Where we'll be safe; Where we'll be sound.

Good morning from the most naive person in the entire world.

I should have been tipped off. I thought Ben couldn't pull himself together enough even to scramble the private plane and save me the agony of eight hours in my white noise hell of airports and airplanes where I sat directly in front of the gate and still almost missed the boarding call and then fought to hear everything else besides.

The poor college boy beside me on the flight thought I would be such a promising traveling companion until even after telling him I was flying without my hearing aids he attempted to carry on a regular conversation and gave up an hour in. I finally put on headphones and closed my eyes and let Trent Reznor welcome me to the big apple.

Where I didn't want to be. I made it to the coast with a panic attack barely in check, exhausted and scared to death.

When I saw Ben I realized he was...fine. He smiled, a huge unabashed grin when he saw me. He was sober. I was all what the fuck? and hello, I'm flying in to a strange city at night alone and what the fuck? and trying to get a cab that won't try and take all my American cash in one go and find the hotel and I didn't have a room number and they weren't going to tell me it and finally he appeared out of nowhere. He hugged me so hard I was immediately wondering who rescued who but then I was still so worried. I had no idea what the fuck was going on.

He didn't know any other way to stop what we shouldn't have started. He didn't want to open the envelope and have a ring fall out into his hand. He didn't want it to be over and he didn't want such a blow up over extended dates but he was scared to death to tell me. And then when Caleb showed up at my house Ben tried to get away to come home and couldn't and so he planned the whole ruse with help.

We stood in the middle of the lobby and in whispers he told me that yes, he lied. And yes, he knew I was mad and disappointed but that he didn't care because I was safe, I was with him and he was so very sorry but dammit if he wasn't going to find a way to get me out of there.

He said he got out of the last two dates and would be back by April Fools which is fitting. I laughed until I cried. Mostly in relief but I was still mad and I was exhausted from the long night. I started to cry in the lobby. Then he did too, so he took me up to the room he had booked.

Guess what room he had for us?

Yes, the butlered suite.The one with the piano (oh, and the automatic "honeymoon" package, which is what prompted Lochlan to start thickly spreading the not-so-subtle suggestion that maybe Ben and Bridget had run off and gotten married, when I called to tell him I had made it safely).

When we got inside and squared away and Ben orchestrated room service and a masseuse for Sunday, he encouraged me to tell him how I really felt.

So I did. It was outstanding. Harsh and unrehearsed and uncensored and then he had some words of his own. For the first time in our lives we listened to each other without a single interruption and then grabbed each other in an incredibly fierce and tearful hug.

We realized we now stood at just a little more important of a place to each other than ever before, and that's where we are now.

Then I was sent to take a shower, which pretty much finished me off. When I came out I took one bite of food from the table set up by the balcony doors and then I begged him to eat all of it so I could just sleep. I headed for the bedroom and almost walked into a mirror. I was asleep before I landed on the giant bed. I briefly wondered how I was going to climb on to, it was so high. What is it with tall hotel beds?

At some point I had a massage. I don't remember when. Ben says midnight that night. Ha.

Through the late night Saturday and well into lunchtime on Sunday I slept, and then we opted to stay in that giant bed and make it up to each other.

Sunday evening was an evening spent largely alone, thanks to Ben's schedule. By ten I was sitting cross-legged on the bed in Ben's t-shirt and nothing else, eating pizza and talking to Schuyler and Dan on the phone. Ben walked in a few hours later and said that was the best thing he had ever seen, even though I had tomato sauce on my elbow and one knee and was struggling to stay awake still. We took our final abbreviated night to try and store up enough of each other to last the next two weeks.

I was sent home very early this morning on the pretty little plane, happy to skip the chaos of trying to navigate public flying in a roaring vacuum. I had barely set foot back on earth when Ben was on the phone, saying the world had reverted back to black and white the moment I was out of sight for him, and that he would be home soon, and things will be fine. That he loves me. That he was headed out to buy me a present, but he wouldn't say what it was.

And then he thanked me for coming to save him.

    The doorway stands ajar,
    The walls that once were high.
    Beyond the gilded cage,
    Beyond the reach of ties.
    The moment is at hand.
    She breaks the golden band.

Big quiet apples.

I have had far too much coffee for someone my size.

I am still in New York. The rescue wasn't so much about me rescuing Ben, but about Ben rescuing me. A lovely convoluted approach was used to pull this off, which I will tell you about tomorrow when I fly home.

And Loch! Knock it the fuck off with the rumors! Thanks. Geez, guys.

YYZ to LGA

Today's post is brought to you by the airport in Toronto, where I wait presently to catch my connecting flight to New York.

A short recap. Caleb left his card (with the number of the car service on the back) on the front porch and went to his hotel (I haven't heard from him since), I hit my laptop keyboard face-first in what can only be described as wonderful sleep, and late this morning Ben called me on Mark's phone (not blocked) and asked for help. Asked for my help. Explained nothing. Asked if I would come to him. Pleading with me to come to him, his words all over the place in dips and slurs of exhaustion and God knows what else.

And I said I would.

I'm somewhat terrified but hanging in there. I should feel good that I get to rescue someone else for a change but right now I just wish I was home and I wish Ben was there with me.

Quiet night.

Ben is going to party his way through the weekend. Two people have already sent me some photos that I deleted without opening the files. Maybe to get me to rescue him, maybe to rub it in. I'm not sure.

I sent for the courier and had his ring and his chip sent to him express. It cost a fortune but he should have them now or shortly. I'm not playing games and I can't give even an ounce of my fledgling heart to someone I can't depend on. Sure, I trust him. But not with everything.

And the devil himself showed up on my doorstep a little while ago. I didn't answer the door and so he called me and I answered the phone but I didn't say anything. He asked if I wanted to come out to play. I continued the silence and he tried some other tactics, including telling me he knew how others were spending their weekends, meaning he knew what Ben was doing. He proceeded to fill me in in excruciating detail until I finally said just stop. Then he softened a little bit and asked if I just wanted company, that he could come in and we could have some dinner and just talk and he sounded like his brother and my hand was on the goddamned knob. I was going to let Caleb in. His games are predictable. I can take them or leave them. I know what to expect from him.

But that's just it. I know what to expect from him. I pressed END on my phone. I took my hand off the knob and backed away from the door. I walked out of the foyer and down the hall to the den where I flipped on a few lights and drew the heavy drapes across the wall of windows. I made sure the door was locked and I sat down at the desk.

I think I'll write tonight. Anything else would simply be too dangerous.

No further progress.

    So there's problems in your life
    That's fucked up, and I'm not blind
    I'm just see-through faded, super-jaded
    And out of my mind

Sometimes I wish I had a little more notice to prepare, as everything shifts forward by twenty hours and it takes me fifty just to catch up. The kids are gone. Good luck to the flight attendants. Cole's mother had a crash course in Henry's health issues and Ruth was armed with her sketchbooks and a million stories to tell. At the last minute Ruth asked if she could bring her laptop. I almost laughed out loud but I told her very gently that if she wrote her stories longhand in her journal she could transcribe them when she gets home. As an afterthought she told me she loved me. I think this is a relief for them. No, I know it is.

Cole's mother didn't arrive alone, by the way, which means the evil one is roaming this city. Apparently he is "at the office."

I don't even know how to begin to tell you about Ben so maybe just nevermind.
Posted by Bridget at Friday, March 14, 2008 Links to this post
To be continued.

I'm fine. Really. Yesterday's short comment in the afternoon about taking the high road and ignoring the calls and emails was taken down after a short discourse on how cold I was being.

Stuff.

To soften it, Ben made sure I was happy when he made his wake up call this morning. You know, the one in which he finally told me that the dates are extended through the first week of April.

Something he knew for a couple of weeks now (FINE, a week. He knew for a week, because somehow that MAKES IT ALL OKAY). The end date of March 17 had been retracted the day after it came out, and he didn't have the guts to tell me. Even after encouraging me to tell the kids when I said I wasn't going to tell them at all, in case it got moved back. It had already been moved back and he still pushed for me to give them something to be excited about.

I'm going ahead with my plans. Cole's mom arrives this weekend. She's with you-know-who in Toronto right now and then she'll come here, spend a night visit for a few hours because of the weather, take the kids back to the farm, and then after five days they'll be handed off to Jacob's parents, who will bring them back at the end of spring break as they accompany Erin back out-she is moving back out west permanently.

I'm excited that she's coming back for good. I'm thrilled that the grandparents are doing this for Ruth and Henry who are so excited they no longer sleep or wait turns to talk, chattering nonstop about the fun they're going to have. The kids being away will buy me a little time with telling them Ben is delayed.

Since Mark is with Ben, PJ and I are slightly cooling and Joel is gone, that leaves me alone to torture John, Andrew, Rob and August. Who are all busy and doing their thing and Ben had asked with a cringe of fear if I would just not be upset and I told him I wasn't and he was so relieved I think he promised to somehow make all my dreams come true whenever it is that he gets off his merry go round, when he's done and comes home and is bored and back to mundane real life.

I let him say whatever would ease his guilt because right between us, there on the phone was a huge flashing sign that said YOU LIED AGAIN and I wonder what else he's lied about and I wonder why I lied to him when I really was upset about it but instead I just pressed my off button and let it ride to preserve the day. It didn't work. It's sinking in that they're all selfish jerks who just take what they want and they leave the fallout all over the place and never clean up their mess.

I'm here, cleaning it up alone. But it isn't working and it just keeps happening and I'm not sure if they take advantage because I'm so fragile or if I just pick men that can't handle things and self-destruct but I know that somewhere, deep down, something has to give and I can't give anymore. I feel like calling up every last one of the guys and screaming them fully awake, telling them they knew. How could they encourage me so soon, how could they implore me to throw myself deeper into something knowing that when it didn't work that I'd be that much worse off because I haven't had time to figure out how to catch myself? I can watch myself fall, I can watch myself get smashed onto the pavement and it's curiously gratifying. Maybe now I can change my name and move somewhere benign and just start again.

Maybe I could find someone who isn't going to hurt me or lie to me or just use me.

Maybe pigs will fly.

Told.

Predictably Ben called and told me to stop protecting him. That his perfect woman was six feet tall and had dark hair and was really together but for some reason I got stuck in his heart and never got unstuck and that he's really fucking thrilled to be with me, and if I thought that making him out to be the bad guy here and trying to make him mad enough to walk away was going to work, that I don't know him at all. That he is hundreds of miles away and worried sick about me and all he wants to do is come home but that the worry is preferable to being without me altogether.

And then he said to knock it off and just go get through the last five days and then things will be better but he was going to go crazy if he had read any more of my attempts to derail myself when it comes to him.

I promised him I would try and then asked if he was kidding when he said his perfect woman was my exact opposite.

He said no.

I think I deserved that. I developed a lump in my throat the size of my fist. He said that told him more than anything I could write in this stupid journal and that he loves me, that he has since we met and he will when we're dead. Then he asked if I was okay with the whole idea of necrophilia.

I did say he was a weirdo. A really, really sweet one though.

Nose to nose.

    I don't have faith in faith
    I don't believe in belief
    You can call me faithless
    I still cling to hope
    And I believe in love
    And that's faith enough for me

Things were a little harder on Ben's last night home.

One of my biggest fears about falling in love again revolves around the risk that Ben might do something Jacob used to. Or Cole, more likely but still, while Jacob used second-nature actions and went on gut-feeling, I can't expect everything Ben does when he touches me or talks to me to be one hundred percent new or different.

So it's not and it's difficult and I have torn myself away from more embraces or moments than you could shake a stick at and one moment of overwhelming closeness that dissolved into horror on both our parts the night he instinctively traced my bottom lip and I completely shut down and he got angry and these are a different kind of eggshells to walk on, honestly.

They're all so much alike and it's why I loved them and Ben isn't perfect, not even close the way Jacob was and he'll never be as smooth as Cole could be but his heart is huge and his incredible grasp of simply living life as it goes along is monumental. He isn't like them, he's different in so many ways. You can't believe how wonderful he can be. Or how cruel. Wait, that puts him back in the Cole-likeness territory. Which figures.

He rubbed my lip again because he said he liked it, that it was intimate and incredible and close and that was what he wanted me to be to him and that I would get used to it maybe or maybe not but he wasn't going to second-guess himself with me to avoid the ghosts we keep.

I agreed and within half a minute we were nose to nose and that was so familiar too and I closed my eyes and then when I opened them again I was swimming in warm tiger-eye browns and his expression-rich face that is so incredibly solid and sure in spite of his reputation.

Beautiful. He said sleeping with me was underrated, that loving me was beyond what he had expected. I just stared into his eyes. He said he thought he loved me before, he had no idea.

I have ruined him, too.

He said he thinks of little else these days and I cut him off, reminding me that he built me into this, he's elevated me beyond my place, that he could not make me responsible for his own mistakes or his feelings. His whole face changed and he grabbed me and this time it wasn't sweet and soft and gingerly, it was harsh, painful and frightening. He said it wasn't a mistake and that he had tasted life, in every wonderful moment that could be, and now he knew what life was all about. What Bridget was all about. He understood what happens, at last.

We would have fought with it all night but finally in tears and exhaustion we fell asleep, arms around each other, Bridget squished underneath Ben's big frame as he was so worn out and I was so tired of the circles I think in.

In the morning he looked at me and said sadly that I was not forever, was I? I shook my head and said I didn't know. He broke down, mashing the pillow over his face to hide from me and I rubbed his back and told him I wasn't worth whatever he would go through and he tore the pillow away and shook me hard, saying something that will forever be burned into my mind.

But that's just it. It IS worth it. You ARE worth it. But am I worth it?

What do you mean?

I mean if you hold your breath every time I touch you in case it feels the same to you, am I worth that pain to you? Will you deal with that pain to be with me?

I will.

Then I'm not planning to mince words or actions. I hung out with the guys for the last billion years, it doesn't matter if we share moves or words. The point is, this is about you and I and has absofuckinglutely nothing to do with Jake or Cole. Can you live with that?

I can.

No, really, because I don't plan to complicate this. I'm not going to fight with you.

Oh please. We're born so complicated.

Bridget, look at me.

What?

Who am I?

You are Ben.

Who am I not?

Oh, he was going to torture me now. I was reduced to hoarse whispers and trembling elbows.

You're not Jacob. You aren't Cole.

Good, then everything is new by default.

By default.

Yes, your favorite expression. You think I miss stuff. I don't. I hear every word you've ever said and done everything you've ever asked of me and now it's time you did something for me.

What?

Don't make everything so hard or so profound. You're the person I went to when I wanted to feel happy. The one who always made me feel better and came up with fun things to do or make me laugh at the drop of a hat. You traded insults better than any of the guys. Where is that Bridget?

She's dead.

She isn't dead.

Oh, she's fucking dead.

Then I'm dead too.

Nice.
He laughed and repeated that I wasn't dead. He is coming back with expectations. I know he is and I don't want to be in the position. The position of having to watch over his heart so that it doesn't get broken. Again.

Hesitating on the edge of I don't even know what.

    It's been a while since you last saw me
    One breaks down and the other ones fade
    These eyes can see the days break
    Too late for the other's mistakes

    Sit down laugh thinking what have we done
    Let me inside
    Is it all over before it's begun
    Please give me some time

The demand for emotion-filled posts on how I feel, how I'm doing seems to be blood for your veins and no one, even me, seems content to pass off a review or a few lines about how I spent a morning.

Interesting. Who is the masochist now?

Okay, I am, that wasn't fair, was it?

Here's the thing. Overwhelmingly, the most frequent question I get asked, aside from the please, write more porn one is why do I keep writing?

I promise, when I get to have more sex, I'll write about it. Until then we can all be frustrated together.

Here is why: I'm a writer, and I'm also loathe to leave anything unfinished. Walking away from this journal that will be four years old soon would be like turning off a movie you're really enjoying before the conclusion. I'm waiting to write my own happy ending.

I'm waiting to write better entries. I'm waiting to have better days. I'm trying to take deep breaths again and I'm learning to not worry about Ben dying or everyone leaving or winding up in hell where the fight over me will rage on. I'm content to have this incredibly stinging existence where I know I am loved and I can love in return but with a heaping serving of deja vu so large it throws a shadow on everything and keeps the sunlight from reaching the ground where I stand.

I'm going to get there. I'm looking forward to it.

I woke up alone this morning, alone with my smile. The sun came up and I threw open the window and beamed back at it. My friends called and I greeted each one of them with a happy good morning wish instead of my customary Hey. I walked the dog listening to happy music. I did some long-ignored clearing out of closets I haven't opened in months.

I found some strength. I found a little hope. I found that I might be able to get through this after all. Things get better. John gave me a rabbit's foot this morning as I stood on the field watching him take down the boards around the ice rink that Jacob helped construct at the beginning of the winter. He told me it would bring me luck. I told him he was right, it probably would.

Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.

Hey. Short and sweet. A Bridget staple.

In between learning how to give Henry his asthma medications and listening to Ben tell me in great detail what he'd like to do to PJ when he gets home next week and the temperatures being on the right side of zero, I have a request.

Go watch Across the Universe. Right now. Turn it up.

Now go buy the DVD.

It's that good. I cried the first time I saw the trailer a year ago (don't tease me, please), and not only because I'm a huge Beatles fan but because it looked passionate. it was. For anyone who cringes thinking of covering Beatles songs and how good could they possibly be, rest assured. They are.

Soundtrack also available. Right now it's shaking the paintings right off my walls.

All the guys loved it. The kids loved it, we all pledged to watch it again this weekend. Ben watched it the same night and loved it. It's awesome, I'm falling back on that word again. I can't even describe why I liked it so much. Let's just say it had a little bit of everything in it, but between the music and the emotions and the total visual overload, I'm happy that movies like this are still being made.

For the record, I will try to keep PJ safe (STOP LAUGHING) from Ben and Henry is absolutely okay, it's very mild, and mostly manifesting in chronic coughing. He's my little man, such a trooper.

    See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
    I'm crying.