Precedent.

Late into the evenings I would pull on dry jeans and a damp t-shirt over a still-soaked bathing suit and comb my fingers through my wet, tangled hair. I would fetch the stick I had leaning up against a tree, tied with a frayed piece of pink yarn so that none of the boys would steal it and I would seek out Lochlan, throwing myself down beside him at the campfire. He would pass me a hot dog and I would roast it slowly while I listened. That was my space. As the evening grew late I would get tired and rest my head on his shoulder. When he got tired of that he would shrug violently until I woke up and sat up straight, and sometimes he would find a hoodie and wrap it around me and put his arm around my shoulders and hold me close while he nursed a single beer for hours and smile quietly at nothing in particular. Those were some of the best sleeps I ever had. He lives at one hundred and forty degrees.

Like everything with Lochlan, it depended on his mood. Something that hasn't changed much since he was fourteen. Sometimes I think those were the very best days of my life and other times I see how little I have changed, and how I grew to crave that physical intimacy of touch beyond anything else I will ever need. How he will sit back and wait for me but never come to meet me halfway. On anything.

He is still like that. Hot and cold. In the mood or not. You can ask him what's wrong and he'll look at you like you have suddenly sprouted an extra nose or a third arm, or he'll mutter something about being tired to blow you off. The cues leading to that question would be the same. Maddening. So like Lochlan.

Yes, for the past thirty years, he has been the same.

Hey Bridget, here's your hot dog.

What's on it?

Dried mackerel flakes. Just try it, you'll love it.

Really?

Trust me, I know you, princess.

And he smiles at nothing. I still don't understand him at all.

Now everything is easy cause of you.

So. We bought a house. A very big house in the forest with a wonderful yard and a veranda (verandah looks so much nicer, and is as proper, according to my sources), a huge kitchen, and more closets and bathrooms than I think I have ever seen in one place at one time. There are many fireplaces and outside you can hear crickets. There are places to hide inside and out. It's not too far from a good school or from the water (frontage for days, all around a point) and the weather here is mild, so ironically, there are big coat closets in each entryway but we will never need our big coats again. (Unless we go snowboarding, which will be often, let me tell you, though I still currently get hives when I see snow. Think that will pass?) The house has a time machine also. Ben was quick to point that out. I won't have to wash dishes! A breakfast bar. New construction so no hundred-year old surprises, it was built after Henry was born. Modern character. Good, we were due for a change there. We finish up our details over the next week or so. Inspection, final banking details, driving past it repeatedly (though we can barely see it from the road) with big smiles if all goes well. I will promise to try to be excited but by nature I tend to be on edge until every last i is dotted and t is crossed and then I am thrilled. Only then. Maybe talk to me after the bank, after the inspection and after the moving truck is gone and I see happens with that. So early May, come back and get your barometer then, when all of it sinks in. Really I'm still just getting used to this. I've been here just two weeks now and we already have a house. Ben and the children are excited beyond words, so I will just grab their coattails and ride along on their happiness. It is exciting overall. New starts are good for the soul, but new starts in breathtakingly beautiful places are even better. This city is a gift and suddenly every day is my birthday. Even in the rain, even when I can't sleep, I can say that I fell in love again but this time it brings no jealousy. Maybe this only makes sense if you're here. Like when Ben was trying to describe it and I dismissed his words before. Now that I'm here I totally get it. And I hope that the rest of April goes smoothly, right on through and into May and then I will have another one of those birthday things and will spend it unpacking I bet, unless Ben comes up with a plan to sweep me off my feet for the day. Both would be equally wonderful. In our new house. With room for EVERYONE. (Fine, I'm excited. A little.)

My offer was accepted.

Holy fucking shit.

MAKE THE PHONE STOP RINGING.

Who in the hell wheels and deals at nine at night?

Not me. I want to go to bed now please. I can't take it.

Equivocal rain.

You feed the fire that burned us all
When you lied
To feel the pain that spurs you on
Black inside

Waiting for news sometime in the next hour. Could be good news and sheer panic or it could be relief and resolve. We shall see.

Last night I went along and dutifully weighed in on everything that was presented to me by strangers who want to spend my money the way they see fit and in the midst of it Ben and I decided we wanted to be the children and we fired up a lovely argument which made most of the evening unbearable and tense.

I stayed at the penthouse last night only because now when I get angry I tend to just give up and give in. I'll stand behind Caleb for a while and study my own fingerprints because he makes the biggest impact. I'm not sure if I like that or it's the only avenue because I'm exhausted and unsure and ridiculously relieved to be here. I don't know which way is which or which end is up. I'm not sure it matters now what the issue was. We made up. We made out. Case closed. As usual a collective sigh of resigned frustration rises in a chorus. She's not leaving him. Fuck.

(Ben, I mean. Jesus, people.)

In other news, Ben fixed my keyboard. Victory chores. We came out here and some of the goo must have softened and reactivated in the ocean humidity because suddenly all of the major important letters and directional keys were stuck fast and it was so incredibly frustrating. He pulled most of them off and then looked at me. I merely pointed out that I get my money's worth. I buy cheap, disposable laptops and I eat over them, drink over them and cry over them until the words are released in proper order and the letters are stuck down fast. Then a little over a year later I start again. This laptop is worse than the last one though because the old one had nice loud speakers and this one does not.It's been a battle to hear anything from the tinny little speakers and I've been due a new one for a while.

The boys insist it be an Apple product but I resist because I like the threadbare, worn, industrial-type machines, not the sleek hipster ones. I don't want perky bouncing icons and that strange reflective silver. I want something in black, as always and not something new to learn OS-wise, because my brain is completely full up and I am busy learning everything new again. Besides, the old letter placement and temperamental Windows is like a favorite old blanket: it no longer keeps me warm, it's just a comfort thing.

It has to be a magnificently sad day when a sixteen-month-old Acer Aspire is a comfort object. I must be losing my mind.

Wait. Oh, yes. There's one of the posters in the pile from a long time ago:

LOST: One princess mind. Last seen on the East coast, circa 1997.

I can't wait for the day that I get to bitch about my old Macbook Pro, like the boys do. Before they lovingly pet the things and possibly feed them treats. What does a Macbook eat, I wonder? Oh yes, cash. Om nom nom.

Really though, it is inevitable. I do understand that for what I pay in disposable Windows machines I have already paid for the computer I should have purchased, instead of the one that I have.

But the space bar. It works again! And shift. And $, ironically enough.

Not sure for how long, and as I said, I am waiting for news and that news dictates the efforts of the coming days. Cross your fingers or perhaps leave them open if you enjoy seeing me fail. It makes no difference to me at all.

I think I gave up and I gave out and then I gave in and somehow I woke up a state of comfortable flux, snow white duvet hiding the sins of the dark from the bright white of another day, another chance even. I took it. I took the leap. I made the calls and I signed my name and I took the papers I was given and I listened carefully to the instructions and maybe we will land somewhere safe or maybe we'll just keep falling for a bit. Either option is fine tonight, oddly.

Not a good thing, just the state of affairs this evening. It always frightens me most when I am just ambivalent and nothing more.

.skaerf lortnoC .uoy fo llA

I've seen all of the decadence one person can absorb for one night. Bathrooms that outnumber bedrooms, marble this, that and the other, gas stoves wider than my car, decor that is going to make my belongings look like third-rate castoffs and lovely protected green spaces all around everything so maybe, just maybe, I will be able to sit on my new front veranda and hear the crickets.

If everyone would just shut the hell up, I might.

I'm at the penthouse tonight if anyone needs me. Quiet here, no crickets, only flames.

(Princesses should not have to be brave.)

Whatever fire drove me straight out the other end of winter on the high plains has finally gone out and I can't seem to walk out the damn door today. Today of ALL days. And I need to. So I'm going. Jesus, help me or avert your eyes or something. Don't just stand there and watch.

And apparently all songs lead back to Freebird. Like six degrees of separation or something. Fuck it. Argh.

Relish and Catch up.

Mmmmm...listening to all the great covers of Wicked Game that are out there. So far I like Corey's best.

Also found the best color of nail polish in the whole world. Radioactive turquoise, Schuyler called it.

Quiet day, holy.

Versus best.

It's brighter somehow. I walk along the path now strewn with cherry blossom and magnolia petals, a path colored pink to my delight. The light shines down and everything is soaked, lush and clean. Glorious. It's cool but not bone-chilling, it's vaguely scary without being terrifying anymore.

It's also very hard to turn the wheel that opens the door into the concrete room when it's slick with rain.

He was waiting though, and I got it open because I wouldn't have accepted anything less. I just do it if it needs to be done even though I hurt my hand and pulled that muscle just a little more which means once again when I lie flat on my back and take a deep breath pain roars through my whole body and Ben likes that and presses hard against me. It's alright, I will just sleep on my side afterward, wedged in tightly under Ben's arm, my head pressed underneath his hard chin, his breath warm on my hair, my skin still flush from the agony. I won't move a muscle.

Sleep and heal, sleep and heal. It's the ultimate dragon to chase these days but I'm trying. I bought sleeping pills yesterday because I'm out of ideas. I never get the coffee I want at the right times so I'm not jacked up on caffeine, maybe it's just the adjustment of not being cold, not being alone, not being pushed down under the weight of an unwelcome Prairie sky, perhaps.

I held the magnolia blossom carefully, tucking it into my pocket when I opened the door. Once inside I took it out again, glad that it will still uncrushed, intact. Sort of the way Jacob must feel when he inspects me for further damage than what he has caused, that enables me to utilize his guilt to keep him here.

As if I could let him go.

Is that for me?

Yes. I want you to see what it's like here.

Are you still happy?

Yes. I needed the water back.

I know, princess.

I made a useless motion to touch him and he abruptly stepped back and frowned at me. Dark blue flooded into his pupils and his hair darkened too and he was suddenly closer to me and I dropped my chin accordingly.

Hello, Cole.

Hey, baby. You look beautiful.

Thank you.

Caleb's looking after you.

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and I nodded in an almost unconscious admittance.

What does Ben say?

Ben's world is ruled by his wants, what do you think?

I think the world is ruled by what you want.

Ha. Then you don't know me so well anymore. maybe you've been gone too long.

I'm right here beside preacher man, and let me tell you he is no less annoying in this state once you get him started.

But it's okay? This arrangement? I know it isn't easy, Cole, but I need things to stay this way just for a little longer.

He desaturated and grew before my eyes and the face I adore beyond words cracked into another soft smile, the kind that melts butter into broth.

Then what, Bridge? What happens next?

I can't tell you that. Because then he will know.

Who? Caleb?

Yes.

He isn't allowed to hurt you. Be careful, princess.

It's far too late for that, Jake.

He frowned and suddenly I was the one bathed in the bright lights, which only served to pinpoint how small and dirty I was, especially on my knees and around my mouth, from keeping up this race in which the only winner is the one who pays the officials to look the other way while the spectators murmur in horror but do nothing. It's a trainwreck and you don't look away, now, do you?

Jacob shook his head and mirrored my gesture from earlier, the one that hurts worse than that muscle inside my body, because he wants to touch me too but for some reason we can't seem to accomplish it, haven't more than once or twice since he spread his wings and they failed him in a way that forever changed everything.

I ignored the failure and I threw myself into his arms and they closed but he wasn't there. He wasn't there and I could hear Cole begin to laugh because that's what he does when he feels pain because he doesn't like knowing that I don't care that he's dead and everything still revolves around Jacob and maybe Ben will never ever get a fair shake unless something changes.

I stepped backwards and stumbled and then I felt him, his huge hand with the nimble thin digits that have traced every millimeter of skin that I wear, closing around my elbow so that I didn't fold to the floor. Ice cold today. Uncharacteristically ice old.

You need to go, princess. This isn't safe for you either.

And then I blinked and he vanished into the rain again. I'm really fucking sick of not being allowed to ever say goodbye. I need to figure out how to leave him on my terms instead of his. He gets everything and it isn't fair.

They get everything and it. isn't. fair.