Ha. Ben just called to me to see if he could come out now.

Castles in the air.

They managed to stop arguing long enough to stand outside the school chatting with the principal as we picked up the children from school. Big night. An extra ten people due for dinner, which meant twenty extra arms to hold us close and twenty to hold them apart.

Oh, wait. Eighteen. One was totally gunning for Ben and Lochlan to go crashing through the kitchen windows, locked in a struggle to the death, doomed to be dashed into the sea below our house.

Oh, can't you just picture it? Maybe add in laser beams for eyes and yes, I invited the devil Caleb and every moment there is unrest in my life his heart beats fast with anticipation. He gets off on my pain. He always has. It isn't my beauty that is his drug, it's my misery.

Beauty is a perk, like free parking or cake that is not only cake, but also warm cake.

I did not serve cake for dessert. I didn't have dessert planned, since these boys will stuff themselves full of pasta and garlic bread until they are forced to shove off from the table like they are boats at a shallow launch. Caleb will leave food still on his plate as he is usually deeply engaged in conversation with someone. Ruth will do the same, as it seems to run in the family, words taking precedence over just about everything else.

Big subjects were glossed on, because that's how I wanted to roll and everyone was fine with that.

Except for Benjamin.

And Lochlan too.

Benjamin turned to Caleb with an evil smile. That same one he'll give just before a table is upended. I shot him my death ray stare and he stopped smiling but continued on his chosen tack.

Smoke?

Sure.

Loch?

Yeah.

I put my hands over my eyes. I get it now. They're going to throw Caleb into the sea. Wait, why the hell am I covering my eyes? I should be selling tickets and calling the networks to bring their helicopters so they can televise this epic moment.

(Forgive the gallows humor. I'm possibly the only person in the world who can be excused for using it.)

PJ makes a move to stand up and go outside with them but Chris loudly points out that he wonders where PJ is going since PJ doesn't smoke. A little bit of uneasy laughter follows and then I change the damn subject. If they want to toss Caleb off the cliff then fine. They'll both go to jail. I will categorically self-destruct.

I opt to leave my eyes covered. Daniel puts his arms around me and tells me to relax, they're all reasonable men. I look up, shooting the death-ray stare at him instead. He concedes that he must have had too much to drink and is blathering.

I am beginning to flutter and wonder if I should sit on my hands or just let all of my fearful untapped anxiety spread all over everything when the back door opens and I count three men return to the kitchen. Okay, so I'll keep it all inside for now.

Caleb crosses to me and bestows a light peck on my cheek.

I need to run, princess. Busy day tomorrow. Call when you have a moment and I can get the details for Henry's days from you.

I nod. Why isn't he dead? I would have done it. In a heartbeat. In less than one, actually. While I am fantasizing about quick numbers and quicker deaths he makes his exit, quickly calling a goodbye to all and hugging the children, who are heading up to bed.

We're so civilized sometimes. The lawyers would be proud. What a farce.

The door closes and we hear the footsteps walk to the edge of the verandah and then a moment later the 350z quietly purrs to life. Ben bursts out laughing. Lochlan is grinning but he has his hand over his mouth.

What did you do?

Showed him the moonlight on his brother's plaque. That's all. He is smiling wider now. Sweetly. Motherfucker.

And what did you do? I turned to Lochlan to see what hand he had in all this.

I didn't do anything. If Ben drops him off the cliff and goes to jail, I get you to myself. The way things should be.

Oh well, it was a short reprieve anyway. The fists came out and they went to the floor and those eighteen hands pulled them apart and sent them literally to their rooms. I know they act like children. It never occurred to me that I could ground them for it.

Life just became so much more interesting.

No object.

August is sitting here drawing pictures of me while I am forced to be stuck inside while Ben and Lochlan sit out in the backyard on the patio where the ocean is so close one can taste it. Why? They're having a DISCUSSION and mostly that means the words will soon turn into fists and no one wants me there because maybe I'll get caught in the crossfire or maybe I might have something to say or maybe I won't say anything and I don't know which is worse.

Really if Ben wants to put a stop to everything all he has to do is throw Lochlan off the cliff. There. Done. Case closed. Only he won't because he knows I would follow. At a flat run, no less.

What I would like is for them both to just stand back and be generous.

Not with each other, just with me. Like they used to be. You know when you really want someone to do something or believe in something, you make it sound as if it is the most wonderful thing in the whole wide world. It's only later when they are fully involved that they see the downside, the dark truth behind the glossy facade. That's what they did.

This is bullshit. I can run faster than August. I could probably be on the patio before he's even out of his chair.

54321 (Nightwatch).

(Don't.)

Ben and I were in the living room. The fire was low, the lights were off. I was tucked into Ben's arm while his free hand traced my ears, lips, nose, forehead. His eyes are so black, it's as if they grow larger when it's dark. It's beautiful. It's frightening. His breathing is even. He doesn't seem tired. I am falling asleep staring at him. He could do this for hours. He will regularly do this for hours, as if he is memorizing my features. One finger across my eyelashes and then down my cheek. Under my jaw and then he leans in for a kiss. An endless one in which I need to relax completely and breathe through him or not breathe at all.

His skin is cool. He is gentle, no razorburning tonight. Time has stopped moving. The stars have fixed into place in the sky and everything has fallen away. I go to whisper something and his hand returns to my face as he pulls away to look at me. He quiets me and then rubs his thumb across my bottom lip and my brain begins to fight. Putting Jacob in his place. A shattery-slick doubling of Ben's image that briefly turns to blonde and then I struggle to bring it back again. The image locks on Ben once more. I take a sudden, deep breath and he tightens his hold on me and returns to his quiet explorations. Earlobe. Hairline. The white-line scar under my nose.

I feel his whole body tense and then I realize we're not alone and I look up, upside down and see Lochlan standing in the door, bathed in light from the foyer, red curls damp and shining.

Leave us. A growl from Ben. It's not a request, it's an order. His possessiveness is incredible to me. Sometimes it is larger than life. Sometimes it is nowhere to be found. I have not seen the pattern yet, it simply depends on the day. It depends on the weather and it depends on the moment. This is one of them.

Lochlan chuckles. I know that sound. That's his challenge. His I-can't-believe-you-think-I'm-going-to-do-what-you-ask laugh. Incredulous, but then he holds out his helmet in a mock salute and heads out into the hallway again, slamming the door behind him. I am just being held into another kiss when I hear the motorcycle roar off, up the mountain. Away from me.

Lochlan does that on purpose. Night drives because he knows I will remain half-awake. He never cared if I slept. The others would stand guard, count hours, demand to see the dark circles and then admonish me endlessly for my poor sleeping, concern taking a front seat to everything else. Lochlan always told me when I would sit, wide-eyed, counting stars while he drifted off, that when I got tired enough I would sleep and until then worrying about it would only make it worse.

Early in the morning in total darkness when Ben sleeps he'll let go and I will startle awake again, needing to see if Lochlan ever came home. I will tiptoe down the quiet halls and through rooms until I arrive at his closed door. I will never knock. When I am satisfied that he is safe, home and present then I will sleep. And only then. In Lochlan's arms wrapped tight around me but facing away from him, toward the window, a soft breeze touching my face, dreaming of Ben. This is the time I am given that is my own, without question.

Lochlan does not need to memorize my features, he already knows them so well. Nostalgia serves as the axiom for his emotions and the rules are set by the circus as always. Don't get comfortable. Pulling up stakes is a daily event. He is too worn out from work to see to it that I sleep, so never mind, here, give guard to someone more capable because you're a walking hazard at this point.

A kiss on the same cheek traced by his friend and I slip away when the sun comes up. Back to my life, away from the past.

I return to the present and climb under the quilts and Ben holds his arms out. I am flush against him and his hand cradles my head. Stay with me, he whispers in his sleep. I am captive, unable to even nod and so I remain still, my arms wrapped around his neck, trying to will my still-warm flesh to transfer heat to him. He is cool still, exhausted and unable to fight in his dreams.

I will stay awake and fight for him, too. I'm not sure if their terrors are alive or dead though. Probably both. Just like mine.

Albatross.

I wouldn't have shown you such mercy.

That is why you failed.

Jacob would always pick up the flattest pumpkin he could find at the pumpkin patch and pretend to shot-put it at Ben.

He would yell Fore. As if they were on the golf course.

Ben hates golf. He thinks golf clubs are stupid and once took an old electric guitar out on a nine-hole course. He was marginally drunk that day and was asked to leave repeatedly. Jacob finally picked him up and dragged him to the truck and brought him home.

I instructed Ben to go crash in the guest room and told him not to emerge for at least fifteen hours at which point there would be aspirin, coffee, juice and dry toast for him. The guitar was left behind in the rough (where he threw it) and never recovered. Jacob ruptured a muscle in his back lifting two hundred pounds of unruly Ben with his arms and next time offered to first knock Ben out and then drag him out by the fauxhawk.

Ben never played golf again. So when the lawyers invited the boys to play golf yesterday it was a pretty easy refusal. We went to the pumpkin patch instead.

Ben doesn't generally like to touch the pumpkins until the knives come out to carve them. You would think he would take his bull-in-a-china-shop routine and extend it to a pumpkin patch but he's very solemn about it and he always wants to choose the exact right one. The perfect one. The Great Pumpkin. And so we'll wind up buying twelve or twenty-seven of them by the time Halloween arrives. There are already three on the verandah and a few handfuls of decorative tiny ones scattered around the house. Which I thought looked amazing. Add in another dozen outside and people will soon start thinking Bridget is selling pumpkins.

Great.

Or maybe not.

Ben is out back with Jacob's old golf clubs and the gates wide open to the ocean. He is teeing off with the mini pumpkins, watching them sail off the cliff into the sea. The ones that aren't exploding on contact, anyway. A good two hundred yards, I would wager. I think he's finally figured out the game.

Hopefully the guitars will stay indoors but with Ben I never say never.

Well, not anymore anyway.

Thing one and thing two.

(If I spin the dial and count the squares going this way in the game of life, I can ignore Caleb's attempt to change a whole bunch of little nitpicky things on our custody arrangements, which sent us back to court. I can effectively turn a deaf ear to his attempt to squeeze me with a power play after I made a move to stop his bullshit. Things quiet back down and life returns to normal, albeit with a heaping serving of the usual quarter-century of coercion and sexual abuse that seems to be like infected oxygen to me.

If I count the squares the other way I can call him on all of it, deploy Batman and frankly wind up worse. Far worse. Once I open that door there is no closing it again and I'm really not ready for that. Hell, I still wake up every morning expecting to see Jake. Sometimes Cole. I'm not strong enough to hold down a single sheet of paper with my words and you want me to do what? No, go away now, please and I'll pretend I didn't hear you either.

Be disappointed in me. You won't be the first.

It's far easier to literally lie down and take it and I am foolish for thinking otherwise. I try to continue to preserve my dignity but it's like gilding mud as it's flying through the air.)

That's what's in my head while the boys are busy making other plans. Aren't you sorry you asked?

Ben took me out for lunch yesterday at a cozy little spot by the water. We sat and watched the boats bobbing in the wake of the ferries and we had hot bowls of chowder and talked. We existed in the moment. We paid far too much for a simple lunch but left holding hands. We had a few hours to breathe alone and be contended and in this day you take what you can get. Selfishly, hungrily. We've had a lot of small pockets of time in the past four days to enjoy each other alone. A first. A best. I can't quantify what it means to be with him and not have to be renovating/packing/moving/unpacking/transitioning/deflecting/defusing all the time. We're like hey, watch a movie? Grab a coffee? Take off all your clothes and go back to bed at ten in the morning?

Yes, please.

All of that. And that is nice and I don't talk about Ben alot because Ben is a constant. A quiet, level, hotter than hot constant and there is no drama I need to sort out with him (right now). He is all, just come lie in my arms and nothing else matters in the whole world.

He's right.

Good people.

Spent the morning in court. The arbitrator has labelled Caleb and I high-conflict parents. She said that's just extraordinary considering we've never been married to each other and really for the resources and the support we have at our disposal we should have our acts together a little better than this. That this case was being handed unconventionally because we're an unconventional family. She then yelled for forty-five minutes about how we could do better.

And that we are immature and self-indulgent, that we have failed to put the children first.

I was fine with all of the labels up until those last eight words and then I lost my shit and interrupted her.

I'm a good mother.

I have no doubt, Mrs. Reilly. But you need to be a good person. You cannot allow your extracurricular relationships to supersede the needs of your immediate family. Parenting is not a part-time job.

I shook my head vehemently but she just. kept. talking.

I stopped responding after that, and she softened just enough. I really don't care what sort of bias she holds against how I live my life. It has nothing to do with Henry, short of giving him male influence and support where otherwise there would have been none. She thinks I'm out running around the city going to Eyes Wide Shut parties and sleeping with all of my friends and I'm not but I am secure in the fact that my lawyers and Caleb's lawyers know what's going on and she needs to spend a little more time on our files before she decides how horrible I am.

Caleb probably already paid her off. My lawyer has filed to allow new arbitration because this one is not objective enough to oversee this delicate operation.

Had Caleb not decided to suddenly start making good on his threats of challenging our arrangements in the first place none of this would be necessary at all, but last night after begging me for an hour of my time (for reasons I still don't understand), he was a no-show, not calling or texting or anything and then this morning I get an eleventh hour invitation to appear at the offices for a full review of our custody plan via mediation, agreed upon by all the lawyers collectively because it's Friday tomorrow and they have weekend tee times or something similarly asinine.

Lovely.

But you know what? I haven't done anything wrong. I don't threaten Caleb. I've never told him that I would keep Henry from him. I've never used him for anything. I've never made his life difficult. So I'm going to hold my head high and choose not to be threatened by this because if push comes to shove I have trump cards I can play now. I have all of that evidence that he harasses me and he is cocky enough to assume I won't use it. I have security in that when I have had enough of this all I have to do is turn on that light and the symbol will play into the night sky summoning the real hero who can save the day because at the end of it, Caleb is a small fish in a big pond.

I have Batman.

He's a big fish.

(And I'm a good person, I swear to God, I am.)

Aghost (Like aghast, but more transparent).

A drive.

No.

What the fuck, princess.

It's just a drive. Maybe he wants to apologize. Things got out of hand.

Bullshit.

Forget it.

This is total bullshit.

Ben and Lochlan are talking over each other and I'm just standing there holding my phone with the email pulled up. The one from Caleb inviting me for a drive so we can talk. Just talk. One drive. One hour. Maybe out into the Valley and back or up toward the ski hills. It doesn't matter. Talk without touching me. Listen without a legal team standing behind me ready to bring down the hammer.

Hmmm. I think for a moment and decide I am game. Caleb loves to drive. He loves his little silver Nissan and if he says a drive then that's what it will be. Ben and Lochlan are not game. They are the knee-jerks. The look-what-we-just-went-throughs. The only difference is they always forget that Caleb went away before. He went away for a handful of years there between when Henry was born and when I walked away from Cole. I brought him back and God, it was so weird and then it wasn't weird anymore and once Cole was gone he became Cole to me only he isn't but dammit if he doesn't just have enough Coleism to pass for the real thing and if I squint, if I'm drunk, if I'm low or if it's a day that ends in 'y' it's good enough for me.

Only he never showed.

I waited for several hours, giving him all the time in the world, but Caleb never showed. I'm not sure if he developed cold feet or if something came up and he had to put out a fire business-wise or if he just thought better of it and decided it was too soon (it is) but he didn't come.

No one ever stands me up. I am in tears and this is ridiculous because he's a dangerous, obsessive psychopath and he shouldn't be anywhere near me ever.

He is also Cole, he is history, and he is dad to one of my children. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I just wanted the part where he holds custody of my youngest child over my head like a flaming guillotine to go away. The scary parts where he does not have himself under control? Away, please, quickly, I am afraid.

Everything else can be left well enough alone.

Going to bed now.

Fuck it.

Riding the Subway.

Last minute stop for lunch. We're starving. Out of energy, out of time. Okay, Subway it is. It's always empty, always good though so we pull in and run inside and all I'm thinking is fooooooood. I need foooooood. So I ask for a foot-long sandwich. On parmesan oregano bread. No way in hell I could eat all that but I may try. Suddenly there's a lineup a mile long behind us. Phew. Got here just in time, Toasted? Yes, please. And to go, we're not eating here. We'll take them home.

Everyone watches as the bill is tallied. Ben is paying and he says really loudly,

You got a foot-long? Jesus, Bridge. You should have told me how hard-up you were before we left the house. I could have given you a footlong.

Only he said it with that grin just as I had taken a sip of my rootbeer. Oh woes, out my nose it goes.

Snort.

Ow. It hurt.

(Not as much as a footl-oh hell, you know how this goes.)

Placeholder.

Okay, Internet? Stop worrying. I'm not naive enough to think that this is the end of my woes. Not by any means. But maybe it's the beginning of the end of them. Let's just go with that. Caleb has his entire life invested in me being his singular focus, don't think I'm dumb enough to imagine a world where he just walks away from all that.

Also? Secrets. We've got 'em. Jesus help me.

In other news? Ben. Vacation. On it.

On him?

You betcha.