Third eye blind.

We gotta live with how it feels
Down there inside
The feelings that you fight
The demons that you hide
Know you're not alone in how you feel down there inside
We’ve all got things we hide
You feel down there inside

Underneath the recently purchased, starched dress shirt to play the role is a juggernaut. He is so strong. I don't know how he became so strong. When I wasn't looking his resolve was sneaking in, adding strength so that no one would ever again make an attempt at a second-guess. You sell your soul to the devil to gain that kind of power overnight. He went one step further and took over the office of the incarnation of evil, just to be sure.

He gathers my hair in one hand, pulling it hard, wrenching my head back. When my mouth opens in protest I am drowned in good whiskey. I am gulping it down, trying to get past it, gasping for air. Ruin turns to rescue, he pulls me in close against his chest, smoothing my hair back, telling me he is sorry. Why is he lying? I push away and look at his eyes, barely veiled, crazed with excitement, need. I turn to leave and he takes my arms, pulling them behind my back, pulling me back into him, his head coming down beside my ear. He tells me everything is okay. I nod and my knees buckle. He steers me to the wall, pushing me against it, turning me around roughly after tying the ribbon over my eyes. I reach up to pull it away but he twists my hand back down. I can feel him breathing against my hair. Controlled. Anticipatory.

Predatory.

We are standing on the edge of the cliff, so high we can't see the bottom and he is taking mere seconds to decide whether or not to cross this line. Again.

I already know how this story ends and I throw us over the side, climbing up his limbs, clawing my way across his skin looking to find the strength he took from me to feed his own power. I find it and he catches me. I am forced back down, turned inside out as he takes me in his arms, kissing my breath away in the dark. I ask him not to do this but my words are falling at a different speed. It isn't until he is finished that he reaches to pull down the ribbon from my eyes that the monster retreats and the regret floods into his eyes in the most beautiful shade of medium blue.

A hard kiss lands against my lips. I push his head away. His hand comes up around my throat. We are eye to eye now as a softer kiss finds a place to land under my nose. There's no strength in me at all. I can't fight him. Surrender and the monster gears up once more, fed by the prolonged darkness. His hands replace the ribbon over my eyes. I try to peel his fingers up one by one. It's hopeless.

His words are landing in my ears, making ripples on the surface so I focus on those instead. I am calm. I know these words. I know these hands. I know this blood. No more fighting. I let myself go slack. I am rewarded with another kiss. One so tender this time it takes my breath with it. I am pulled into his arms and held. A hold that you know would last forever if only you had the chance to find out.

The words that could take a promise and turn it into a lifetime.

A love that brings convention to its knees.

And a hate that turns it all to cinders, blowing on burned fingers, hiding behind the flames as the wind stirs the embers into the air, coating my world. I kick the fire and walk away when the sun rises. I know he won't follow. He'll just wait for me to come back. I always do, even though I didn't sell my soul to the devil for anything, no sir. He just took it. There wasn't a thing anyone could do.

Daniel added potato chips to his hamburger, piling them up underneath the bun, then crushing the whole thing flat and taking a bite.

Why did you do that?

They're dill pickle chips. We're out of pickles so at least these taste like pickles, you know?

I wish they made chips that taste like honey mustard, Schuyler said.

I wish they made chips that taste like Skittles, I said.

Ben picked that moment to walk into the kitchen.

Hey Benny, what do you want your chips to taste like?

Ben grabbed a chip from Schuyler's plate and tossed it into his mouth. He didn't miss a beat.

Women.

Matthew 6:33 Seek ye first the kingdom of Jake.

(Here. A little story about the last time I picked up a drink at noon. The day after I left Cole. It was five years ago in April. I married Ben the day before the second anniversary of that event. Funny how Jacob managed to fill up so much space in so little time, isn't it? That's all we had was those sixteen months there in the middle. It's the blink of an eye now but back then the days were endless.)

How the hell did you find me
I've been hiding miles away
Maybe you don't know it
I still think about you every single day

I unlocked the bolt and cracked the screen door open, just enough for one eye. I rested my head against the doorjamb and tried to untangle my expression and get my eyes to look in the same direction.

What is it?

Why are you drunk?

I'm not..I was sleeping or crying or something so my eyes are red. What is it? I repeat. The expression is clear now. Annoyance.

Bridget, I can smell your breath from here. I can't imagine what it's like at the top of the steps so for my own safety I think I'll stay right here.

Good idea. I slammed the door shut and walked away, back down the hall to the kitchen and out through the back porch where I resumed my residency in the sunshine trying to feel anything but what I was feeling right now.

FUCK. His head appeared at the gate, his arm reaching over to flip the latch.

Your nap looks like it needs a refill.

Naps are a singular activity.

Not where I'm from.

Where you're from people kiss fish on the lips and wait for the bear to see his shadow on Groundhog day.

Right so growing up in that kind of twisted environment, trust a man when he tells you he knows you're drunk.

I laughed in spite of myself and I put my hands over my face. He pulled them away.

Bridget, anything you want to talk about, I'm here.

That's the problem. You're here. I depend on you to be able to talk to.

You have lots of people you can talk to.

Not like this. I wasn't looking away anymore. It takes him forever to be serious. Finally.

Everything will be fine.

How do you know?

Because it always is. Because it has to be. Because things work out and if they don't something else works. I don't have all the answers. This is faith. You either believe or you go crazy. Which is the better way, this (he held up my empty glass), or this (he put the glass down and put both hands over his heart).

I don't like change, Jacob.

Oh, hell, I know that, princess. I am growing old while you make good on these promises.

I want to be sure.

Life holds no guarantees.

Well, it should. Haven't we earned that much? I'd like guarantees and fortune tellers with credentials and a place in the sun, smile plastered on my face.

He laughed. How many drinks, exactly?

One. Just one.

Hell, what a lightweight. You need a little Newfie in you.

I need a big fucking Newfie in me.

There's the blush, moving at a thousand miles an hour up from his collar to spread across his face, flip up over his ears and make it up underneath the blonde hair. Score. He is as red as a poppy and grinning ear to ear at last.

Maybe later. After you brush your teeth. Your breath is shaking my faith in being able to kiss you without my eyes watering.

Wait until you get treated to my morning breath tomorrow, Jake.

You're too damned little to be so rotten. The fish back home ain't looking so bad now, you know that?

Oh. You. Just you wait until dinner if you think lunch is bad.

Caleb walks out onto the patio and drops a thick file folder on the glass table.

Everything is signed. You're right. The spin works for me.

I nod and take a sip of my drink. Gage made me a liquid lunch. Daniel will pick up the kids from school. I don't plan to inflict this mess of myself on anyone.

His legs aren't moving. I am texting Lochlan who is a hundred feet away in the garage. I finally look up. Caleb asks if he can have a chair but I don't hear him the first time. I am looking at his face. Or rather, his head. I jump out of my chair and wobble and he grabs my arms.

Drinking in the middle of the day?

What in the hell did you do to your hair?

Your manners are terrible. How many have you had?

I sit back down. This lounge chair is my new best friend.

One but Gage made it. Now answer my question.

Gage clearly has as much of a problem as everyone else. And I didn't do anything. The sun. You're drinking.

You've lightened your hair. Your hair is now the exact color Cole's used to be.

It's always been the same, Bridget. Sometimes I think you invent the parts of your life that suit your odd little mind. Including making me darker and more sinister.

I laugh. Cole's eyes were darker.

And his hair was the same, Bridget. The same.

PJ comes out to see what's up. He probably got a text from Lochlan. I can feel Lochlan's gaze on me even though I can't see him.

Caleb. What's up.

Oh, hello. Nothing is up. I brought the demise of the company to her majesty's feet only to find she's shitfaced in the middle of the day.

Want my update, PJ?

Sure, doll. Lay it on me.

I am most definitely not drunk, and Caleb is now dying his hair so he can look even more like Cole. Only he's denying it for some stupid reason. Vanity, probably. He thinks he can make me seem drunk or delusional but he's outnumbered. And mistaken if he thinks being more like Cole is the way to go here.

So.....I should go see if Loch needs help?

Probably a good idea, yes.

PJ makes a hasty exit and Caleb pulls off his suit jacket. It's twenty-five degrees in the sun and he still needs to look as if he fell out of a GQ foldout. It works.

Cole never dressed up.

I know that.

He didn't even wear a suit to our wedding.

He led a different life, princess.

Yeah and you're not him. So STOP TRYING TO BE HIM, Okay?

Would you like another drink, princess?

Yeah. Maybe a double this time.

I'll go make one for you.

You do that.

He has not returned.

Yet, that is.

His suitjacket is still here. I should be drunk. That would be awesome.

Summer forty-one.

Hey you're my weakness
Still my lover in my mind
And you still control me
Summer I put you so high
Hey did you forget you could never get enough
Well I'll always love you
No matter how far you run

I forgot to appreciate the lead-in to the longest day of the year. I just noticed two days ago that the sun is now rising with me instead of sleeping in, and the children are restless and hard to quiet when it's time to turn lights off for nine because the daylight still reigns. And now after today the sun will begin dipping low in the sky before we hit the sheets and will be lazy and hard to rouse in the mornings.

Ah, summer. Like a six-week hedonistic birthday in favor of barbecuing hot dogs while still dressed in wet bathing suits. Choosing to do nothing but lie in the shade with a good book. Potato chips as a side dish every night of the week. Staring into the bokeh between the blinding grains of sand juxtaposed against the dark teal and white jagged line of the ocean. Whole days to be planned on the fly as they are spent. Whole days to explore instead of wait.

All year I wait for you and now here you are.

All year I make my mental lists of the things I will do, and I leave it in my head, pushing it away, shoving it into some dark drawer full of memories in that stupid building that people keep breaking into and stealing from and I choose to be superstitious in lieu of disappointment, just in case. I know where I learned to be this way and I can't help it but I know I will push this time. Push past doubt, juxtapose adventure against that stark unfamiliarity and the rarity of pine trees again and the sea. The sea laid out before me as a feast for my sore eyes. A saltwater, stinging salve for my ever-panicked mind.

This is what I live for.

This.

Yeah.

I drew these. Yes, I realize it's a terrible photograph and maybe you're going to point out the places where I drew wrong or whatever, but really, I don't care.

I drew these. And I think they are awesome.

Just like me.

Strangled with a pink velvet ribbon.

The civility is crushing and astounding all at once. Caleb is here to spend the majority of the day with us. Because it's Father's Day and the devil created a son who is as good and heavenly as they come and he can only stand in awe of the boy who someday will be King.

I escaped for much of the afternoon to the rainy dim verandah in a warm sweater and jeans but bare feet, hair tied in possibly the messiest braid ever with a treasured pink ribbon that is threatening to unravel (just like my evening) to draw with the new drafting pencils Ben bought for me yesterday and Lochlan's giant copy of Anatomy For The Artist.

I ventured inside only when it was time to begin cooking. New Jake will help because he tends to remain behind me on the fringe and Sam should be here soon and I'll let Duncan wake himself up from his nap whenever he wishes because I saw his light on long into the night when I ventured downstairs for orange juice.

Lochlan is somehow looking less purple-and-brown today and Ben is unwinding, beginning in a slow counter-clockwise spiral, now approaching out of control and I had to peel him off the sheets and wrap his hand around a cup of coffee and he is very jovial and noncommittal about the day overall so I believe that means he is as relaxed as one can be when forced to spend a day off with the devil in house. As usual when Ben has time off he bounces from one activity to the next. It's difficult to watch.

I'm sure I am blamed for the mass defection which will ultimately result in the company folding and I am used to the heat but at the same time it was not my decision. I had to be led into it, their hands held out, calling my name along with gentle words of encouragement as I walked forward to reach where they stood, again on the other side of a Big Decision. I still have my doubts. I still worry too much and I'm still going to hold my breath but I'm also going to start cooking dinner because when people are well fed they are a heck of a lot calmer and move slower, besides.

Happy Fathers Day to all the dads that are here, dads that are not here, stepdads, surrogate dads, and understudy dads too. You have no idea how much we appreciate and love you all. Now keep your fists to yourselves through dinner or else.

There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill, and there was the world of longing and baffled common-sense.

It went better than I expected, actually.

This is a higher stakes version of the game you two played in high school, isn't it? You've developed such an obvious pattern. I wonder if your husband sees this. Oh, he wouldn't, would he? You chose yet another man who wasn't there to witness your history firsthand and so it's easier to escape detection.

Leave Ben out of this.

Ben is going to be a large amount of collateral damage. More than Jacob ever was. Are you ready for that, Bridget?

Just sign and date the letter so that you acknowledge Lochlan's resignation, please.

I'm not signing anything.

Then he will have to sue you.

You two don't want to play that game with me, dollface.

I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them again Caleb is still there. Fuck. Fuck reality. Fuck business. Fuck the past. I can't take this.

Yes, we do. Sign mine too. I don't want the company.

Too late. It's already yours.

I'll liquidate it and put it into a trust if you can't honor the release clause. I'm well within the time frame.

You'll put all of your boys out of work.

They are leaving as well. I have all the letters here to be signed.

Got him. Finally rocked. He just stared at me and I watched disbelief float across his blue eyes, and it morphed into some sort of quiet terror.

All of you.

Yes. Oh, and we'll be taking John with us, so you can call Mike back.

Quick recovery. He is smooth. He walks to the window in an attempt to not give away anything else via body language or the fact that I can read his face so easily these days even I am surprised. Back in control.

Your terms are up. Of course.

They've been up for months.

I was under the impression only Loch would be leaving.

Sometimes it's better that way.

And Ben?

Ben has already finished. This project was a bad idea and he won't be taking on any more for you.

You know what happens when he is idle.

Maybe we should move to the table so you can sign easily.

Just put them down, Bridget. I will go over them all today and you can pick them up later.

No, actually I have plans so I need to be out of here in thirty minutes.

And their packages? You can prepare those? Or should I call the bank?

I can look after them.

This is a betrayal.

Then you should have made the contracts longer. I appreciate what you did and I imagine it was hard to see me suffer but I know you did for my own good. I am happier here.

So let me get this straight. All of you are going to give up this massive amount of earning potential and security and recognition.

The recognition does not come from your efforts, Cale. It comes from their talent.

What about the money, Bridget?

I shook my head. He is so single-minded sometimes it makes me sick.

They have jobs to go to. We'll have money.

It's not enough, Bridget.

It will have to be enough. It was before.

And you always talked about starving. It kills me. That's why I helped.

It shouldn't. You won't be the one going hungry. And you didn't help. You bought me. Cole sold me out from under him.

I won't let you struggle, or the children. I promised him that much.

They will be fine. And you MAKE me struggle. You get off on it.

Bridget, I think that you're upset and-

You know what, Caleb? I think you're right. I'll leave everything here and you can sign and send it over later. Everything is in order.

Don't do this.

It's too late. It's done.

You're going to starve.

It's clearly the better choice because you're killing me anyway. At least this way I can do it on my own terms with my own methods.

Your maturity level really is stuck at twelve years old, isn't it, Princess?

I wonder why, Caleb? Do you really want me to explain that for everyone here today?

He turned back from the window and remembered the entire board of directors was sitting at the table watching as everything went up in flames. The company can't survive as a shell. I want to care because he looks so sad, but I don't understand a thing about business at such a tender age. The only thing I know is that I want to protect my boys and it is a reflex to do so, a Lord of the Flies instinct that they instilled in me from the very beginning.

Caleb was not used, he volunteered himself as the facilitator. The boys carried this on their backs. They don't have to do that anymore.

And as Lochlan said to me many years ago as we lay in the back of the pickup truck on a warm night at the end of the summer watching shooting stars,

The real world is scary but it's exciting too, peanut. You can't grow in a circus. It's a bubble. There's no air. Remember in the book? The part about needing to have rules to obey? That we're not savages? This is that part of life now. And we're going to be okay.

A short little fairy-fail for you.

Met a man
I was overwhelmed
Met a man
And yes
He helped
Met a man and he helped my cry the driest tears out from my eyes

Met a man and he looked so kind
Understanding I was blind
Met a man covered in red and he found a way inside my head

Met a man on top of the hill
Met a man and his cup was spilled
Met a man and he took me home and he made me feel alone
Alone

The jovial glad-to-be-alive mindset has been replaced with epic frustration. He's spending the evening trying to juggle fire with one hand. His bandages are blackened, his mouth is set in a line that I wouldn't cross if someone paid me and either he's going to burn down the house, the yard or most likely and deliberately the garage because the garage is now enemy number one, holding his remaining motorcycles. The plan is to sell all but one and keep one for tooling around the bay only because I had a giant panic attack when they began to talk about when Lochlan was going to have enough healing in his fingers to get back on a bike, because they are firm believers in getting right back into things. That's why when I was twenty-one and I crashed my mom's SUV, Cole came and got me and made me drive his car home. So I wouldn't be afraid and never drive again. I took that advice when I got married as well. Right back into things! Don't be afraid, stupid!

But sadly, I am still afraid of extending hearts too far, lest they break and stop working and make people die. Right, Cole? There's one chance I won't take, okay, sweetheart? Except maybe with your brother. I've been trying to kill him subtly for years now.

So Lochlan has grand plans to keep riding and I am constantly scanning the sales pages telling them precisely how much money they would get if they sold all of the bikes because from here on out Bridget is attempting to mandate air bags, roll cages, seatbelts, and certain life, instead of death. Teams of ninja assassins to scope out all danger would be nice too, if you know of any.

I'm pretty sure my hair will now grow in completely white after last week and I can't seem to leave Lochlan alone for even a minute, sitting on the edge of his knee while he eats his cereal and reads the paper, sitting on the floor of his closet while he chooses t-shirts with one good hand and shoves the rest of the pile back against the wall on the shelf, loitering in the bathroom doorway when he's clearly *ahem* otherwise engaged trying to take a pee, all manner of insanely clingy behaviors that attest to one fear I can't and won't overcome.

If he spends the rest of his life juggling fire by the sea, telling me to cut my bangs already and asking me to make the foods he likes the most as he paints pictures that come from the inside of his mad mind, I will be so happy.

Now I just have to work on the big one, who figures he is immortal and would dent a truck before a truck dents him and doesn't take any time to think about death because there are places Ben's mind does not need to go, who will happily invite company in when he's in the bathroom and tries to do awful things to me when I am trying to pee and he plays the guitar all damn day where I can't hear it and I wish he would just do it at home instead, sell his bikes too and never ever leave again.

I will bring the words, Ben will supply the melody and Lochlan will paint the surroundings in glorious color. Nothing will change, everyone will be safe and I won't have to worry ever again.

Yes, I know. Good luck to me.

Oh, but what you don't know is the tides are shifting as we speak. More tomorrow. I have another meeting to go to.

You're troubled and boy you are desperate
You're troubled at home and I know what's wrong
I see you fading so I'll help you up tonight
Come up here in the air
Come up here in the air
Come up here in the air tonight

Well, now.

For those taking offense to my care and coddling of Lochlan, my refusal to write about Ben under siege, my inside joke with the boys that I am one wife to a dozen men and hell, even the color of my toothbrush, well I just have two words.

Hahaha, no not those ones. I already said those ones and clearly you didn't listen.

Don't read.

I don't know what else I can say.

I don't do current events so well, I despise politics and I'm not going to mommy-blog unless I'm absolutely bursting over something and really I don't have enough talents to pull off a gardening/cooking/home decorating Marth Stewart blog but I have my boys and my words.

That's what I know.

Since I was eight years old these boys, as a collective, have been the center of my universe. They're men now but they are still MY boys because they were boys once, in the beginning anyway.

So that's what I write about.

Some come and go. Some die and some live. Some love and some fight. Some drink and some heal. Some create and some destroy. There are other journals you can read. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.