Isolated flurries.

This morning outside my window here at Nolan's the woods were deep, quiet, buffered with a layer of white cold, muted in their sunrise song. Few birds, a wild bunny or two and three big guys clomping around outside, headed for an early ride to check the creek and see if it was running yet in the warmer winter day.

I opted to stay snuggled in flannel and that old grey sweater and keep my memories close and my children closer, ignoring their oatmeal and fruit while they do mazes in the activity books we brought.

John and Duncan are here, they spend most weekends and Nolan loves the company, missing his own sons, who are up North making their fortunes.

And Ben, Ben is here too. He quit.

Then he went back.

Long story. I'll tell it in a day or two. Right now I just want to enjoy this, it...him.

I have plans now anyway.

I'm going to spend the weekend at Nolan's with the kids. If you need me you know how to reach me.

If you know how to reach me but don't need me then that's fine too. As soon as this call is done and I can pick up the kids from school I'm out of this city.

The drowning pool.

Yesterday was a softly-cushioned fall from an artificial high. I wasn't really up, so I didn't really fall down. It was just...well, one of those times where I expected the stars to align and life to go exactly as I expected it now should and it didn't. I get snobbish and insular and the whole world revolves around me, weren't you aware?

The coldness creeps back in and now the ever-present abandonment gets to join the party for one, because he isn't coming back and I played all my cards and I'm out. He said before he left, don't cry, I'll be back soon enough and then soon we'll be at our circled date and everything is going to be fine because you're doing great and you don't need me for that.

Oh, God. Please don't suffocate me with logic. I'm still standing here with the phone jammed against my ear, huge tears threatening to drown me in a self-made puddle and finding incredible outrage and unfairness all around me, in words meant to be delivered gently, but instead all I hear is a message telling me the person I'm trying to call is unavailable.

Ben had ticked through the litany of reasons I shouldn't care about the time he will be away and don't need to take it personally but I should maybe see if PJ wants to take you and the kids to see Spiderwick, anything, please just don't fall into the pool and for heaven's sake just don't drown because there, you see?

I won't let you.

In this position, so close to the edge, without a gate or a fence or hell, even a warning sign it's so very hard not to fall in. It's almost as if I'm pushed. I don't understand the difference between obligation and rejection, I can't differentiate love from addiction, I don't have thick skin or a thick line drawn between passion and loathing and I'm not even going to pretend that I'm clear-headed enough to weather the kinds of storms borne out of hope.

I'm not.

Fine.

Call it a tantrum, call it immaturity, call it unfair. Or just call it mental illness and moods most completely unstabilized and we'll hide behind a fucking label for once. Because everyone else gets away with it, I may as well just sit down and join the growing crowd.

I've been asked by Ben's highest-up boss to join several people in a conference call at 2 pm local time today. I can't wait to hear what he has to say. I don't even know why he would be involved. It should be interesting, then.

It can just be Thursday for me.

Valentine's Day is for children.

The kids went off excited, balancing envelopes stuffed with paper valentines for their classmates and wrapped plates of brownies for their afternoon parties. They both wore red and said the day was about love.

Ironically it should be, shouldn't it? While every day should be a vested interest in celebrating your love for someone, it is nice to have a day dedicated to it entirely.

It would be so much nicer if people embraced that instead of choosing this day to make a huge mistake. But it's okay, I spent the first part of this day blocking all kinds of numbers, including very familiar ones known by heart because I'm not interested in half-assed efforts, I need to make my own efforts with everything I've got.

I'm not interested in trophies and markers and being used.

I'm not interested in being used, I said. I'm not your curiosity or your conquest. Maybe that's why today's Valentine will be one that is completely different. Maybe because I had no sleep after five fucked up phone calls in the middle of the night and then however many I didn't get because I started blocking numbers, if any were even made at all after that. I doubt it.

Inside the tiny box sitting on my kitchen table was a red medallion with "5 Months" written on it.

Ben's anniversary milestone from Alcoholics Anonymous, small but significant because he repeatedly fell off and was run over by the wagon.

He gave it to me. I'll give it back to him but just the simple fact that he was acknowledging it in my presence is very important to me. It isn't something we've really talked about much. He was messed up. He drank a lot, he took a lot of drugs. He was losing it.

The biggest motivator for him getting help was the night he attacked me (I'm not linking, it's there) and finally understood what sort of dangerous drunk he was. It took him the rest of the summer to figure out for himself that even one drink put him back on that path to destruction and he was incredibly proactive with his sobriety, a difficult road to hold in his field, with these friends.

He takes a mild antidepressant even. He was scared to death of the hit being sober would land on his lucid liquid creativity. He has few outlets other than talk and distractions to deal with his fears but he was doing it anyway.

Five months was huge. This is a guy that couldn't skip a day at one point and I was scared for him, as much as I was scared of him at one point. Both of those feelings are gone, thankfully, as he was doing really well and I had hoped he would continue to do so.

Except thanks to last night I don't think it's even valid any more. You see, Ben is different from everyone and so much like Cole in one regard. If you put something in front of his face he picks it up. He has no ability to walk away. He has no self-restraint. One of his people called early last night to give me a hard time, telling me his head wasn't where it needed to be, that he wasn't going to be popping in and out of town this time, that he needed to stay focused and be present. That I wasn't good for him.

Four hours later some completely wasted girl called me to tell me she was going through his phone and calling every girl's name to let them know he was now off the market, because they were hooking up and she was going to do whatever she had to do to keep him so back off bitch.

Yes. Happy Valentine's Day to you too, motherfucker.

And now you know why I won't marry the guy. He couldn't be serious if he tried. But no worries. I'm okay. I expected that. It's actually happened before but it was funnier the last time because I didn't love him like this that. This time it just stung so badly my only recourse is to block the damned number and distract myself. Thankfully I am able to do both and my dance card is full. I asked Joel if he still wanted to have dinner after all (crow, maybe) and I made a lunch date with Nolan and PJ will be here tonight to hang out and do babysitting duty so we'll have a little time together and I'll just push everything else out of my head.

I replaced the medal in the box along with his beautiful ring. And to those who called earlier who didn't hear about this it was because I was embarrassed so just do me a favor and just don't try to fix it. Don't call him, don't put a price on his head and don't mention it to me. I'm begging you.

I'll be fine, really, I will. I walked into this with my eyes wide open, knowing who I was falling for and the risk involved and so that helps. A little, anyway.

The fucking vultures will love this, I'm sure. Don't email me with your glee. Not today. Today I'm going to go have fun with my brownies and paper valentines strung on a line to remind me that we're children too.

We choose our destiny.

Not only did PJ opt to let me keep my SD card in my phone for music but he helpfully pointed out he missed the shelf right above the stereo, on which rests my entire collections of Deep Purple, Molly Hatchet and the Allman Brothers.

I will rock the seventies for a bit, then. Who's coming with?

Henry, that's who. He is home today fighting off a cough and fever once again and it may be that the penicillin was no match for this strep or it might be a whole new germ, in any case unless there's a huge improvement we go back to the doctor this weekend.

We're making brownies and he's learning the lyrics to Flirtin' with Disaster so when he feels better he can take over singing duties from Mommy when we play Rock Band. He's air-strumming along with his lucky guitar pick from Ben, flush from being sick, happy to be home and the center of attention.

I think the feeling is mutual.

Daysleepers.

    So why does it always seem
    That every time I turn around
    Somebody falls in love with me

Therapy already today, like aloe on a stinging burn, a relief for me today with lots to work through and bountiful, gloriously expensive minutes in which to do it. Then a very early lunch with Joel, a block from his office at the diner that makes designs in your coffee with cream and a spoon. I eat little and listen as he waxes intellect over living by beauty.

I took my beauty and turned it inside out, swearing him down softly and he ignored me. I cancelled Thursday night cruelly in favor of the hope of Ben making it home, and if not, another night alone. Ben doesn't like Joel, finding him far too much like Jake, too professional, too invested in my recovery to have even a hint of understanding when it comes to living all the while. As if living just stops while people get better. I learned, it doesn't.

In Joel's universe, existing in that space between moving forward and dealing with trauma, there's a quiet stasis that would lead one to believe that no, you can't go forward and sideways at the same time.

Only you can and I'm proving it every day. I might not get anywhere sometimes, and then at other times you'll spin around and focus and I'm already gone.

I love Joel, I do. In spite of Ben. In the days right after Jacob walked away from us but while he was still alive Joel was here for me, keeping me busy, using friend-tools instead of psychoanalyst tools, hanging out, playing hockey games on the TV, making sure I didn't slide too far away, playing the now-infamous game of finding Bridget sitting in the pantry and joining her, other things, the ever present arm tucked around my shoulders while he sat hunched down into his perfect white collar with his tie hanging untied but still around his neck. The running partner that put up with long jaunts along the river in dead silence.

And a lot of people would say if Joel is your friend and you made plans with him you can't break those plans just because you got a better offer. I didn't.

Joel and I had agreed to just stop. Stop hanging out, stop speaking, stop getting together for a while because his concern with certain aspects of my issues overstepped our friendship boundaries. We had agreed to be friends and not patient/doctor a long time ago and he's had trouble living like that. I don't have enough patience to stick him out and yes, Ben gets to pull rank because I have known and loved him longer.

And so when Joel called to make amends and pick up wherever we were when we left off I suggested we move our Thursday plans to lunch today and go from there and he agreed.

Graciously.

So there is no problem.

While I sipped from the cream-heart in my coffee, he reached out and I shrank back and he made a face and then pulled a bobby pin from a curl, one that had tried to escape and he held it up for me to take and when I reacted it was to take it and my eyes swam out of focus and he was Jacob for just a moment.

Just for that one moment and it was a gentle reminder that I have so much further to go, and so much help to get me there. I just need to keep living, keeping fighting, keeping sipping coffee while my world plays the same actions over and over again in a neverending loop.

Until I can get it right.

The part where Ben and PJ pull off what Joel's been trying to do for months.

(Repeat after me, Bridget. I love my friends. I love my friends...)

This morning after playing driver, PJ came inside with me and stood there watching while I took off my mittens, hat, scarf, coat and boots. Then he grabbed me and ran back outside, where he held me out eight inches above the snowbank and he asked if I wanted to be really cold. I shrieked and squealed and swore at him, begging him to take me back in. He made me promise not to listen to anymore sad songs or any more Jake-songs for a while.

Okay! Fine! Jesus, Peej! This isn't funny anymore! Okay! I PROMISE!

His mission accomplished, I was deposited back inside. I was shivering and went to get a blanket as he asked me for a box. I reminded him where they were and he was back in thirty seconds and went straight to the living room, taking my hard drive from Cole's computer, taking roughly eighty percent of my CDs off their shelves and putting them in the box, which he then took out to his truck, amid great protest. He came back and deleted iTunes off my machines and wiped Media Player, for good measure. He said I could listen to the radio but only the fast songs, and he did leave a few CDs.

Huh.

Let's see. Rush, AC/DC, The Police and Iron Maiden. Oh, and his entire collection of Scandinavian death metal.

Woo.

He promised me I could have everything back later and we would do what was done with Phish when Cole died-send it away until I could deal with it a little better. Then he gave me a good hard hug and asked if I would feed him dinner tonight.

I said he could have dinner here every night for the rest of the month if he liked. He smiled and then said he had to make a few calls and then if I wanted he'd walk Butters and I could come too. I said sure and he went off down the hall, pulling out his phone.

One of the joys of being this tiny is being able to hide in the guys' footsteps and shadows. I walked right behind PJ as he dialed and waited for the pick up.

Yeah, Ben? I've got everything, brother. Good plan....yeah....okay, talk to you later...bye.

(PS. Dear Padraig. You're so busted! Also-you missed all the songs on my phone. Love, Bridget XOX.)

Damn you, Jacob.

     I've watched the stars fall silent from your eyes
    All the sights that I have seen
    I can't believe that I believed I wished
    That you could see
    There's a new planet in the solar system
    There is nothing up my sleeve

    I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs
    I'm tossing up punch lines that were never there
    Over my shoulder a piano falls
    Crashing to the ground

    In all this talk of time
    Talk is fine
    But I don't want to stay around
    Why can't we pantomime, just close our eyes
    And sleep sweet dreams
    Me and you with wings on our feet

    I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs
    I'm tossing up punch lines that were never there
    Over my shoulder a piano falls
    Crashing to the ground

    I'm breaking through
    I'm bending spoons
    I'm keeping flowers in full bloom
    I'm looking for answers from the great beyond

    I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears
    Sweetest dreams of you
    I look into the stars
    I look into the moon

Not never but now.

Oh! Daniel and Schuyler are coming over tonight to watch the Grammy Awards and snarf at the fashions and the weirdness of celebrity with me. If you'll recall, a few of my friends once expressed concern at being blogged so I would simply leave them out. Now years later they act offended that I never mention them. So here you go.

I think some of you already know that Daniel is Ben's little brother, Schuyler is Daniel's partner of the past four years. They're very happy, thanks for asking.

Schuyler told me he is bringing a big chocolate cake and we will put it in the oven and then eat the whole thing.

Squee!

I love these boys, truly I do. They seem to know just what I need. And Daniel, he's just like a pocket-sized Ben that I could carry around if I wanted to. Or eat. Yes, he's that sweet, I would totally eat him up with a spoon.

Or I could just set my outfit on fire.

It's fucking FREEZING outside today. It's actually less cold than yesterday but yesterday I was preoccupied and didn't really notice. This morning when I threw on a robe and slippers over my birthday suit and ran downstairs to let Butterfield out I got a good heaping serving of cold on my bare legs. I haven't sworn that much in a very long time.

I wish the rim of the coffeepot were just a little wider, just enough so I could dip my knees or my shoulders in and warm them just a little. The furnace might be set higher than it's ever been before. I keep yelling at the kids to go put on slippers and sweaters and possibly hats because I feel cold. They look at me like I have six heads.

The dog looks inviting. Too bad he sleeps in Ben's bed and not mine. I could use the body heat.

The only things that are warm today are my ears, filled with the crystal clear reception of Ben's voice this morning on the phone, wishing me a good day, telling me he spent a miserable night trying to sleep without unconscious-Bridget-sighs and t-shirt sheets. I smiled and I couldn't say anything at all, and the gap was so long between words he thought we got cut off and he hung up and called back. When he did his voice was softer. He said he didn't want me to cry, he didn't want me to miss him, he just wanted me to look forward to when he comes home. I nodded and he said I had to answer out loud and we laughed. He loves me. I responded in kind and then he understood where the silence came from.

A bit of a shaky laugh at the end of our call, this seems so much harder than it should be. And this time I have planned for a relatively quiet month ahead. I'll be here by myself getting us through the days and nights until spring break, until Ben's homecoming. It won't be difficult, it will just be quiet. The boys are mostly entrenched in work and life and I have pulled away a tiny bit to take the pressure off of all of them, they have gone so far above and beyond the call in our friendships.

I'm standing on my own two feet and they work, I can take steps and it isn't an agony of effort on my part. Very mild and optimistic progress.

I sound like I have spring fever, don't I? Maybe I do. Maybe I know that on the other side of the next month, Ben comes home. I know that on the other side of being lonely is being loved. I know that on the other side of this goddamned cold there will be warmth. And if I distract myself and stay busy and keep working as hard as I can, eventually we'll be there. With Ben, in love and warm.

It isn't much to ask for. Perhaps it's just the right amount.