Tuesday 19 November 2013

It's like a progress bar, this engagement. LOADING LOADING LOADING

December 21st. That's a good day to get married, right?

That's what Matt said and Sam, who seemed like he wasn't actually paying attention, sat up, closed his book and said It does. It sounds like a really good day.

Then they sat there grinning like fools at each other until we all jumped on them.

Finally. A date. A plan. A...month? JESUS. This is like that time when Jacob gave me mere days notice for the smallest wedding the world has ever seen. This will be slightly larger but not by much. They have a few ideas in mind and they're all wonderful. Including breakfast. Wedding pancakes. Things involving flavoured coffees and candles. Winter sunrise. Kilts and Ben's pipes and snow and mountains and I don't even. Gosh. I just don't even.

I've been married too many times to never have planned a wedding (fun fact!)

And now the teasing has begun, because everyone keeps asking Sam when he's going shopping for THE DRESS.

I want to smack them all and cry with happiness at the same time.

Sam I love you to pieces. I hope you know that.

Monday 18 November 2013

Back to class, children.

Dear lord, let it go. For the record, Caleb said I yelled YOLO and pulled my pants off, swung them up and they got caught at the top of the fountain. Then so I wouldn't feel awkward Andrew, PJ, Duncan and Loch (I know! WTF.) threw theirs too.

We are getting too old for bachelor parties even though that was the first one I've ever been invited to.

Thanks, Samwise (who is still sleeping even though it's four in the afternoon but Mondays are his Saturdays so it's okay. He does not drink but he stays up far too late for his own good).

'Twas fun.

In a wood full of princes, freedom is a kiss.

Not even going to talk about how I wound up doing karaoke on top of the kitchen island at three this morning in my underpants and a t-shirt that reads Runt of the Litter but it happened and I think there might be video.

Who ever brought the Jaegermeister needs to take it away because damn. I thought I was doing a stellar job covering These Dreams but in fact I was not.

(Consensus is no one was paying attention to my singing but instead the lack of pants.)

(I was not the only one not wearing pants.)

(The fountain outside is wearing four pairs now and there is one pair on the roof of the garage. I don't know how they got them up there. I cannot run with the big boys and I never ever seem to learn that, but at least I know I look better without my pants on than anyone else.)

Sunday 17 November 2013

The wheel breaks the butterfly.

Oh, to be loved like this.

New-Jake is Ben's roommate/keeper/conscience/rat. He told me this morning over cold coffee on my patio that Ben was bluffing to see how far my loyalties would reach.

Bluffing. Right. No, we're not going to do this. Ben told me to get on with it and let him fix himself. I wanted to stick around and help him. I thought I could help him and he told me I couldn't. He told me he needed me to just listen for once and do what I was supposed to do in the event of one of his big meltdowns and that is to remove myself from him so as not to be in danger.

So I did. I listened. I obeyed. I followed his directions and now he's turned it all around and inside out and proclaims that it was a test to see if I had more loyalty to him or to Loch.

I laughed because this is ludicrous and also because hot coffee is NOT a privilege it's a RIGHT.

I felt mean so I said it was lucky Ben found out now, before he got too attached.

Because he was the one who wished for space so he could barricade himself behind a fifty-proof wall and I wasn't brave enough to save him. Because he knew damned well what he was up against when he started this and he knew better. Because I tried very hard and he didn't make it easy and I tried until we wound up in humiliation mode. You know? Stay down, Bridget. You're out cold. Give up. Stop fighting. You can't win and we're all cringing here watching you.

Yeah, so fuck that. I can't even process that sort of backtracking anymore and so I asked Jake to go before I turned madder than before. He's smart enough to not have to be told twice, unlike everyone else in my life. They just assume tears will be the result of being mad. In my head though I'm always one step away from taking a sledgehammer to their trucks. Maybe their balls. But instead I always seem to swing for their hearts instead and connect so easily you think I've been doing this all my life.

Maybe I have.

And I went on ahead because I have to and I don't like being made to feel like this because he has regret. Does he think I don't know what that feels like? Does he think I have all the luck in the world where I can just not feel things that hurt anymore? Numb is a protective state but I can't control it. I wish I could. I'd like to be more numb and less hurt. More numb and less anything. More numb.

Saturday 16 November 2013

Sometimes nicknames don't disappear because you want them to.

Fuck it. I'll keep it. If the shoe fits and all that.

Friday 15 November 2013

A one-way ticket to a white-hot world.

Woman, turn my head around
Woman, my whole world's upside down
You come into my life and you tear it all apart
You can't put out the fire once it starts
Until there's nothing left to burn inside my heart
Yes, it hurts when my bubbles are burst. This morning I found out Lochlan's new sysadmin gig is courtesy of Batman.

Yeah.

*pop* *popopopopop*

Whatever plans I had for myself have been flushed, run over, held under the water and torched for good measure I think. Loch tells me he took care of the list and that's all that matters and I think at this point I'm just about ready to ask PJ if he wants to take me and the kids and buy a split-level house in Shediac and live out our days bickering over who gets the last cinnamon roll. I'll teach him to make me high-end sandwiches and he can teach me how to use the winch on the Jeep because scaries.

That sounds like a dream sometimes. Especially if you ask PJ.

But let's not. I don't want to get his hopes up.

***

Peanut, just stop. I did the list. And when I weighed my options he's more well-connected than anyone. I'm not working directly for him. I just wanted a gig that paid enough to be worthwhile so I can look after my family. So you don't have to feel like you have to work for Cale. I'm trying to accomplish something and you have to use connections in this day and age-

I get it. I know. It's okay. 

I started out in life with five t-shirts, my dad's old wallet and truck and an eleven-year-old girlfriend. How in the fuck did things get so complicated?

Life. Life is complicated, Locket. 

I had a plan, Bridge. It wasn't going to be complicated. 


Sorry.


For what?

Making it complicated.

The very first bad habit I want to see you undo is you blaming yourself every time something goes wrong. 

Oh... I see. You're going to take a stab at fixing me, are you?

Hell, no. I like you weird and messed up. But you've got a few faults you can probably work on. May as well while I'm dealing with my massive flaws at the same time. At least yours are easy fixes. 

Faults?! What faults, then?

This whole stealing money thing has got to stop. I need those bills. He grabs me and turns me upside down and three fifties flutter out of the sleeves of my dress to the floor. Those are for dinner tonight! 

Wow! How much can I have to eat?

It's the kids. I've never seen two kids eat so much. They remind me of..well, they remind me of you at the same age. Only it cost a lot less back then to get takeout. 

Because it was the Dark Ages. 

Is that what you call it?

Sometimes. 

In my next life I hope I find a map that will explain Lochlan's facial expressions. That would be helpful.

Thursday 14 November 2013

Addendum because there's always a Devil on my shoulder.

No, Caleb didn't read about things here. I told him in person. I'm dedicated to humanity in that I prefer in-person contact for most things. Paying bills, signing papers, telling someone his lifelong adversary is winning, that sort of thing.

His reaction? Laughter. Smug laughter, no less.

That's his big coup, Princess? (see what he did there?) You stay married to Ben. You still travel with me and Loch goes and gets a menial job that sees him gone all day and agrees to a laundry list of things he should be doing anyway?

I don't go anywhere with you and Ben isn't even present. 

So what's the big deal?

We're trying to make a life here. 

What were you doing before?

Just...

Tell me, does it hurt when I burst those bubbles Pyro blows for you?

Part III: Change not change.

(He put the wheels in place the day he ambushed me after Daniel and Schuyler's wedding. Backup in case something goes wrong with me, Bridget. I'm not known for my reliability, he said and I fought him. I argued and I warned him and I entered into this against my will. I should have realized he was building an escape hatch but I was blind.)

When Ben came home from his program I was so excited but he's different. I tried to wait. I tried to manage him. I tried to just keep living and have patience but he kept widening the gap between us until it became a chasm and I don't think we can build a bridge big enough at this point to reach each other.

Besides, every time I get near the edge trying to see him he yells at me to get back, that he has too many problems to fix so I should just go on ahead.

That this probably won't change and he's sorry. That he knows I tried so hard but he's doing this anyway. That someday if he ever has his shit together maybe things will be different but for now he's not going to tether me to him when he is a sinking ship.

I told him I'll shift allegiance when I'm good and ready and he said I was stubborn and amazing and that he feels bad now that he put me in such a strange position where I could divide my time so readily and without apology. He feels awful for the times he handed me to the devil on a silver platter and commoditized and objectified me.

I defended him but he had none of it and he told me to stop taking orders and go and be where I belong.

Well, that's ironic. Stop doing this, and do this instead. Oh and listen to no one.

Okay...? Wait, what?

He's going to continue to stay at Batman's new place and work for him again/still, ramping up as he feels able/inclined. He's still a part of this family and that's not going to change. He's still a part of me and that's not going to change. I'm doing what he's asking me to do but I refuse to abandon him so no big legal shifts will take place. Like everything else this is a trial, subject to change.

So I guess it's a non-explanation but it's better than nothing. No, we don't know what we're doing. I think they're trading places, forcing Lochlan to grow up, forcing me to be a little more independent (HA) and taking the pressure off Ben just a little longer so he can continue to focus on getting well. I can't argue with any of it, even though I'd like to.

Wednesday 13 November 2013

Part II: Goodbye Princess.

(Part I is here. Part III is coming. )

No. You've got most of it. Isn't that enough?

I rocked him. He didn't expect that and the look on his face hurt so much I started to cry. Not sure he was all that far behind me. He put his hands up, thumbs blocking my ears, fingers behind them spread out so I can't look away. He mashed his forehead against mine and asked me what he needed to do.

I gave Lochlan a verbal list while tears dripped off my chin. This is something I've thought about long and hard and have decided to not give an inch ever for the rest of my life.

I told him everything on that list, pretty sure he couldn't pull it off and I'd save myself the heartache of ruining anyone else in this lifetime but he sniffled gruffly, wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and nodded like he had work to do.

When we went to sleep he didn't let go all night. Not even when I got warm and had a hard time breathing, my nose mashed hard against his chest. When I woke up Friday morning I was still clutched against him and my phone was going off perpetually, the messages from Caleb piling up. Lochlan told me not to go spend the day near the devil but I went anyway. I need to be busier. It helps. It helps because this is Jacob's week and it's been unseated by something I didn't expect right now, though I think it's been inevitable for a while now.

I got on a plane to New York, almost grateful for the larger space I could put between us and I never thought another thing about it. Lochlan isn't good with the follow through, it's not like anything is going to change, ever. We're going to ride this carousel until we die.

When I came back I felt accomplished. I fixed things. I saved the day and I am learning about Caleb and why he throws himself into these things so readily. It's easier than trying to exist in the here and now. Busy is an excuse to disappear and not have to deal with anything except work. It's escapism of a different sort.

I'm such a bleeding heart, I don't think I'd be good at it for long but it was worth the price and isn't it amazing how suddenly all my major players have game plans for the week when the last six years they've let me slide naked down razor blades over and over again during this week until I ran in rivers and blood and surgically-precise patterns of misery.

But when I stepped into the airport lobby, Lochlan was there. Right by the door. In the way, actually, but he wouldn't budge until he saw me. Caleb saw him at the same time and let out an indignant teenage protest (Oh, come on!) when he saw Loch and I wanted to laugh but the surprise had swallowed everything else.

He had my bag already and he gave me a huge hug. We need to talk. He took my hand and turned to greet Caleb. See you at the house. Then he turned and pulled me with him. That's why I forgot my computer. Caleb was carrying both mine and his off the plane.

When we got into Loch's truck he just sat there for a few minutes and then he put out his hand. Close your eyes and take this and tell me what it is. 

I closed my eyes and put out both hands. The moment it touched me I knew what he had given me and my eyes flew open. The brass ring from Coney. The first good luck charm. You asked for it back when I married Cole. I could have used it in my life since then. Can we go home now?

Soon, Peanut.

Next he handed me a crumpled piece of paper. On it was written everything I asked him for. Every single one was there and they all had a line drawn through them, crossing them off as completed.

You got a job! 

Yeah. Computers. It's nothing much. 

Same thing as before?

Mostly. Negotiated a better rate than last time. And benefits. 

He looked sheepish but happy as I went through the whole list. Oh my God. He did this in three days flat.

Turn the page over. There's one I didn't do. It might be a dealbreaker. 

It said Let her keep the nickname.

I can't do that one. You're not their princess, you never were. You're my freak. You got freak blood and freak brains and a freaky sense of everything and I think the princess part was the anomaly here. 

But..every girl wants to be a princess.

Not my girl. My girl's a freak. A little circus peanut. A spark. A million other names but not that one.

I nod. So many years and time is suddenly caving in all around us and soon we're swimming again in a faceless clock, a manmade lake left when the trappings of proper society fell out from under us once more and sent us under the surface.

Conventional? Never.

I can treat you like a princess, I'm just not going to use nicknames that other people had for you, you know? I just can't do it. I was here first and I'm going to be here last and I have my own ways, okay? Tell me this is okay because you're so quiet it's really freaking me out and I don't know if I've gone to far or you have no intentions of being with me I just know when you got on that plane I decided it was going to be the last time forever that you leave me behind for someone else. The last time. I hope it was a good trip because there won't be any more and oh Jesus, Peanut, please say something before I burst into flames. 

(I think that was what he said. His accent fires up strong when he gets going and boy, was he going right then.)

No more princess?

Fuck no. Jake's gone, Bridge. Let's leave his habits with him and start over. You need to start over with me. I got it all wrong and if I got one more shot I'm going to do it right. 

What's right? 

Whatever works for you and me, Peanut. And he winked as I caught my breath. The last time he said that we were arguing over what to do to make more money than we were making with him busking and both of us on sideshow. It wasn't enough and I said what are we going to do?

We'll do whatever works for you and me, Peanut, he said and his pragmatism gave me comfort. He even had flying by the seat of his pants figured out. Figuratively AND literally and almost thirty-five years have gone by since I imprinted on him and refused to let go, even as I had my heart broken five times over in the meantime. Slow to learn, I said but you never believed me.

So now what do we do? I asked him as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. He smiled and kissed my hand.

I really have no fucking idea, Bridget. I guess we try and pick up where we left off. 

Maybe we should start over. Start fresh. 

No, I kind of like the idea of people asking how long we've been together and being able to say thirty-five years without blinking an eye. That'll roll heads. 

But it's not true. 

Yes, it is and you know it just as well as I do. 

Then all of this was for nothing. We never broke up so we can't get back together. 

Fine. Give me that ring back. I can sell it for nostalgic purposes. 

I'm going to sell you for nostalgic purposes. 

You won't get much for me, though with the new job I am worth a little more than I was a week ago. 

But we didn't get very far. Fifty yards down the road the weight of our decisions overtook him and he pulled over and turned off the truck and just wept.

Tuesday 12 November 2013

Back.

(Every post is not a declaration of intent so stop doing that thing where you freak at me.)

Friday's incredibly obvious attempt to lure me away from Lochlan turned into a bonafide crisis before mid-afternoon and before dinner we were on a goddamn plane to New York. Long story. To simplify he merged some stuff and people got spooked.

What Caleb thought was a concern turned into an almost-defection but by the time our late dinner was over I had his biggest investors eating out of the palm of my hand.

Well, not literally. But once that fire was out shit got weird.

On the morning of day two I wound up being painted with the same brush as a row of 'companions' to Caleb's investors, dismissed as nothing more than a sugar baby. While it's fine for me to paint myself with that brush, it isn't fine for anyone else to speak to the head of their company that way.

Besides, all of the so-called ladies were breast-implanted, bleached and sucked dry. None of them had a single opinion that didn't swing like a loose shutter off their 'daddy' and I took one look at Caleb and he rolled his eyes and said fine, take off. Then he had the grace to stand and announce that the director of the company (me) had another engagement but we all thank her for her time and for coming on short notice.

I'm pretty sure I would have tripped over their duck-face injected pouts and jaws on the fucking floor had I moved any faster walking out of that room but I knew what I wanted to spend the rest of the day doing, because I've done it a few times before.

(You're thinking Coney Island! Which is a great guess but no, sadly. It would have taken me almost an hour to get there from Midtown in traffic and I didn't have that kind of time.)

I called Ben and he called ahead to his old stomping grounds and so they were waiting for me when I got to the studio in a taxi. I was given headphones and a cord and I entered the dark soundproof room, stretched out on my back on the carpeted floor and turned the music up all the way. A voice cut in at the beginning asking me if I wanted a wake-up call.

Sure. Four forty-five? 

No worries. Enjoy your time, Bridget. 

Then the music swelled back up and I closed my eyes. Never will you hear music more pure than right where I was, no hearing aids or ear pressed against a speaker required. I know what ninety minutes of studio time costs and I knew I could cover it so it was better than staying where I was and worth it by far.

By far.

But I will say one thing. The breakneck pace and change in scenery and obligations actually did wonders after a very long week and kept me from focusing too hard on Jake or on Loch or on anything other than growth and capital and projections and all the other stupid things Caleb has taught me over the years that are important if you want to make money, important if you have an eye toward the future in the way that he always does. Maybe his expertise extends past financial concerns and into a painful attempt to continue to do what is best for me even when I fight him on that only to later find out he was right all along.

I went over this afternoon to fetch my laptop and he had a cheque waiting for me.

A job well done, Princess. We make a good team.

I took the cheque. It's more than I expected by half. Hey! Now I have enough to get implants! Yessssss!

Bridget-

I'M KIDDING.

(Part II tomorrow! Finally!)

Friday 8 November 2013

This is not part two because I'm at work. *rolls eyes*

Little offhand life rules from a seventeen-year-old boy have annoyingly stuck in my brain, against his very best wishes now that he has grown up and knows better.

Never turn down a show, Peanut. The money will always come in handy.

So of course the Devil had an 'emergency' today and he kept adding to my executive assistant rate until I said I'd be there by eight. He said seven thirty and I said I was still in my pajamas.

That's fine, he said. Then he added another zero if I took them off and didn't replace them with actual clothes.

Fuck off, Diab. 

I'll make it up to you with some KFC for lunch. 

I'll take two more zeroes instead. 

Does that word have that second e?

I don't know. It's seven in the morning, Caleb. Look it up. 

You can do it when you get here. And don't eat. I'll make cheese toast and coffee. Oh and tell Pyro to have a nice day for me, would you? 

I'll bring him with me. He can help me work. 

Bring him and I take four zereos away. 

Are those like Oreos but for losers?

I don't know. Ask Pyro. 

Thursday 7 November 2013

Part I: A pre-dawn show.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
I held the lighter up high over the bed in my left hand and spun it until it flickered with a steady burn and hiss, blinding me from the dark.

Happy forty-three, Preacher.

I said it quietly and I felt the cool trail of tears sliding down my face into my ears from my eyes. Flat on my back I kept the lighter wavering tall above me. Lochlan took it out of my hand and pulled me up.

Get dressed.

Sure. Not like I'm sleeping. I look at the clock and it's 3:42 in the morning. Everything is quiet. He pulls on his yesterday-clothes and I do the same and he takes my hand. Let's go.

When we get outside to the backyard he drops my hand and heads down to the patio, dragging an Adirondack chair out, away from the others. He then motions for me to take a seat in it so I do. He says to wait there and I do as he disappears.

There's the ocean and the sky and a place Jake won't ever see because he never made it to his birthday and is forever locked at thirty-six even though my mind tries to future-age him every chance it gets. It tries to keep him in the picture. It tries to never let him go.

The rain is coming steadily now and I wonder if I've been banished from my own bed for my perpetual insolence and reverse-loyalty. But then Lochlan is back with his fire.

His precious fire.

In between eating the fire and doing tricks for me, he tells a story. Sometimes the fire is in the story, and sometimes it's a distraction from the story. Sometimes I am astounded and afraid for him and sometimes I feel proud that he works hard to keep such a singular set of skills so fresh.

But more than that the story is one I have heard before, but never told quite like this. It's about a princess and an angel that comes down from heaven to help her but only briefly because he must go back. She doesn't listen. She thinks it's forever and then can't understand where he went so she spends the rest of her life looking for him until a helpful court jester in the kingdom tells her kindly that he isn't coming back. When she cries he distracts her with a poem and some magic and then invites her to a dance. She accepts, surprised she didn't really see him before even though he has been there all along. She remembers him from long ago and she remembers her fondness for him too.

They lived happily ever after in Lochlan's story as the rain weighed down his flames and threatened to rob him of heat and light, as it crushed his curls to his head and flooded my heart and made the ocean and the house invisible as he shouted out the lines as he wrote them in his head.

And I listened as hard as I could.

When he was finished he put down his tools, taking a few minutes to clean up the gear and then he came over to my chair. He took my hands and pulled me to my feet, kissing the top of my head, now with plastered-down hair as well, leading me back inside, up the steps in the dark and we stripped off our wet clothes and got back into bed, the smell of white gas permeating everything, where he said he's only got one thing left that he needs to steal in his life and if I'd help him with it then we could have our Happily Ever After without further delay.

He pointed to my heart. He pushed right through flesh and bone and emotional trip wire and psychological electric fence and he said he would take it. He said maybe he has already. He looked for confirmation, hints or maybe just promises dissolved by rain. And then he waited for my response.

(Oh God. I HATE cliffhangers too. I'm sorry but it has to be done.)

Wednesday 6 November 2013

Year Six.

There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.  ~J. M. Barrie
Two thousand, one hundred and ninety days in and things are evolving again. I would say maybe I'm slow to notice or plodding in my acceptance or so stubborn if you stood in front of a midnight blue sky in proof I would face you with clenched fists and an angry red face and insist that you're wrong, it's inky black.

Because that's how it's supposed to be in my head but every now and again the outside world proves me wrong and I need to step out of my brain and take note.

Lochlan has settled back into his alpha role in my heart, I think. He runs a tight ship, but he's unconventional too and he's somehow able to come up with his share without fretting, he just digs in. I know he worries but not outwardly so, the way I do. Ask me How are you? and I tip forward and drown you in emotional tea, without a lid or an acknowledgement when you say enough. I will pour until I'm empty and then turn around and do it again. He takes it. He's fashioned a snorkel in order to breathe, drawing in air from that navy-blue atmosphere and keeping us alive when some days I'm so determined to follow Jacob over that edge you would still be so surprised and most likely disappointed in me.

But I didn't and I won't and I keep writing to try and figure it all out and sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's comforting, sometimes it's maddening too and sometimes it's downright surprising.

And sometimes I wake up feeling numb and slightly removed and uncaring and that's usually the day after I've lost my mind and someone, and I think I know who, doles out one magical tablet but doesn't tell me, just stirs it into the juice he offers without actually seeming like he's monitoring me so closely and I drink it because I'm always thirsty and then I realize what he's done and I'm grateful. Grateful for the escape from a day that isn't ever easier to manage, not even six years later.

I know there are supposed to be timelines on grief and shock and improvements and fading of memories and moving on and I'm here to tell you that all of that is purely guesswork and BULLSHIT and it's a-okay if you're still in that moment that changed you forever because you're you and you do what you need to do, not what some expert tells you to do, chosen as an appropriate answer based on an average taken from people who are not you.

It's okay and I'll back you up on that forever. I didn't think I would still be able to generate as much complete and total hysteria as I did yesterday but PJ said he could have bottled it and run the whole point for years on the energy I put out for ghosts.

It very inappropriately made me laugh. That's okay too.

***

When I went out to the rock wall, Jake was there but he was so faded I could hardly see him. Maybe it was the weather or maybe he's eroding from my brain with time just like they said he would. He is disappointed that I have turned him into the holy trinity especially seeing as how he is was a Unitarian minister and sad that I am so miserable but also heartened that we have not self-destructed in his absence. What absence? I ask him and he laughs and shakes his head. Aw, Pig-a-let, you're so willful. I'm not sure I'm worth that energy you expend on me. 

You are. 

What would they say?
He nods toward the houses, gesturing like he's in front of an imaginary pulpit. There's a reason you have to move on, if you don't you get stuck forever. 

So what?

So, you didn't die, I did and you need to live. 

Fuck right off, Jacob Thomas. 

Mad is better than sad, Princess, but neither is better than glad. I return to my clenched fists and red face because I'm about to get into it with a ghost. I hated that saying. It made me feel immature and ungrateful. Which is exactly his point and so he grins faintly. I have to go. I'm not supposed to be here anymore, Pig-a-let, remember? I'm the anchor wrapped around your ankle and if you don't free yourself you're going to drown. 

You're speaking my language now aren't you?

Yes, can you hear me?

Loud and clear, Pooh. 

Go find your Peter Pan and plot the future. It's time to pick up that other fairy tale where you left off. The fucker.

It's not a fairy tale. It's more like a reject paperback from a sale table that no one wants to buy. Pulp fiction. Everyone picks it up but no one has ever finished it.

Bridget. (Oh there's the stern, serious face I loved so much. His eyes are narrowed, mouth turned down and set tightly, just waiting. He looks just like the Sundance Kid.)

I know. Anchor. Fairies. Books. Live. Future. I squint my eyes to focus but he fades completely. Before I turn to walk up to the house I know that if Lochlan is standing just at the edge of the patio, hands in his pockets, flicking the dry empty lighter over and over and over again that my future will be less obscure than I feel like it is sometimes.

I turn and he grins at me in relief because sometimes I think he thinks I'm still going to bolt when I walk all the way down to the end of the wall and stand there talking to the flowers that persist in growing out from between the rocks, appearing to be as crazy as I feel most days. I start the long walk across the wet grass to get back to him and I get the feeling that between now and Year Seven I probably won't see Jake at all. He's beginning to repeat himself, looking for different ways to get through to me. He's beginning to find his end.

That would be something. If I don't get to pick when grief ends but he does instead.

Tuesday 5 November 2013

It’s a fragile thing, this life we lead
If I think too much I can get overwhelmed
by the grace by which we live our lives
with death over our shoulders

Want you to know
That should I go
I always loved you
Held you high above, too
I studied your face
And the fear goes away
The fear goes away
The fear goes away

This might be a placeholder for a post or it might just be part of a cool Pearl Jam song. Who knows? Let's see what the afternoon brings. I have issues and can't post more than this. Only some of my issues are technical though, I'm pretty certain the rest are mental.

Monday 4 November 2013

Jake frost.

Winter arrived this morning without herald, and we scraped off all the trucks and the Cayman too. The 370z was temporary, like all good things and Caleb is having fun driving ridiculous two-seater coupes up and down the mountain highways without a care in the world. When I grow up I'd like to worry about as much as he seems to. Thanks to me the other trucks are already outfitted with better tires for winter and each one has a kit with safety gear, food, water and first aid supplies plus we have roadside assistance cards for each driver because shit happens and only the devil could melt his way out of a bad situation, I guess.

Which seems fitting.

(The boys don't need roadside assistance, but I do because sometimes I get to go out alone! They would call each other in a time of need, not CAA. I would just cry and call CAA because I want to be independent, dammit.)

I spent the day trying to breathe (still 30% sick I am), trying not to cry at the sweetness of Ben and some of the others with regards to babying me with how difficult it is for me to breathe when it's cold. I spent the day trying not to scratch as I bought what's supposed to be the most fantastic lotion on the planet for my eczema, dry skin and itchies and guess what? It gave me a rash all over.

I spent the day switching health care plans and wishing someone would take me to KFC for one of those Doritos tacos because DAMN those are so good but no one did and so I made myself toast for lunch and I organized a lot of things toward Christmas and I shivered and scratched and bit my tongue and took the hugs whenever they were offered and I helped Henry with his homework and I looked at the calendar, dreading the next seventy-two hours and I helped Lochlan work on a drawing like we used to when I was young and he was professional and logical about it and not the least bit comforting, saying things like, you'll get through it. I'll be here. and you really need to go back to the doctor, I think you're allergic to damn near everything and then he threw in stupid things like You should eat better (from the man who raised me mostly on corn dogs and french fries and candy apples with cotton candy for dessert and why do I still have teeth?) and It'll be a cold day before Ben comes back here and I looked up abruptly because it is a cold day and Ben is back here. Well, sort of back here. Close enough but not even close enough.

Or maybe Lochlan already forgot because he's comfortable or he wants to reiterate that Ben snoozed and lost and it's all recent history and Jake still doesn't deserve the extent to which this week destroys me and I want to describe to Lochlan just how yes, Jake does deserve it. How he was firm and not the least bit waffle-y and how he stuck to his guns and he refused to parent me but he never trusted me either and how he was a safety net in and of himself right up until the moment that he wasn't.

And I was not a safety net for him but a gaping hole of a life with a danger sign flashing but he jumped anyway.

Sunday 3 November 2013

I can find trouble before trouble finds me.

In the beginning it was the Ferris wheel. I thought we would stand underneath it, in t-shirts and jeans. I would have a borrowed veil and a bouquet of daisies picked from the parking lot and I would still be in the employee group that had chaperones and curfews, but it would be dusk and a minister would read important, solemn words to us. We would nod, the available carnies who witnessed would loiter and smoke cigarettes and tear up sightly. Then we would repeat the words and share a kiss and then climb into a bucket and go for a spin just as the lights came on for the evening. At the top when the wheel stops we would have a longer kiss and then Lochlan would hold my hand for the rest of his life when I fall asleep and when I'm awake too. I would do what he tells me and be the best wife ever, making him pies in the camper by the sea while he sang love songs in so many languages I stopped trying to keep up with him when I turned ten.

It changed briefly in Atlantic City when I had this rocketing vision of us exchanging hurried vows behind the circus tent that weren't touching or legal but functioned as a permanent escape from the paths we'd chosen by mistake, in haste. It would be witnessed by the dwarves and the strongman and the snake charmer and the fortune teller too (though she never liked me either, none of them ever liked me and I never found out why) and then we would come home and somehow find a way to make it legal. I'd wear my satin assistant costume and Loch would wear his top hat and tails or maybe his skintight black fire-breather tank or his athletic gear from the ropes, depending on where in the day it was, and I wouldn't have a bouquet but I have tattooed wildflowers so good enough and a ring would be from a client's cigar from a private show and we would go dancing in the empty bar down the street to the same eighties jukebox selection we've always danced to. Maybe we'd spend a day's pay on a dinner at the steakhouse first. Maybe I would change my name. Maybe we'd get better billing and could quit with the fucking freakshow if we rebranded as a team inside the tent. Maybe someone will take us seriously now, because we're salt and pepper, yin and yang, thunder and lightning.

It shifted once more two years ago when they took a collective chance the morning after Daniel and Schuyler tied the knot so tight it happily chokes them into submission. Suddenly the moment has been orchestrated for me and I have no choices at all. The dress, packed without my knowing is a simple form fitting lace shift. Palest pink to be almost white, sleeveless and square-necked and freezing cold standing on a beach on a foggy October morning with the seagulls wailing quietly and the waves lapping against the rocks. The hemlocks close in around me and I look for the garish decorations, the lights, the noise that makes me feel at home but there isn't any of that, everything is slate, muted and refined. So far beyond what I am that I feel out of place and costumed. Sam stands just in front of the water. The tide is going out. He holds Jacob's bible in one hand and smooths his curls down around his ears with his other hand. His tie knot is backwards. He's barely got a hold on his composure. I watch their faces and I try and focus on the sound of the water and I try to pay attention. I try to be present for this because this is important but also because I feel like I am marking the beginning of the end of something else. I just don't know what yet. I don't even know if it's good or bad. I don't know what it feels like to want something and get it but not on my own terms. I want to run this show and I'm not qualified to do so.

But neither are they.

Friday 1 November 2013

Fluttering hands.

In the middle
Under a cold black sky
Halloween was very low key this year, so much so that we almost missed it in a sugary coma. I lost the toss and wound up giving out candy. We left the gates open and lit up the point like fireworks and all of the children seemed to think big house=big treat but no, small handfuls of treats were given out, as per always. Some kids were so cute! SO cute. Some were shy. One very bold Ninja Turtle turned the knob and walked into the foyer unannounced and alone, leaving his surprised parents down on the front walk.

He's lucky he was cute. And he said Thank you.

Eventually I moved out to the front yard to spare the kids in their awkward costumes the walk up two flights of steps. Caleb was across the driveway, sitting on his steps with a bowl of candy beside him. He was dressed as Doctor Strange and I laughed out loud when I saw that because other than the usual nonsense around here that we indulge in every day (top hats and fairy wings, mostly) no one had planned to formally dress up this year. Even Ruth and Henry had to be convinced to go out. Henry's still under the weather too, and Ruth went to a friend's house. So a costume was a surprise to see.

We pooled our candy, sharing the duty until the steady stream of Trick or Treaters slowed to a non-existent trickle and then Caleb invited me in for an Irish coffee.

I took the offer. I figured we were being civilized. I figured I would drink it and come home before Lochlan noticed I was gone and I'd be able to fall asleep easily instead of spending my nights wide awake and haunted and I completely forgot it was Halloween and that means, like on most holidays, that Caleb starts out great and spirals into ruthless evil the moment I blink.

He never disappoints, glancing a solid kiss off my forehead before speaking softly into my ear.

Should I call Ben to join us?

Ben and I are taking a short break while he focuses on recovery. You know this because you pretty much singlehandedly engineered it. So I don't think that would be good idea. But you can call Lochlan. I bet he'd like a drink. 

Caleb's face changes to confusion.

Oh, you meant something else, did you? I play dumb. It's not hard. 

I'm not calling Pyro. 

No, that wouldn't work, would it. You know something? I think I'd like a raincheck. 

For tomorrow?

For never. 

What are you doing, Bridget? Are you shutting me out? 

He comes over and looks down into my eyes, waiting for whatever it is I have no idea, I don't know what to say. Yes? Yes would make sense but what if I need him? What about Henry? What about everything we've done? What about my unspeakable future, shrouded in a swirling circuit of snow under glass? No? No makes sense until I change my mind. But this is not a competition. It never was. As amazing as Caleb is, he was always too old, too composed, too perfect, too serious. And now here we are standing in his kitchen and he's in a superhero costume and he's trying to dip the earth in solid gold if that's what I want and all I can think of is my very own Ferris Wheel. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He could buy me one. He could buy me a hundred.

(Stopreadingmymind.)

Stop making it so easy.

The shock of his answer propelled me off the edge of the counter and I pushed into him so he would move and I went to the door.

If that's all it would take, consider it done, Princess. 

You know what it would take. A ride isn't part of the request. 

I wonder if Loch knows he will always come in second to Jake. 

He doesn't come in second. I just want to say goodbye properly. 

That isn't true, Bridget. I thought he taught you not to lie. 

Who?

Lochlan. 

On the contrary. He taught me how to be convincing so we...so I would never get caught.

I think that means I just caught you. 

That's only wishful thinking. Goodnight, Doctor Strange. 

I was almost home free until he called from the top of the steps. I'll hold on to that raincheck for you, Princess, you never know when you're going to want to cash it in.

Thursday 31 October 2013

Trick or treason.





This first picture is me goofing around on the farm and then moments later, Bailey appears and I fall on my ass (picture #2). Coincidence? Nope.

In the third picture I am casually reading a book and I look like the illegitimate child of Rik Emmett. (Mom? Have anything to say for yourself?)

The fourth picture shows me in my natural habitat. The Atlantic. It was cold and I would go no further. Note the ubiquitous bikini. I think I was born with one on. (Again, mom?)

Someone asked what life was like before I met the boys and so I had to dig back to when I was pretty much in diapers to pull that off, thanks to Andrew, who's been here like, forever.

So as you can see it was...faded, speckled, sometimes black and white and mostly unfocused.

I'm trying my hardest to get permission from Ben and from Lochlan to post the wedding details but absolutely no one is on board with that.

Yet.

They just keep giving me sugar and I forget I was asking something and that lasts for like half a day and then we go around again. I daresay when I was a micro-me not a hell of a lot was different. So instead of wedding stuff I am trying to give you something else and now you have to promise me you won't egg my  house. We good?


We're good. Happy Halloween. Be safe out there, kiddies.

Wednesday 30 October 2013

Never could hold my sugar. Dammit.

Whoops. I sat down to write on the heels of eating a whole handful of Pixy Stix and other assorted candy and I might burst into a cloud made of glitter and sugar in a minute. Not a good time to expect anything because I'm busy doing loops across the ceiling whilst reciting dirty limericks. They're laughing but I can see the fear in their eyes.

*POOF*


Tuesday 29 October 2013

Two.

A small, humbling number for a small, humble girl.

Two years and today I don't know quite know where we stand. Two years and Caleb refused to give Lochlan the day off today so Lochlan quit again but Schuyler, who has the patience of a saint (and celebrated two years of marriage to Daniel yesterday because you would have to have patience to be married to Daniel because Daniel just requires a lot of patience) managed to smooth things over and he confided that he does this at least twice a week when Lochlan quits. He smoothes over ruffled feathers and indignant, obstinate stalemates and stubbornness and ire. He runs his hand over things as if the bad moments were wrinkles in a bed he is making and I wish sometimes Schuyler had that magic in more of life but if Lochlan doesn't, how would Schuyler possibly have it?

Two years ago today I married Lochlan. I haven't written about it much past admitting it for the sake of clarity here only because certain things were a bit weird-sounding otherwise. Our parents and families and friends know and care but otherwise it's not something you speak of in public because plural marriage isn't your every day garden-variety thing in the world.

Yet.

We keep quiet but in this house love is such a big gigantic thing. It tends to take over, taking up space, shoving everything else to the side while it holds center stage, a spectacle, a miracle, a curse.

And I wouldn't change it, in spite of how easy it was to be conventional once, married to a preacher on a pretty tree-lined street in a snowy city, spinning yarn and singing along with his guitar. I guess I knew at some point the circus would call me back because the circus is what I call home.

So tomorrow as a special anniversary gift to you I will write about the wedding.

Just not today. I have a date and I need to go get ready.
Clowns are the pegs on which the circus is hung.
~P. T. Barnum

Monday 28 October 2013

Profound even in nursery school.

He turns me away from him and pulls me in tightly against his chest. My back is so warm this way and I stop shivering. My heart dislodges and pins itself against my spine, a magnetic pull forcing it there against Lochlan's heart, which has thrown itself against his ribcage and strains to get out. It hurts, almost but not quite.

When I sleep I dream that I figured out how to draw with colored pencils and I'm trying to balance on the wire. I wake up laughing. Weird dreams. I haven't moved, but Loch's right shoulder is pushed forward and down, crushing me down into the bed underneath him so and I have to push against him in order to breathe.

I don't think he minds.

I have finished NOS482 and Allegiant (!!!!!!!!!) and am back to reading Doctor Sleep. I keep picking up my phone to text Ben but then I put it down without doing anything. I still cough constantly and am trying to drink my body weight in water which isn't going well and I feel dehydrated and frustrated and hysterical and penned in. Andrew yelled at me once to go back to bed once already this morning. I ignored him.

I feel peaceful when I think about my ghosts though, down to checking my brain to make sure all of my memories are organized and easily accessible.

Once I lost Jacob's voice and I almost turned myself inside out looking for that one before I found it hiding behind the one of Bailey locking me in the basement bathroom with her while she played movies with her Fisher Price projector on the back of the bathroom door. Peter Pan. And then when I was released I promptly ran outside and start screaming Pirates! Pirates! at Andrew, who fell in beside me, trusting every word I yelled because we were both four years old with magnificent vocabularies and an inability to count past ten.

Where are they?

Everywhere! Don't you see them? I was kidnapped and managed to escape but they said they will never rest until I am recaptured! 

Quick! Let's get under the deck! They won't find us! 

Good plan! 

We crawled under his parent's back porch on our stomachs and waited, keeping guard.

Do you see them?

SHHHHHHHHH! 

He claps his muddy hand over my mouth and holds it there. My eyes are wide. Finally after counting to fifty by whispering ...seven, eight, thirteen, teen, teen, twenty, fifty!, we crawl back out and assure ourselves they're gone.

Phew. That was close.

That night I dream that I am eating crayons and trying to balance on a board. I tell Andrew the next day and he says, That means you're going to meet a pirate in real life! He won't be clear about it but he's going to steal you when the time is right and you will never go back to being Bridget the regular kid ever again! 

How do you know?

It's what they do! 

How will I know who the pirate is? 

Easy, stupid! He takes your heart first and then comes back for the rest when the coast is clear! 

How will I know when the coast is clear?

Nothing will be in the way!

But what about the crayons?

Pirates don't color, Bridget! They're big people. All they do is steal things. 

But if those things are worth money then I want to be a pirate! 

Is your heart worth money?

It's worth more than all the gold in the land. In the world even. 

What's it made out of?

Me. It's made out of me. 

Sunday 27 October 2013

Extra bonus: New-Jake is moving into Batman's place too. Today.

Extra super double-bonus: Jasper isn't moving in! Hurray!

Everyone in one place (AKA Batman's big announcement).

(I wish I didn't have to keep repeating this but no, his name is not actually Batman. It's a nickname to protect his privacy by his own request.)

This morning Batman joined us for breakfast and an early sermon on the water. I stood shivering in my dress because I forgot my sweater and Loch slipped out of his hoodie in haste, braving the four-degree sunrise in a Pink Floyd t-shirt and goosebumps.

(He's dressed up exactly four times in his life, truth be told. One wedding, one funeral, and two job interviews.)

Sam saw that and sped up his words to 78 rpm and we went around quickly. Home, family, love, God, faith, hope and okay, let's go eat. 

And true to his usual method of operation, Batman waited until the last person was finished the food on their plate (in this case, Henry, who dawdled through his scrambled eggs and Caleb, who kept refilling his coffee cup to the point where I was about to ask him if it's safe to have that much caffeine at once, and Ben who just kept on eating) to make an announcement that will probably once again change absolutely everything.

He's purchased the house up the street.

It's on the same cul-de-sac, but situated on the next point over, albeit a magnitude smaller than this point but one featuring a beautiful Mediterranean-style home that features the most impressive blue-tiled floors and the same beautiful view. I've seen the pictures, it's been for sale for some time. It's close enough to see the lights on at night but far enough to afford privacy, because it ranges in the low seven figures.

That's a perfect house for one person. Caleb congratulates him on the acquisition somewhat backhandedly. We still think real estate is a good bet but only at a certain threshold. Caleb doesn't believe in buying more than you actually need, however.

Ben will be welcome to stay as long as he needs to and anyone is welcome to come at any time. It's furnished. Lots of rooms for guests. Batman stares at me but I'm busy doing the math in my head.

When do you move in? I'm guessing he'll say at the end of the year.

I'm already settled. 

The boys stand and shake hands all around the table, good news is often embraced quite boisterously, and I lean back in my chair waiting them out. Ben already knew so he keeps eating and Caleb has suddenly lost his appetite. When everyone is settled again we discuss the noise and the traffic downtown and how quickly glass boxes and elevators lose their appeal in favor of well, this. Batman reveals that he's uncharacteristically excited to be putting down roots at last with waterfrontage to boot and it suddenly occurs to me that he has just levelled the playing field.

With explosives.

Saturday 26 October 2013

Keeping it chill for the next two weeks. Here we go, folks.

Henry is sick and convalescing at the boathouse today, playing video games and watching movies with Caleb. Ruth is working on some drawings with Daniel next door because she can leave her stuff all over the kitchen there and no one makes her clean it up at mealtimes.

I am waiting patiently at my place at the kitchen island here at home because PJ is making me a Monte Cristo. It's obvious who loves me most.

He turns around with the plate in hand, the perfect meal for me.

You know you want to marry me. I'd make these for you every day. 

Then we could share the same jeans, Peej. Because I'll be as big as you sooner rather than later. 

We should share them now if you want to get in here with me. 

You guys should get a room. Gage walks in because he smelled food.

You're absolutely right. PJ winks at me and I throw a grape at him. Perv. Hush now. 

Bridget, you just keep denying me, I'd be so perfect for you. I cook and clean and everything. 

Yup, the perfect wife. What would that make me?

Uh..spoiled?

No, it would make me the man in the relationship. 

I'm down with that. 

We should test that theory! 

Huh? It was figurative, Bridge! 

Why be figurative when you can be literal! Stay here and bend over the counter. I'll be right back. 

Where are you going?

To find Schuyler. Or Matt. Or anyone really. We'll just turn the lights out. 

You're a little monster. 

Hey, if I'm the guy I get to violate you any way I want. I just need a primer on technique.

You just...you just be quiet and eat your sandwich, little miss! Jesus! I'm shocked at the things in your head. 

Oh my God, PJ, I'm KIDDING. 

I know that, now like I said, EAT YOUR SANDWICH. 

Lochlan comes in. Wow. Bit harsh, Padraig. What's up?

The dirty mind on this one. WE'VE RUINED HER. 

Lochlan shakes his head. Nah, Brother, I think she ruined us. He takes half my sandwich and walks back out of the room, winking at me as he goes.

I DID NOT! I chase after him. I want my sandwich back.

Friday 25 October 2013

Beginning of Six.

I didn't write yesterday. I spent it in a stupor after I looked at the calendar and realized, oh, yeah that was six years ago today that I walked down to the church late one night to ask Jake to stop working and come home and sleep already and he told me he was done.

Jake was never a person to put down roots past the windy cliff where he grew from a boy into a man. He lived with few possessions and traveled on whims that would have left most people clinging to civilization. He spent months in places like Nepal and India and Brazil. He stood high above every cloud, a blonde viking with a need to find God in tangible form and once he even said he found God in me but I'm almost sure now it was less of a revelation and more of a wishful thought.

Sam came to me last night and took the brandy away and said I really should read those remaining letters now, he made copies of everything, scanning them into the computer so that I could easily read them on the iPad or whatever but I've never opened them. They just sit.

Sam put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head and told me I am doing great.

He lies so easily. I think God gives him that power.

I told him it wasn't comforting so he shifted gears and told me to come watch television with him and we went and curled up on the couch like cats and we never turned on the television at all. He surfed emails on his phone without answering any and I fell asleep in his warm arm the moment my feet left the floor.

When I woke up this morning I was still there and so was he only someone had tucked a blanket around us. When I woke up I couldn't catch a full breath because the weight on me is so heavy. I hate Halloween. I hate that his birthday is right there and that we could have grown old together but we won't now because he took that, he took everything with him and it all smashed to bits on the pavement along with him. He took future memories and plans and my love for him and he broke it without asking.

He took Himself too. Capitalized because nothing says The Lord quite like a large nonexistent entity you pray to, worship and feel all around you all the time. God has a name and His name is Jake and He has forsaken me but I still believe in Him. Sam laughs and shakes his head and feels helpless and quiet and resigned.

Ben couldn't take the bend in my life right on this week each year that has permanently changed everything, preventing the past from colliding with the present, keeping the future just out of reach. I can't reconcile anything past 2007 so instead I retreat to happier times when I was young and knew nothing but hunger pangs and starry eyes, when I first learned that falling in love makes your body feel the same swoop of your internal organs flying out of place and your heart hitting your ribcage at a hundred miles an hour that you get when you take a ride at an amusement park and then later when you swing high above a crowd on a trapeze.

And then later still when the fear comes crashing in and everything is ripped away, including your confidence in a net below, and you are left cold, afraid of everything and stubborn as all fuck because life isn't a show after all. You can't pick your props, plan your acts or take just one more ride so you better enjoy it while it lasts. Revel in those lights, scream when your heart makes the leap and love for everything you're worth because you might turn out to be fool's gold and won't that be a goddamned surprise.

Wednesday 23 October 2013

Oneironauts.

I'm on the floor in the hallway, the pale light of the moon spilling across my forehead as I sit holding a bomb in my hands.

Lochlan holds his lighter out. The old scratched silver zippo. Take it, blow this world up already. I'll take whatever knocks come my way and we'll be okay after that.

Jake bends down in front of me and tells me heaven is such a beautiful place and at least when Caleb kills me I'll have that to look forward to, that eventually we'll all be there together again, except for Caleb, because he'll be in the other place. I don't think Jake is speaking out loud. He's talking in my brain again, the way he always has since he flew.

How do you know I won't go to hell too? I ask him. I wrap my arms tighter around the bomb and try to use my body to shield it from them in case they try to take it.

Because you're a good human, Bridget. Duncan leans up against the doorframe, aviators on at night in the dark. He's never very far away, bless his heart and the minute I finished writing yesterday he kind of appeared on the fringes, put down the fucking perpetual beer and tuned in again. I must be so special.

Because you haven't done anything wrong, Dude. Dalton's voice. Teflon Jesus, loved by everyone, sticks only to himself. For a long time I thought he was gay but it turns out he's just very discreet and not at all prone to the sort of boasting the others can get into when speaking of their conquests. He calls me Dude. He says it keeps him from getting too attached. I told him he was being ridiculous and he assured me that no, he wasn't.

That's bullshit. Cole scowls it from the corner, where he takes up the space from floor to ceiling with his glorious black wings extended properly. Everyone takes a step back and he reminds me that Caleb doesn't let go. Never has, never will and I only encourage him even as I think I'm weaning him off me somehow or letting him have what he wants in hopes every time will be the last time but it never is. You couldn't be faithful if you tried. I think the brain damage you blame on my brother is from the endless microscopic attention you've had from all of us all these years. It turned you into a tiny little pleaser with zero interests in anything but that attention. It doesn't matter who loves you because it will never be enough.

I hope his voice is only in head, because his words are humiliating and true. Growing up, nothing fed my ego until it was full like a handful of boys fighting over me. Even then, the rumblings of its hunger practically knocked me down as I stood in place.

Do it, Peanut. Take the leap. Please the crowd! Loch swings nearer on ropes now, holding out the lighter. I hear him over the roar of the audience. No one ever lets the juggler up on the trapeze. This is an unbelievable moment in the history of the show. And I am a part of this special moment. Holy cow.

I'm thinking about it! I make him promises so old they're covered with dust. He reaches down and blows the dust away. It gets in my eyes and now I'm blind and deaf. You won't, Bridget, because you know I'll be collateral damage. Why don't you worry about you for a change?

Any satisfaction I get won't be worth the cost. Didn't you tell me that once? Weigh the cost against the reward. Sure we can pickpocket the expensively-dressed marks but they're more likely to have lawyers and press charges. Charges stay with you forever. Kind of like promises that don't keep even though they're supposed to. 

Christian turns his head away. Enough. Let her be. She's not old enough to make these decisions. Should have left her home. 

I told you I'll look after her, Lochlan steps up and flicks the lighter for the hundredth time and I cover the fuse of the bomb with my hand so he can't light it.

But you really don't, and that's why we're in this mess. PJ snorts his derision. Ben leans forward from where he sits silently (because he isn't here he's never here he should be here) and kicks PJ in the shin.

I can fix this with money. Caleb steps forward, scratching his car key against his nails. He's taller than Lochlan by a head but Lochlan gives him a shove anyway. Stay out of this, Diabhal. She's mine. Besides, don't you have a law exam to study for?

She doesn't belong to anyone. Therefore she gains nothing by blowing up everything. She's smart. She knows exactly what she's doing. Have faith that we raised her right and she'll do the right thing. I nod at him, pleased that he has complimented me and so I give him the bomb and he takes it and holds a gun up to my head instead.

Besides, if she tries this again I'll light the bomb myself and make her swallow it whole. 

Jacob cries out in protest and disappears as I struggle against the gun. Caleb squeezes the trigger and the gun goes off but it isn't pointing at me anymore, it blows a hole in Lochlan the size of his heart and he drops like a rock.

When I wake up screaming Lochlan is beside me and the hole in him is gone. I touch the spot on his chest where the hole was and start blubbering about dreams and big round black cartoon bombs with white-string fuses and Duncan's sunglasses. Loch pulls me in against the not-hole and puts his head down on mine and he nods. He nods and he says the most ridiculous thing.

I know. Cole was there too and I think the lecture he gave was the most I ever heard him say at once. Freaky, hey?

Tuesday 22 October 2013

The music soared up and over and then right through me as I walked in the door.

Oh My God! What IS that? I asked the Devil, who sat in his favorite chair with coffee and his laptop.

His whole face broke into a smile. I think of this as your theme song these days, Bridget.

He wasn't kidding.
When she was just a girl
She expected the world
But it flew away from her reach
And the bullets catch in her teeth

Life goes on
It gets so heavy
The wheel breaks the butterfly
Every tear, a waterfall
In the night, the stormy night
She closed her eyes
In the night, the stormy night
Away she'd fly.

And dreamed of paradise

When it was over he turned it off and stood up. I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no.

You didn't even hear me out.

Bridget the point of toying with Ben's resolve is that it brings more gradual results. Do you remember what happens when Lochlan is tested?

He gives up. 

He gives up! Indeed he does! Caleb is shouting now. Maybe you'd prefer I bring Ben back so I can work on Lochlan instead! Is that what you're asking me to do? At the end of the day, Princess, you have to ask yourself, who is the strongest one of all? It's like Snow White only it isn't. It's Cole Black and you don't get to be the fairest anymore, nor is this a story with a happy ending. It could have been once, but you just refuse to cooperate. 
 

Monday 21 October 2013

Ben and Bridget hatch a plan.

Ben has had a haircut and a decent shave at the same time. I only know about the shave because when he does it himself he misses the entire ridge underneath his heavy jaw and the barbershop doesn't.

The things you notice, being five feet tall.

He is sitting up straight and open to whatever castigation he thinks he is due. Maybe Batman has rubbed off on him, Ben is staying with him at the condo downtown. Or maybe not. Ben is wearing my favorite T-shirt. The one that says Pipers do it with Amazing Grace. His bagpipes have been sitting on a shelf in the closet since last summer. With our marriage, his pride and my ego for good measure.

Do you know what you're doing?

No, Ben, do I ever? 

He smiles. God, he looks so tired it makes my heart ache. Be careful you don't get bitten, Bee. 

He does not mean this figuratively. I won't. He only comes close now. Still hurts though.

Bridget-

I'm fine. 

Are you?

No. When are you coming home?

I thought you had given up on me. His face is ashen.

Nope. I'm still waiting for you to grow up and be the man I've caught glimpses of in tough times. Are you telling me the only time you have your shit together is when you absolutely have to? 

You tell me. You know me better than I know myself. 

I thought I did, but I'm not sure anymore. 

His eyes fill up. Whatever hope he had a minute ago is gone again. So what do I do now? 

Come home and grow up. I will too. We can graduate together and join the adults.

They'll never believe you're a grownup. You're just too short. 

I'll wear lots of makeup and say 'Motherfucker' every second word. 

That might work. 

Let's hope. I'll talk to Caleb okay? Cross your fingers. 

I don't think adults cross their fingers for luck.

Oh, then forget the whole thing. We'll stay kids.

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It disappeared into his huge angular fingers and I took my turn to drown in the view.

Don't you cry, Bumblebee, we'll get there. He holds my hand up to his lips for a moment and then he gets up and makes his way out of the coffee shop. I stand up because I want to follow him but I forget PJ is at the next table until I take a step and he reaches out and grabs the back of my coat.

Don't make me chase you too, Bridge. If you're as fast as Loch is, I'm in big trouble.

I debated it anyway. I'm much faster than Lochlan and all I wanted to do was run after Ben. Instead I took PJ's hand and went home.

Motherfuck.

Sunday 20 October 2013

The boy with the blue-collared shirt.

The world will never ever be the same
And you're to blame
It was eighty thousand dollars.

That's why we took it. That's sort of enough money to sock away for a day so rainy an ark appears on the horizon to bring us to biblical safety. Not sure if you've ever been poor or ever been sweetly coerced into doing something you can't help doing because it's so compelling but lets just say I earned it all, rounded down to the nearest nickel, because every penny no longer exists to count now, does it?

Caleb offered that amount because he knows I wouldn't go for less. I'm now the Linda Evangelista of Executive Assistants, since I won't get out of bed for less than twenty thousand dollars a day and sometimes you can't get me out of bed at all.

I don't have to justify it, he is becoming known for moving large sums of cash to get me to cooperate because Lochlan's too practical to refuse and yet I am becoming a little too worldly for my own good here at home where we live in a palace of marble, hemlock, slate and glass by the sea and still I hang-dry all of our clothes on the drying rack in the laundry room because it knocks fifty dollars off the hydro bill every second month, and that makes me really proud.

It flies in the face of everything I've ever been taught, and so when I die you'll probably find my body frozen in a little house that ran out of wood for the fire because I was too cheap to buy more. A house wallpapered in hundred dollar bills.

Case in point, Lochlan came into the kitchen not far behind me to help with lunch. Did I mention the almost-visible tether? He was so angry. So, so angry. But resigned. Or tired. Or just demoralized. I don't even know but no more anything until he feels better. No more bullshit foolishness until he has restored his faith in my loyalty to his own satisfaction. I am now bound to him until further notice. I don't mind.

I asked him if he could get the prosciutto from the fridge. He opened the fridge and stared inside. The package was right in front, on the shelf at eye level.

Loch.

Yes?

Can you hand me the prosciutto? Maybe his mind is wandering.

The ham?

Prosciutto. Yes.

This ham? The thin-slice stuff?

It's called prosciutto.

We call it ham, Bridget. His voice is a warning and I heed it.

Pass me the ham, then, please?

Sure, Peanut. Coming up.

The look on his face is fierce. Fucking fierce. I think he liked it better when I knew nothing. Like the first time I tried beer when I was in Grade three.

What is it?

It's a drink made with grains and yeast.

Oh, like pancakes!

No, not like pancakes, Bridget.

Like Apple Jacks?

No. Not even. Here. Try a sip and you'll see.

It looks like liquid pancake bubbles.

What kind of pancakes are see-through, Bridget?

Magical transparent pancakes, Loch. Transpancakes. Pancarents. This beer is yucky, by the way.

You'll like it in a few years, I bet.

Nope. Can I have orange juice?

Orange juice? We don't have any juice on the beach. Why would you want juice at nine at night?

I always have juice with pancakes.

He tipped the beer up and finished the whole little bottle all at once. I watched him. Why did you do that?

Because you're frustrating.

I'm sorry.

Don't be. I like the way your brain justifies things you don't understand yet. If you can hold on to that, it will make for a great coping mechanism some day. 

What's a coping mechanism, Loch?

It's a...it's like always having a magical pancake in your pocket in case you need it. 

Oh, then I'm gold.

He just opened another beer and laughed.

Saturday 19 October 2013

An aside:

You can stop sending me your dizzying parallel conclusions to the new Bridget Jones' Diary in which supposedly tragedy has ensued. I haven't read any of it, since this Bridget has her own diary. I read a blurb in the paper about it today though. Apparently widowhood is an "underexplored area in literature" and is going to be an emerging 'trend' because of an aging demographic.

Thanks. We've been writing about it over here since 2006 but not because it's trendy.

Friday 18 October 2013

Metachisms (acknowledge the power if you use it).

She gets the magic power of the music from me.
Thought control is such a bitch, isn't it? It's exhausting and unpredictable and difficult when there's a redheaded conscience inside your brain fighting every last suggestion with fists and grit and heart. That's what's missing here, because Lochlan's heart pumps a gazillion gallons a second of indignant, mischievous lava through his veins and Caleb's is icy cold, faulty, slow, proper and wizened.

There's no heart in this. No desperate love, no incredible tilting lurch from my own chest when he makes his moves. It's not a game, after all and I am so slow to learn. So slow I think I might be learning-disabled.

And I told Caleb all of this on the way home and he kept trying to get me to shut up, to just listen. To stop. Just stop, Bridget, and catch your breath and stop trying to rationalize things that are meant to happen. 

Fuck you. This isn't a thing. This is a business arrangement and I hate it. My candor surprised and unhinged him and he didn't say much else for the remainder of the flight. He sat and read and checked his phone and his watch alternately and pretended he wasn't upset.

 Ten minutes before we landed he hands me a cheque.

I rip it in half and he rolls his eyes. Isn't it worse if you do it for 'nothing'? 

I don't know yet. 

Oh. Well. Maybe Lochlan will tell you what answer to give me. 

Lochlan did indeed. He took the money first though. Or rather, he made me take it.

Thursday 17 October 2013

Mad cash.

When you wake is everyone dreaming
When you wake you waste away
Heaven says that you are a sinner
So go back down you can't come in
He's so good at reverse psychology. He told me I wasn't safe with him and so I set out to prove him wrong.

No, I said, as I tried to limber up my stiff fingers and aching joints. I'm fine. You won't hurt me.

He didn't say anything. It was as if we had chosen to ignore the glaringly obvious in favor of embracing my defiance like the sun emerging from the clouds after a week of rain, stubbornness burning our flesh into cinders and ash when it was so very simple to nod and turn around and run.

A clear memory smacks me across the brain just then of a day when I was nine and Caleb held out a huge bouquet of wildflowers at the ball field. 

For the little princess, he said, and he took a drag from his cigarette. Player's Light. He was almost seventeen and so cool we had freezer burn. 

Thanks, I said as I took the flowers from him. I spun with them in my sundress and as I turned I saw Lochlan hurrying across the field to us. 

Bridgie, come here! He called. 

I dropped the flowers and ran to him. My nine-year-old self knew better than to be close to the Devil. Not like anything has changed. 

Except everything has changed. Cole is dead. The boys are divided into loyalty camps, set to deploy at any moment. Jacob and Ben have since come and gone and now I am here trying to maintain an existence for us without any marketable skills.

Marketable skills, I said. Know there is a difference.

I didn't say it would be pretty and I know it's against Lochlan's bombproof judgement but it needs to be done and if it takes fifty percent of me then there's still fifty percent of me that might make it.

No one is happy but I'm stubborn and ready to prove everyone wrong. I can handle this, I think. I'm a professional at difficult lives and frightening moments with the Devil. I almost believe him now when he promises not to kill me, because he smiles when he says it, crossing his heart, hoping to die. And sometimes, in the dark, far from home, when my hands are clenched into knots I hope so too.

Wednesday 16 October 2013

Standing on the edge of a feather.

I'll ask myself
do you need to question everything?
He sits back in his chair, loosening his tie with one hand, pocketing his phone with the other.  Caleb is off the clock now. No more working lunches, no more meetings and hand-pressing and introductions and due diligence and charm. Just this beautiful table with candles and quiet conversation all around us. It's dinner time and it's very late. Neither one of us are hungry until after eleven. The time difference is hard.

He orders sparkling water. I barely got cleared to fly and he's not supposed to drink so here we are with the Gerolsteiner and a basket of bread I want to demolish with my bare hands but I wait obediently while he plates a slice, tears off a small bit, butters it and holds it out to me. I'm a handfed mouse. A pet.

I reach past his hand and grab the whole slice and stuff it in my mouth. It makes me laugh and I can't close my mouth so I clap both hands over my face and dissolve into giggles.

He's amused and horrified all at once. You're all savages, aren't you?

Yes. Yes, we are. And you can't fix it. But in my house the bread is fought for and hard won or you don't get any at all.

You keep me young.

You're not mine to keep.

Yes I am.

Well I don't want you. I wink at him and pick up my glass.

You're here.

This is business.

And cold.

That's how I survive you. I don't get sucked in.

There's no tenderness here, is there? He sits forward abruptly, his eyes sharp. Blue daggers stabbing me over and over until I'm dead but still sitting pretty.

Why would there be?

I think there are unresolved feelings between us.

Well there aren't.

Your tough-girl act won't hold up long tonight, Bridge. He signals for the bill. It comes within seconds and he signs his name with his usual CXC in a blocky flourish. We're off before I can finish my second act. Before we have had chance to order food.

He squeezes my elbow far too hard as we're walking out of the restaurant to the point where I start looking for escape. But this city is too big for me and I see none that isn't a bigger risk. When we are safely back in the suite he orders up champagne that I resolve not to touch. So he drowns me in it instead.

***

When I wake up I can't swallow or unclench my fists.  My brain sifts through a grey powdery fog and finds nothing. I can't talk. I stare at my hands. They won't budge. Music pounds through my skull and I think, oh, here we go, my brain has finally rebelled and my lobotomy will come from within.

I pull the headphones out by the wires and flex my hands. Caleb comes through the door with a tray with coffee. He looks fine.

Everything hurts, I tell him through gritted teeth. One eye watches him warily, the other wanders lazily around, inspecting the shabby reproduction antiques at will, pulsing to the beat of my heart, speeding up as I try and take a deep breath but that hurts too. Oh my God.

He stares at me for a long time and then he almost smiles as if he can't believe his good fortune. He seems amused and amazed, surprised at himself just enough that one of my eyes catches it.

You aren't safe with me. 

I know. 

Then why are you here?

Tuesday 15 October 2013

New York and Boston.

Yeah, I don't know why I'm not home either.

Ask the Devil.

Sunday 13 October 2013

Alpha wars.

Cole is smiling darkly at me, his black wings bent close against his back, threaded together tightly, overlapping almost completely. They look warm. I want to touch him but I know how very bad of an idea that would be.

I wonder if Caleb will see him when he comes out. By default the 370Z lives in the garage because otherwise the garage is empty save for PJ's jeep and that's a waste because it can hold four vehicles.

I remain standing just in front of the open garage door because I was instructed to stay put. Caleb had to make a quick phone call before we leave. I watch Cole quietly, my mouth twisted closed, my eyes narrowed to see if he comes closer or stays far into the shadows. I'm not afraid of him (much) anymore but I'm curious to know if anyone else gets these moments too.

Probably not, for I am insane, I've been told. I bite my lip outwardly. I'm not sure if I believe that. I think I just need to sleep a lot more than I do.

Caleb comes out and stops in front of me. What? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Nothing, I tell him, I'm just still not feeling well. I'll probably curl up with my book by the fire later today. I'm riding out this illness impatiently, like a cagey junkie waiting for a bad trip to end.

Cole smiles broadly for he always loved fucking with my mind. I stick my tongue out at him and Caleb catches me. He looks in Cole's direction, sees nothing and then looks at me with huge disappointment. Cole laughs out loud. I frown at both. The Brothers Grimm. They are standing within fifteen feet of one another. The last time this happened I was torn to shreds, fought over like a prize. Craved like a bad drug, their fucking little junkie girl.

Then we'll make our morning short. He opens the door for me and I get in quickly. Enough crazy, I have to play Sugarbaby today, for we are going downtown to look at a watch, since my Breitling stopped again and Caleb thinks that's bullshit.

He doesn't listen when I remind him about the three laptops, four car keyfobs, one flatscreen television and most recently the iphone and vacuum cleaner in the same day.

I do this, I tell him. I break things. 

How convenient, Princess. I fix things. 

Saturday 12 October 2013

Finally beginning to feel less...pneumatic. Pneumonatic. Pneumachosic? Spumoni.

He's got the whiskey out, a magnifier for his tiny truths that turn into giant epic confessionals once you can see through the bottle, thereabouts a third of the way gone now.

Lochlan's nothing if not predictable and I brace myself for the inevitable revelation.

I only have one thing I have to admit to you right this minute, Peanut. I told you I would never gamble with you but times change and I had no choice. I knew damn well you would latch on to the first guy who seemed worthy after Jake and I swore up and down I wouldn't be Rebound Guy. I couldn't risk it. Statistically those never work, right? So just look at this way, you got that whole stage out of the way already. Now we're home free.

What if it had worked out? What if it still does?

Well, firstly, it's over. And secondly, I can wait. That's what I do, Bridge. I wait for you. I'm a pro now. Expert. Grand master. 

You should probably  put that bottle down before you make this any worse with your words, Locket.

Yes, I should.

***

Caleb steps out from the path on the wrong side of the patio from where he is supposed to be. I am drinking hot chocolate that Duncan made for me and reading Christmas catalogs by the light of the moon. One of the upsides to being housebound and down is that I have my Christmas shopping half finished already! Yeah. please envy me already.

What are you doing? Were you at the house? 

I have spent the better part of two hours lying on Daniel's bed listening to Elton John and talking about sex clubs in Prague. 

That's what he does when he's stressed out. 

He goes to Prague? I had no idea. 

No, he lies on the bed and listens to Elton. He's too scared to go to a sex club. 

I don't blame him. I am too. I like Elton though. Very relaxing. 

Why is he stressed? Because of Ben?

Yes and I wanted to explain to him my reasoning and future plans to bring Ben home where he belongs when he is ready and not prone to taking out his frustrations on you.

Did he buy it?

No more than you did, I'm sorry to say but he did agree Ben can't lash out at you like that. You're both going to have to get used to the fact that sometimes people need a good swift kick to pull themselves together. 

Should I brace myself?

Speaking of which, why are you alone?

Loch just went in. I was about to follow. 

How is he?

Drunk and truthful. But do you care?

Of course I care. Someone important to you is important to me by default. 

Caleb?

Yes?

Whatever you do in life, please remember I'm not twelve years old anymore and I don't believe things just because you tell me them. 

That's a crying shame, Bridget. 

I know. It would make things so much easier. 

What could I tell you that you wish to believe?

That everything turns out okay in the end. That sex clubs in Prague are a myth. 

Want that figurative swift kick now or shall I wait? 
 

Friday 11 October 2013

Thanatology and the art of spinning in circles without getting dizzy.

Can you save my bastard soul?
Will you wait for me?
I am reassured, told to pull myself together, reminded that Ben is also concerned with my wellbeing, that he and Caleb simply had a Discussion Between Men in which Caleb suggested Ben stay elsewhere while he gets stronger, that his judgement is not one hundred percent and frankly, that's not acceptable here, with children present. With Bridget present.

I am reminded this is not how Loch would have handled it. Loch wanted to handle it. They had to sit on him. Then they had to catch him and sit on him again. I remind Caleb that there's no need for refinement here. We are savages, plain and simple.

(PJ also said he was getting too old and too fat to run after Pyro, because Pyro can run like the fucking wind. We're smaller, that's all. Small people are quick.)

I am forewarned that should I escalate this, Caleb will too. That I need to work on recuperating and Ben needs to work on recovery and eventually we will all be one big happy family again.

I am told to stop being feral, and difficult and immature. I tell him I hate his evil fucking guts and Caleb grins and says he also would prefer if I stop lying, that it's unbecoming and crass.

I tell him I am too sick to fight, that I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this but I don't know how else to live it anymore and he says, I know, Baby. I know.

Thursday 10 October 2013

Kryptonite. (A follow-up because your emails, JESUS).

It's true. There's something about me that draws them in and then kills them. There's only one thing I know of that does that and I swear to God I was born on this planet, in a sleepy little town by the Atlantic. I swear I didn't know.

I say all this to Sam and he doesn't laugh or even act surprised. He's angry at me and angry at Caleb and concerned about Ben, who was unceremoniously asked to leave yesterday.

Because Caleb wasn't about to let him slide, even though I can be a provocative little fuck when I want to be, apparently I was not at the time and Ben just got scared and put his ego there in place of his heart, acting stupid.

I have been campaigning for his return ever since and wound up compelled to spend last evening with the devil, lest Ben's return take that much longer.

Of course it's coercion. And yes, I did whatever it takes. Ben will understand. He'd encourage it so he could watch. He'd film it in his brain and then plead innocence instead of debauchery, the way we all do. It's how Things Are Done.

I wish my kryptonite affected Caleb. He said it does, that his patience has already worn thin and his heart is malfunctioning. All that does is make me cling harder. Sam just rolls his eyes as I relate all of this to him and asks me to consider the thought that they are all projecting blame onto me because it's easier to pour it over me and watch me drown in their failed dreams than stand idly by as they admit they are sometimes less than human, that they fail.

It's easy blaming the one person who can't defend herself.

It's easy pointing fingers.

But I'm not doing that. They are men. Human men. Mostly good humans, even Ben. Caleb figured that instead of aligning with my loyalties he would simply cut out the middle man with the first excuse he could grasp, a brass ring of opportunity at a midway horror show.

The exciting part here is that I would think nothing of packing up every single person here, Henry included and bailing on him. If Caleb balks I can just throw 1983 in his face and watch as it crushes him to a fine dust underneath it's weight. Watch him burn the way we've been doing for the better part of our lives.

Watch me bring it all home.

I gave him twenty-four hours to fix this shit and also apologize to me and to Loch for the lovely threats that saw me donning sugarbaby gear when I should have been putting on pajamas because I'm so sick I should never have had my feet on the floor this week at all.  So shame on fucking EVERYONE.