Holy TMI.

In all seriousness, I didn't get to spend a dime. Jacob heard me on the phone with Mark making some plans and he preempted them with an offer to take me out and get me a new swimsuit, since mine was worn to pieces on the camping trip. And even though we spent the last week or so bickering constantly and needling each other, I knew it might be a fun way to break the ice between us.

Jacob has always loved watching me try on swimsuits, I have taken him with me for years as an impartial judge and he makes jokes about the sticker inserts and asks me if I've always had those weirdly-shaped knees and perhaps I would have better luck in my size in the girls' department. I would put on the barest of string bikinis and watch him try to keep his composure. He rarely could. I know, I was a total attention whore back then.

Little has changed.

Yesterday was no exception. We pretty much had the store to ourselves, and he knows the owners, it's a large sporting goods store where he gets his climbing and running gear, so he came back and sat outside the dressing room and I would peek out and show him a shoulder or a leg. Then I got stuck in the cutest bikini, I tied the neck string in a knot and couldn't get out of it and I asked him to come in and untie it because I couldn't see to do it. He came in and closed the door and untied it and I turned around to say thanks and he kissed me, backing me into the corner and sliding me up the wall, because we can slide up as easily as we seem to slide down. He pulled off the rest of that bikini and flashed his dimples. The flash I know well that says he's done being difficult and wants forgiveness and forgives everything besides.

Sold.

I put my arms around his neck and he had my head in one hand and my hips in the other and we defiled their dressing room. He put his thumb on my lips so I wouldn't make any noise and he smiled like he was up to no good, because he was, and we made short work of a stolen opportunity and came out of the room fully dressed (and completely forgiven) about eight minutes later.

Of course I bought the green bikini he peeled off me mid-ravage because he proclaimed it the hottest one.

When we walked back to the truck he wove his fingers into mine, kissing the top of my head and sighing a contented sigh. Make-up sex is the best in the world, even if it took place in possibly the very last place I would ever have imagined.

So don 't tell anybody. Geez.

We came home with our packages and had a snack with the kids and then they wanted to beat August at Guitar Hero so we took off again, Jacob wanting to be present because my plans with my friend Mark were fast approaching.

Mark is a tattoo artist at a shop here in the city, and I was making an appointment to have my nipples pierced (oh hush, you). Because mostly, that's the kind of thing that happens when you tell Bridget to go "do something for herself". I don't head for the spa or the hair salon first, I head for the tattoo parlour.

Mark's face plummeted when he saw Jacob enter the shop behind me but they both sucked it up and shook hands and Mark asked Jacob if he wanted anything done today too. Jacob laughed and said no thanks.

The actual piercing was nerve-wracking. Mark doesn't do it, there's a professional piercer there and so we went to a back room and I took off my shirt and we were off and running. I wasn't nervous but after the first one was through I tried to chicken out. Mark came in, which shocked Jacob, who was there sitting in a room with me with my shirt off carrying on a nervous-chattery conversation with two other men. But they were professional and kind, Mark has always been a very good friend, even if I don't have all my ink from him, and finally he left again after I agreed to do the second one with a bribe from Jacob. If I finished and had both done, he'd get a piercing too, today.

Oh, it's on.

It's so on.

I held up my end. It wasn't so bad after all, adrenaline kicked in and finished off the nerves for me and I barely felt the needle the second time. I left with two very snug and cute barbells, horizontally embedded in my nipples. I love being decorated. Especially subtly, as most of my mods can be easily covered with any outfit. That's half the fun for me.

Now it was Jacob's turn and the piercer left to get another round of supplies. Jacob looked at me with a barely nervous smile.

You know, I've often thought I should do this. (Even though it took him 35 years to get his first tattoo.)

He has the courage of twenty men, the only time I have ever seen him truly nervous was just as he proposed to me because he had somehow convinced himself I would say no. Then I was told to leave the room. Huh? Grand central station as I'm there shirtless and now I have to leave while he gets his ears pierced? What the fuck?

I went out and talked with the receptionist for about ten minutes and then Mark called me back to see Jacob and told me our piercings today were on him. I thanked Mark and followed him into the room where Jacob was lying on the table. I looked at his ears and saw nothing and then I realized his pants were on the chair.

He got an...ahem...an apadravya.

A freaking apadravya.

And this time the smile was all mine. We went back to the car and Jacob seemed to need reassurance. He asked me to confirm that the make-up sex was good, that I had enjoyed myself. I said I did. It was exactly what we needed, some hushed, desperate love exactly when we wanted it. He said good, because it might be a while before we have sex again.

He spent the rest of the day with an ice pack on his lap. I'm so proud of him. The boys now call him Reverend Hardcore.

No quarter.

This morning Jacob handed the cranky princess a fistful of cash and told her to go and do something fun for herself.

Translation: oh just take your unpredictable emotions and give me a break, already.

And for some reason I can't even fathom, she's still sitting here with absolutely no idea what to do.

If you had two hundred dollars and several hours to yourself, what would you do?

Burning wings.

Thank you for the kind thoughts, but really, it's a small remembrance, one of many I've made so that the kids will always remember they've got two dads, and both love them unconditionally and forever, in spite of any circumstances that have ever been in place.

I'm going to make less than the usual sense today. I was up all night with the thunderstorms raging in my ears, sweat dripping off my chin, blowing off steam and heartache in Jacob's arms, Jacob who didn't drive to Mexico like I feared he might, instead returning after dinner to hear all about 'Daddy's bench' and see the pictures and hear about the slightly creepy black butterfly that wouldn't leave us alone the whole time we were there.

Christ. Cole is going to reincarnate himself as different giant scary insects. It figures. Oh my God I am so afraid of bugs.

Jacob's issue wasn't with a fixture-type memorial, it was more with the sad notion that this is the first Father's Day that Cole wasn't here, and now that Jacob is all officially a dad now he feels the pain of that. He's sad for Cole. Sometimes he realizes the gravity of what has happened so much more deeply than it is usually felt around here and he can step outside of his own feelings and..

And oh my God, be objective about something.

Otherwise, he made sure all the butterflies in the neighborhood, along with the bees and the spiders and any other creepy-crawlies were left outside in the rain on the other side of the locked doors of his house and that his children and his guest were long asleep and then he made love to his wife all night, an athletic, belligerent, half-angry rail because sometimes he's not objective when it comes to Bridget and he won and stuck it to Cole worse than any two friends could ever hurt each other and he did it on purpose because he wanted me and not because Cole was hurting me, oh no, and he took all of the dark hours to confirm that, in my eyes and in his own I am his so that there would be no mistake.

There is no mistake.

And I'm sure the rain poured down on that bench last night and somewhere Cole was screaming at Jacob to give him back his family. Jacob would have smiled in his dreams and said no, that I was safe now and I would be safe forever because he always liked to hide his selfishness, wrapping it in a disguise of rescue, so that he would always be my hero, saving me from bugs and from dead husbands. Saving me from everything dark and scary.

Everything except for Jacob and his intense need for me. For that, I am on my own.

A functional graveyard.

Today the kids and I are on our own.

I got a call last night from the city, the park bench has been designated and there is a bronze plaque affixed at last, stemming from a request I put in and paid for last fall in anticipation of honoring father's day for Cole, who missed his first one since Ruth was born in 1999.

I'm going to take the kids to see it today. It's in the park we used to visit, where Cole started taking pictures and ended drawing, sitting on a bench with someone else's name inscribed on it, telling me someday he hoped I would do that for him.

I remembered, Sweetheart. I remember everything and not all of it is bad, I promise.
Jacob and August are driving to the border to explore on the bike so I get the truck. After I think I'll take the kids for ice cream sundaes if they're up for it.

I don't think I'm up for it, Jacob is definitely not up for it, but it isn't about us.

Caustic kiss.

    Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
    Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
    All five horizons revolved around her soul
    As the earth to the sun
    Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn

    And all I taught her was everything
    I know she gave me all that she wore
    And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds
    Of what was everything.
    the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything

This morning I rolled over sleepily to snuggle into Jacob's chest and received my usual good morning kiss: a soft muzzle just under my ear. He kissed me and then I sensed that he was making a face in the dark.

Bug spray, honey.

Yes. And lots of it, Bridget.

"Jay" is sort of better than 'JT' but not by a whole lot.

Crow has become a standard menu item for me.

This morning August found me down at my secret patch of lavender and mullein that lies a short walk through a field at the end of my neighborhood. I often stop there on the way back from taking the kids to school and wander a bit and bring home handfuls of the wild herbs that grow there that no one seems to notice.

I was gathering up a bouquet when he was suddenly there, sheepish. Probably following me. I'd never notice anyway.

Need any help, Bridget?

No, I'm good. You can return to supervising.

Why do you need to bust my balls so much?

Because I don't think your presence is required. By not going to therapy I didn't mean it was going to become an in-house thing instead.

For the record, I came to visit Jay.

What are you talking about?

I invited Jay to go two trips in the past year, both ones he would have jumped at in the past and he turned me down. So I had to come to him.

So you're saying I've ruined his adventurous spirit?

No, I'm saying I had to come and meet the one person who stopped him in his tracks, the one person he can't and won't live without.

Did you say that or did he?

I did. He told me he has everything he needs, all the adventure he'll ever want with you, and with the kids.

So you came to visit him and not to help with me?

I honestly had no idea what happened here until you told me the other day.

Not a clue?

Jay doesn't kiss and tell, Bridget.

Jacob asks for help when he's in over his head, August.

Less than you might think. He's doing well, he's a strong guy with a good head on his shoulders. Frankly I think you're doing well too and as long as you have better resources in place to deal with the harder parts, I don't expect you to run off and do anything drastic.

I don't plan to.

Why can't you tell Jay that?

I did and then sometimes I think I did ruin his life and maybe if he has a way out he won't get down.

He's follow you anywhere. I've never seen him this way. And I knew about you, years ago, I just dismissed it as one of those things. Like how when I see pictures of Christy Turlington I get wood.

Do I need to know this?

You need to understand the difference between Jay loving you and wishing for you for so long and him being only out for himself. He wants you to get better for you, for the kids, for your future, with him as a part of that. Otherwise he'd keep you crazy, in a box and let you out for sex. That's what most guys would do if they were all about themselves.

Nice.

It's the truth, Bridge. He may be obsessed with you but it's a good kind.

He's worried it might turn into something bad. I've had something bad.

I know. We talked a lot yesterday. It's a fear brought on by being exposed to that. Which doesn't mean he'll turn into that, but it's fresh. You both just lived through it, you moreso but it's in the forefront. It doesn't mean anything though.

So you're not going to analyze me and report back?

I'll only report back that you're as beautiful as he said you were and that you're not vulnerable to my charm.

Oh but I would have been without the suspicion. You're a lot like Jacob.

I'm going to tell you that's the highest compliment I have ever received in my life, Bridget.

You can't be serious.

Guys like us never get the girl.

Jacob did, eventually.

Right on, then maybe there's hope that someday I might find a princess of my own.

I hope she's not as much trouble for you as I was for Jacob.

Me neither.

Nice, August.

Please, the one thing he did tell me was that you were impossible.

Yeah, he says that a lot.

Deeper, still.

I can't find the solidity today either. I think after all this time maybe Cole took it with him. I put in a request for spoilers which I bet will go unanswered. It always does.

This morning's sky brings the blue after an epic thunderstorm last night. This morning I expected to leave the house and find dents in the pavement. The rain beat down and the wind roared and howled last night to the point that I felt completely cut off from earth, as if I had woken up in an alien landscape. Nothing was familiar, little brought comfort. Today it's as if it never happened. Which only makes me feel more insane.

And so I stared at the train this morning and I read the graffiti on it while I briefly wondered if it would hurt if I tossed myself under it's wheels. Or maybe if it would just hurt less.

I gave up therapy because I didn't want to spend any more of my meager nonexistent fortune on running laps around people who don't know me. I had promised I would give it a year and that's what I gave it and I fought it the whole way and gave it back a year to the day later. I gave the reins back to Jacob in an effort to prove I trust him, knowing full well he performs poorly and unobjectively when given control but he craves that out of control control. Are you with me? He says it's really unsettling to him how I can trust him with my life and my heart but my head is slow to follow. He has his own best interests at heart and I know that now. We keep coming back to that.

I don't think he likes me. Well, I think sometimes he does and the other times he wishes he could run the fuck away from me. Which is fine, if I could run away from me I wouldn't be here.

And August? Is a plant. Which figures. A professional. I am sick of professionals. How many people does Jacob know who just happen to be good friends who all went into the same field and are now people who can help? God, did you set us up or what? How long have you known this is the way things would turn out and can I please please just see how it ends?

It's attempt #455623354 to fix Bridget.

Who remains unfixable. And unconcerned

Chasing August.

I think Jacob made a big mistake.

He left me here while he went to return the borrowed airstream (I know! For all the OMG you've got an airstream emails, we don't but now I wish we did), a two hour drive, and he took PJ with him, and I have to ferry the kids back and forth to school so I couldn't tag along, but being the Forward Thinker that he is, rather than leave me alone he gave me the coveted job of picking up August at the airport, his friend who lives in America (I was CORRECTED by August when I said the U.S. but he won't tell me why). Which is hilarious, because August is from Newfoundland.

August is a very slightly insane, freewheeling, psychotic sometime-rockstar vegan psychopath.

He is what Jacob would be, unchecked. He told me he and Jacob met in jail. Which is true, except he'll never be the one to admit he was on the inside and Jacob was passing through when he was offered a job there a dozen years ago.

August is safe, the arrest was for refusing to move during a protest and he's sworn to me that he grew up in the time he's been absent from Jacob's life.

So far together we've had nine cups of green tea and spent an hour walking the dog and shopped the organic grocery store not once, but twice. The kids have been and gone again and Jacob called twice to ask me how I was. PJ called once to ask August how I was and he lied and said I turned rabid so he tied me to a post in the backyard. So far we're getting along like gangbusters.

August's plan is to spend two weeks here helping Jacob finish some of the bigger house projects and get caught up on their friendship and then he's headed North for the summer. He's fun and cute and incredibly kind. He's already written a list of things we can do to improve our quality of life, he's convinced we'll all be on a raw diet by the time he leaves. He figures it will help me especially. When I told him what kind of year we've had I got a fifteen minute hug. I'm keeping him, I swear.

The only down side I can see is that he says Right On every seventeen and a half seconds, which I'm sure is going to get annoying by the end of today but for now it's cool.

The Dreamcatchers.

Or, how I spent my weekend.

    What the hell have I meant
    If this is how the day ends, I regret
    Close your eyes and dream now
    The world so far your heart sounds alone
    and I connect
    In all the ways I've dreamed you
    I choose a song to reach you
    But why it's sad again, only now I see it.

    And when you're acting so proud like
    Like you never had your doubts
    You never said once like you were throwing it away
    And then you're hanging round
    Shining like the sun
    Shocked everyone how it's making my day
    And you, you can try so hard
    With everything that's going wrong
    I know you're strong and you're here for the change
    You're never far away
    You're making my day
    Or you're throwing it away
This weekend's surprise group getaway featured four vintage airstreams, nine adults, five children and one single soundtrack and I didn't even pick it. Jacob can sing and play all of All My Real Friends by High Holy Days, an awesome Canadian band hardly anyone seems to know about. He brought his guitar and sang for everyone just about constantly, when he wasn't throwing people into the lake or sitting and reflecting on the end of the dock with a beer in his hand and a smile on his face. I brought my violin but I hardly touched it, preferring instead to sit with my feet dangling in the water while I taught all the children how to weave crowns of wildflowers.

Every time I looked at him he'd smile and keep playing. Whenever I started to get up to do something, someone would give me a hug and tell me they'd get it. I didn't have a single nightmare for two nights. I didn't have a shower either and wow, did that ever feel good to come home to this morning.

I lived in a blue bikini that is ready for the garbage. I never wore a watch. My freckles came out and I shed my anxiety like an old pair of jeans. I stood on the bare feet of my husband while he hung out over the water precariously, my hands around his neck holding on for dear life and then he grinned and shook me off and I fell in. Repeatedly, because it was fun.

I passed my belay test. I didn't shake like a leaf once I realized I was higher than I am tall. I found a new level of trust in hanging off a rope attached to Jacob and one little bolt somewhere higher up. I tried not to think about it, instead focusing on the knowledge that he would never let me die. The kids scaled their mini-mountains like little blonde spiders, enthusiastic to a fault.

It was awesome. Best way to spend Father's Day I ever could have planned but didn't. The kids had made presents for Jacob at school and we gave him roses for the backyard, because the trees didn't make it but we will so we're being more ambitious.

Yesterday morning Jacob and Sam led an impromptu Sunday service in the woods that brought over a nearby group of university kids happy to share in the love and a round of spirituality acknowledged in the woods. They jumped in with their own prayers and talked so openly. It only makes Jake more excited for the fall.

And this morning I had booked an abbreviated session with Claus that I burst into, breathless, with wet hair because my God, it's Monday and life is trying to start the week without me and I threw the kids in the shower and then jumped in after and then drove them to school and booked straight downtown and the first thing out of my mouth was,

I'm done, Claus. I'm leaving you.

I knew the time would come.

Am I fixed?

Not in the least, Mrs. Reilly. But you know where I'll be if you change your mind.

I do. And thank you, Claus, for everything.

I expect to see you again, Bridget.

Not if I can help it.

Just keep my number and go and be well, young lady.

I will. And I love you, man.

Yes, well, you would have loved me more if you had done your homework.

I know. Sometimes people are unconventional.

Yes, and you're a shining example.

Bye Claus.

Goodbye, Bridget, and good luck.
I kissed his cheek and flew back out, where Jacob was waiting with his hand out to take mine and head for breakfast. Now we're home and I have to get the laundry going and then I'm headed outside to help Jacob clean out the truck and the motorhome, which look as if someone turned them inside out and dragged them through a muddy river bed. It's going to take the rest of the day. It was worth it.

Hell and high water.

There is an Allman Brothers revival going on in my dining room this morning, as Jacob plays and shows Henry a few tricks over the remnants of bacon and toast, juice and coffee.

Last night he asked if I would climb with him again if I'm going to live without the constant rollercoaster of antidepressants and mood stabilizers and sleeping pills. I had great plans at one point to conquer my new, ridiculous fear of heights and had started a climbing course for beginners but had to drop out when my reaction times slowed as the medications took over and I kept making pathetic jokes about the gingerbread at the very peak of this house. He didn't want me halfway up any walls then.

Now there is a need. Distractions via living life. Getting back on the horse since we'll soon be out from under a crushing schedule of therapies and talk. And I don't care who disapproves and I don't care who is disappointed and I don't care who might know better. What matters is Ruth and Henry and Jacob and Bridget. Let's not forget Bridget.

I'm going climbing now. A family climb. Our first 'real' family climb ever. I'm scared to death.