(Continuity, by request.)

I had a secret chair. I would put my writing binder in the top of the milk crate that held Lochlan's tools, and then I could sit on it and be comfortable while I waited for him. I couldn't lift the crate or pull it to put it in the shade but I sat there anyway. It wouldn't be long. The freckles were mostly melted together on my face at this point anyway.

It was the first day of July.

I could see the motorcycle. Lochlan was coming back from the big grocery store on the other side of town. Lashed behind him was a cardboard box full of provisions for our trip. He had already paid to take the camper and we were going to drive up to Cavendish and stay at one of the campgrounds on the beach for a week.

Lochlan was eighteen and he had been working every day for the past three months and he was really looking forward to a break without whistles and megaphones and hours of sunshine enough for work dictating his daily routine. We had eaten little and spent nothing since my birthday to allow for this one massive trip.

Massive. I couldn't even fathom going that far without the show. And this trip was going to fix everything that he broke, or so he told me. All I knew is that I loved adventure and I loved Lochlan and the camper too but I was afraid of the dark. I was afraid of being an island away from help. I didn't have any money. I didn't have any identification save for a library card. Lochlan carried my papers in his back pocket every single day, the ones that said he had temporary legal guardianship of me. Those were the only papers that were important.

He smiled when he saw me and pulled the bike right up to the door of the camper. He opened the door and then motioned me inside and started handing things to me. Bread. A bag of apples. A few six-packs of juice bottles. Pop. Chips. Peanut butter and jam. A box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce. Special K. When he passed me the cereal he said we would buy cartons of milk at the store when we got there and fresh vegetables and meat too.

I wrinkled my nose.

Okay, hot dogs, then, miss picky.

You can eat whatever you want.

He smiled and kept passing me things. Toilet paper. Bug spray.

I held up the bug spray.

The mosquito count is high up there, peanut.

Did you get honey?

Honey? Yes. Here.

Okay, I'm good. What about licorice?

Licorice? No, Bridget. We're not buying candy.

Yeah, I know. But boo.

I am holding out my hand for the next item but he shakes his head. That's it.

We don't eat this well usually. My stomach rumbles at the sight of all these groceries. I look at Lochlan and he tells me we're going to have a week where we don't worry about anything.

You promise?

I promise. He holds out his pinky and I lock mine around it. Swear.

You ready?

Yeah. I run and grab my binder and he puts the tools in under the table. Then he gives me a quick kiss on the forehead and starts the bike again. He'll take it to Chris and Chris will run him back. Meanwhile I start storing the food anywhere I can find space. A tight fit. There's one little cupboard. By the time I'm finished it's tucked everywhere. We'll never find anything because I'll forget and now every day will be a scavenger hunt of sorts.

I slide the last box of pasta in beside his drawing books when I hear the bike outside and he is home. My stomach flutters. I'm excited. I wish I had a new sundress or something to look pretty for him but we don't spend our money on things like that.

I hear him call out a See you later man, and the bike roars off again. Lochlan comes inside and hands another bag to me. A small white one this time. I peek in and I don't know what it is.

Ribbons. So you have some variety. He smiles sheepishly. I dump the contents of the bag into my lap and squeal. Hair ribbons. All velvet. Every color of the rainbow. Pastels and brights. Some are embroidered too. One had sequins sewn onto it. He fishes out a thin, plain pink one and says here, this one would be pretty right now. He pulled my braid out of my hoodie and tied the ribbon around the end of it.

These are beautiful.

Bring them up into the truck, then. A huge smile remained on his face.

Are we leaving?

Yes. Let's get this show on the road.

Tie it tightly or it will slip off.

That's as small as it goes, peanut.

I'll just push it up my arm then.

I trace the carving of the bird and smooth my fingers down the leather band. It's dark brown and it serves to highlight my golden arms, toasted by the rare sun. If the sun is out I am out too, turning lightly, soaking it up for the next round of endless heavy summer rains. The weather here is strange and shockingly, mildly unpredictable. The bracelet is more unpredictable. It's a talisman, a very personal one and I'm wearing it for protection from their hearts, maybe. It does not belong to me, it's his. Lochlan put it on me yesterday morning and it's been there ever since.

Late last evening we sat at the island while he patiently evaluated the latest round of figure drawings I was working on. Proportions. Measuring out limbs and height in faint straight lines, constructive criticisms that left me frustrated but eager to try harder and by midnight I had completed several decent forms. It's a slow road but by the end of the month I will have filled this sketchbook and be on the next.

And a meeting. There was a full-complement family meeting yesterday, Caleb included but instead of continuing this stream of consciousness, I need to go collect my children now. It's their final day of school. Next year Ruth enters Junior high as a freshly minted grade 7 student and Henry begins grade 5. I don't know how THAT all happened but here it is and it feels weird and I may talk about it more or we may just head straight for the movies. It's Transformers day and that's a big deal too. We have bets on whether Rosie Huntington-Whiteley can fill Megan Fox's shoes, er...shorts.

****
The verdict? She can.

Noon on third.

Low tide is when you catch all the treasures the sea can hold so close to shore. Clams. Mussels by the thousands. Beautifully tumbled colored glass. Pretty shells. Ripples so deep and perfect you trip over them as the beach grows exponentially, stretching out in front of you. Your blank canvas, your home. Your own personal exhalation, distilled down to tiny grains of glass, seaweed and salt air so thick you can cut it with a knife.


It's not like you'll be alone when you get there, but it's always worth a shot. For the record he said the water was warm. I stuck my hands in and he was right. He's always right.

This is your Ben on vacation.

She tells me things, I listen well
Drink the wine and save the water
Skin is smooth, I steal a glance
Dragon flies are gliding over
Oh, I'll beg for you. Oh, you know I'll beg for you.

Everything is winding down, spinning out slowly, counter-clockwise, hypnotically, crazily-lazily against the grain. An optical illusion of stability when we were holding on with our teeth by the bitter end.

Tomorrow we'll wake up different. Tomorrow morning I have a coffee date with someone special. He's very tall and has that one lick of hair that sticks out to one side and yet he doesn't give a shit about much of anything except for me. For me his appetite is huge and endless. He is always hungry. He is never satisfied and never ever full.

I can live with that.

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.