Blow me a kiss and explode into stars.

No worries, I'm not allowed to quit therapy because I took myself out of charge. I went today and I'll be going until things are better and then I'll be going some more.

I agreed with that, because it makes sense. I just wish sometimes it was less difficult, less invasive, less exhausting but Jacob keeps gently telling me it's very hard work.

Oh, and that I'm doing great.

He says that over and over again as we sit in a hot bubblebath, his chin on my head, his arms around me, his thoughts on nothing but the future and promises I am trying to keep to him that he knows I'll keep even when I have my doubts.

When life is said and done would someone saint him, please?

If our roles were reversed I would have stuck a firecracker down his throat and blown him a kiss into outer space by now and what he gives me is a wall. A human wall of strength, upholstered in flannel that I can bounce off of and push against and sometimes stand with my back up against it so I can see the monsters coming and sometimes I can climb right up it and be completely safe.

He said/she said.

Mr. Open isn't being so open today. Which means his head is preoccupied. In therapy today the subject of sexual progress was gingerly broached and I pointed out what had happened yesterday morning and Jacob denied it.

Because, really, who are they going to believe? Who is anyone going to believe? I point out my need for my own friends and not just Jacob's friends who are all on his side and quick to condemn my actions. I point out his complete and utter ignorance of Oct. 1, which was an incredibly painful anniversary in our lives and he bitterly pointed out that we fixed that and we're not marking any more dark days and just like that he decided that all was well and he wasn't going to dwell on any of it.

Or even admit half of it.

Like he won't admit that every morning we run down to the park by the river to Cole's bench to kill two birds with one stone and every morning the bench is upside down. Not just tipped over but turned end over teakettle and moved back so it's exactly on the spot it usually sits. Every other bench is fine and every single morning Jacob puts it back, which is no small feat since it is cast iron.

See, he's removed all the obstacles and once again is faced with the glaring part.

Bridget isn't well.

She should be by now, shouldn't she? I took away everything she knows, and everything that was in my way. Why isn't she better now?

Gee, honey. Maybe because you're not listening. Because you know better. Because no one's going to believe her anyways. She, after all, manipulates you.
Whatever.

I'm done with therapy. All it does is pit us against each other and that isn't what I want.

And WHY in the hell does everyone keep calling me baby? That isn't yours to use.

(I don't recall saying anything I haven't said before.)

Hey.

Hey.

What gives, Bridge?

Did I call you? Nope.

Maybe you should have.

For?

Help, maybe? Maybe because if you'd talk to me I could help you? I don't understand you, why don't you just ask for help when you need it? What are you afraid of?

Nothing, I don't need help, Ben.

I think you do.

Then stop listening to the wrong people.

I read it straight from the whore's mouth, sweetheart.

Nice, creep.

Sticks and bones, baby. I miss the give and take. I miss you.

Is there something you need?

Reassurance that you're okay or I fly back and kick his ass.

Ben, you need to stay where you are and worry about you.

I can take care of myself. You can't say the same.

Ha. Then you don't know me, and you never did.

I know you and I know how you deal with these things and I know how passive you become.

That's 'submissive', Benjamin.

Fuck, Bridge, could you just stop wrapping it up like a present? Didn't I tell you before? It isn't any different.

Sometimes, no, it isn't.

Oh, Christ. Oh my God.

Not your concern, either, Tucker.

You're my concern, Bridget. So stop putting it back on me.

No, you stop. This doesn't help.

Are you asking for help, then?

No.

Fuck, Bridget, I can't deal with you.

Then don't. I was under the impression we weren't friends anymore.

Then you don't know me very well either, baby.

Less imflammatory than it appears to be.

    Nothing more to give
    I can finally come alive
    Your life into me
    I can finally breathe
    Come alive

    I lay there in the dark
    Open my eyes
    You saved me the day that you came alive

There's a trigger in here somewhere in the perfect. Waking up in the dark after being in the light so long. And he tried to fix it, taking a page from a history book, maybe not the right approach. He tried to turn the black around, he folded me against him and tried to bend me to respond to him by forcing me to do things that were so familiar I think I briefly forgot who he was and what has happened since.

We pulled it out of the fire later on, pretending to be each other and I had ammunition saved from sunrise and it showed him precisely that even when I'm out of it and messed up and not able to save myself I know exactly what's going on and what's happening to me. The shame of that revelation quickly forgotten since he's above it all. Who is going question him? Who will stand up to him now? Everyone is gone. His only concerns are my whims and where they lead me and sometimes, though I only catch the barest glimpse of the real one beneath the public face and the so-called openness, I know that I have met my match. I like that, and that is my biggest weakness. That ensures I'll be hurt, and I like that too.

Fuck.

Bear with me, here, the day's only halfway through. The rescue is underway but not complete.

No one's lit the halos, baby.

No one's even close.

Sunday night was pretty good too.

Christian heard the truck before I did (naturally) and gathered up his things, meeting Jacob on the back step after kissing my cheek and telling me bye for tonight. He and Jacob talked for a minute on the path and then Christian went home and I opened the door wide as Jake came bounding up the steps and in, staggering back slightly and throwing his satchel to the ground in triumph.

Princess, I'm home. Literally and figuratively.

I know. I'm amazed at your energy.

It was magic.

Good, that's the way you should feel.

Amazing.

Awesome, Jake.

More than awesome, little bee.
I grinned at him and he grinned back and charged across the hallway, wrapping his arms around me and walking me backwards, my head bent back so I was facing the ceiling as he kissed me all over the place. He got to the stairs and stopped and looked at them and put his nose to mine.

You know, it's been a while, Bridget.

Oh, no way. It's cold, I'm still under the weather and those stairs hurt.

Okay, plan b for you, piglet.
He took my hand and led me into the living room right down onto the floor in front of the fire.

This is how evenings should end forever I think.

His hands fumbled with the hooks on my dress and he growled in frustration. I laughed and pulled the dress over my head and he kissed me hard and I tasted cognac. Pooh bear.

Oh I see you've celebrated?

Only one toast to my return, with Sam and then I knew I had to get home, because here is where I want to celebrate my love for you, my God.

You mean your love for God and I?

Whatever, Jesus, get out of this dress.

Welcome back, Reverend Reilly.

Standing room only.

Word travels fast. While greeting this morning, a quick head count was made and Jacob realized that there weren't enough seats for everyone.

Weren't...enough.

That's never happened before. A half-dozen men went down to the community centre and borrowed thirty stacking chairs. Still not enough. People lined the walls, filled out the back of sanctuary and Jacob began his return to the pulpit with a emotional remark about not telling the fire department how many people were packed into a room meant for about half that. It was met with loud laughter from at least a dozen of the volunteer firefighters who were present and then to Jacob's surprise a round of spontaneous applause.

True to form, with a catch in his voice and his devastating dimpled grin, Jacob paused and took one of his very long silent moments to just softly smile out at everyone, saving me for last, thank God, I was in tears already at the amount of love and support in that room today.

Announcements were brief. He commented on a similar but opposite phenomenon this same week two years ago when just eight people showed up for the service because of the flu and laughed and then had the perfect launching point for his sermon on humility.

Jacob spoke about everyone needing grace. About being willing to learn and accept yourself for who you are. It was as biographical as it was spiritual and no one missed a single word. I didn't look around, like everyone else I was riveted to his eyes as he spoke and when he wrapped it up he was rewarded with one of those other long silent moments in the church when you know people get it, when they have heard everything he said and are applying it to themselves like tiny firework epiphanies.

And we had one of our own, like we sometimes do, where his words are applied to our life together like a thick paint with very good coverage and it hides the mars and discoloration and makes a fresh new outlook possible. A sermon as a launching point for this week, for this year, which has been all about humility as we learn to work with what we have, move forward and be ourselves, taking help where we need it, being good people and not being afraid to say, I've made a mistake. Can you help me find my way back to where I need to be?

After his closing remarks, he walked down the steps and took my hand and kissed my cheek and then we took the kids to the door, where we usually shake hands and bid people well before Jacob would return to his office to organize his papers and do a postmortem with Sam on the service. Except today we spent close to ninety minutes receiving hugs and encouragement and kind words of support and the overwhelming consensus that the entire congregation was happy (no, more relieved) to have him back. I wondered briefly if Sam was the least bit put off by the reaction to Jacob's first day back but Sam was as sure as everyone else when he gave me yet another hug and told me that he is sure that this is where Jacob belongs.

I didn't think this would be so hard to write. There's a sense of homecoming that pretty much eradicates the uncertainty of every other aspect of life today. There's a sense of our support network being far greater than what we had previously acknowledged once again. It keeps growing.

Most people didn't give me the delicate hug and the it's good to have you back refrain. No, I got full-on hard squeezes and most people simply had huge smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes as they told us welcome home.

This gives him strength so far beyond anything else. He keeps turning his back on it and then he gets slapped down by life and he is reminded of what he stands for, and what he leans on and I don't think he'll try to walk away again. He's had a long search to find himself in all of this.

Once the remaining stragglers were gone, Jacob took a moment to say goodbye to us since Joel and Christian had convinced us that Boston Pizza would be so much more fun than going home for soup so off we went.

Lunch was fun with the five of us, those two get along quite well and Joel tends to analyze me less in mixed company (thank god). We came back here and Christian and the kids have spent a good hour or more playing games.

I called Jake a few minutes ago on his cellphone to see how he was and he was so emotional. It's such a huge part of him and he knows damn well the heartaches and the politics and the long hours are going to come spilling back in, the close shadow always present, but at the same time he has been redeemed. He knows this is where he needs to be and he needs it to be who he is. He needs it for strength and rebirth and he can get through anything with his faith as his soft place to fall.

I laughed softly and told him to remember that when he wants funding for fixing the fence or paint but really what he was telling me so gently was that he's aware that I can't be his faith and that his balance works and I need to work harder. A gentle but obvious recrimination but one I can accept.

With grace.

With humility.

More fun with small places.

This afternoon I got the kids to rake the leaves over me into a huge pile in the front yard. Jacob came out and asked them where I was, and they told him I was taking a bag of leaves down to the garage and I'd be right back. So he snapped out a new leaf bag and bent over to pick up an armful and...

yup...there was that funny high-pitched scream again.

This is so much fun.

Today is a beautiful day. It's sunny and warm and I'm headed out now to pick up some groceries and maybe if we feel inspired we'll head over to the costume shop to start scouting out ideas for the kids for Halloween and start perfecting our deplorable technique for making candy apples. They never turn out quite right.

Family therapy has been shunted to this afternoon. Then possibly we'll barbecue some chicken for dinner and make a pasta salad and watch a movie together.

Jacob preaches tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to it. Christian is going to go with us as muscle since Jacob has to be there early and leaves very late and doesn't want us to be alone. It's okay, he's bringing Halo 3 with him so that Henry can kick his ass in it.

Stunted writing today, I know. Blame last night's whiskey and please disregard any drunken ramblings or partial posts that may still be on your feeds. I did say there were other incidents and I should just keep my mouth shut about all of that stuff. My apologies. It's all been deleted anyway.

Loud and clear.

There is something about the palette and startling clarity of fall days that leaves me wanting to hit pause on life and just breathe it in. I stopped in my tracks on the sidewalk three times this morning on the way home from taking the kids to school only because I wanted to remember the rich burgundy of the leaves, the smell of wood burning and the brightness of the blue of the sky.

Jacob did not want to stop, in a hurry to get home to finish his coffee and so he pulled me along by the hand while I daydreamed my way back, pointing out that I could look at the leaves all I wanted on our way into the city to attend therapy.

He was right, and he held my hand again the whole way there and back, never letting go except to get out of the truck and then to go around and get back in after opening my door.

He runs his thumb across the back of my hand as if I am a book and he's reading me in Braille. Which is funny today for some reason because my sight has ratcheted up a notch or twelve to compensate for the remainder of my hearing being gone for over a week now.

If I could turn the tables on him and evaluate his emotions by touch I would say concern is paramount by the tightness of his grip on my hand, by his extra time walking slower so I can keep up, speaking slowly and loudly so I can hear him or at least understand what he wants. We have a system of communicating that seems to be one part telepathy and one part familiarity.

Which is how I got us out of therapy early with one flutter of one hand. Jacob cut it short a moment later and we were off and on our way home again to steal some quiet time before lunch.

Home to discover the carnage inside the garage as he pulled open the door and saw that my gardening area had been smashed to bits. Completely destroyed with his own sledgehammer, which was left in the garage after renovations and was sticking out of the wall halfway up. All of it was intact when we left. The garage door was locked, the side door locked and everything was fine when we left. His tools are untouched. Nothing was stolen.

He's out there talking quietly with the police who showed up to take a report and keeps throwing the word vandalism out as if I don't know who did this. Christ, everyone knows who did it. Or who had it done. Wouldn't want to point fingers or anything.

I asked Jacob if he would just take it all away when they're done. Not to rebuild my shelves or replace the pots or try and figure out what seeds went with what packet. Not to unbend the rakes or watch my panic build as I try to pretend it didn't happen at all. That I never had a potting shed in the garage or that the person who did it took the time to re-lock the lock on the garage so that we wouldn't be forewarned. Or watching Jacob and the police searching the whole house while I returned to school to pull the kids out simply because the amount of damage screams rage to me and I wanted to have my eyes on them at all times.

What a way to end the week, changing locks again. Police cars again. Evil, again.