You can't buy Bovinty Divinty anymore.

PJ isn't on my shitlist anymore. He's been on two dates now with a new girl, having opted to call the other one-night-stand a learning experience and move on from her. He reported back that he listened, asked all the right questions, was a gentleman, and has a third date punched into his calendar for this weekend. Go, Padraig! I'm sure it doesn't help matters that one of his best girl friends is a dysfunctional lunatic and I told him as much. He told me to stop being stupid and just enjoy that I get to hear about his dates.

For the record Christian and Chloe are as thick as thieves. I hardly see him anymore and I am so happy for him. He still calls every single day to talk, though. I told him not to, that he didn't have to and again, I was called names, gently. Don't be such a little pain in the ass, Bridge.

Today is a holiday but like most days in my world, it doesn't really mean anything different. Working from home means if I want to know the date I need to look on my watch or on the computer because otherwise I truly have no idea. I do have a large quantity of chocolate and bunny-related items hidden away for Sunday, when the kids return from the coast.

Both my mother and Sam already called and tag-teamed me this morning with suggestions that I go to church today. I thanked both politely and said I might, which is Bridget-speak for no, thank you.

Besides, I got a better offer (sorry, God).

Daniel and Schuyler are coming soon to spend the whole day/evening with me. They want to eat strange food and watch movies and gossip about Ben and PJ and be goofy. They said they'll drag me out for a manicure tomorrow. I could probably use it. My hands stopped cracking, thanks to the weather warming and one lovely reader's suggestion of paraffin (which I get in the form of dip gloves). I've stopped biting my nails again so it might be nice. Ben painted my toenails black last weekend in bed one night and it makes me laugh so maybe I can get matching fingernails.

We're all crazy about each other. Daniel is a shorter, less-intense, less-scary looking version of Ben. He is even more sensitive though. Schuy is laid-back and quiet but always always smiling. They are affectionate as hell. I am free to molest them all I want. I stocked the freezer with hors d'oeuvres (holy, have you ever tried to spell that?) and ice cream.

They'll come armed with comfort and terrific distractions. Good.

In other news. I lost two whole pounds. 122 now. Which will promptly be put back on because besides being Easter, it is Chocolate Weekend. The only weekend in the year where I will have a Cadbury Creme Egg, which look good in theory but after the first bite are really sickly sweet and totally disgusting.

That's usually when I cram the rest of it into my mouth all at once and relish all that is bad for me.

Like chocolate, men, sex and just about everything else worth living for. Life is so short. Eat the whole damned egg, I say.

Hearts only ache when no one is holding them.

I've come to the realization that I've been left in an unenviable position in life.

Holder of hearts. The Keeper.

The very first one I was given was Loch's. Held aloft like a challenge, easily gained via the wiles of a twelve-year-old girl from the other side of the neighborhood, a conquest for your average heartbreaking seventeen-year-old boy. I will argue I no longer have his heart, I passed it back and it's now shared between his girls and they will make it swell with pride.

We survived each other. Maybe? Let's hope.

The next heart was the heaviest. Cole's. Given to me at fifteen and I still carry it today. It is the longest burden, but the clearest cut designation. He may have had a roving eye and roving hands and violence in his spirit but when you stripped all that away, he only ever loved me. He loved me so much he would have rather I died then leave him.

The third heart I was given was Jacob's. The lightest, most hopeful, brightest shining heart of true immature love found in the scope of coveting someone. Blissfully ignorant and sure that he could mold our hearts together and all would be okay. Even when his darkness appeared he still was so damned hopeful. He left his heart with me and I keep it tied to a string so that it doesn't float away.

I have a fourth heart now, one just beginning to bloom with the blush of new love. The weird, unfamiliar ache of a new crush, where everything they do is amazing, every word, no matter how benign before is suddenly a symphony of logic or a sonnet of romantic intent. Ben passed his heart to me. I have dropped his a few times but it is quickly recovered and put into a continuous loop with the others.

Circus girl has a new feature show. I am the juggler.

Five days and five days.

I talked to two thirds of the grandparents today. Cole's folks enjoyed the kids being there, they shared lots of pictures with them, and said they were so well behaved and had fun too. Then I spoke with Jacob's mother. The first thing she told me was how much they both looked like Jacob and I bit my tongue so hard not to cry at the ludicrous sadness of that statement. They are going to paint pictures by the sea and eat wonderful foods and sleep so well again for the next five days, possibly at a slower pace and then Erin flies out with them on Saturday.

Cole's mom said she packed along some pictures for me. Very sweet of her.

I am so polite. I thanked her. Neither of us are that oblivious, and I know she is horrified by Caleb sometimes but at the end of the day she only has one child left and I never want to know how that feels. I can't fathom being in their shoes and so I pretend. We all pretend. That is what you do.

Instead of a pea, there is an orange seed.

The sun beams down through the stained glass onto the floor early in the mornings now. It is light when I get up, a physical lightness of being that helps me shrug off the immense weight of this winter. I cup cold water onto my face and meet my own gaze in the mirror, never failing to notice the pale skin, dark circles under my beautiful eyes. The lines under my eyes are soft but the experience within the halos of green corneas give me away for free.

Inevitable but excusable truths include not being able to get enough sleep, not being able to keep the dust away in this giant, quiet house. The kids will come back in a few more days and play in the sun as it moves from board to board and from the front windows to the back. And then quietly after dinner the beams are suddenly gone and light from artificial sources forces the perceived shadows back into hiding.

Only no one hides from them, we have learned to coexist.

I can't keep up and there are times when I can't even begin. Days and days where I come in from morning errands and crawl back beneath the blankets and read for hours because I am paralyzed somewhere between my emotional labyrinth and the life that waits for me outside the bedroom door. Promises of good things repeated loudly and endlessly and I still have a hard time believing that I will ever be anything more than that fluttery girl with fluttery hands and a fluttery heart, with the quilt pulled up, pretending she isn't even in the room.

Who am I kidding? Of course I will be more. I already am more. I turned a corner and am scooping up handfuls of life to live on my own terms. My life. My precious life with love on my terms and fun on my terms and history on my terms and maybe for the first time there are days I don't do what I'm told and times I don't jump to be a slave to my phone and even moments where I close the laptop and sneak under those covers with an orange and a new book, flaunting every last piece of good advice that says if you peel an orange in close quarters you wind up with a sticky face and sticky sheets and no one will care because it's your bed and your face and your mess and I really need to try this with a box of tea biscuits because crumbs would be more fun and destructive than orange juice in tiny splashes of sweetness or maybe...

...just maybe, I will close my eyes instead and sleep for just a little while longer.

A hiccup in the universe.

First things first. Excuse the dust. I need some color in my life. Loch is nitpicking my ideas to death now and says it isn't quite right yet so if things shift around a bit(which they will, as I revert back to the old design here in the interim), have patience and please feel free to write to me if something is borked or huge or impossible to see or sure, just write to me if you're just solidly convinced I got married over the weekend.

Because I didn't.

Besides, he's American and I'm Canadian. I'm not sure you can just run off and get married anywhere you want. Besides that even, I haven't had enough time and I don't think I want to be Elizabeth Taylor and maybe Ben and I fight too much to make this into anything super-permanent but this is a relationship in it's infancy, starting over from scratch. Let's just enjoy the sweetness of it and not rush anything. I wore the ring from when I got there until I was home because I didn't want to lose it. That's it. I'm conspiracy-weary.

I would tell you every last detail if I had married Ben. Because I love you and you've hung in there through hundreds of very unhappy entries. I would never deny you a happy one, if I had it.

When I have it.

I don't mean marriage, I mean happiness.

Digression. Okay. So excuse the dust and excuse the rumors. And yes, I would marry the guy. Possibly. Eventually. Maybe. I don't know. Think he wants me?

Things are good. I unpacked. All was well. Sometime this afternoon when I got up the water pressure seemed low. I filled an extra pitcher and the kettle and peeked outside for trucks. Nothing. Then the internet went out. Then my cellphone had no service.

I was thinking rapture, perhaps? I called John on the archaic land line and he said not to worry. So I walked the dog and when I came back all was indeed well. It was a hiccup in my greater universe, and now as I wash some dishes and prepare to do a few loads of bedding and winter gear I eye the taps suspiciously because I'm no longer sure I trust them quite one hundred percent to give me a roaring torrent of precious city water. I keep reminding the guys that if I cut out on ICQ or they can't reach me on my phone to call the house or just pop by, that things are weird lately. They laugh and tell me I'm silly.

Just like Ben does, as he makes absolutely no effort to deny the rumors currently swirling around, a hiccup unto himself, that one. Low pressure, perfectly reliable but regarded with suspicion.

Hmm. I just turned my boyfriend into an allegory involving the water supply.

Which means Bridget needs more sleep. Goodnight, folks.

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.