Aperture science.

He showed up this morning.

Dressed in a bespoke suit with his shit together and lies in his eyes, Caleb was standing in the driveway talking to Dalton when I came out of the house also in my finest, dressed for graduation day. The last day of school for Henry too but the strange transition of Ruth beginning high school, since they start it here in Grade 8. The ceremony was amazing. She is too grownup and I am having trouble grasping this, like all change.

He had a wrapped grading present for each of them, and his luggage was nowhere in sight. A red eye with red eyes, the very worst of travel but he still looks presentable and is or seems sober.

And I'm weirdly thrilled that he came when I called.

Like a fucking puppy.

(Here, boy.)

Bridget. He smiles almost imperceptibly and waits for my reaction. He is tense and exhausted and evil and charming all at once and it is the very worst way to show up in front of me. Especially when I am not warned in advance because I didn't expect to see him and I don't know if he is here for the day or the weekend or back home for good and Lochlan still isn't speaking to me but here I am balancing my emotions on a scale but I've shoved the scale way in the back of the cupboard since today will not be about me by any stretch of the imagination. Oh no. This day is for the kids. They worked very hard and we are dressed to the nines and beyond and will go to the school then out for a big ticket celebration.

And that's precisely what we did and now I am flitting around the kitchen on pins and needles waiting for one message to go across the driveway and get the information I want and two messages to go upstairs so I should just drag that scale back out and set it on the counter and hope the balance tips in my favor, always.

Answering.

Bridget!

I heard him coming a mile away and I did what any self-respecting adult would do when faced with a confrontation.

I hid.

Only he knows me so well he was opening cupboards as he talked, looking for me. I was standing beside one of the opened bifold doors by the front hall closet listening to his diatribe about my absolute gall in calling Caleb and what did I need that I would go looking for trouble when trouble finds me.

(Without a map, time after time, a homing beacon locked on a moving target, no less.)

I am trying to parse Lochlan's one-sided discussion and failing because he's moving too fast and his voice cuts in and out between the accent and his movements and I finally get so frustrated I bang my head against the door and it slides closed, revealing the red hair and concerned face of my conscience.

My conscience frowns his disapproval and yanks his jeans up a little higher at the same time. He is losing weight, something he tends toward every summer when the days are long and hot and he lives on night air and bright lights and joyful screaming.

(But it sounds so disturbing written like that.)

I step back behind the door, opening it again to block his unwavering gaze. I don't want to present to him right now. I don't want to answer to him. I don't want him to be involved in my brain right this second but these are the moments when my judgement tips over the front of the Ferris wheel and he scoops it up from the platform and returns to the brake to stop each car at the line to exchange riders. He won't give it back for days. I'll have to beg. I've been doing a lot of that anyway lately, I guess.

He Scottish-clicks open disapproval at me and I cover my whole face so he won't see how much that sound annoys me.

Don't hide your face. Be mature.

Pot, kettle, Locket.

I know, but why did you call him?

If I could answer that I wouldn't be hiding.

So be brave.

I'm so not brave.

Oh, yes you are.

Nope. Wrong girl. Move along. I sink to the floor behind the door and he reaches down to scoop me back up, standing me on my feet, closing the door and pulling me away from the wall in one practiced, acrobatic motion.

Fine. I'm very brave. That's why I called him in spite of your eventual disapproval.

My immediate disapproval. Disapproval isn't the word I would use though. You're so fucking proper sometimes. I should be grateful, I suppose, considering I taught you to spell on the road.

Yes, you should be grateful that I'm so awesome.

And braver by the minute, it seems.

Oh! Just shut up!

You first!

Fine!

You're going to miss Henry's graduation.

There's no graduation ceremony from grade five. I will see his report card when I return and bring a grading gift plus his birthday present. I'll be back in time for the party.

He's disappointed that you're going to miss his last day of school.

I'd be working anyway.

But you'd be there in the evening. So he could tell you he's done.

Oh, I see.

Do you? Do you get that you can't insert yourself properly as a father and then just disappear?

Yes, Bridget, I get that. Do you think it's easy to leave?

Then why did you? I told you you didn't have to go anywhere.

And I told you I did.

Is it working?

It's only been a week, Bridget. Give me time. You calling me out of the blue wanting me to come back is really fucking with my head. I'll just have to drink extra now.

I called you for Henry. This is not about us.

Everything is about us.

Maybe you should ease up on the drinking.

You're just beautiful today. Jesus Christ. I wish I was there.

So do we. Family comes before all of this.

I agree. But I'm here and my flight out is on the tenth of July so you'll just have to make do. Now I'm going to go back to my scotch. It's almost nine and I hope to be unconscious by eleven.

What are you doing?

Sitting in a chair alone in the dark thinking.

You at the house or the cottage?

I'm at a hotel downtown.

Why aren't you with your folks?

You want me to subject them to the Devil? Bridget, I may be cruel but I'm not dumb. They're old now. They don't need to see this. There are things they don't need to know.

Discretion isn't a bad thing.

I'm alone, have been since I arrived. Now are we done here? I'm thirsty.

You could just come back.

Bridget. If I come back right now, the way I feel, things will be very hard for you. So just say goodnight and let me get back to the dark, please.

Goodnight, Caleb.

Goodnight, Bridget. Cheers.

Composure took her sweet time leaving, and in her place sat resignation and an oddly comfortable sort of peace. I meandered my way upstairs shortly after midnight, trailing behind Ben, his hand stretched back to pull me along slowly as I kept becoming distracted by things along the route. Pictures that seemed fascinating or crooked. Blooming flowers. A cat on a stair step. My face in the mirror.

Finally he pulls me into our room and closes the door behind us. Lochlan is almost asleep, a thick acknowledgement in the dark confirming his presence. Ben responds and then leads me into the bathroom. The lights are off, the candles lit, bubble bath drawn, steaming clouds of foam fill the tub up to the brim. I know the water only goes halfway. Ben's exercise in volume proved to us early on how far we could fill it before we flooded the floor.

He strips himself first and then me, taking his sweet time. Big fingers on tiny little buttons, hooks and eyes, satin and bows. I don't help, I watch his face. When he is finished he holds his hand out and I take it and step up and into the bath. The water is so hot I gasp. Once I am sitting he steps in and sits down, the water level rising to lap against my shoulders. He positions his legs under mine and pulls me up into his arms. My arms go around his neck as I am lifted into his lap, holding on for dear life. He presses his head down against mine and I close my eyes.

I think sometimes this is my favorite place in the whole world now, after the beach, right at the edge of the water where the earth meets the ocean and all the treasures remain when the tides change. Ben stirs, kissing my damp skin, pulling up a washcloth, wringing it out against my spine so that the hot water courses down in rivers between my shoulder blades.

It was the last thing I remember before my dreams took me.

Safe.

Neither here nor there.

Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning

So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep

I'm watching from the door as Lochlan opens the bottle and drinks pretty slowly at first, picking up speed as he tilts downhill. The guitar comes up and the words begin to pour easily as he works his way through his most favorite of pop radio hits from the early eighties to the early nineties and not a moment beyond and only the ones within his range, besides.

The melody turns to water, washing over me like a tide, dragging me out into the deep where I can't swim, drowning me in memories, drinking me back in and the louder he sings the harder it becomes to keep my head above the surface.

He knows I am nearby. Where else would I be? Immersing us in the past is one of his gypsy charms, one of his carny tricks, one of his aces up-sleeve and it's always so fuzzily hard for me to see past it or around it and so I must go straight through it and I never end up in quite the same place on the other side. When I can no longer breathe I open my mouth and the recollections pour in. I die a thousand deaths before he sings me back to life with his sorcery, that magical way he has of just unnerving people enough, just making them crush hard enough on him so that they don't notice he had stolen their wallets or their hearts, for that matter until it is far too late to turn back.

Ben has his wallet on a chain but I've had his heart for years, ripped out when he wasn't looking and stuffed behind my back hastily to hide when he came too close. He walks down the steps to where Lochlan is sprawled in the chair with the guitar and he picks up the bottle and turns and walks back up to me. He hands me the bottle and tells me to drink what I want and then pour the rest out.

I listen to Benjamin and not to the rest of Lochlan's songs while my throat burns and my composure flies out the window like a goddamned bird.

And above all, be good.

To the sea with all of us
Let the deep wash over us
To the sea she's calling us
You and me gonna turn to rust
In the sea with all of us
Let the deep wash over us
To the sea she's calling us
Let the cities all turn to rust
In the sea

She said she knew with the first kiss
That the man don't match the myth
That the truth can't beat the wish and
Oh! How the man don't match the myth
Ashes to ashes, cheek to cheek
She looks at me and my knees go weak
Struck dumb, too dumb to speak
Ashes to ashes, cheek to cheek

My phone rings at precisely nine each night. The ringtone plays the second lead from Sabbath's N.I.B. and the contact photo is the devil from my Spanish tarot deck. I think it's hilarious. Henry isn't sold, but when it plays he runs for the phone. He and Caleb talk for thirty or forty minutes before Henry has to go to bed. Every night in person when Caleb is here and every night by phone when he isn't.

Only I told Henry to tell his father that he wasn't allowed to waste time talking about me, that if I need anything I will be in touch. Henry, being ten, does not listen to me and spends a good fifteen minutes telling Caleb how he thinks I am, based on what he knows.

Sigh. It's sort of funny and really sad and completely expected. It's also glaring truthful as only a child can be.

Batman, mercifully has kept his word and not contacted me at all, short of sending a curt email reminder to tell me that I am not to worry about any of the boys who might be working on contract to his holdings and that if anything goes wrong and you don't call me you'll be in Big Trouble.

I did not reply.

New Jake has asked if he can still be my friend. I sent back a Maybe text message with a sad face. He replied with three sad faces and Ben sent him an angry face text and then I didn't hear any more from Jake but I know Sam will run a steady stream of updates back and forth because Sam said he really hoped no one would ask him to pick sides because I'm cute and all but Jake is infinitely more useful since he does construction in addition to all the cloak and dagger bullshit.

Only Sam stopped after saying 'construction'. I added the rest in my head.

So I stand by the door and watch as Henry tries to wedge the phone between his shoulder and his ear, failing and holding it with both hands while he walks around his room answering his father's questions and asking some of his own (Is it raining there? Do you still have to do work while you're there? What is Grandma baking today?) and sometimes he laughs and sometimes he says I don't know and then he says I love you to Pluto and beyond and Goodnight, Dad and I will and I'll tell her and Okay, talk to you tomorrow night and then he presses the red button to end the call and runs back to me, putting the phone in my hands and planting a big fat kiss on my cheek, telling me That's from Dad.

I smile and return his kiss because Henry is innocent, and never going to follow in his father's footsteps. Not if I can help it, anyway.

Clemency.

Third time's the charm, is it, peanut?

I am surprised. I was coming into the garage to talk to Jake and Lochlan is sitting in the centre of the floor, cross-legged, hands on his chin. Elbows on knees. His waiting pose.

Batman, Caleb and now...me?

Never. I cross my arms, defiantly. This has nothing to do with you or with Ben or with anything else. They both pissed me off and it wasn't a spur of the moment thing, it was a snowball. I gave Batman far too much power and Caleb would agree to a certain amount of power and then cross the line almost immediately.

I know, I've warned you your whole life about that. He says it softly. He is staring at me, no hiding behind the red curls, for his hair has only grown out into little waves that flip up all over the place and he perpetually looks like he just woke up. I have nothing to hide behind either and I self-conscious tuck my hair behind my ears and square my shoulders.

I'm slow to learn. It's a defiant, ridiculous statement that makes him laugh.

Yeah. Yeah you are. And he gets up and comes over to me, holding his arms out. That's okay though. I think you get that from me.

I laugh when his arms close around me. I think I've done nothing but stand on the verge of tears all damned week again but I laugh too. Half-relief, half acquired insanity. Inherited? Absorbed, maybe. Absolved, always. Redeemed in the face of violent absence, salvaged by the tide.

Conversations from within the cookie cupboard.

What are you doing in there?

Hiding.

Hiding from whom?

Myself.

Keebler elves still failing at their protection detail?

Spectacularly, Ben.

So come on out and we'll talk. Because I don't fit in there with you.

What's in it for me?

My undivided attention and ice cream. Later on, sexual favors.

Oh! Deal.

I had this big speech planned but when I stepped outside he was loading his suitcases into the Porsche.

Where are you going?

He drops the big suitcase on the pavement beside the car and throws his hands up. I don't know, away? I'll either be hammered into the ground by your husband and your boyfriend soon enough or I'll lose control. I lost control twice with you in one night. I don't want to see what a third time would have brought.

I notice evidence of a landed haymaker on his cheek. The dark shadow of a bruise tells me he's already been confronted.

I told them not to see you.

What makes you think they would listen to you?

Everyone listens to me.

Yes. Just long enough for everything to go wrong. You, my little darling, are a shipwreck in progress.

Which is why I took responsibility for what happened!

Do you think that makes a difference? You can jump around saying it's your fault all you like but it's not. I know better and I still...I couldn't help myself.

When are you coming back?

In time for Henry's birthday. And you know what? While I'm away I'm going to drink my face off, black out often, work very little, sleep with completely normal women and attempt to forget that I'm in love with you. How does that sound for a plan, princess?

You're already drunk. Jesus, at least let's find someone to drive you to the airport.

Yes, let's do that. So I can come back in one piece for more punishment.

That's why I was coming to find you.

To make sure I was safe? I figured we pretty much established that I'm not the other night.

No, to tell you I won't be seeing you anymore unless it's for something related to Henry.

Oh, I didn't realize we were officially seeing each other. I thought we were...parents with benefits. That I was lucky. This will just finish me off. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to catch. I don't know what you did to me this time. I feel completely undone and I need to be away.

Which is why I need to straighten things out. We're all getting hurt here. And you don't have to leave.

He shakes his head in exasperation and pulls out his phone to call Mike for a drive. When he hangs up he looks at the sky.

You don't look hurt, princess. And I am not drunk enough for this day anymore. I'm going to go fix that. See you in two weeks. Say goodbye for me to whomever else you banish while I'm gone. You seem to be on quite a roll.

Overnight a box is left on the front porch. I bring it unceremoniously to the kitchen and open it there. I look inside and then close the lid again and pick the box up. I head down the kitchen steps and out the side door, across the driveway and up the steps on the other side. I walk down the side of the boathouse to the front door and knock on the glass. Caleb opens the door. He looks tired too. He looks relieved that I'm not someone else and I thrust out the box, letting him know he can't buy my forgiveness any more than he can torture it out of me.

I don't need presents, Caleb.

How are you?

I survived. You?

I'm so sorry, Bridget.

Don't be. I came to you, remember?

I know but I still overstepped my boundaries again. He takes the box from me. How long do I have before the angry mob with pitchforks arrives?

I don't know. They are resigned to my whims, foolish as those might be.

Bridget, they won't let me get away with this. No one should.

Cole got away with it. What difference does it make anymore?

Cole paid with his life.

You think? Do you really think God killed him because he hurt me?

God wouldn't do that. But the devil would. You really should know that by now, Bridget. His eyes grow huge and black until they are empty holes in his face and he smiles until that hole joins with the first two and I am falling into his face, into darkness again. I wake up with a jolt and a cry. I jump up, falling, stumbling out of his bed and outside in the dark, naked and exposed. I run for the house in the pouring rain. He does not stop me. He doesn't even wake up.

***

Ben sent for the doctor (who isn't a doctor at all, I don't think), who came to the house and put five stitches in my shoulder, asking if I knew if my immunizations were up to date. I was given antibiotics to take. He said it would have been better if I had been bitten by a bear, that the human bite is the most likely kind of bite to become infected.

He stared at Ben the entire time he was talking and Ben stared at me. When the doctor was ready to leave he hesitated before shaking Ben's hand. Ben said that he didn't do it and the doctor looked back at me.

She is yours? He is talking to Ben, staring at me.

Yes. Mine. Ben said. He is exhausted and barely speaking, hands curled into fists.

***

I managed to avoid Lochlan for most of yesterday as he was up working late into the night and then slept the whole day away. Last night I had already gone to bed when he turned on the light beside the bed and pulled me up to see for himself. He put his hands on my head, smoothing my hair down to where it ends, just at my chin. He frowned. His fingers flitted over my now-bandaged shoulder and he pulled me in against him, rocking me so gently we weren't actually moving.

He kisses the top of my head until he wears a divot in my skull. He is tense, coiled to spring, barely holding it together but trying to be gentle for me.

This is not part of the deal, peanut. He doesn't change. Oh my God. Why do you go to him if he won't change?

Turn off the light, brother. Ben's voice from the other side of the bed. Ben reaches out and takes me right out of Lochlan's arms and tucks me in against his chest and is back asleep in seconds.
I don't have the same luck. I lie there for hours after Lochlan leaves. I don't know where he's going and I am wide awake.