Horse latitudes.

We're at Nolan's in case you need us.

Nolan has a hobby farm outside the city, complete with horses, snowmobiles and enough peace and quiet to make me want to stay here forever. Ben has been tinkering with the motorcycles a bit since they are stored here in the winter now. I don't think I've seen Christian or Mark since we got here, they're off snowmobiling. Nolan is a widower. He's in his late sixties (?) and we seem to have a lot in common. He and Jacob met a few years ago when Nolan did some work for Jake as a contractor but I didn't meet him until this fall when Jacob told me the bikes would be stored here.

Nolan called before Christmas and said we should come out, that there was plenty to do and he would love a little holiday company. I doubt he expected four adults and two children so I called and he asked if I remembered the big house. He said it had six bedrooms so just bring everyone and we'd find places.

The kids and I have the coolest room ever. There are antlers on the wall. I don't know if they are real because oooog, I won't be touching them. There's a fireplace and a view of the land that doesn't contain a single power line or road. The guy's rooms are equally neat. The great room and the kitchen are the heart of this house, I could live here forever.

Except for one thing. I'm afraid of the horses. They're huge.

Which is going to make my day interesting. Since I'm leaving now to go riding.

I know. Me. On a horse. First time in ages. Hold your breath.

And try not to laugh.

Self. Destruct.

This subject is no longer off limits. Because he is continuing his madness, and because I no longer care who knows. I'm not the CFO with everything to lose, now, am I? The people who matter have forgiven me and I can't help the rest of you. Don't judge me until you've lost everything you ever wanted.

I'm taking Caleb's attempt at extortion (and slavery) and blowing it wide open. He's not aware of the depths to which my friendships run and how close we all are. And so I told them what happened. It softened them, because they know how destructive I can be when I hurt and they're just relieved I came out of it in one piece.

If you can call it that.

Caleb contacted me with his rare smug brand of formal condolences the day after I found out about Jacob. Caleb, as always, took that as an opportunity and created some business that he absolutely had to be in town for and showed up before sunrise on the red-eye. As soon as Joel took his eyes off me after breakfast I took off. I wanted to show everyone that I was in charge and I wasn't going to take orders from anyone. I had no confidence in what I was doing until I was standing in front of Caleb's hotel room door.

Well, well, if it isn't the princess. Where are all those knights who are supposed to protect you from me?

I just shook my head and stood my ground, tears spilling down my cheeks. He knew I was alone or I wouldn't be there. He clucked and said it was a shame. And then he asked what I expected from him.

Make the pain stop.

He smiled.

Oh, but princess, there's only a couple of ways I can get you to where it won't hurt anymore.

Please.

What do I get in return for making you feel better?

It was 48 hours later that Caleb called Ben and told him there was baggage to be picked up. As in, come and get her, I'm through. Flaunting his treasures to Ben who had so briefly looked up to Caleb.

Caleb had left instructions for Ben to be let in and went off to his meetings. Ben burst into the room and found me vaguely unresponsive, naked, bruised, covered with bite marks and dusted head to toe. Dipped in Caleb's toxic icing sugar. It coated my eyelashes, my fingertips. I had headphones on, the stereo turned up so loud, if my hearing wasn't already damaged it would have been. Ben tried to pick me up and was hit with everything at once. I wasn't dressed. A black satin ribbon was still knotted on one wrist. I wasn't coherent.

He found my clothes and gingerly dressed me as I half-slept in a stupor. He forced my lids open, didn't like what he saw and took me out of there, bundled in his jacket, not really walking, a foot off the floor. I don't remember any of it. He wanted me to talk to Jason (a police officer) formally at the very least and I refused.

I went to Caleb willingly looking for an escape from the pain I knew only he could provide. I let him put needles in me. Repeatedly. I let him do whatever he wanted to me. Every time it wore off and I would become afraid or start to cry, he would give me more. And after two days he got bored with the game.

After that arrangements were made to have me flown back to the same posh retreat I just came out of to detox and to be safe. I slept for the first four days and then didn't speak for the next three.

Joel arrived on day four and told me how the kids were and asked me if I was going to break my promises to them too, and that's when I spoke again. That's when I realized that it was time to stop expecting everyone to pick up the pieces for me. I had to gather them together myself, and hold them and when the time is right I will glue them back together.

Caleb came to see me while I was there, and told me what a great time he had with me.

He told me he had wanted to do that for a while now, since we cut off his access to me after Henry was born.

I swore at him but he just laughed and told me he was happy to give me a reminder of Cole and happy to help ease the pain. He told me he'd see me at Christmas and to pass his best wishes along to Ben.

He also gave me a DVD in case I had forgotten the good parts. That was a warning not to slander him, that copies could be sent to everyone I loved but really, I don't care and neither do they. He could put it on the six o'clock news, I wouldn't even flinch at this point.

The clearest thing I remember after he shot me up the fourth time in two days was that he told me I belonged to he and his brother again, and that that was good. That I belonged in the family. That he would look after me.

He said I would be his plaything, that when he comes to the city he'll expect me to be there for his enjoyment and otherwise my friends get my DVD. Best porn they'll ever see and then when I only have him left I'll see what an easy arrangement it would have been and so not to fuck with him.

He underestimated all of us. I told them all what really happened (the painful, unsanitized version) and they closed the circle because they love me more than they hate my mistakes. Caleb can never touch me again.

He arrives today.

I won't be here.

I'd like a way out now please. Oh, please. Just make this stop.

Draw.

I suppose some days I should just skip posting but people seem to want to know how I feel.

Fine. Here's the mess, YOU untangle it.

Today I feel hollow and cold and alone despite being surrounded and wounded and bitter and the anger leaves at a pace that agonizes and fights and claws my insides. Far too slowly it's being replaced with a despair I am loathe to acknowledge. At some point I'm going to be forced to move along now, nothing to see here.

I'm not ready.

I'm not ready for life. I'm not ready for the world to present itself to me, I'm not ready to let go of something I worked so damn hard for. It's as if since he wanted me to crash, he wanted to be everything and make me weaker so that he could be stronger and my life with him is to now be cast aside as a shameful secret to be swept quickly under a new rug that we'll just lay down on top of the dirty floor and pretend they don't see the dust, the years of life they are quick to condemn.

I'm angry at myself for not seeing more than I what I saw and yet how could I see past the man he presented to me? He was too busy finding my focus for me, making himself perfect so that I would never know. Why didn't I know? Why did I go against every last tiny piece of advice on not to take flight with a bird who had issues and was the last man on earth anyone expected me to be with?

What would have been so wrong with that life and why did he have to do this?

Hindsight is just another blindfold today. I don't know any more now than I did a month ago, let alone a year ago. I'm not wiser, tougher or better equipped. I'm not better off, by any means, and I'm not different in the ways I should have been different. I only feel as though I briefly stepped into a fairy tale, tasted happily ever after and then suddenly the chef decided it wouldn't be on the menu after all and ushered me out and slammed the door in my face.

The closed sign went up and when the shock wore off it's clear that I still haven't had a damned thing. I look up and down and everything is boarded up. A vacant ghost town stares back at me as if I am the one to rejuvenate it's once lively streets. I can't. I wouldn't know how to begin.

It won't be today.

You wanted a fucking barometer, there. Take it and be sorry you asked. Most days are not good. Most days just opening my damned eyes is hard. Most days I want to shoot myself in the head just for a different kind of pain than this one.

Most days, I don't have a gun. Some ghost town this is.

A Tuesday out of the ordinary.

This morning was dark and snowy and warm and softly lit in blues and icy whites. A collective clatter of excitement rose up over glitter tattoo airbrush kits and tin space shuttle sets and crisp Harry Potter paperbacks, the spines crying out to be cracked and broken with curiosity.

Stockings were stuffed to capacity and the living room is the usual holiday war-zone of wrapping paper, packaging and tags that failed to connect the givers to the givees no matter how hard I tried, giving up early on in the chaos.

It would have been a perfect Christmas. I'll just say that it was wonderful and touching and comfortable, instead. Santa and his elves were very very good to the kids and I.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, may it be filled with happiness and peace, glitter tattoos and many little dudes in space suits, all over the floor.

If you need me, I'll be over in the corner playing Oblivion and eating candy canes until I throw up. Ben thought that was the Coolest Idea Ever but I was kidding. We have rounds to make, out there in the cold.

Enjoy the day. Enjoy your loved ones. Take a deep breath and remember this.

Oh, just WOW.

The moment I sat down this morning with juice, planning to read the paper while the kids pretended they weren't looking for breaches in the guy's present-wrapping jobs, there was a loud, excited knock on the front door.

I figured maybe it was FedEx with a last-minute gift.

It was not.

It was Ben.

Home.

Not snowboarding. Not catching up with his brother and his brother's partner's family. Not having a wonderful vacation.

I came back for you guys, if you'll have me.

Alone in the city of lights.

I went to see Santa yesterday. I told him I would like a crystal ball for Christmas. He said he would see what he could do, but that kind of magic might be beyond his workshop means. I told him it was okay, that really I just wanted my kids to be happy and he looked at them and assured me they were. I got a hug and a candy cane, though, so it wasn't a total loss.

Should I take the Santa-for-hire at his word? Or stay up Monday night and see if I can query the real deal?

All the guys are gone now, having made plans long before Jacob made his, further cemented when I made initial plans to go with Ben, and now left here in town are Sam and Lisabeth and John, the only true westerner in the group. Everyone else has flown or driven out for the holidays, to see their grandparents and extended families. I had so many offers to cancel if I said the word but I held my tongue-they need to go, they need to have fun and not babysit me and not worry.

Besides, I'm an adult. I have cash in my bag and a truck full of gas and a plow on standbye and neighbors and Sam for emergencies and John said he can be here in three minutes should I need him and the house is again FULL of food and presents and we have lots of wood and...

...somehow I have managed to equate the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ with the apocalypse. Which means I need more sleep. I should have asked Santa for that instead.

Three sleeps til Santa.

This morning I woke up, flipped the switch to turn the world off auto-pilot and grabbed the planet with both hands, pulling hard, pulling it back onto my axis, picking an angle I wanted, and then giving it a good hard spin.

Granted, it might be a little wobbly but it seems to be working...

I need to go buy groceries and get the kids' gifts today. I have help in John, who pointed out the 10 feet of snow we got last night may make driving tough once there are more people about and so if I just tilt the planet down a little I can just slide down to the mall and then I'll give it a kick and it will slide me back into the driveway when I'm finished. I hope it works.

I am also coming down with a cold.

And Ben has gone. I took him to the airport this morning (slowly, the roads are bad). and nothing in life had visibly changed, but I noticed he was tightly gripping his piece of my heart and I must still have a tiny piece inside somewhere that I missed.

Because it lurched again when we said goodbye.

Update: The leafs WON! Because I watched the game. Because I am all shopped out and needed to sit the heck down. Because I'm worn the heck out. Awesome. But the good news is the house is full of food and presents too, because I had a nice big list of things I wanted to get for the kids and I got every last thing on the list.

Because you can fill holes with shopping. Well, at least temporarily.

Running out of time.

It is an extraordinary feeling to wait in the darkness, as people did so long ago, for the longest night of the year to end.

Indeed.

If you're so inclined to count days like I do, this may interest you: there's a live webcast of the solstice at Newgrange in Ireland takes place tomorrow and Saturday morning as well.

I'll be watching. Since there won't be any solstice parties for me this year. How about you?

It's PJ's day and in between his ridiculous (and yet probable) plans to rule the world without ever moving out of his mother's house and the chocolate pie that he's determined to eat all of despite being told it's for dessert, my face hurts from smiling. Until I remember that I am, in fact, smiling and then my face falls and the clouds roll back in.

Therapy went very well, thanks for asking.

PJ also wanted to talk today. Everyone has gotten rid of their gruff, strong exteriors and have opened up quite lovingly. PJ wanted to talk about my plans and Jacob's plans and my plans for Jacob's plans and whether or not I wanted to run screaming from the room before or after his input.

His input surprised me. No one surprises me anymore. I think Jake pulled off the ultimate surprise and then some and I bet it was difficult. Though I think I loved and hated Cole an equal amount and would have wrapped my arms around him for a kiss all the while sticking a knife into his back had I had the strength.

Whatever. I don't deal with that. I don't think about anything save for missing Jacob. Oh and his convoluted, generous and incredibly hypocritical instructions for me in his absence. I wish I could say more, I just can't. I'm an incredibly slow learner when it comes to writing about things first when I should be going to people and telling them first instead. I think about that constantly.

This is about the elephant Jacob left for me.

PJ, always the last hold-out, has surprisingly given his blessing.

If you knew PJ, he's incredibly stoic in between the bites of pie. He takes nothing lightly, absolutely nothing. He's conservative and hesitant and thorough. He's the naysayer, the voice of caution in all things. You don't fuck with PJ. He'll tear you down and leave you bleeding. He's never wrong. He's never one to be impulsive. He won't impulsively choose an ice-cream flavor at the drive-in.

And he said Go for it.

The weirdest part is, I never asked for input and they all came and gave it anyway.

And I am all talked out today.

    I know you well.
    you are a part of me.
    I know you better than I know myself.
    I know you best,
    better than anyone.
    I know you better than I know myself.

The expected reception.

(This is an entry about courage. And elephants.)

I knocked on the door of his apartment and it opened before my hand fell to my side.

He was so happy to see me. He put his arms out and made a noise like a sob and then took me into a tight hold against him and rocked and rocked in the conclusion of some sort of chronic agony. He took my face in his hands, burning my hair with his cigarette and I asked him to put it down. He laughed and his eyes were glassy but the smile didn't leave his face even once.

It didn't leave his face as he offered me his last cigarette. I said no and reminded him he quit and he swore softly. He kissed me. Seventeen times. He couldn't sit still, he wouldn't shut up, he wouldn't listen to me when I told him why I was there.

He knew why I was there.

He had been wearing the same jeans for four days now. His boots were scuffed, his hair messed up, and he hadn't shaved at all recently. His eyes darted all over me and back again as he rubbed his face and then stood back up. He hadn't slept.

The kids.

They're with Chris.

You're really here. Jesus, Bridge. What have we been through?

Hell disguised as heaven, Benjamin.

Are you okay?

I will be.

I am learning that I can exist in a place where I can be with someone and feel nothing except companionship and safety and a very gentle sort of love and sometimes it's enough for me. For him it's enough too, it's enough that he has a place in my life neither of us thought he would ever fit into and I'm grateful that he is here for me. I'm grateful that he doesn't ask for more. I may never have more to give him but he'll still be here with me. Like he always is, no matter how hard I've tried to get rid of him and how much I always wanted him back.

Jacob asked me to do this in his letter and I fought so hard against it. I didn't understand it for a very long time, but I think I do now.

There are a lot of people out there who won't agree with this. Maybe the ones who have never met Bridget or Ben or even Jacob who will pass judgement without fully understanding this. I'm not looking for a replacement father for the kids. I'm not looking for a rebound guy to fill the giant hole left by Jacob. Ben is well aware that I don't love him like that, that my heart no longer exists and my every thought is consumed with memories and jabs of pain. He is well-aware that he is following in the footsteps of the greatest love ever and we're both aware that we could end our friendship if things don't go well. It's a risk we're both willing to take. A slow-moving risk, kind of like skiing away from a creeping avalanche.

An adventure embarked on by two grownups who are alone and don't want to be. It's a let's see how it goes, let's see if there's something there after all plan that doesn't include us going away for Christmas, I have decided to stay here. It doesn't involve us jumping into bed either. Because we don't need to. My ridiculous need for affection is well-supplied and frankly I'm not ready to be touched by someone else so overall very little will change for now.

For now.

Don't make me wait ten years for your heart, little bee.