Angels and buttercream.

Flickering between the lines.
Stolen moments floating softly on the air,
Borne on wings of fire and climbing higher.

Ancient bonds are breaking,
Moving on and changing sides.
Dreaming of a new day,
Cast aside the other way.

Angels and buttercream. That's what Ben said I smelled like when I threw myself into his arms last Tuesday, and that's what he said again Friday night when I repeated that hug after leaving in a hurry Thursday night, thanks to Lochlan attempting a predictable strong-arm against our freedoms, thanks to those promises carved into stone made by the guys, thanks to Cole. Thanks to Jake, who flew away, and thanks to Ben himself, who couldn't quite get and keep himself under control.

I won't be hurt. The kids and I are to be safe no matter what.

And we tried everything and when everything still wasn't enough, Ben went away for a little while. He went to detoxify himself from the drugs and alcohol and re-learn how to exist without needing it.

He went to rehab, okay? What most people would call a nice cushy kind-of resort high up in the mountains, he calls the hardest work of his life, where he had to learn to be open and transparent and where he learned new ways to cope and new ways to behave and a whole new set of methods on dealing with people and situations who would have formerly driven him to take a drink or make a line and check himself right out of reality.

It's been difficult, to put it mildly and for those who came here over the last month to read and found nothing to see might want to understand how hard it has been. I didn't want him to go, I would have kept him fucked up and difficult. They made him go, because I don't make my own decisions and Ben doesn't either. She won't be hurt by you, they told him and he went because I promised I wouldn't give my heart away while he was gone. And I didn't. I gave away all kinds of things but I kept my heart. I kept it for Ben because it belongs to Ben.

Five weeks was a long time for a girl who loves as hard as I do, affection-whoreish, heart-on-sleeve, fluttery and unable to make decisions and choices past who I want a hug from at any particular moment. And finally the week that families can come and join into the work and the rewards arrived and I was a mess, frankly.

I got that first hug from Benjamin and then I went to bits and Duncan agreed to come down and keep watch so I could sleep and he brought Corey (Say hi to the internet, Corey!) but then Lochlan gave them the sky-race of their lives, beating them to me and telling me Ben was never going to be trusted or worthy or just about anything else.

Or so I thought I heard, because that's mostly what he ever says. So I told him I needed a walk to clear my head and I kissed Ben goodbye and told him I needed some sleep and then I took my sorry, misinterpreted ass to the airport and came home.

And shit, I got it wrong. Lochlan isn't Caleb. There's no evil there. Only concern. Valid and long-suffering concern and Jesus, nail her to the goddamned floor so she'll listen, wouldja?

Ten hours later, I went back and we sorted all of it out and all the guys present, namely Daniel and Lochlan and Duncan and Corey and August and the kids and I and yes, even Ben, got to sort through the mess we have made of our collective, tangled existence and we made our plans for the present and even a tiny little bit into the future.

It doesn't involve Lochlan.

Except as a friend and a support-pillar sometimes but otherwise we've kicked out one side of the triangle and now we're just a dot again. A super-imposed, melted-together oneness of being and things are going to stay this way.

Bridget and Ben versus the world.

Ben really did well. The interesting part is he didn't need that much of a push to get himself back where he needed to be but he brought home more than he's giving up. He managed to get back around and find the handle he used to have on life. The weirdly quiet and stoic and vaguely crazy, funny, beautiful man who promised to love me in sickness and utter depravity (actual words from our wedding) returned and I'm so happy I could cry.

True to form there is cake, and all the guys are here to welcome him home to his life and he's not going to get a chance to try and fuck it up again and he no longer wants to but for now everything is going to be second by moment by hour by day and nothing more.

Only it's everything more.

He's home. Home with his family and we get one more chance at getting this right.

It's important. If you pray, say a prayer that he continues to do as well as he has so far, and say one that my strength holds because he feels better when I feel stronger and I feel stronger when he feels better and it's a vicious cycle I'd be thrilled to get stuck in forever.

Home. One of those good four-letter words. Ben is home.

Happy first anniversary, Benjamin. I love you.

Angels and buttercream.

Flickering between the lines.
Stolen moments floating softly on the air,
Borne on wings of fire and climbing higher.

Ancient bonds are breaking,
Moving on and changing sides.
Dreaming of a new day,
Cast aside the other way.

Angels and buttercream. That's what Ben said I smelled like when I threw myself into his arms last Tuesday, and that's what he said again Friday night when I repeated that hug after leaving in a hurry Thursday night, thanks to Lochlan attempting a predictable strong-arm against our freedoms, thanks to those promises carved into stone made by the guys, thanks to Cole. Thanks to Jake, who flew away, and thanks to Ben himself, who couldn't quite get and keep himself under control.

I won't be hurt. The kids and I are to be safe no matter what.

And we tried everything and when everything still wasn't enough, Ben went away for a little while. He went to detoxify himself from the drugs and alcohol and re-learn how to exist without needing it.

He went to rehab, okay? What most people would call a nice cushy kind-of resort high up in the mountains, he calls the hardest work of his life, where he had to learn to be open and transparent and where he learned new ways to cope and new ways to behave and a whole new set of methods on dealing with people and situations who would have formerly driven him to take a drink or make a line and check himself right out of reality.

It's been difficult, to put it mildly and for those who came here over the last month to read and found nothing to see might want to understand how hard it has been. I didn't want him to go, I would have kept him fucked up and difficult. They made him go, because I don't make my own decisions and Ben doesn't either. She won't be hurt by you, they told him and he went because I promised I wouldn't give my heart away while he was gone. And I didn't. I gave away all kinds of things but I kept my heart. I kept it for Ben because it belongs to Ben.

Five weeks was a long time for a girl who loves as hard as I do, affection-whoreish, heart-on-sleeve, fluttery and unable to make decisions and choices past who I want a hug from at any particular moment. And finally the week that families can come and join into the work and the rewards arrived and I was a mess, frankly.

I got that first hug from Benjamin and then I went to bits and Duncan agreed to come down and keep watch so I could sleep and he brought Corey (Say hi to the internet, Corey!) but then Lochlan gave them the sky-race of their lives, beating them to me and telling me Ben was never going to be trusted or worthy or just about anything else.

Or so I thought I heard, because that's mostly what he ever says. So I told him I needed a walk to clear my head and I kissed Ben goodbye and told him I needed some sleep and then I took my sorry, misinterpreted ass to the airport and came home.

And shit, I got it wrong. Lochlan isn't Caleb. There's no evil there. Only concern. Valid and long-suffering concern and Jesus, nail her to the goddamned floor so she'll listen, wouldja?

Ten hours later, I went back and we sorted all of it out and all the guys present, namely Daniel and Lochlan and Duncan and Corey and August and the kids and I and yes, even Ben, got to sort through the mess we have made of our collective, tangled existence and we made our plans for the present and even a tiny little bit into the future.

It doesn't involve Lochlan.

Except as a friend and a support-pillar sometimes but otherwise we've kicked out one side of the triangle and now we're just a dot again. A super-imposed, melted-together oneness of being and things are going to stay this way.

Bridget and Ben versus the world.

Ben really did well. The interesting part is he didn't need that much of a push to get himself back where he needed to be but he brought home more than he's giving up. He managed to get back around and find the handle he used to have on life. The weirdly quiet and stoic and vaguely crazy, funny, beautiful man who promised to love me in sickness and utter depravity (actual words from our wedding) returned and I'm so happy I could cry.

True to form there is cake, and all the guys are here to welcome him home to his life and he's not going to get a chance to try and fuck it up again and he no longer wants to but for now everything is going to be second by moment by hour by day and nothing more.

Only it's everything more.

He's home. Home with his family and we get one more chance at getting this right.

It's important. If you pray, say a prayer that he continues to do as well as he has so far, and say one that my strength holds because he feels better when I feel stronger and I feel stronger when he feels better and it's a vicious cycle I'd be thrilled to get stuck in forever.

Home. One of those good four-letter words. Ben is home.

Happy first anniversary, Benjamin. I love you.

Cancel all of my drama and ignore the now-deleted entry that you may or may not have caught. I was home and now I'm going back to spend the weekend with Ben. Taking the kids. And Daniel and August. Ben will fly back with us Monday. God knows, Bridget loves to play plane-tag. Everything must be on a larger scale. Everything.

XOX,
b

Cancel all of my drama and ignore the now-deleted entry that you may or may not have caught. I was home and now I'm going back to spend the weekend with Ben. Taking the kids. And Daniel and August. Ben will fly back with us Monday. God knows, Bridget loves to play plane-tag. Everything must be on a larger scale. Everything.

XOX,
b

Quick update.

Looks like I have three minutes so I can update those of you I haven't emailed already. There is hardly internet access here, so I doubt there will be any more updates until we're home again.

We're, I said.

I'm flying home Saturday, Ben will follow on Sunday. He would have been home last week but he wasn't quite ready, he really wanted us to have this week here so we can get as much help as we can get before we head home to a new sponsor for him, a new plan for support, a new pretty-much-everything. A fresh start.

Seems fitting, as our first wedding anniversary is on Sunday.

Yesterday was difficult. Ben took the whole day to warm up to me, to see that I really am on board with this and I'm really not switching teams to play for Lochlanville for the remainder of the season. Once he warmed up we were off and running and aside from a rather spectacular ten minutes when I went to rubber and blacked right out mid-conversation (which is NOT FUN, let me tell you and put me on the sidelines for half of today because I haven't eaten or slept or unclenched all that much but I'm feeling better and whoever started the pregnant rumor, once again, can kiss it and you know what IT is) everything has been going really well.

Really well. Cautiously well. Good. Steadily forward and upward.

(Okay, Duncan is coming. I've got too much downtime stuck-in-a-hotel-driving-myself-mad time and haven't slept yet.)

Ben has worked really hard over the past five weeks. I thought he did it because of the fear of the mass migration to Lochlanville. But not. He worked hard because he wanted to. He wanted to stop and he wanted to feel whole again and he wanted to stop escaping into Ben-land where everything is hypnotic swirls and black hallways that tilt crazily and loud guitars that ring in your ear long after the switch on the amplifier has been flicked off.

He wanted to be Ben again and with however many stops and starts he has had over the past four years, he finally put his fear aside and his pride on the shelf and he's doing what he set out to do. He wants to be a good role model for his stepchildren because it's something he would like to do for them, instead of failing them like everyone else has. A need to make something right out of all this wrong.

With any luck and all this hard work continuing, with the plans and the support he has falling into place now, I think he's got a very good chance, but I won't say any more, I can't jinx it. I can't predict it. He's going to do it or he's not, and nothing I do or don't do will change a thing, I'm just the back-up singer.

But oh, what a lovely song. I've waited forever to hear it, and I'm not disappointed.

Enjoy the rest of the week. See you soon.

(PJ! Please record Ice Road Truckers for me. They don't have it here and I forgot to ask you before. Love you guys. b. )

Quick update.

Looks like I have three minutes so I can update those of you I haven't emailed already. There is hardly internet access here, so I doubt there will be any more updates until we're home again.

We're, I said.

I'm flying home Saturday, Ben will follow on Sunday. He would have been home last week but he wasn't quite ready, he really wanted us to have this week here so we can get as much help as we can get before we head home to a new sponsor for him, a new plan for support, a new pretty-much-everything. A fresh start.

Seems fitting, as our first wedding anniversary is on Sunday.

Yesterday was difficult. Ben took the whole day to warm up to me, to see that I really am on board with this and I'm really not switching teams to play for Lochlanville for the remainder of the season. Once he warmed up we were off and running and aside from a rather spectacular ten minutes when I went to rubber and blacked right out mid-conversation (which is NOT FUN, let me tell you and put me on the sidelines for half of today because I haven't eaten or slept or unclenched all that much but I'm feeling better and whoever started the pregnant rumor, once again, can kiss it and you know what IT is) everything has been going really well.

Really well. Cautiously well. Good. Steadily forward and upward.

(Okay, Duncan is coming. I've got too much downtime stuck-in-a-hotel-driving-myself-mad time and haven't slept yet.)

Ben has worked really hard over the past five weeks. I thought he did it because of the fear of the mass migration to Lochlanville. But not. He worked hard because he wanted to. He wanted to stop and he wanted to feel whole again and he wanted to stop escaping into Ben-land where everything is hypnotic swirls and black hallways that tilt crazily and loud guitars that ring in your ear long after the switch on the amplifier has been flicked off.

He wanted to be Ben again and with however many stops and starts he has had over the past four years, he finally put his fear aside and his pride on the shelf and he's doing what he set out to do. He wants to be a good role model for his stepchildren because it's something he would like to do for them, instead of failing them like everyone else has. A need to make something right out of all this wrong.

With any luck and all this hard work continuing, with the plans and the support he has falling into place now, I think he's got a very good chance, but I won't say any more, I can't jinx it. I can't predict it. He's going to do it or he's not, and nothing I do or don't do will change a thing, I'm just the back-up singer.

But oh, what a lovely song. I've waited forever to hear it, and I'm not disappointed.

Enjoy the rest of the week. See you soon.

(PJ! Please record Ice Road Truckers for me. They don't have it here and I forgot to ask you before. Love you guys. b. )

It's very early here but everyone is up and at 'em on a rainy Monday morning. I just thought I would sneak on to let you know that I'm heading out in around an hour to fly to Ben and spend family week with him. Just me. Danny and Schuy will be here with the kids and PJ and Lochlan too, and I should be back on Saturday.

These were not the plans, the plan was that Daniel and I were going to fly down on Saturday and spend a whole day with Ben and then fly back Monday morning but Ben decided that he wants me there for the whole thing. I think he's done posturing now and I'm off before he changes his mind again. I could tell you how much I've missed him but you wouldn't get it.

Wish me luck. This is something new.

It's very early here but everyone is up and at 'em on a rainy Monday morning. I just thought I would sneak on to let you know that I'm heading out in around an hour to fly to Ben and spend family week with him. Just me. Danny and Schuy will be here with the kids and PJ and Lochlan too, and I should be back on Saturday.

These were not the plans, the plan was that Daniel and I were going to fly down on Saturday and spend a whole day with Ben and then fly back Monday morning but Ben decided that he wants me there for the whole thing. I think he's done posturing now and I'm off before he changes his mind again. I could tell you how much I've missed him but you wouldn't get it.

Wish me luck. This is something new.

Never listen when they tell you she's broken because she's not.

(Dear reader, this post isn't for you, it's for me. So please don't send me hatemail today. That is all.)

New like a baby
Lost like a prayer
The sky was your playground
But the cold ground was your bed
Poor stargazer
She's got no tears in her eyes
Smooth like whisper
She knows that love heals all wounds with time
Now it seems like too much love
Is never enough,
you better seek out another road
'cause this one has ended abrupt,
say hello to heaven

It's a sort of cinnamon-sugar-dipped finger day, a discard the striped tights for bare legs day, a day where you squint when you first open the curtains and a day to listen to very old and much beloved music.

It's a day for fresh-squeezed beginnings and toasted dreams.

It's making me smile. I have four days to go before I get on a plane and get to see the brown eyes that have taken over my thoughts permanently and four days to begin to make my peace with the blue eyes I'm going to leave behind. And it all feels rather abrupt and final and like a relief with an undercurrent of excited recklessness.

Everyone has always said that time heals, leaving us to hope and assume and guess that it's going to be gradual and painless and as slow as molasses, that we can watch and gauge progress, a high water mark that will recede visibly and we can draw lines and marvel at the change.

It doesn't work like that. It's fast but it's painful and obvious. One minute you're walking down a familiar path, breath choked in your throat, eyes misted over, fumbling along hoping you don't trip and get sucked into the emotional quicksand you've been out-walking like the living dead for months and years and days and nights, oh those endless nights and then there's that switch that gets flicked and in a flash of terrible, blinding pain, everything is gone.

Gone.

The road beneath my feet is firm and dry and stable. My green eyes are clear and I can see. I can take a deep breath and suck it far down into my lungs. I can let go of a hand for just a moment and it doesn't scare me to do so.

Some warning would have been nice but I didn't get it and that's okay too because I'm pretty sure I won't fall because I risked a look back over my shoulder and the quicksand pool was gone and the emotional bounty on my soul has been rescinded and oh, I need another deep breath.

So unexpected and yet so welcome too.

I've said before I have no user manual, and that grief has no roadmap. I've challenged everyone I have ever met to prove to me that my head was going to fit their mold, that my behavior would follow their predictions, that my heart would make sense.

I've proven them all wrong, not wrong in their studies or in their theories, just wrong in that not everyone can find comfort in some set of stages or group of behaviors or chain of feelings. That if you feel alone and you don't seem to fit and experts run out of answers and friends run out of patience and you run out of strength that it doesn't make you a bad person or a crazy person or a person who can't be helped.

It just makes you you.

Exactly who you're supposed to be.

Visibly and invisibly different.

Beautiful, beautiful me.

Communion on the run.

Sam and I ran last night. We ran until I gave out and sobered up and admitted that I didn't have control of my day or my brain, but I did have control of my life and this wasn't going to change that. He reminded me that I knew anyway, she didn't have anything new to add, it didn't serve to change anything Jacob had written in his letters or journals.

It isn't news, he said and I know he is right. Sam is always right. Sam was a quiet observer into my life with Jacob and he is louder now and he has never failed me yet when it comes to administering huge doses of reality and peace in his still rather quiet verbal measures, timed carefully to land like wonderful little bombs of knowledge in between the squealing as my brain takes corners too fast. He picks the quiet spots and I hear him. He prays and I hear him.

Every time.

So I came home, dry and tired and no longer overwhelmed and I packed up the envelope stuffed with Jacob's writing and I put it in the box with his journals and his letters and I watched a movie with Christian and the kids and then the kids went to bed and Christian went home and I took a long hot shower and went to bed, reading for a while. I heard the alarm ring when Lochlan came in late from work and I thought about going down to talk to him but then it was morning and the sun was out and yesterday is over.

Over.

Kind of like Jake.

Just...over.

Maybe some other time when I'm not feeling so fragile I'll read what Sophie gave me. God knows, maybe she feels the same way. I gave her the envelope full of pictures she had asked for months and months ago, and even though they weren't right for each other and she endured being with someone who openly wanted someone else, she cared about Jake. She cared and she doesn't blame me because she saw things that I was too self-centered to see, and maybe like minds are brought together because only someone even more fragile than Jacob was had the ability to make him feel strong. He was strong, I don't care what anyone says or what they read or what they assume, he was strong. He fought through all of his demons for so long and he was strong when I needed him so badly and when I no longer needed him to be like that he could stop pretending.

This would be the part where I say I could have continued to be brittle and breakable forever if it meant he would still be here but I can't control that. I'm not responsible for him and if anything, his life should serve as a warning, that if you know there are glaring issues in someone's life, help them.

Just help them.

My friends are doing it for me. We're all doing it for Ben. Today marks one full month that Ben has been away at a place that is going to help him kick his habits for good, and he wouldn't still be there if it wasn't for the support of his friends, his family. That's why I'm flying down next week. It's family week and we've been invited to go and cheer him on and give him whatever he needs to continue to get better.

There's been enough casualties in this war of a life and there aren't going to be any more.

And Sam says no more martinis. Which is fine, I said that at 3 pm yesterday. It was uncharacteristic. I don't drink so much anymore. it doesn't help. It doesn't help anyone.