chin bumping against my forehead, arms locked tight around me.

Then he sits up, pulling back on his legs, pulling me into his lap so I am lying in front of him, watching him as he hooks his arms under my legs, hands around my hips, finding more force to draw from. When I cry out it serves only to send him further into the dark. He collapses on top of me, smothering my cries. He begins to take his sweet time. Hours pass in the dark as we retrace familiar paths.

This is what I know.

His skin. His red curls in my mouth all the time, his chin against my nose, his kind eyes closed, his rough-healed hands capable of fixing the Ferris wheel or a broken heart, if given a chance.

His voice, the narrator inside my head as he teaches me everything from algebra to astronomy to army-caliber first aid, used later when I put those stitches in his eyebrow myself because he didn't want the police involved, or the hospital, or the others. He held on to my thighs while I stood in front of him and stitched him back together. He squeezed so hard I added the marks to my scar-inventory.

His voice in my head as he explained to me in excruciating detail how to rob a mark. His voice in my head as he reminded me never to do so but then seemed so touched when I did and brought him a little fistful of reckless, hard-won cash.

His ruined words in my head as I tried to disappear somewhere far on the inside when things went so very wrong.

Don't you go anywhere, Peanut. I love you. You stay right here with me and I'll stay right here with you and we'll stay together because I'm going to love you and look after you and no one's going to take you away from me ever again. Just talk to me, please? 

And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of an intensity that began when I was nine years old and had no idea what it meant. Or what it would mean later on when I was old enough to use it as a weapon as we choose consistently to leave deep gaping wounds in each other, wounds that can't be stitched up or covered. Wounds that fester and ache.

We flatten history between us, a wedge suddenly made of only air instead of feelings that vanish as all our promises fulfill themselves in one beautiful, giant bloom of fireworks and flames.  Flames that heal.

In that brief time we forget the wounds hurt so much and we forget whose were worse and we resolve to remain intact. I sit up and kiss him hard, I kiss him for forever, it seems and he doesn't let go. He reaches out with one hand, grabs his t-shirt and puts it on me, pulling my arms through the holes, gently pulling it over my head. I get cold afterward. He's so warm all the time the minute I let go the cold rushes in and fills up the new unwelcome, empty space.

He cradles me in his arms, kissing me hard again while reaching for my left hand. He takes off one band but leaves the other. He says he feels almost sorry for Ben and for the others because they will never know love like this.

Disturbing the fleece (going dowwwwwwnnnnn in a blaze of glory.)

I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover
A candle in the wind
When you're brought into this world
They say you're born in sin
Well at least they gave me something
I didn't have to steal or have to win

Another random Wednesday, another noise complaint. I think I've tied with Sam now. (If you want to tell me I'm tying up resources please remember *I* didn't call them.)

The police were out front when I made it around the driveway. Caleb had already gone out to meet them. Idiot called me his girlfriend and said that I am deaf and like to turn up the music.

I showed them my hearing aids and laid it on really thick. I like to hear the singers breathe! I proclaimed. They looked at Caleb and then back at me. I giggled and bounced around the pavement. They figured he was a lonely rich man with a bubbly twit for a girlfriend, who was probably a gold digger soaking up the rays at the mansion because it's Wednesday morning and she doesn't have a job, of course.

(WAIT. WHAT?)

I pouted and apologized and offered them iced tea and we didn't even get a warning this time, just a plea for consideration of the neighborhood, where the property taxes are so fucking high you can't hear the music anyway for the throngs of homeowners crying into their breakfast cereals, that they bought on sale because yeah, wheat prices are HIGH.

When they left I waved and blew a kiss and once the gate had closed behind the car Caleb looked at me and said,

Tell the rat to turn the fucking music down. And if you ever give another performance that embarrassing I'll throw you off the fucking cliff myself.

You wouldn't. I pouted and swung.

You want to test me, Bridget? Don't test me. You'll lose.

I stuck my tongue out and ran. He made a move like he was going to lunge and I shrieked and he backed right off. I don't think he knows how to have fun, to tell you the truth. And if we're being honest, Lochlan wasn't the one who put the music on so loud, but what he did do was give me a copy of Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits. Not like I was going to play it quietly.

(Yeesh. Don't you people know me better than that? Lochlan does. Pretty sure he's got a plan now to drive Caleb insane in slow motion.)

Update: It appears NO ONE has a sense of humor today. Lochlan just told me not to have any fun with the Devil whatsoever.

Or what? I countered. I'm pushing, yes, I know.

Or.....or...Just keep close to me okay? Jesus for once in your young life listen to me. 

Cold shoulders.

Caleb's honesty breaks me. I think I like him better when he's just evil.

(Don't invite me over there with one of your envelopes and then put on music I like and start talking about how alone you are. Just don't. Don't tell me you feel a thrill when I walk into the room. Don't tell me you can't take your eyes off me. Don't tell me it hurts when I leave.

You took my soul. So sorry it doesn't keep you warm at night. If you hadn't been so greedy someday I might have come to you in my own sweet time. That will never happen now so stop forcing it.)

***

It's been raining since you left me
Now I'm drowning in the flood
You see I've always been a fighter
But without you I give up

Now I can't sing a love song
Like the way it's meant to be
Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore
But baby, that's just me

I let myself back in through the side door just after midnight and Lochlan is sitting at the island staring into a whiskey. I thought you weren't coming home tonight, he says.

So you were going to drink yourself to sleep?

No, I was going to drink myself into paralysis only, so that I wouldn't go over there and beat him to death. He touch you?

No. I had a drink. He talked. I left.

And?

And...what?

He's buying your time with this house. This...life. He's using all of it to guilt you into seeing him. Those envelopes-

Mean nothing to me.

Then why won't you just stay here, Bridget? With me. Please. This is killing me. 

That's what I'm afraid of. 

Explain yourself, he orders.

We're staring each other down suddenly. He's shitfaced off a glass and I'm not much better. God, what a pair.

If I chose you and give up everything else, you'll die. Or leave. Or break.

You've done it a couple times already. Did I die?

No. 

Did I leave?

Yeah. You did. 

I didn't. Not really.

Okay, fine. You didn't. 

Did I break?

Pretty much. 

Want to know something? You can fix me. Then I won't be broken. Then we can be happy. He comes over and takes me by the hand, pulling me tight against him. We could start a fire with our breath, I think.

We have to stay here though. In this house. With the Devil watching over us. 

Fuck the Devil. He's no match for us. No one is. It's you and me against the world. Always has been, always will be. No matter who gets in my way- He stops when his voice catches on a ragged feeling and he just keeps staring. I don't think he can see me anymore, there's a lake in the way. Bridget, I-

I can't risk you. I could risk pretty much anyone, but not you. So don't ask me to. I can't. 

So you're just going to keep this up forever?

Don't be silly. No one lives forever. No one even comes close.

Miss (in a moment, pick one any one oh how about this one).

Right now, this second, I miss the Winnipeg Zoo. I miss my leg warmers from 1981. I miss my mom's chocolate-chip zucchini bread and I miss my Right Coast.

Right now I'm craving chocolate and bourbon and ice skating and James Bond movies.

Right now I'd like to fall asleep for two or three hours and try again later.

Right now I'd like to finish the book I'm reading.

Right now I could use a hug.

Right now I'm cooking dinner. Baby potatoes, green beans, baked chicken and rolls. Milk and water to drink, cookies and tea for dessert.

Right now I have a very sore left hand, same issue as before, staring down surgery, fun fun.

Right now I realized I forgot to wear my hearing aids again today.

Right now Ben is at an evening meeting. He gave me his 60-day medal the day we left.

Right now I just set the table with the silver service and wondered why everyone isn't helping.

Right now the sun has finally come out and the wind has died down.

Right now Cole is dead.

Right now the dog is asleep and so are both cats, Duncan and Schuyler too. I only know this because they haven't answered the group text chat AKA dinner call. Not the pets, the boys. The pets don't have cellphones.

Right now Lochlan is upstairs shaving off his beard in a hurry before supper. He's the only man I've ever met who looks worse with a beard instead of better.

Right now Jacob waits.

Right now it feels like fall.

Right now the tide is coming in and a silver envelope sits on the table in the foyer. Again.

Freebird is now stuck. in. my. head.

(That doctor turned out to be a veritable anomaly in the day, as everyone else I met was warm and accommodating, open and helpful. They were patient and kind. When I saw the mean doctor again outside, he ignored me. Ben said very quietly that he's actually really good at what he does, he just isn't all that amenable, okay he's terrible outside of his office. That none of what he said about Ben being off-limits holds, Ben just doesn't want to play out any of our issues here. This is a different form of sanctuary for him and the doctor was mindful of that and doesn't know me from Eve so there you have it.)

I actually had fun yesterday. They have a wee baby zip line on the wooded trail and I did it twice. I squealed and Ben finally cracked his face into a laugh when he caught me at the end of the second trip.

Later on we sat in this big sunny room that was all windows and talked. We talked about so many things including pressures and the dynamics of living with so many strong and flawed personalities. We talked about not shutting down. We talked about ways to be supportive and we talked about Ben and what he's going to do. Then we talked about unrelated things like IKEA and horses. They have horses here. I didn't see them.

The hugs got infinitely better as the day wore on as well. PLUS.

Ben still is hugely uncomfortable with me seeing him like this. He would hide from me, remove himself from me and generally always keep his struggles from me. It's going to take time on both our parts to deal with this and weirdly, WE'RE DOING IT.

That's why I had to come here.

I see that he's still alive. I see how much work he has to do, how much we all have to do and I finally understand the whole one day at a time logic, of not crowding up a list of worries, pressed against the day as if it were a door and they are blocking it from opening. I see how he lives in the moment and I can say for certain that there is no certainty in life so I had to step back and simply watch him as he tries to get better and learns to live without anesthetic.

And I must be flawed because all I can think is since that's how I live, on a white-knuckle emotional thrill-ride that never ends, I wouldn't wish it on him because he isn't as strong as I am and he probably never will be and the only way I manage is to divide myself into make believe to save myself from reality. No one does that like I do it.

I know that doesn't make sense but in terms of Ben's new Big Picture, it's as clear to me as this day. We're heading home midafternoon. First I didn't want to stay and now I don't want to go but we'll go home and muddle through many more weeks until Ben comes back with us, renewed and ready to take on..absolutely nothing. His projects have been closed down or shifted to others. He is officially retired and I couldn't be happier.

(Special note: I believe they are putting Benjamin to bed around eight o'clock each night. Which is really good but also funny. They must have tranquilizer darts for him like they do for me at home.)

On keeping a paper bag in the rental car to breathe into.

I chose wrong. I watched him bearhug everyone and then I was shoved to the front and he did not hug me.

Ben put his hands in his pockets and looked at Lochlan and asked, Are you guys okay?

He meant something else entirely and I knew what he meant, I just haven't actually acknowledged it yet.

Yes. Lochlan said it like a challenge, he's trying to own the moment and I stepped back behind him slightly. PJ shoved me back in front.

Ben's eyes flit to me again. You okay, bee?

No. I say only that. I don't feel like doing this with an audience. Ben's assigned family weekend facilitators are standing there, both with practiced poker face. It's awesome. I'm getting madder by the nanosecond.

Can I speak with you privately?

I can't, Bridget. I don't have much privacy here.

Oh. I see. 

Hungry?

Not anymore. 

For brunch, I sit between Ben and Lochlan at this giant round table that precludes conversation. I look at Ben as he eats slowly and sips coffee and smiles and laughs at the stories the boys tell. I watch him as he answers questions easily. He isn't laid back but he isn't tense either. He seems really glad to be with his friends, and touched that everyone came down to see him.

Almost everyone.

I ask him a question and he answers with as few words as possible and then smiles without his eyes as he turns to field yet another topic-change across the table. I was answered professionally, in his work-voice, that he uses with people he hardly knows in a business capacity and nothing more. I was relegated to the sidelines with that voice.

I sat there pushing food around on my plate and tried to tell myself all sorts of dumb things like he's just having a hard time letting me see him like this and he's worried I might doubt his ability to follow through. He's doing his best. Etc. Etc. Etc.

I let myself get mad because it's easier to control the inevitable tears that way and I would be damned if I were to let him see me cry.

When breakfast was finished we walked back to the area where we will be participating in some therapy later today, late afternoon. First he has a meeting and then we're going on a group hike so we are to change and then meet up and I turned to him and asked if I could have an actual hug. He looked pained but I got another eight milliseconds of contact.

Then he was out the door and I was left standing facing it, my back to everyone else as they chatted with some of the people looking after Ben and each other. No one was watching me.

So I followed him.

Down hallway after hallway, I watched him hunch over lower as he went, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the floor pass beneath him as he made his way back to his room. People said hello to him and he answered kindly. He knows everyone here. All of these people have a hand in helping him, but he people thin out as we walk. Finally there is no one for two hallways and I am just about to make my presence known to him when a doctor or someone important steps out of a side door and says hello to him and asks him something. I stop and wait. Then the person leans out and looks at me.

Can I help you?

Ben turns and looks back. His eyes widen and I see his brow go up, but only on the left side of his face. He smiles slightly.

No, I just need to have a word with my husband, thank you. 

My hopes are dashed. I'm sorry, Mrs...uh... we don't allow for much private contact on family-designated days. We want to keep our residents emotionally level during these times. I understand it can be stressful-

Stressful is an understatement. Who are you again? 

My apologies for not introducing myself. I'm Dr.______.  I oversee Ben's treatment. 

Then why did you pretend you didn't know my name?

Bridget, I want to assure you we will have time for guided conversation this afternoon in family session. I don't want you to feel as if your needs and questions are not being met. However, it's my first responsibility to see that Ben is-

I have no intentions of sabotaging my husband. 

I think you know what I mean. 

Maybe. 

Then may I ask that you work diligently at following the rules while you are here as our guest? We all want the same thing for Ben, and he's doing well. If he seems a bit removed, please understand how overwhelming this is. 

I raise my hands up and let them fall. Tears. Fucking tears are rolling now and he softens slightly. Ben stands there staring at me without moving or speaking as the doctor softens further.

I understand this is hard. From what Ben has told me you and he and the others have an incredibly close bond and live within an highly unusual set of circumstances, and I have been made aware that you have been through a lot in life. I want you to know that we are here to help facilitate all of you in creating a healthy environment in which you will all thrive and move forward. You're not going to get left behind. He isn't going to be someone new, he'll be Ben but with better tools to utilize to cope with stress and challenges. 

Do you think you can fix him?

He is fixing himself. We only guide his efforts and support him. The same as you do. 

I nod and wipe my cheeks and Lochlan's hands close around my arms from behind. His voice cuts through the weight of the air in the room as he apologizes to both men. She got away from me. She's so quick. 

The doctor looks at Lochlan and nods. It's fine. I think I've eased her mind a little. Have I...?

Bridget. My name is Bridget.

Bridget? If there's anything else I can do, we will have time this afternoon in our session. I look forward to having some time with you to discuss your fears and maybe connect you with someone you can work with as well. Is that okay?

I don't know. Is it?

He looks at me curiously and then looks at his watch. I have to leave, but we will reconvene at three forty-five. See you then. And he shakes Lochlan's hand and then heads down the hall away from us. Ben tells me he will see me for the hike and comes back, thrusting a kiss onto my forehead so hard I lose my balance and bounce off Lochlan. He steadies me and Ben smiles. I see a briefest twinkle of bullshit in his eyes and he turns and walks away.

We are back now at the hotel to change. I put on my docs, skinny jeans and a Coney Island t-shirt that Batman got for me and I put my hair in a ponytail. I didn't put on any makeup. I expect to cry pretty much all afternoon. I know now why Ben didn't want me to come here. This is too fucking hard.

Checked in.

Another week, another suitcase. Hopefully this trip will be as successful as the last one.

Ben doesn't know I'm here.

Every weekend families are encouraged to come and participate in workshops and activities and therapies and so yeah, here I am.

Ben expressly said he did not want me here. Not sure if he did that to protect himself in case I wasn't planning on coming anyway or if he's going to be really unimpressed to see me. It could go either way but frankly I really really want to see him so I don't care.

Wish me luck. Tomorrow at six in the morning (breakfast) will either be amazing or terrible. I hope it's amazing.

Fierce auras.

The bursts of uncontrollable psychic energy continue, in which I demonstrate handily how to kill a four-month old iPhone 5 and a fourteen-month-old perfectly good vacuum (fuck you, I figured out how to spell it finally, I think) in the span of no less than nine hours. Simply by being in the same room with both objects, neither of which showed any damage whatsoever but were unrepairable.

Thank you Apple genius for the new phone. Wish you made vacuums too.

Better angels.

Batman is not affectionate. Never was. His hand-holding fetish is control only. Direction. Containment. Proximity. He's all business vertically and horizontally too. It kept things simple, I guess. It made decisions pretty easy. Sort of like his formal, cold demeanor that hardly cracks except for now and again when I stomp my feet and demand that he feel something or show something or be something else. He'll refuse, amused and continue being aloof and I maintain my close distance, wishing he would soften or thaw or something.

He doesn't. He acts so pleased with my recent attempts to convince myself of the least of all the evils. I just can't figure out why.

***

Caleb passes me a mug of coffee, handle towards me so that he can burn his fingers and I have something to hold.

Speaking to me today? He smiles, letting his bottom lip slacken, and oh God, it looks good.

Maybe. I say it with a small smile, because I have Stockholm syndrome and he is all ears and eyes and time for me today.

Glad to hear it. Did you sleep?

I roll my eyes at him and sip the coffee. He's heavy-handed with the grounds. It's strong.

Do we need idle chitchat? 

Maybe we do, yes. 

No, we don't. 

Whatever you say, Bridget.

***

Ben calls my phone and I stare at the number for a long time before it hangs up. Shit. It rings again almost immediately and I hit the button at the same time that I jump out of my skin.

Danny says you're punishing me for leaving and I should be wise to know that you might not come back to me when I leave here. 

Danny has a big mouth for such a little boy. Wow. We haven't even said hello yet.

Is he the one with the big mouth? I'd say it's you. 

Those are fighting words, Tucker.

Maybe I feel like fighting, Bee.

I hang up.

He calls back.

Don't do that, Bridget. 

Do what? Make myself unavailable and hard to reach? Oh, I'm sorry. Did you need me and I'm not there? Feels great doesn't it, Benny? Only eight weeks? Jesus FUCKING Christ.

You know what? I'm trying to steer you towards Lochlan because I know how to get you back from him. If you drift toward Caleb instead I don't know what I would do. 

You come back and be a man. 

I'm working on it, Little Bee.

I know you are. 

How are you doing?

Fabulous.

No, really. 

You know where I am. You come see for yourself. 

I'm halfway through, Bridget. 

And?

This is bullshit but I'm doing it. 

Who are you going to be when you come home?

I don't know yet. Hopefully the old Ben. 

Jesus, no. Anything but that. 

He laughs and it's the best sound in the world. You know you miss that guy. 

Like hell I do. I liked the Ben I had. 

Naw, Bridge, he was a fake, a joke. 

He was mine. 

You were mine once. God this sucks. Wish I could convince you to hole up with Danny and Sky until I get back. 

Great choice of words, Ben. 

That's my girl. 

***

We've cleared late evenings, me and Loch, and have been staying up til all hours watching The Walking Dead. It's fantastic.

Slow to the party, Dalton tells me. He's all caught up. What do you like best?

The tension between the characters. The gore. The part where the dead are shown eating the living and ripping their stretchy skin off makes me squeal.

God, you're a sick little fuck. Every other girl thinks it's gross and horrible. What makes you so different?

I was raised by wolves, remember?

Oh, yeah. Good to know who to blame. 

I know, right?

Not a great day.

His hand is under my head when I wake up, his nose against my jaw, breath hot on my throat. He's so far gone into dreams his muscles are tensed and it takes me a few tries to slide out of his arms without fully waking him. He wakes up anyway and opens his eyes briefly to ensure that I'm still there before turning over, and taking the sheets with him.

Be up in a bit, he mumbles.

Just sleep, I whisper back.

***

I win permission from PJ to go have breakfast on the wall. He gives me a curious look and hesitates just long enough for me to blurt out a time-limit promise and then I am off with my coffee tumbler and a wax-paper wrapped piece of toast with cinnamon sugar, which I will forget about the minute I get there.

Jake. I invoke the name that still hurts to say out loud. It makes ache-pangs in my heart that echo in waves all over the inside of my body and the only way I can stop it is to hold my elbows tightly at my sides and bite the insides of my cheeks.

No one answers. The wind blows.

JAKE. 

Jake died five years ago, Princess. He stepped off a fucking roof in a fucking far-away city and he's not coming back. Caleb is following me around the property lately. Wish he'd stop.

Not sure I believe that all the way, you know. 

Yes, I'm aware. Your doubt is staggering, under the circumstances. Like the rest of us, Bridget, do you think he would stay away if he were still here on this earth?

You told me once that he was indeed still here.

When you hurt me the urge to hurt you back is fierce. I got a very good look at where your loyalties lie, Bridget. 

It never mattered if I hurt you first, Diabhal. Don't make it seem as if it's equal. 

What did you plan to talk with him about?

Ben. 

Ben's gone and traded you again, hasn't he? 'Align with Lochlan and I'll be back soon and we can figure it out'. Is that what he said? Batman has done a number on Ben's mind. Do you really think he's doing that for Ben's benefit or for yours, for that matter? Bridget, you're not keeping up very well with your own games. 

Ben hasn't factored in the aspect of me punishing him for leaving. 

I see. 

Maybe by the time he comes back there won't be anything left to figure out. 

Because you've let yourself get closer still to the rat. 

Maybe because he doesn't try to stand on everyone else to reach me. 

He's the master, Bridget. Don't think for a second he isn't acting, here. 

I know every aspect of that man. Don't even presume to tell me otherwise. 

He surprises you often. So that would be your first lie of the morning. 

I climb down from the rocks and turn back to pick up my coffee and toast. The wind is stinging my hair against my eyes but I stare evenly at Caleb.  

Don't wreck my breakfast. I have plans and they're not with you. 

Where are you going now?

None of your business.

You're going to sit on the filthy floor of the garage and eat your breakfast and hope that Jake shows up in your head? What if Cole shows up instead? What if you have lost your little mind? What if the fucking sky opens up and eats all of us whole? Bridget, I think it's time we got you some help. You're more than a little bit stalled here and I don't think having tea with Sam every day for five months fixed what's wrong with you. 

There's nothing wrong with me. 

He stops abruptly, ready to say more but not doing so. Push too hard and lose so much ground, right? I challenge him with my eyes to keep going but he's smarter than that and he gives in. Don't you dare tell me I'm crazy until you've seen what I have seen and felt what I've felt. Toast is a fucking accomplishment, as are words and feelings and trying to reach out with my arms and grab life rafts as they float by me as I drown here.

Follow me and I'll never speak to you again, Diabhal.

Threats work too.

Tofino + Ukee.

Many of you wanted to see the offerings we found on the edge of the world. The larger sand dollars are six inches across! Mutant sea monsters, well, they be here.

Give me things that don't get lost.

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn't mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I'm all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

I stood sunburned and sand-fidgety for inspection. My hair is still tangled and dry, my skin raw to touch, my grin unending. Lochlan knows how to show a girl a good time. There's no Eiffel Tower or canals or priceless artwork or Malibu cliffs. Nope, there's just an endless beach (with free parking), a watch removed from my wrist, and an invitation to walk for miles, days, even until I've had enough and I want to go back to the truck.

We shared a bed, a cheap bottle of wine, and every single shower, hot or cold. I don't think my skin is raw because of the sunburn, I think he wore the top layer of me off just holding me.

Exclusivity seems to be the most valued commodity of all. I knew this and yet I ignore it. I can't make promises with a fractured heart. I don't think it's possible and yet my mind knows. It just knows and sometimes it doesn't tell the rest of me.

..? 

Oh, shit, Caleb has asked me a question and I didn't hear him, I was too busy thinking about skin.

Pardon me?

I asked if you had enough time to be selfish. 

Never. A wicked, defiant grin spoils my face, and also makes it awesome. No one can resist a happy Bridget, even when she is a brat.

He stares. His face is so handsome and so scary too. His face is pure jealousy wrapped in self-control with a sprinkling of exasperation on top. Bridget came back and she's twelve again.

What was the best part of the trip?

The time-stoppage, Diabhal. 

You always like that best. 

Yes. 

So when can I be selfish?

I shrug. I'm not the one in charge.

Where is he?

Sleeping. He did all the driving. I cuddled the dog and looked out the window and played old Canadian rock songs in my head as I counted trees. I couldn't count that high though, same as the time I tried to count the loops on the scrambler and then threw up right outside the gate as we exited the ride.

So maybe you can stay and have a drink with me on the boat?

Now?

Now. You can tell me all about your trip.

Sure? I shrug again. No one is keeping tabs today. They've forgotten I am to be watched. Well, all but one did. He was waiting for this moment, when everyone scattered back to the post holiday ennui and dropped routine and rigid emotional rule.

Gin okay? I have some olives and bread and cheese too. 

I'm actually starving. 

Good, I can look after you. I'm hungry too. A week is a long time to be without you. 

I don't think he means food anymore and the conversation has blown out the sun in favor of the shade but I pick up my phone and follow him down the steps.

Hey, Bridget, maybe if everyone is busy tonight you can stick around and we can have a sunset, he offers, ever the opportunist.

My mind knows more than I do and she's tight with her plans. I shake my head. I have to get back and wake up Lochlan before that. 

Well, see how he does. Maybe he'll want to keep sleeping and if so you can come back. 

Maybe. 

Dumb that he knows. He knows Lochlan falling asleep during the day is a huge odyssey of wasted hours spent because we're all incredibly certain that Lochlan never actually slept on our trips, either on the amusement circuit or in the circus and so he has many, many years of sleeping to do to make up for it.

I used to sit and watch him sleep though, he didn't seem awake, he seemed so far away when I needed him sometimes and I would sit and feel alone in such a tiny room. I would sit beside the bed on the floor with a stolen book about whatever I was supposed to learn and he would wake up when I sneezed or exhaled too loud or got too despairing. He would hold out his arms and promise me something wonderful and I learned to believe that if I waited long enough, he would come through.

Oh shit.

What is it, Princess?

I have to wake him up.

I have to see this through.

Nothing. I just don't think I feel well enough tonight. I'm sorry. I pass Caleb the container of cheese and slip past him. I'll try and come down later. 

It's a lie. Well, I think it's a lie but I tell it anyway and decide not to care how it's taken right now.

I go back to the house and walk the labyrinth of hallways until I reach my room. Our room. The room that seems so empty sometimes without Ben but that seems so small sometimes when stuffed with deployed memories, nostalgia spilling out into the hall. I open the door and Loch's eyes open. He looks sleepy and alert at the same time and I see how he's managed to survive. He's exhausted, aged and content all at once. He's burdened and on guard and resentful and repentant. Capable and prepared and hopeful, now.

Come lie down with me. Where did you go?

I just had a walk. Figured some things out.

What things? But then his words slur off and he's asleep again and I lie against him with my burning skin and it feels like home, just now. Yes it does. It feels like everything I need.

And it doesn't cost a thing.

The circus returns.

The best kinds of vacations are the ones in which you are so far from civilization that your phone says NO SERVICE and your GPS tells you it can't manage turn-by-turn guidance because it doesn't know where you are and when you tilt your head way back until your neck bends in half and your sunglasses (that you don't need because it's Fogust) fall off, you still can't see the tops of the trees and the dog falls asleep on your lap in the car somewhere during hour four but you keep riding and looking out the window and waiting for adventure that is all around you. You find it easily, handily and you wish you were someone else, living there all the time instead of sticking out like the outsider that you are. You wish life were a vacation punctuated with small spats of work here and there instead of the other way around. You wish you had some clean clothes but actually you don't really care. You wish you had comfortable shoes to walk in or some conditioner but you didn't bring either so you resort to bare feet and tangled hair and you reacquaint yourself with the things you always forget in the crush of real-life that chokes away the make-believe. Then you blink and it's over.

We're home now, in other words.

Yes, I did succeed in making him more ornery than usual with writing that he withholds my wi-fi when I don't cooperate. He used to withhold things like rootbeer and chocolate. It's always age-appropriate.

 I think I'm going to have to start pretending I really love beets and Nascar and then he can withhold things I don't give a shit for. That would be sublime. I'll work on that.

PS. I withhold things from him too. No worries. It's not like Lochlan actually has the upper hand.

In other news, guess who called?

:)

(I don't know why I'm smiling, it wasn't the best phone call I've ever had but it was nice to hear Ben's voice.)

Groundling.

In the past forty-eight hours I sobered up, sprained two fingers on my left hand, discovered a flat tire on Caleb's car, decided Jim Caviezel should be the next Batman (in the movies, not IRL) and found the best sushi restaurant on planet earth.

I also lost my internet privileges for two whole days but it's okay. Lochlan locked me out by changing the password and the rest of them told me anyway because they felt sorry for me.

I was good though, I didn't try and use it, I just wanted to have it, that's all.

Hi, Stupid.

Last night I drank an entire glass of brandy on ice. Not a proper snifter, neat but a big-old dinner water glass with two ice cubes and the rest filled up with the finest cheap French burnt wine you can find on the point (AKA Daniel's hidden supply of Emergency Anxiety Reliever).

I walked out of the house next door, down across the grass into the darkness until I reached the midpoint of the lawn. I closed my eyes, thrust my arms out and spun around and around in a circle until I fell down.

And then I stayed down.

Because, wow. Cheap brandy and spinning isn't something anyone should indulge in past the age of oh...fifteen or so.

I lay there and thought to myself, I don't think anyone knows where I am. Then I laughed because it's nice to sneak away sometimes and not be constantly watch-

Oh, there's Caleb's face bending over mine now. Never mind.

What are you doing, Princess?

Being young. 

Why?

Go away, handsome man. No one should see a lady like this. 

I can't do that. 

Sure you can. You just turn around and lift your knees. Let them carry you away home. Leave me be. 

Only if you come with me. 

I can't feel my knees, let alone lift them. Save yourselves!

Then I'll carry you. He bends down and scoops me up. I relent because again, I can't feel my knees and I'm way the hell down the lawn away from anything and there's no bear fence on this side of the point.

I hear shouting and voices as the others see Caleb walking up the lawn holding me and I pound him on the shoulders and laugh, Drive it like you stole it! I shout, but no one thinks it's funny.

That's okay. I think it's funny.

PJ takes me from Caleb and puts me back down, steadying me in his arms. He begins to walk, half-carrying me to the house. I'm not drunk! I insist. I just wanted to watch the stars. I just want to think with my eyes open and not worry at the same time. 

You drank too much, Bridget. 

Well, I had a lot of worries to drown. I held their little worrywart heads under the surface until they stopped moving. You should have seen it, Peej. I'm a worry-murderer! A wormurder! A Murrier! Oh, just nevermind!

We get inside where the lights are on, and it's overly warm still and the kitchen is a disaster from dinner but then I see Lochlan with his sleeves rolled up and he practically drops the pile of dishes he's carrying from the dining room and rushes over. I'm pretty sure I could feel PJ just rolling his eyes quite violently which is code for Bridget's gone and done something dumb again but I didn't look up at him, I just squared my shoulders and pushed away from him to stand tall or at least just stand.

Lochlan got right in my face, smiled so kindly and said Hi, Stupid, and my knees went out from under me again.

Princes who adore you.

I'm pretty sure Ben's embarking on some noble attempt to set me free and not tie me to him if he's going to be away forever and if it's 'meant to be' then I will want to be with him when he comes back but in the meantime he won't add guilt, regret or sadness to my life by contacting me.

Yeah, right. Fucking GAG me.

(No, don't, actually, this is neither the time nor is it the place.)

I'm so dizzy from rolling my eyes I can barely walk a straight line at this point. I'm prone to cynical laughter and bursting out with my Princess-Tourette's:

Bullshit!

Fucking whatever!

and my all-time favorite explicative, MotherFUCKER.

Look, I'm glad he's straight and narrow and working hard and getting healthy and learning some coping mechanisms FOR ONCE. I'm glad he's contemplating his future, not being selfish but being pragmatic about life, serious in his thoughts, for once.

But I'm no one's fucking experiment.

Besides, at this point I have spent weeks getting my information second-hand, because apparently the six-foot-four monster metal god is frightened of the little five-foot-nothing blonde sometime-sideshow freak and has to relay all of his messages through people who probably don't have his best interests at heart when it comes to said freak and might spin information to suit themselves, and so with that said, from here on out I will continue to live, continue to love and wait for him and when he comes back, I wish unleash the holy hell of myself on him because this lack of contact is DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY.

Am I composed? Acting like a lady through this?

Nope. Sorry.

Forge welding.

Somewhere safe.

He's called already. When you were working. Lochlan says the word 'working' like it's filthy and frowns at the floor. His hands are jammed in his pockets and I hear the lighter clicking and clicking furiously. I wonder if I should fill a bucket and carry it around behind him for when he fumbles and sets his cargo shorts on fire.

Is he going to call back?

No. 

Did he want to talk to me?

No. 

Wow. The look on his face is getting worse instead of better.

What did he say?

You know something? I'm like the cleaner. Someone makes a mess of you and you default back to me, get yourself together and take off for someone new. You're making a habit of this and you get burned every fucking time but you don't learn, Bridget. So here's the thing. I'm not the back-up guy, okay? You get that? If you're with me, you're with me and there's none of this...this BULLSHIT that goes on all around me. You are mine. You got that? I'm sick of watching this. Stop running to these broken ones and JUST. STAY. HERE. 

I watch him as he melts down. He shines brighter and gets hotter as he goes. His cheeks turn pink and his eyes blaze and he finds a conviction that is generally too slippery and hard to hold on to. He finds his own worth in these little moments where he doesn't just up and shut down.

I watch him because he has me clutched in both hands like a rag doll, shaking gently with the emphasis on each word deployed like a challenge.

Just stay with me, Bridgie. 

I AM! 

He lets go but keeps staring and I burst into flames. Self-immolation is totally the new self-destruct. We're so doomed people run from us in the streets when they see us coming. In case it's contagious.

But are you? Don't answer me right now, just think on it and I'll ask you again later. You've got some hard choices to make here, young lady, and it's time you made the right ones. There are no fairy tales here, just horror stories.

Straight/forward.

You got me. I always spin you a buried memory instead of keeping up with the present when I feel kind of boxed in.

It's no big deal, really. Lochlan was vaguely annoyed but not too concerned by my trip down memory lane and I felt a little better because I could at least think about something besides the quiet phone in the pocket of my sweater.

Ben didn't call. Daniel went to spend two and a half days with him and is home now. He said Ben looked wonderful. He said he was in great spirits, very upbeat and sociable and healthy and well-grounded in his wellness plan. It was all the things Daniel didn't say that seemed to be the most telling and eventually I let him off the hook, much to his relief.

I'm sorry, Bridget. 

Don't be. You didn't do anything. 

I should have made him call. 

Oh, well that wouldn't have made me feel better if he had only called because he was forced to. Really. It's okay. I'm just happy he is doing so well. That's all I want is for him not be crushed by this.

He could still be a man and call you, Bridget. Did he call Loch?

Not that I know of. 

Daniel eventually was ambushed by Schuyler, who missed him and had all sorts of plans for the two of them for this afternoon, and I stood there in shades of green, wishing things were that un-complicated in my life.

I don't think they've ever been easy, to tell you the truth, when instead I would much prefer to lie.

Only once, we ran out of money on the Midway.

Caught between a lousy manager and a crooked accountant we didn't get payout. Lochlan had just finished buying a new battery for the motorcycle and a new bathing suit for me. We had enough money left for two days of food, tops, but not at the rate Lochlan worked. Hard physical work from sunup right up until he took his shifts manning the rides and then more work until bedtime. He was barely a man and hungry a lot. We were both still growing.

But we didn't want to go home.

And I watched the cons. I knew how things worked in the real world. Well, I thought I did anyway.

When Loch went to cover a shift for someone I walked down the road to the main thoroughfare. It took a while. Along the way I streaked a little dirt along my chin and under my eyes. In the fading light it make me look thinner, more run-down and more appealing, maybe.

I went to the take-out window of a little diner and stuck my hand in my pocket as if I had money to spend. The man running the place stuck his head out the window. He was wearing a paper hat. It's old-fashioned.

What can I do you for, little lady?

I shook my head. I'm not sure I have enough.

Well, tell me what you'd like and I'll work it out.

A...hamburger and onion rings....

And you have how much?

Two dollars, sir, I lie with a sweet smile.

That will be even then, I'll get you a bag.

Well, see, the problem is my big brother is working the fair and it's for him...and I'm so hungry too now that I can smell it but I only have what he gave me...I bite my lip hard and make myself cry but only a little.

What does he do on the midway, sweetheart?

Setup. He's too young to be fully insured though. We need the money so he can't quit either. The lies keep rolling. I've decided I will do whatever it takes for this food.

He looks back over his shoulder and then smiles at me. Let me see what I can do.

My mind is scrambling suddenly. What if he asks for the two dollars I don't have?

He appears back in the window with a huge bag, stapled shut. It has a name on a piece of paper stapled to it. It's not my name. It says HARMON. He's going to give me the wrong order and pretend he made a mistake. I look at him with wide eyes.

Thanks! Come again! he says, and closes the window to prevent me making a fuss and letting whoever else is in there in on the swap. I whisper thank you at the glass and turn around.

Oh, what a long walk back. By the time I get to the Ferris Wheel, it's dark and I'm late and Lochlan is looking panicked and scared. He sees me and lets out a swear word just under his breath so the riders won't catch it. I look up. It's a full complement tonight, just started so I hold the bag up.

What is that?

Dinner.

He takes the bag and looks at the tag. Then he rips it open and looks. Peanut, there are four cheeseburgers, two fries and two onion rings in here. Did you steal someone's food?

No, I pretended I was going to order some but then didn't have enough money for the food so the man at the take-out window pretended I was the one picking up this order.

Oh my God. This must be twenty dollars worth of free food. What did he say to you?

I relayed the whole exchange to him and he nodded. Okay, the only thing you have to do is never be seen there again. You can't even walk past it. In fact, I'm mighty pissed at you for not telling me where you were going in the first place and we're going to talk about this tonight at home. (Home is the camper, FYI).

I promise. Can we eat now?  

Yeah. You want onion rings or fries?

Both. I want both. 

He laughed and pulled me in close, thrusting the bag of food back into my arms, wiping off the dirt-smudges on my face, kissing me really hard. Our stomachs growled in unison, like music we would finally be able to turn off for a night.

Sometimes the angels punish us by answering our prayers.

I might still be high.

Last night we went to see Rush for the third time. It was so laid back I sat in my seat and drank beer ($10 for imported Keith's from home and yes I paid that without shame and it was WORTH EVERY CENT) right up until they came onstage and then I stood up and remained standing for the three hours of blissful music. BLISSFUL. I was more happy to hear stuff from Clockwork Angels than anything, especially Carnies. That's a recent favorite. The whole catalogue, however, paled in comparison to The Wreckers, which was a masterpiece live.

And I still can't hear the little vignettes that they play in between sets but that's okay too. I'm just happy to be there.

(I'm also completely obliterated today because I have a gift for choosing seats online that come with built in companions who smoke copious amounts of drugs and while I don't really care or partake, this little princess is no match for the almighty British Columbian weed, it seems.)

A very special thank you goes out to the bald man one row below who unknowingly taught me how to take a better concert photo.

I present to you the HDR setting: 

I love this shot. It looks like an aquarium. I think these were the lights during Wish them Well. 

What an amazing night. Lochlan is still sleeping. I'm up early hoping for my phone call so that I can tell Ben all about it.

Brokedown palace.

(I was allowed back on account of it being daylight and for the promise of a hefty freelance paycheque and and because he is Henry's father and Henry was there doing a puzzle at the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice and two chocolate-chip cookies stacked near his elbow. But being at the boathouse is not what this entry is about.)

Little impish one, remember what we planned
We won’t hear whistles calling when we are out to sea
Come lay under my wing, morning’s over the shore
I love you, I can teach you if you believe

I have on a tiffany-blue embroidered shift dress and cream-colored leggings, no shoes, blue toes and Caleb clearly disapproves. I'm parked on the big couch in front of the big window drinking tea and listening to music while I fix the latest round of crap notes from the temps that keep getting hired and fired. I believe the last one's name was Samantha. She lasted four hours. He said she left in tears because he barked a whole list of orders at her and then didn't say anything else for the whole morning, even when she asked for clarification on something. His positively icy objective disdain is kind of scary. Back to the drawing board for him.

Or you could work for me. 

We go through this every summer. I need a real job. 

This is the best job you will ever have, hands down, Princess. 

Hands where?

Bridget-

That's why. Because of that. Because you never act like a boss with me. 

What do I act like?

Like a lover. A real busy one but still. 

He laughs and I have decided my whole life is a farce. Lochlan hardly speaks to the others save to hammer home his ownership stake in me so far into the ground it popped out in Austria five days ago. I need to find him and let him know I'm fine. I said I would spend an hour and I lasted forty-eight minutes total.

I make my way back across the driveway barefoot and enter the side door to the kitchen only to find a war zone of dirty dishes and recycling to be sorted. Only I shouldn't be cleaning up this mess because I didn't make it.

Lochlan comes into the room and I'm still standing there looking at the sink.

Hey. What's wrong.

I need to get out of here. 

Why?

Really fucking overwhelmed right now. Drive, don't talk. 

Without a word he passed me my bag and grabbed his keys. He went out back and lied to PJ and PJ confirmed he would take control and then we were off. Halfway down the highway I turn in the seat toward him and tell him to pull over, I think I'm going to have a breakdown of some kind. He doesn't.

He keeps going until we hit the parking lot at the beach and he comes around, flinging open my door and pulling me out and half dragging me down to the edge of the water until I focus on the horizon and he stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders. I lean back against him, take a deep breath and start to cry.

How I know I'm awake.

Lochlan is going to seethe through every interaction he has with Caleb and instead take his frustrations out on Sam and Danger Duncan, putting them on notice every fifteen minutes or so it seems for standing too close/touching me/being too possessive.

I asked them both to give us a little breathing space while I sort out his misguided perceived affronts.

Sam will return to sermon writing, premarital counseling (for the record twelve weddings he has between now and mid-September) and the agony of planning his own wedding, Duncan will put his shades back on, collapse into a lawn chair wearing only a kilt and read.

Both don't deserve the shit they got this morning for doing exactly what they're supposed to do, shadow me as I wander around the property being Difficult. They drew the short straws since PJ is traveling, Christian is away on business and Daniel has gone to spend a family weekend with Ben.

(Excuse me for just a moment while I hit my head against the stone wall out front until I get really dizzy and hear loud wet smacking sounds.)

And Caleb is out front with the children while they teach him to ride the unicycle.

(Excuse me while I swim in my disbelief. Tired. I think I'll float on my back for a while now.)

Ruth loves everything about it save for having to wear a helmet. Dad insists. I don't think Caleb is too worried but if she has to wear one so does Henry. At least that's what Lochlan told them when he gave a little brush-up skill lesson before the kids took over and Caleb came out to vie for favoritism. He needs to step up the game, there's a Midway this weekend and that is Loch's arena entirely.

Lochlan wanted to take a nap with me in the sun to rest up for the coming weekend festivities but first I made him go and apologize to Sam and Duncan for being such a big shithead to them both and he did, taking me by the hand as witness and tracked them both down and gave them long hugs and said he was stressed and that was no excuse for his behavior and that he was sorry. He asked for forgiveness and got it willingly. Pretty sure it was the hugs. Everyone loves those.
 

Standard practice (with a gap in between of only thirty-four years, precisely).

I got it into my brain that if I could somehow get them both on board I could fix all of the broken things. Them together, alone with me, without Ben, just the way we used to be, the three musketeers, me playing monkey in the middle, midway through yet another ruined popsicle while Caleb drank a beer and caught up on hometown news and Lochlan ate enough hamburgers to feed a small village before venturing into a sort of dinner-coma where he lay.

It was like having two big brothers sometimes except for all of Caleb's focus, Lochlan had none, distracted and dreaming through his waking hours. He didn't like jobs and chores. He didn't want any responsibility. Caleb didn't seem to want to have much fun, cutting himself short to go and study or network or research. He didn't come out much as a result and sometimes we didn't see him for months. He called those 'semesters' because he was taking college courses while still in high school and he called the rest 'hard work paying off.'

But when he was there everything was the best. I thought he was so handsome. I would sit and look at him in the dark when he didn't think I was looking at him. He was handsome in a magazine model way. The Robb Report. GQ. That kind of Cary Grant handsome.

Lochlan was handsome in a boy next door oh please kiss me kiss me now way except no one was thinking about kissing me, I was eight.

Eight is not a kissable age.  

Even twelve is jailbait age, Cole said and he laughed uneasily and asked me what I planned to do with my future because someone was going to go to jail for kissing me eventually and he wanted to know if it was going to be Caleb or Loch.

No one, silly. Besides, I already kissed Andrew so no one's in trouble.

Preschool kisses don't count, they aren't the same. 

Well I probably wouldn't kiss your brother, he's way too old for me.

Barely two years older than Loch. 

There's no...I mean, I'm not..Caleb doesn't look at me like that. 

Okay, Cole said. But that smile. He's so full of shit it's reflecting in his medium blues.

Anyway, my plan is to marry Lochlan eventually. When I'm way older and he's stopped staring at Bailey.

You should stick with more immediate plans like getting a new popsicle, Bridgie. 

Okay. I went into their house and admitted to Cole's mom that I dropped my popsicle and she fetched another for me out of the deep freeze with a smile. Having a good evening, Bridget? The boys being nice to you?

Yes, they're all super. I smile at her as I unwrap my cherry double popsicle and immediately begin to head outside, for it will end up on the ground sooner rather than later and I don't want it to happen inside. I just can't figure this out. Two sticks. Melting the whole time I'm trying to eat it.

Good. That's the main thing. She smiles back and heads down the hall as I grab the screen door handle with my sticky fingers.

When I come back outside both Lochlan and Caleb are sitting quietly on patio chairs. Caleb is emailing and Lochlan is sprawled out flat on his back watching the stars. They both look up at me at the same time and both shake their heads at the fact that I'm holding a double popsicle in one sticky hand.

Or I was, anyway, until it slid off the stick and hit the ground before I even made it back to the chair in the middle.

(I am aware that no one thinks we have any brains at all with regards to the incident the other night that brought Batman screaming back into my universe but really if you only knew certain things, for when it comes to the three of us some things aren't nearly as shocking or out of the ordinary as they might be to others and we fully acknowledge that fact.)

Deliverance within reach.

Lochlan calls while I'm driving. Caleb lent me his car because he still feels that if I'm going to drive at all, his car is safer than the truck. I'm sure I've had this conversation before with Jake when I bought that very unreliable ancient C10 but as you can plainly see when pushed I come out swinging, defiant and downright unexplainable.

The phone rings a thousand more times and I finally hold the button down and tell Siri to call Lochlan. She knows what's up. She doesn't even ask to confirm, she just dials. This is the sort of relationship I have with this phone. I mean this man.

He answers in a panic.

Bridget, you get your little arse home right now. I'm going to give you ninety minutes and so help me if you're not within reach by six o'clock I'm coming to get-

Relax, Locket. I didn't sign up for anything.

You know what? Just stay put. I'll come and get you. 

You don't have to-

Just stay there. Give me an hour to get to you. 

Loch. Stop it. I didn't go. Do you really think I would go without you? 

I wouldn't put anything past you now. You grew up and left me in the dust here and I spend my days in awe of the adult you've become. 

Right. That's why you were ready to drop everything and come save me. 

I didn't say the awe was for how smart you are.

That's better. 

Drive safe. I'll be waiting. 

Can we come back on the weekend after setup and take some rides? 

If you don't know the answer to that by now, Peanut, then I don't know what else I can teach you.

He hangs up and I tell Siri that Lochlan can teach me how not to want to run away all the time. He seems to be able to manage it and I still can't do it at all.

She tells me she doesn't understand and instead asks if she can call the Devil for me.

I laugh.

Hell yes please.

Sonny's dreams can't be real
They're just stories he's read
They're just stars in his eyes
They're just dreams in his head
And he's hungry inside for that wide world outside
And I know I can't hold him though I've tried, and
I've tried, and I've tried

Last night as I slept the Dealbreaker Fairies struck again, much as they did when Ben took a drink and started in on me, because certain things are not allowed. These are rules everyone agreed to when we decided to centralize the Collective. These rules are carved into stone. Only I don't know what happens if they are broken repeatedly. I'm sure eventually we'll find out. Ben is working at that doggedly.

They paid Caleb a visit in the night and removed the weapon. I don't know what they did with it, I didn't ask. I didn't ask which boys are the Dealbreaker Fairies, I only know that this morning power had shifted back and I worry that this is needless and ridiculous and exhausting and never changes, which is ironically what Caleb wishes for and never gets and what I can never seem to get away from. Change.

Here's some change. This morning Batman roared down the driveway in his fancy sportscar and made no attempt at mystery or surprise. He simply slammed his way into the Boathouse and then he left just as quickly and I was thinking too little too late as he glanced my way as he turned around the fountain loop and then looked back at me, satisfied that no, the Devil didn't shoot me in the face over the weekend, I'm still living, breathing, waiting for Ben with one part of my heart while I saw the other remaining living piece into two with a rusted blade. Or into three. Maybe four. Five? I don't know, I was never very good at counting. I'm just grateful that they keep each other accountable, and grateful that Lochlan's pride is still flexible enough that he asks for help when he feels as if he might take things too far, because Caleb isn't the only one with self-control issues. I'm pretty sure if Loch had his way he'd be spending the afternoon digging a third grave on the property.

Whoops, did I say third? I meant FIRST.

I remember when we were gambling to win.

He had a soundtrack, the outside system churning through a playlist of new favorites. Wye Oak, Imagine Dragons and some acoustic Metric that he found that I loved instantly, to name a few. Old favorites mixed in for familiarity, too, as always. Bryan Adams. Boston. Kansas.

He had our big sketchbooks, my bag of pens and pencils and his metal tin of charcoal pieces.

He had the big picnic quilt and he laid everything out under the tree at the center of the dead orchard but it isn't dead just lazy in production and we don't have the heart to tear it all up, cut it down and change it. I love it. It's like a secret garden of a different kind and when you're under the tree at the very center you can't even see the house.

He had olives and bread and cheese and wine and chocolate too. He had sour patch kids and a small bag of cotton candy that we were sorely disappointed in. Loch had a plan to spend the day listening to music, drawing each other's portraits and drinking and singing and then I put all of that aside in favor of lying flat on my back on the blanket in the grass, pencils spilled into the bowl of olives, charcoal fingerprints around my ears and on my cheeks. I watched the clouds play tag across the sky and every now and again a dragonfly or a bee would come and land nearby and I would watch it until my eyes got so heavy I couldn't see anymore and finally I closed them completely.

I fell asleep in the sun, got burned and missed my phone call, shifted to today because Saturday was family day and apparently Ben was hoping I would be there, in spite of his very specific instructions that I not come because he seems to do better when he can't see my face and feel the feelings that go along with my expressions. They say it's rather devastating but I don't look in the mirror anymore so I don't know what they're talking about, honestly.

Repercussion roulette (Hammer home the rules).

The first click came almost immediately and I counted, in my head.

One.

He slides the barrel over my bottom lip, pulling it down, all the while frowning at me. He is all business tonight, almost disappointed that I arrived alone. If I come alone there's no need for appearances so he sheds his human form completely and then he loses control.

Say what I want to hear. He wraps his free hand around my neck, pushing me against the door. He thinks my presence is preference and won't listen to reason so I save my breath for later when I might need it more.

I shake my head and am rewarded with another click. Two. My feet leave the ground and my breath shatters in my lungs as he squeezes harder around my throat.

Eye level now and I still don't look at Caleb. Click.

That makes three.

Don't, I whisper.

What is your life worth, anyway? He whispers back gently.

More than yours. Lochlan's voice is loud and clear. He takes my hands and I don't fall when I am released and he pulls me back through the door and down the steps and home.

You don't do that. You don't go and see him if I say I don't want to see him. You don't ever do that again. 

You said you didn't want to go. 

That doesn't mean you go alone. Is that what you think I mean when I say I'm not going?

I shrug. I don't know. Stop yelling at me.

Is that what you think? Answer me, Bridgie. Right now, hon.

Yes. You're feeding me to the wolf! You don't care if I go. 

Oh I care very much and I've told you that but you don't listen until it's so late we almost run out of time. I don't know how to fix that. 

You can't. 

Sure I can. Or I can try. No more. No fucking more. You don't leave me for any reason. Got that?

You'll cave before I do. 

Don't you bet on that now. You'll lose.

Just killing time here until I get my phone call tomorrow morning. None of this is new, feel free to ignore it and go read something fun like Divergent updates. :)

I'm not close
I'm not safe
I don't know, am I better off in chains?
The one is not aware, so stay away from me
I'm just too young to care

Caleb had outdoor heaters installed around the secret garden, the space he built that I told you about here and here (I can't call it a grotto because that just makes me think of the Playboy mansion so secret garden it shall remain). They are heaters similar to the ones down on the dock but these ones come on automatically through some magical combination of temperature sensing and motion detection so I don't have to fuss with them, and they're set for my comfort which is a nice touch and as always, completely over the top.

I found out when I ventured outside with a sketchbook and headphones and a second cup of coffee very early this morning. Halfway across the lawn I decided it was too cold but figured I would check it out for a few minutes anyway. Surprisingly it was toasty-warm in minutes under the canopy of leaves and I realized there were three heaters built in to the top of the retaining wall.

Godammit. If he can control the weather now I'm doomed.

I can't control the weather, I just tried to think of everything you might need, he answers. I jump fifty feet, shrieking at him not to do that.

That's a poor reaction for someone who's been given a space such as this to call her own. I've been waiting for you to come out here for days.

I don't recall asking for this so exactly how grateful would you like me to be? I adore this part of the yard and may never touch down on the back patio again (I kid! Duncan is back there. I'll be there). But if Caleb only did it to get my thankfulness then forget it. He can bulldoze it over and the forest can reclaim it.

I want you to acknowledge that your champagne tastes rival your amusement park budget and that the rat is out of his league.

Just because I like champagne doesn't mean I'll die if I can't have it. I'm fine with water.

From the bucket outside a barn somewhere in a town you couldn't name if there was a gun to your head?

The very same (I wince at his description. How fitting that is.).

And you want to scrounge around for dinner pennies-

Nickels, now.  Pennies are being phased out.

-Dinner nickels only to go to sleep hungry because there isn't enough?

Sure. Doesn't bother me.

You looked pretty impressed last time I flew you to dinner. You seem to enjoy yourself when we engage in...extraordinary experiences that you can't find among people who don't have the means I do, Bridget.

I never said I was immune to decadence, just that I won't choose it. 

We're only on earth for a limited time. 

He pops the balloon of abstract theory. Yes. I'm aware.

Bridget, I want to spoil you. I want to give you an easy life. When we're together it isn't difficult, it's seamless and electric and comfortable. You fit beside me. You complete me. 

That's from Jerry Maguire.

You drive me fucking nuts. 

I'm sure that's from Gangster Number One. Or maybe Goodfellas.

I don't care. I just know that Ben isn't capable of looking after you when he can't look after himself and Lochlan doesn't have the means to support a family. Neither one of them can commit to a thing-

You know the best part of your pissing contest with Lochlan? He never mentions you, or Ben or money. Or what he can give me. He only talks about being so in love with me, about it being right, that it's meant to be. That we have something so amazing. All you want to do is fix a price and make your aquistion. 

That isn't true. I'm pragmatic. I focus on numbers first.

Well, that's wrong. 

That's practical. He isn't. I don't know why you say he is. I am showing you my concrete plans, concrete means. No one can live on glitter and fireworks and candy. You found that out the hard way.

There is nothing bad in Lochlan's universe. And I can't live with a gun to my head which is how you get your way, Caleb.

If I adopt his methods it will destroy you. You want me to talk about history? You want me to talk about how I fucked up and in the process I managed to not only not take you away from Loch but I lost you to my brother too? Want me to talk about lying awake nights planning pointless trips and business emergencies to bring you on to save your life? Want me to talk about lying awake nights beside you while you cried through your nightmares, telling me things I could hardly believe? Want me to talk about needing years of therapy to let go of you when you asked me to go away knowing you were staying with Cole? Want me to tell you about a loneliness so fucking deep it's destroying my heart in slow motion? I can talk about that, Bridget, but I don't think you would like it very much. 

Brought your verbal guns today, I see.

Limited time, Princess. That's all we have. A limited time.

The only reason Lochlan and I didn't survive on the road was because you changed things. That's YOUR fault, not his.

The aftermath was all his, baby. Don't pin his helplessness on me. 

You set us up! Jesus Christ, what was he supposed to do?

He was supposed to be a man! 

Oh, LIKE YOU WERE?

His mouth opened to keep going but his eyes changed from triumphant to horrified and he didn't say anything.

I want to fix things, Bridget. 

Then leave me the hell alone.

Come tonight. Bring him and we'll talk. Something has to change. He turned on his heel and went inside, leaving me alone to shiver in spite of the heat.

I scream, you scream.

Our third child has decided to step in and fill some pretty big shoes this morning. Oh yes, that Jack of all trades, master of none Daniel has determined that nothing will keep the annual homemade ice cream festival from continuing.

Ben makes ice cream. It rarely works out. Everyone seems to adore it nonetheless.

He uses no professional eqipment. I don't think I've ever seen him wash his hands first but it's been a thing for him and the kids since diapers were also a thing. So, like forever, the third week of July their entire lives. This might be the first July he misses in its entirety.

But we still have Danny and Danny brings his doubtful, curious and handsome A-game to every moment of my life because he is the sweetest guy around and I only kiss up to him because he has never ever been the first one to release a hug. Ever.

And that, my friends, is something you all could learn from.

But then I would never get anything done. Like washing all of these dishes from making homemade ice cream. Not sure how he gets all the glory and I get the shitshow but I'll take it.

Attachment theory.

I was reading. I went around and gathered up as many hugs as I could hold and Lochlan still hadn't appeared so I changed into one of Ben's big t-shirts, turned off all the lights (save for one in the kitchen above the stove and the one on Lochlan's night table) and went to bed, book in my arm, eyes heavy.

He dropped his full weight on me and took my book, tossing it to the floor. Hey. 

Hey stranger. 

Never. Always familiar. I got hung up helping Sam.

Noble cause?

Girl problems.

I laughed out loud and he smiled. Love that sound. 

Enjoy it while it lasts. I can't breathe. 

Sorry, he laughs and pulls himself up so that his elbows are holding most of his weight. His forearms are planted on either side of my head. He bends his head down for a long kiss.

That's what was missing. 

I think so too. I give him another one and we trade off and on for a while before I realize he's not supported by his elbows again.

Loch!

Sorry! There. He pulls the covers down and lies beside me, pulling me in tightly against his chest, working kisses from my mouth out to my jaw. He reaches out and turns off the lamp and then pulls off my t-shirt in between pulling his clothes off. His breathing is quiet and harsh, his curls are in his eyes, his teeth sharp against my cheek. His hands are hot, red-hot, burning into my skin but I don't care.

He pulls me up into his arms and pulls my legs up tightly around his waist. I dig my nails into his shoulders and he presses so hard into me that I cry out. He reaches up and covers my mouth and then leans me back all the way until I am flat on my back and he is over me again. He puts his head down and pulls his arms down around me. Faster we go. I reach up and grab onto his curls to keep him close and he leans up on his elbows again, putting his hands on my cheeks as he pounds me right through the sheets. We don't talk. We kiss but mostly we move together in silence.

Finally he climbs back up to a sitting position, pulling my legs up into the air so he can watch my face. He is too far away for my liking but he leans back further, moving slowly, watching me, lifting my hips easily. His hair is in his eyes again and his smile could melt steel if his hands didn't already. He slows down even more and leans forward again, holding me down, picking up speed and I pull myself up, arms around his neck and at last he slides his arms around my back and begins to melt us together in a blinding spark of magnesium and charcoal. He lets go of me and I am instantly cold, my hair stuck against my forehead, my breathing ragged, caught. He bends his head down for one final long kiss and then he tucks me in his arm against his chest and he is asleep in seconds.

I watch him until my own eyes become too heavy again and I join him in dreams, back at the fair, where surprisingly enough, it's daylight.

Great day. No time. Here!

Today featured all kinds of really really good things. Like:

Air conditioning.

Spaghetti.

A fixed barbecue, a fixed garden hose and a bathed dog, all courtesy of yours truly.

A found five dollar bill.

Chocolate FREAKING cake.

Presents.

Balloons.

And a boy who turned twelve.

TWELVE. 

Oh my God. What?

In time to tee off with the pumpkins (a phone call from Ben).

I spent almost two-and-a-half weeks angry at Benjamin. I woke up, flip-flopped and got scared. Maybe it's a dream. Maybe he's dead like the others. You don't know what my mind does to me sometimes. It's a horror show rollercoaster ride. It's a bad dream. It's a whimsical, uncontrollable beast. It scares most everyone and that's why I have a team. Not just some friends but two dozen knights on high alert.

Because I'm unpredictable and run on flames and sugar.

Again, we know who to blame for starting all of this and we know who to blame for ending it. But when the chips have fallen there is still the burning question left.

What do we do with her now?

I woke up afraid and I made sure that it's fully and clearly understood that I miss Ben. A whole lot.

He called the night before I actually admitted this out loud and told me three things, you see.

The first thing was that he loves me, so very very much and he wants to be better. He wants to be a well man so he can be a good husband and a good friend and a good stepfather too.

The second thing is that he wants me to do exactly what he set in place for me the morning he proposed that we marry Lochlan. Because Lochlan is permanent, carved in stone and so should the need arise for me to be handed off to someone else well, let's just make it formal because alone=bad, Caleb=bad and anyone else would be a total fucking trainwreck.

(I could give you concrete examples of this but instead just remember Joel.)

The third thing is that he will be home at Halloween.

(That's right boys and girls, this is a sixteen week residential program where instead of just getting off whatever destruction train he was on, he's going to learn to rewire his brain to cope with stress and fear in other ways. The part he always walked out on before.

Oh, send me. I could use that. Except that I don't listen.)

Halloween? I asked three times (because I don't listen, you see) and by the second time instead of repeating why it would be so long he began repeating that I was okay now, safe from him. Far from him and his alter ego, who is full of rage and doesn't give a fuck.

He spoke of the letter. The one I never got to read. He said the only nagging fear he has is that if I revert to Lochlan completely for four months straight will it strengthen the bond so much that we'll have nothing left for Ben when he comes back? It was a similar message to the one left for Lochlan on his voicemail because once again Loch refused to be the bearer of bad news and told Ben he would have to tell me himself how long the program would be.

So he did.

He asked for some sort of promise that I would be open to taking him back if he can do this.  Not when but if. I asked him, didn't he have any faith in himself and he whispered no, that he left all his faith in me and that he hoped I would use it and do the right thing when the time came.

This is what Lochlan took issue with, I believe.

Ben asked me to thank Batman, who covered the cost of his treatment up front. He told me not to spend too much time with Caleb and then he said he would try to call back on Tuesday and wish Henry a Happy Birthday.

He said when he comes home he's getting a regular day job again and he's going to do things differently. He said he misses both of us. I reminded him gently that Lochlan isn't cooperating at present with our Three Musketeer Manifesto and Ben said he knows and if he was in Loch's place he wouldn't either but he also knows that everything will work out because we're special and a little crazy and a lot wounded and he can't wait to be home but he won't be home until things work properly inside his head.

He said at the end of the day I deserve a man who has his shit together and he would like to be the first to present that concept to me.

And in spite of myself I laughed. I laughed until I cried.