Black clouds with silver linings.

Very long day, bear with me. I need a vacation and not like the mini-Vegas one I just had. That didn't count. What will count is the fact that the children brought home their school picture orders and as soon as Ben gets home we are headed back out for Thai food. The fridge is restocked (so you can come back now, PJ) and neither Lochlan nor Caleb gave me a hard time today. August is a prince among thieves and I finally had a whole cup of coffee like ten minutes ago and plan to sleep the sleep of the dead tonight no matter what. Tomorrow has been canceled due to lack of interest and we're going to make fried potatoes, coffee and bacon and build a fire to keep all day long and watch movies. And it ain't even snowin' yet!

See I can be an optimist, I just need something to work with.

But damn, the day was long and difficult. So damned difficult. I'm done with that. No more please.

ARGHHHHHHH.

Benjamin is watching Hangry & Angry videos right now.

That is all.

(Snort.)

Presenting Miss Bridget Doolittle (oh, but doesn't Eliza Reilly sound more romantic?)

I’m becoming a monster just like you
After it all you’ll try to break me too
Falling forever chasing dreams
I brought you to life
So I can hear you scream

Because I don't know what else to do.

I'm not presentable. I'm not good in high society. I have a small town, south shore-girl accent and under my pretty dress I have dirty bare feet, and a chip on my shoulder that makes my dress hang funny. Awkwardly off my bony white shoulders and it lifts it up a little more and shows that much more thigh which is fine, they're one of my best features.

But no one is looking at my legs, they're always looking at my head because it's mayhem from ear to ear and beautiful chaos from my fivehead to the bottom of my overly pointy chin and Jesus H. Christ on a pancake, don't even get them started on my big quavery green eyes that appear to leak. Steadily. Drip drip drip. The plumber's been in, there is nothing that can be fixed.

How goddamned embarrassing it is and yet I want to yell fuck you into a crowd of people I'm supposed to live to impress and walk out. I don't want to be famous. I've seen what famous does. I've seen what infamous does as well. I want to be quiet and arrange my words and go for hugs when I need them and not talk for days if it suits me lest I open my mouth and all these unrefined and inappropriate emotions fly out and people wonder where you found me. She's wild, perhaps, they whisper as if I am their curiosity, even though ironically these are the same people who, for the price of a ticket, will come and bring their families and sit safely under the big top and watch the show in a controlled environment.

Reilly because I kept it. Couldn't do it, lost my nerve. Poor Benjamin, she doesn't trust him enough to take his name.

(Cover my bills, Mr. Higgins and I'll show you what talents 'high society' can learn from me.)

No, actually there were other reasons involved. Very significant and well-thought out reasons that led me to keep my last name and no one here had any issues with it whatsoever, especially Ben.

But you know what's great? He is so much like Cole. So much like him. Save for one thing. That quiet confidence. Ben only has that confidence in certain places and it's rather obvious. He's fallible. Forgivable. Unsure, even. Which is a far cry from Jake's unsure, because Jacob dealt with his weaknesses by hiding behind God and hiding behind rules that would Keep Bridget Safe and we all know how that went down. Thanks, asshole. You left me unable to trust the only guy who gave enough of a shit right through everything to stick around and pick up the pieces of me no one else appeared to want.

So now without Jacob's guidance and Cole's quiet violence we're left to do damage control while we're still busy wrecking shit and at this rate Eliza or Bridget or whoever the heck she wants to be today will never be presentable to your public, for your approval.

If you want her she and the big guy are busy putting on their tights and their makeup, there's a show tonight. We're billing it Pygmalion. For all the heartless guttersnipes like me who like that kind of thing.

I just know when you marry a girl from the circus your life becomes one. And it isn't always shiny happy exciting, is it?

Goodness, I've left dirty footprints on your silly marble floor.

My favorite is the Creelman Blickensderfer.

For anyone who thought I was harsh on Lochlan the past little while, please remember this is the curly golden boy who says whatever will make him look best. Of course he'll finally have my best interests at heart. Of course he won't try to come between Ben and I.

Pigs. Flying. Look how pretty.

None of it matters because nothing can come between us. Ben and I are nothing apart and everything together and I have yet to be distracted from that. Okay, I was mightily distracted from it this morning as Ben wandered around the house with his coffee and his tattoos and his pajama bottom pants yanked down just perfectly and the hair all tousled and sexy and his Movember beard and moustache now at ridiculous lengths and we were the only ones home and took full advantage and now he has gone to some meetings and Daniel is home sick and sleeping, having gone to work and returned with perfect timing and so I am shut in the library hall with the tiny desk at the end of the room in front of the window with my pleats arranged just so on this black dress that shows too many tattoos in itself and black stockings, black shoes and a dainty little silver evil eye necklace. Hair in the customary disconnected, cascading chignon and black glasses halfway down my nose. I always make an effort to sit up very straight while I type and apart from lunch, which is soon, I have the remains of the day in which to arrange the words so that I like them.

It's been a while.

Sometimes we go off the tracks and weeks go by and something rocks me and I lose my focus and then suddenly it's there again and I can block out everything else and the windowsill corners get dusty and papers pile up on the table and I begin to forget to do things like buy groceries and follow Ben around unplugging his instruments and amplifiers because if I didn't sometimes we get a loud surprise from a trespassing cat or a curious Henry.

I don't actually forget to buy groceries, it's more like I put it off until we've done a pantry challenge and use up some meal ideas that have been waiting for a bit. That's all. If you think I could ever go a day without pouring hundreds of dollars worth of food into these growing boys, you would make me laugh. These are the three-cheeseburgers-in-one-sitting type of eaters and then I am given ample opportunity to curse their male metabolisms as I try and zip up my dress after half a burger, no cheese.

I'm relishing today with the cold winter sun hitting at just the right angles to avoid needing lights in here, the books lining the shelves all the way around have a tendency to darken this room and the rickety glass chandelier that I can't reach to change the bulbs does little to help one to read. That's why I removed the window seat in this room and Cole made a built-in desk instead and lower shelves for my collection of antique typewriters. Only it's so narrow it borders on unusable, except by me and sometimes Ruth when she is moved to come in here. There are whole areas of the house they just don't bother with and others you will always find them in.

They prefer the sunny back of the house to the gloomy front and I can see why. It's been a challenge to find a balance between warm family-friendly rooms and my penchant for medieval chill and gothic revulsion in decorating. The urge to paint every room black gets bitten back in favor of the weird warm shades, like the pumpkin guts color that wound up in my kitchen.

The urge to leave the words in a tangle on the table is gone as well. I've put it off, let it go, ignored it in favor of letting the low grade fear run through me, incapacitating my brain again, letting the boys call the shots, fight over me and run the show.

Sometimes it's necessary. Voluntary even, as my head checks out and I live on auto-pilot, breathing quick and shallow, pulling the ribbons on my dress tighter so I don't notice and sabotaging the moments of levity with the greater future threats and past weight that precludes just being who ever in the hell it is that I am.

Whoever she is has enough charisma to secure the means to figure the rest out. Everything else I will just blame on words.

Biggest brownie I've ever seen.

One morning I woke up and the guard had become the thief. Jacob could always see things that much more clearly than the rest of us. Divine foresight through God. Yahweh for the win. Dumb Newfie luck.

We beat him to it last night and managed to reach a new level of understanding in the process. If only it serves to bring some comfort to Ben. I think he needs it very badly.

Perhaps I do too.

Lochlan and I got into it during dinner. He asked Ben if he knew of anymore concrete plans. When Ben is leaving. What the dates are. Was it before Christmas or right after? Perhaps through the bitter end of the cold weather and onward to spring? Let's talk, brother.

This, after I specifically asked for a moratorium on any talk of change for just one night. Please. One night of peace. One night of no bullshit so I can breathe deeply.

So I called him on it. I asked him what the fuck his problem was and if he was just going to be completely absent from me all the time while he was here he could go on ahead because I don't need his crap. He asked me if that's what I really wanted and what I really wanted was to stick it to him so I said yes. Go. Get the fuck out already. Give me some peace and quiet and stop doing whatever it is you do that unsettles everyone because you're judging us.

I'm making you unsettled.

Yes.

Holy Christ, Bridgie. Let me find you a mirror.

What the fuck, Lochlan. Where have you BEEN? Why are you doing this?

Because HE asked me to, and I'm trying to give the ape the benefit of the doubt.

We both looked at Ben. Okay, everyone at the table looked at Ben. Ben looked at the floor.

Benny, what have you done?

He checked the ceiling for holes and then he looked at me.

He'll have you all to himself. I wanted to know what that felt like.

You know, Benny. Christ, you already know.

No, I don't, Bridget. I've never actually had that.

You never wanted it, Ben.

He just stared at me while the revelations clanged into place all around me.

You asked him to leave?

No, I asked him to just back off and give me a chance. Baby, I don't know what I'm going to come back to. This is all I have.

You'll be coming back to me.

That's not what he says.

He doesn't know me anymore.

When I looked at Lochlan next, his eyes were glassy and he was staring at the table like it could put his composure back together on his behalf. I went and got the bourbon and I took his hand and pulled him outside, on the porch where it's freezing cold and we could be alone.

I thrust the bottle at him and he took a drink and passed it back. I took a drink and gasped because yuck. I could never understand how people can- warmth flooded me right then and I understood perfectly.

What really happened?

I offered to lay low.

Did he ask you to?

No.

So why did you offer? Why did he lie?

Ben is terrified he's going to lose you to me.

So then why does he tolerate you at all anymore?

Because you want me here.

Oh.

By now every sentence has been punctuated with a gulp and my knees have begun to vibrate. Lochlan's eyes are permanently glassy (he is a beer drinker and even then, not a good one) and we're losing the train of conversation.

But do I?

You tell me, princess.

I'm using you.

Why's that?

Because I know it hurts you and I want you to feel like I felt when you broke up with me.

Jesus, Bridgie, that was in 1986. You going to hold that against me forever?

I loved you.

And now?

I still love you but I'm not leaving Ben for anybody. Not you, not Jake and not Batman either.

I think Batman's chance expired years ago.

I do love you, Loch.

I know, Bridget. I love you too.

So stop being a fuckhead, please. You guys are impossible.

I think that was the end of the discussion. I remember seeing Ben's face and I remember telling him I loved him more and holy the house was warm inside and I don't feel so hot and he got me undressed and into the sheets and bam. Lights out.

But I keep my appointments because precisely at five before the sun even thinks about coming up I woke Ben and left Lochlan sleeping. I stretched my aching legs and we dressed quietly in darkness and went to see Jake. Because Jacob had asked for Ben. Because I go no matter what.

Princess, you look tired.

I didn't sleep. I used the Jack Daniels equivalent.

Something moved to my left and I looked and Lochlan was sitting with his back to the wall just inside the door.

What are you doing here?

Bridget, I've known you your whole life. I know where you keep them.

How did you beat us here?

I don't walk as slowly.

Is this your concern?

Jacob nodded.

Lochlan needs to hear this too. You both need to let Bridget lead because she's drowning in the crap you guys are throwing around. Did you notice she doesn't sleep? You fight over her twenty four hours a day and then you both give up to punish yourselves and she's the one who pays. Meanwhile, Caleb has become a refuge and no one even sees that. It has to stop.

They all looked at me. I looked from one face to another. Faces I know. Faces I love so much it's unbelievable.

What do you want, princess?

Ben, asking kindly in the way that he does because he's not above pointing out that he's going to put me first, and he probably does more than anyone else. To the point of overbearing claustrophobia and then he'll vanish in a fit of self-doubt. He permissions himself so strictly with me instead of letting himself be free to love me without guilt or second-guesses or a sense of entitlement. I wish he could do that with everything else, and not with me, but this isn't how Ben is designed, and he has to be told sometimes.

Lochlan has to be told things too. Since he doesn't listen to me.

Lochlan, can you do this?

If you mean can I be there for Bridget when Ben is away, preacher, I can.

Without pressuring her, without expectations? She isn't going to have a magical change of heart.

I laughed. It was nerves, or maybe I was still drunk. You don't describe things as 'magical' to Lochlan or you'll lose him completely. He deals in black and white.

Sorry.

I know, preacher. I've come to realize that things are different now. Bridget and Ben, well, they just work together. I'm not going to fuck with that. I love them both too much.

Ben reached over and squeezed my hand.

Then keep her safe and happy. Because she's come to me in tears every day for a long time now and I'm tired of being blamed for it.

And I woke up with a start.

Ben was flat on his back and I was wedged against him, my forehead against his elbow. Lochlan's arm wrapped around my shoulder. Unbelievable heat and I'm about to vomit and I didn't understand how Jacob could stand there with his wings and have a long parental conversation with the three of us so pedestrian-like. It was a sour-mash dream probably brought on by the stress and the fear and the fever and the arguments and it was odd to frame the resolution to a long-running upset in that light at all but I did it for a reason.

I was sick and while I was sick Ben woke up and he came and stood just outside the doorway. He would not hold my hair or he would probably throw up all over me because he's skittish about things like barf and cat poo and it's okay because he's fine with blood and he's great with zombies. Choosers can't be beggars and I can deal with the former if he can handle the latter.

I ignored him and went straight for the toothpaste and aspirin and then when I felt human again I asked him why he was up.

In case you needed me.

I do.

I know.

He put his arms out and I went straight into them. Because we work together. And we do not work apart.

Watching you lay into Lochlan at dinner last night was the best entertainment I've had in a long time, princess.

Careful or you'll be next, Benny.

No, see, I was smart. I gave you all my shit up front so any behavior I exhibit is an improvement over what you're used to. Lochlan isn't as bright as he looks, I guess.

I laughed. In spite of myself I laughed and then I went and threw up again. Oh my God, hungover. This time, Ben held my hair.

For brownie points, he said.

I awarded him seven million and twelve.

Points made.

• Am not drunk but here's hoping.
• Switchfoot is coming back to town. Happy New year! Holy gosh.
• Lochlan is being nice. Too nice too many drinks. Goodnight
  

Postalunchalyptic update.

I'm home. Caleb made sure I ate by taking me out for lunch at the diner and then for a little drive. When I came home August called to make sure I keep talking because when I stop it's a bad thing, and Ben is going to be in charge of making sure I get some sleep tonight because I'm headed for cases of baskets like it's nobody's business. Nevermind cases, warehouses full of the things. Baskets everywhere. Wholesale. Discount. Bulk.

I can't wait to sleep.

Run on.

That was a completely surreal experience, seeing Stone Temple Pilots. Completely surreal. The audience was freaky and small, we were tired and still it was a easy and fun experience and I'm so glad I went. Glad I didn't cry, because I was once married to the worlds biggest STP fan, who even sang in a cover band at certain deplorable bars and church (!) events and glad I knew all the words to everything save for Crackerman. The only thing that would have made it any better would have been a mashup encore featuring Still Remains and Gravedancer (from the Velvet Revolver side of things) but I'm the only person who would have liked that, I bet.

PS These guys? OH MY GOD. They ruled. We bought like seven copies of their CD.

The boys were sort of surprised that I didn't cry, because I do that sometimes at shows, right out of the blue and it's embarrassing. I did it with Dare you to Move at the Switchfoot concert, and when John Frusciante went to his knees for the first lead of the show for the Chili Peppers, and I did it for The Unforgiven at Metallica, and I did when I heard Your Love is a Song on the new Switchfoot record too...and I think I'll stop there because I could go on for a few paragraphs listing examples and it's a well-known fact I'm a crier. It's just what I do. If it moves me the tears will be your first and only clue.

When Ben sings anything that isn't screaming I cry. Case in point. He needs to give up metal.

And my heart doesn't even live on my sleeve anymore. Ben holds it for me because I can't be trusted with it anymore and he wanted the shards of it that I laced together because it's fascinating and disgusting all at once and he would totally go for that sort of thing.

And no way in hell will he give up the metal. Ben is metal. Metal and paper mache and muscle and rage and unfairness and grief.

So THIS is why I didn't go see Jake. Some days I can't get my head on straight and some days I know better.

Instead I ran with August in dead cold and silence and then I came into the office (har, I love calling this place 'the office') for a little harassment, coffee and to get rolling on the paperwork from our trip last week even though I'm falling down tired and always on the verge of tears today and when I walked in Caleb asked me how I felt and I told him to fuck off and he told me to leave at lunch for the day in the most disappointed voice I have ever heard from him. You would have thought he maybe was looking forward to spending most of the day with me, maybe taking a drive in the 350 because it's still bare in the streets and they're having a contest to see who can spoil me the most except the one who is going to matter a whole bunch shortly here (Loch) won't even play along and instead kissed the top of my head and gave me a huge hug and told me to take it easy when I left the house while he paints in the backyard because it's glorious out now that the chill is burning off so I can open the windows in the living room and play music really loud so I don't have to talk with Satan, who by now is on the phone pointing out to Ben maybe or maybe Duncan that I. haven't. talked. today and August will concur with that and Ben will come and stand in the doorway when I get home and ask me just to talk to him and why the hell should I?

Why should I talk to him? He wants to think it's all going to get better and I broke a promise to tell the truth when I agreed with him. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking but if he's going to climb to the top of his mountain he should let go because I'm dead weight.

He'll say he's not letting go. Ever. Everything will be fine. We'll deal with it just like we've dealt with all the other crap that has ever happened to us. I don't want to deal with it. I want it to just stop happening all the time. I want to be happy with no conditions, no limits. I want to soar through my life a foot off the ground, marveling at the beauty that is everything and humanity in all of it's glorious stupidity and I want to buy cute clothes and go out to movies and ice skate on the river and finish a book in less than a week and not be cold and I want to be able to talk with crying and live without fear and make progress without frustration and dammit.

It isn't going to happen, is it?

And yet I keep hoping.

My faith is not the same. He tried but it's just not the same and tomorrow I'll go, and tomorrow I'll take Ben and maybe we'll learn something we don't know since he didn't tell me why he needs Ben there. Maybe Jake will give me the answers I want. Maybe I've earned them at last.

Personally I'm beginning to think he just likes to see how Ben reacts to me when I look at Jacob. Maybe Jake wants to be cruel too. Who doesn't?

I'm going home now. I just can't do much good today. Will try again tomorrow after I see Jake. After we see Jake.

And some mysteries remain.

(This is downright maddening.)

What happened, princess?

I just sat there on the dirty floor with my hands picking at my dress, lifting and letting it drop in tiny pintucks of frustration. I shook my head. Nothing like that feeling of acting five years old in front of the only person I'll ever strive to impress.

It's not important.

Yes, it is or you wouldn't have come down here on what seems to be such an ordinary day.

I'm afraid.

Of?

Everything.

I know, baby.

Nobody KNOWS, Jacob. I'm well aware that none of you ever have any words of comfort or any promises you can keep when it comes to this issue. But it doesn't go away just because you want it to.

Then how do we fix it?

Oh, turn back time, keep the big promises, you know, the usual.

Life isn't so easy, is it?

Not on your life, obviously.

Did you come down to take it out on me?

Yes.

What can I do?

I got one promise fulfilled finally from you, and now I'd like another.

Ah. You think I had a hand in this?

Yes.

Bridg-

I'll keep my faith, you keep yours.

What's the promise?

If he can't stay because he never seems to be able to stay, can..

Can I make him?

No, can you stay instead?

Not in the way you need, Bridget. Where is Lochlan in all this?

He hates me.

He loves you.

No, he just wants me because then he can be better than everyone. It gives his platform credibility. He's the corrupt politician of Bridgetville.

Do you really think you and Ben are the only ones who struggle?

Sure seems like it sometimes. And I'm not interested in trying to further divide any loyalties or cause any more pain to Ben, which is why you're the answer, not Lochlan.

Because you're asking this your loyalties are already divided, princess. Pain happens because they all love you, they want to possess your heart. You're well aware of this.

I hurt them.

No, you live and you're not responsible for their feelings. You weren't responsible for mine.

Don't lie to me, Jacob.

It serves no purpose to hurt you now, Bridget.

Then you need to promise to be here when I come. Because I feel so alone. All the time.

You're not.

BUT I AM. The things I need I can't articulate. What I want is unreasonable and impossible and unfair. Life doesn't work this way, you all keep saying it but maybe it should and then things would be easier for me.

Aren't things getting easier?

Yes.

Are you happy?

Only when he's here.

And when he isn't?

I'm afraid.

Then go and be with Lochlan and spend time with the boys and try and have some fun and Ben will be back when he can be back.

So it was a waste of time to come here.

Was it?

Actually never. You won't come to me anymore.

Bridget. You built this with your mind. You put me here and I can't leave.

I built it with my heart. And good. Because you should be here. You should be here and we should be happy and none of this should be so hard.

Circles, princess.

Circles indeed. Fuck you, Jacob. See you tomorrow.

I love you, beautiful.

Prove it.

I did. I stayed for two years longer than I planned, and now I'm in this place. I gave up heaven for your purgatory. I gave up hell for you. I had heaven in you and the punishment for that is this and we're stuck here and I fear for you, Bridget. I really do.

But you can't help me.

No. Only you can help you.

But I love you, Jacob. And I can't do this.

You already are. We're going to have this conversation a million times until you see it for yourself. You're living. You're doing things, even the things that scare you. Things are getting better, and the doubt doesn't preclude the fact that you're incredibly capable. You just can't see it. Everything comes from within.

Is it okay if I don't ever believe you and continue to do this?

I don't have a choice, princess. I'm bound to you.

That's right. I call the shots now, preacher.

Does it help with the fear?

Sometimes.

Then go with that.

Cole made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob far above me from the dark. Jake didn't acknowledge it. Neither did I.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Bring Benjamin with you.

Why?

I need to talk with him.

Jake-

Just bring him, okay?

I stood up and wobbled. My legs were asleep and my dress was ruined but I smoothed it out anyway and then wiped my black hands on it for good measure. He laughed and I frowned. There's nothing funny about being here. Nothing cute about the extraordinary measures I have to take to get here, and nothing remotely safe about spending time this far away from PJ and August, who tend to take turns being my bodyguard when I leave the house.

Jacob isn't in the house, in case you thought he was.

He stopped smiling and gave me that concerned look, the tender one and my knees buckled a little more because he still has the most beautiful face I have ever seen and I'm so grateful it wasn't damaged. I choked on my own breathlessness and the tears started, not because I wanted to hurt him but because that look will always be the one that stops everything while I take my time climbing back on the earth after being flung off repeatedly. I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm the ultimate masochist.

I love you too, Jake.

No, go love Ben.

I'M TRYING.

Then try harder. Bring him tomorrow and don't be afraid of life.

That won't-

Try. Bridget. Just try.

I am. You guys make it impossible. Just give me what I want and we'll all be happy.

He laughed and I was on the other side of the door again. I don't know how he does that, but I wish he would use it for my trip down there instead of just as a party trick because he doesn't feel like holding the door for me.