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What are you doing, Bridget?

Listening. There has to be a third song.

Hmm?

There needs to be one more song to complete this. A trilogy, if you will.

Just accept what they give you and enjoy it.

I can't. They're like drug dealers and this is crack.

Nice analogy, Princess.

That's the only way I can describe what some songs do to me, Jake.

You want to know what I'm going to do to you right now? He reaches over and pulls my shirt up over my head, careful not to snag my hair as it cascades through my collar. I'm not going to listen to bitter songs with you, if that's what you were hoping for,  Pigalet.

They did indeed put out a third song, finishing the set, almost a year after Jacob flew. I wonder if he's heard it yet?

How can I be lost?
In remembrance I relive
And how can I blame you
When it's me I can't forgive?

These days drift on inside a fog
It's thick and suffocating
This seeking life, outside it's hell
Inside intoxicating

He's run aground like his life
Water much too shallow
Slipping fast, down with the ship
Fading in the shadows

Abject and true.

It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds.

Go seek.

You can sing all you want, brother, but she's never going to be your soulmate.

That was all it took this morning for Ben to upend the whole breakfast table (which seats fourteen people) and send Lochlan to the floor. I'm not sure why Loch persists in digging his own grave every fucking goddamned day but I believe it might be deep enough by now.

I'm glad it was only the three of us who were present, since I feed the early boys early, then the kids with PJ and Danny and then the rest of them get their own, and then I can sit and enjoy my coffee and waffles with my two former favorite people, neither of whom is keeping any promises at all this morning. At least they managed to not break any dishes for once but it took a really long time to scrub the coffee off the walls.

***

He is the cat and I am the canary and I sought refuge in his company the moment I had the kitchen cleaned up, opting to practice defiance over obedience, the morning dramatics forcing a new sort of exasperated recklessness. I took my big basket of blackberries and off I went, ostensibly to use Caleb's kitchen and hide out for a bit.

True to form, the moment he comes to the door, he does two things:

1) He tells me I never have to knock. He knows I'm coming and never locks his door besides.

2) He invites me in and was just finishing something or other and has all the time in the world. This is new this year. He's definitely one of the few who reprioritizes when he says he's going to do so. No longer do I need to wait for conference calls to end, or a break between meetings if I appear. He just drops whatever he's doing and gives me all the attention I want or need until I have enough or have to go or walk out on him or whatever.

(He's actually working very hard on making our encounters positive so that I stop walking out on him so much but I imagine that will be a slow process that won't ever end.)

Caleb takes the basket and turns to go into the kitchen, setting it beside the sink.

What are we making? Pies?

Jam.

Mmm. I've never done this before.

I did one batch already but I want to make more. You don't have to stay.

No, I think this will be great. You lead the way and I will take orders. He winks at me when I look up at him, startled, and quickly changes the subject. Up at the house this morning...was anyone hurt?

How did you know?

I heard a crash.

No, they're fine.

Doesn't sound like it to me.

I don't want to talk about it.

Me neither. I want to make this jam. Let's get to work.

Two hours later we had nine more jars sealed and cooling on the counter, in addition to the fourteen jars I already made last week. Caleb hangs the towel on the oven door handle and turns back to me, rolling his shirtsleeves back down. Does the timing mean I can invite you out for lunch?

No, I should go back. I want to talk to Lochlan.

He winces just barely but understands he is caught anyway. What do you say to that sort of behavior?

Not to do it?

Does that work? Does it work like it does when they tell you to stop doing things you do that upset them? He is smiling again. He's poking holes in the way I hold my life and all the good parts pour out through the tiny jabs like an hourglass and when my time is up I know everything's going to change again.

It doesn't matter, it's not your concern.

Sure it is. Put simply, Bridget, if Lochlan was your soulmate, you would easily be able to avoid spending so much time with the one person he despises more than anyone else on earth. But here you are anyway. Maybe you should question your choice of soulmate after all. A soulmate is usually the person who is your other half, your perfect match, and I daresay neither one of them live up to your character. Not by a long shot.

But I always go for the longshots.

You should look a little closer to home. We're cut from the same cloth, Bridget. There's a reason we can't leave each other alone.

Cue the walk-out. Thanks for helping with the jam, Caleb. It wasn't until I was halfway across the driveway that I realized he even knew exactly what Lochlan had said to set Ben awry. Lochlan spoke somewhat softly, just loud enough to be heard and no more.

When all else fails, Tucker, sing.

(On days like this I wish Ben would give up metal for easy listening and I wish PJ would stop telling me these kinds of entries are too personal to post and too cheesy for others to appreciate. I've found the exact opposite to be true.)

I went down to ask Ben why he was being SUCH a fucking DICK this week so far (because we don't mince words, we like them whole), and has been all but absent after throwing rule after rule upon me, to the point where I believe I am allowed in the kitchen, one of the bathrooms and our bedroom but otherwise forget it. I was buried in his blanket orders and unable to understand his motives past trying to find some way to keep me out of trouble when trouble and I are Siamese twins, joined at the hip.

It fucking sucks. I have things to do. I don't like being pegged down but at the same time he just didn't know what else to do anymore so he made a bunch of rules and then disappeared downstairs to bury himself in work.

So it was time we talked past You can't do x, y or w, now just stay the fuck put already, bee!

I had my case ready to plead. I threw the door open and...was put in my place instantly. He was expecting me, and he was practicing. Practicing. By the time he finished the boys were lined up behind me, watching, struck silent.

He was singing Bridge Over Troubled Water and he didn't miss a note, even the difficult ones at the end. Probably a metaphor for everything else, that is.

Sail on silver girl, sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way
See how they shine
If you need a friend
I'm sailing right behind

Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind

THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU FOR DECADES, BRIDGET!

Okay, so..Lochlan's still reading the blog.

So noted.

Bond.

Horror movies were my first true love. Not only because I love being scared, but because I liked watching everyone else be scared too.

I sat very still on the couch between Cole and Caleb and every time Jason Voorhees came onscreen I would simply close my eyes. At the end of the movie everyone said I was so brave, I didn't tell them I had missed 90% of the plot but I now knew the inside of my eyelids better than ever before. I thought that was pretty profound at ten years old, but at eighteen Caleb could not read my mind yet and said I was more hardcore than any other girl he knew.

Andrew, at eleven, just nodded. He wanted to be like Caleb but he had a hard time concealing his wide fearful eyes and the hair standing up on his forearms. He pulled Christian aside and asked him if he could walk home with him now instead of going alone through the woods behind the baseball field. I laughed. They never made me walk alone but the first one to jump out from behind a tree and scare me would get a watershed of scared-tears that would scar them with guilt for the rest of their lives, exacting a pledge that it would never ever happen again.

But it did. Over and over again. Cole was probably the worst. He would make some excuse and take off in the other direction, only to double back around and jump out at us somewhere along the path. I learned to walk directly behind Caleb. I still do.

Those were nights that Lochlan was still at the garage, stupid nights with stupid part-time jobs that left-me in the half-assed care of the others, who tended to pass me off on each other and sometimes take me home early, and sixteen-year-old Lochlan would lock up the garage and go track everyone down, unable to find me and showing up at my window at midnight, and I would sneak out the front door and sit on the steps talking to him until the sun came up. He told me about his plans to go on the road with the carnival while I watched the edges of the trees for Jason and he would repeatedly ask what I was afraid of. Sheepishly I finally told Lochlan, and he pointed out as long as he was around, nothing bad would ever happen to me.

That promise has held ever since. Now I just need to figure out how to glue myself to him and then I think I'll be all set. The minute I'm out of his sight everything falls apart.

Noes! Noes!

In other news, the NHL has begun the lockout.

What in the hell are we going to do with all this free time? Oh right, we'll watch the minor leagues for a bit and keep our fingers crossed that it all ends quickly because life without hockey is just..meh.

Good intention, incredibly poor execution.

Those loved have long since gone

I barged into his condo at eightish this morning. I didn't bring breakfast or plan on staying, I just unlocked the door, walked down the hall and entered his room, flipping on banks of light as I went. He rolled over and squinted and broke his handsome face in half with a frown before repairing it into pleasant, although surprised, delight.

Bridget. Did I miss a date?

You didn't go away-away, did you? You just stopped speaking directly to me and have continued to work with Ben?

Did you talk to Ben? Batman sits up and reaches for his pajama bottoms. He swings his legs out and slides them on, standing up. The pants slip down low over his hips and I am immune suddenly. This is good.

I'm talking to you.

He rakes his hand through his hair and smiles in the most cynical, bitter way. Are you really naive enough to think that you could tell me to go away and I just...would?

I don't th-

Right, you don't think. You just act impulsively depending on the day and we run around behind the scenes keeping you safe. Jesus. I completely understand Lochlan when he points out that you, my dear, are a full-time job.

I asked you to stop. I'm not your burden.

I can't walk away from this in good conscience.

I'm not your mess to clean up. Feel free to go if I'm so much work. I let you off the hook. I told you to leave. Don't act so noble.

And leave you to be eaten by the wolves? What kind of man does that? He stops and looks at the sky briefly. Oh, right. Jacob did that, didn't he?

I slap him.

Go, Bridget. Leave. Right now.

(Today's encounter is brought to you by my cosmic ability to repeat history. Note the reminder I am not someone's problem followed by a good hard slap. YEESH.)

I'll just catalog all of this in ten-minute increments until the end of time. Okay, I won't but still. That's what this feels like lately.

Looking for ways just to rationalize madness
What was I so mad about
All of the things that I've always avoided
Constantly keep coming out

So please teach me to breathe
Remind me how, I can't remember
Please read me the theme
You've lost the plot, the story's dismembered

Now I'd kinda like to go for a walk
Talk with myself and work it out
'Cause if I'd only just remembered to breathe
I'd understand what you see

So please teach me to breathe
Remind me how, I can't remember
Please read me the theme
You've lost the plot, the story's dismembered

You know how I feel about putting you in front of a firing squad, peanut. He actually does not like the group meetings, brainstorming sessions or anything involving a public dismantling of his favorite little line-walker/-drawer/-crosser. Nope, he would prefer to keep me squirreled away in the camper, never to see the light of day, forced to subsist on pilfered vitamin D supplements and lavish descriptions of the weather I can only view through the tiny rusted-stuck window. Hungry. Always so hungry and miserable and so stubborn besides.

It would have been nice if you would have shown your pretty face nonetheless. To back me up, Locket.

How do you know I don't side with them? He scolds but he is smiling, almost.

You just reminded me. I am drawing on a sketchbook cradled in my lap, eraser balanced on one knee, tortillon clenched between my teeth. He looks up and frowns when he sees this. If it gets wet it doesn't work and only makes a mess but I have run out of hands and I don't want to put it down on the sand.

If I am so afraid and awful and continue to drop the ball, as it were, according to your written thoughts, then how come wherever I go, you follow soon after, and you sit within a few feet of me and remain there until I move? You tell me what that's all about and I'll remind you to think of the reasons why I do or don't do something before you eviscerate me with your words in front of the world. Oh, and for the record, you've skipped a very important upcoming date that lies before the anniversary of Jake.

I didn't skip it, I don't have to work through it. It is a happy one.

Is it?

Of course it is. I look up with an irritated expression and the tortillon falls to the sand anyway. He walks over and fetches it for me, holding it out. I don't take it, I just sit there squinting up at him.

Is it...happy...for you?

Of course it is, Bridget. I wouldn't have it any other way.

No one takes it seriously.

I do. Do you?

Yes, Loch.

Burning building?

Don't do that.

You use it to illustrate your point all the time.

That's different! I'm dramatic and impulsive and broken.

And I'm not?

Well, you're- and I stopped. Yes, you're dramatic and impulsive and broken.

Two peas in a pod.

Actually a B and an L.

That's not what I said-

I know. But I like it better.

Oh. I get it. Ben says "two bees in a pod", doesn't he?

Yeah.

I knew that. You'd save him, wouldn't you?

Only if he couldn't save himself already, Lochlan. That's where you come in. I'd need some help there.

A bullet had found him
His blood ran as he cried
No money could save him
So he laid down and he died

Ooooh, what a lucky man he was
Ooooh, what a lucky man he was

He was so close I couldn't help myself. The rain pounded down on the glass of the skylights and I reached out to trace his face. When I made it to his top lip with my index finger he opened his mouth slightly, lifting his head until my finger slid onto his tongue. The look on his face would have made anyone burst into flames but I kept my cool in case I needed it later. I met his eyes and withdrew my hand, watching as his eyes glittered with anticipation.

He had as much self control as I didn't however. Gripping his phone tightly in his hands, he asked me to take a seat. I pulled out a stool from under the counter at the island and sat down, watching him remake his composure from scratch as he walked around the room flipping on lights to push the dark back.

It rained heavily that day, and we all opted for cozy, darkened rooms, low conversation and more fall-like activities. He hit the button on the wall, making the flames in the fireplace jump to life. Then he turned it off, seeing how instantly mesmerized I became.

He came back over to me, throwing down the folder. The one with my name on it. The one that gets thicker each week, with notes added in as he thinks he dissects the methods used to win me over. I'm so tired of this. I have headaches now too. Everyone and then some have told him to stop, just to leave me be, after he promised he would be honest and he confirms that honesty is still paramount, now he's just working out in the open instead of behind the scenes.

He tapped it with two fingers, relaxing slightly, watching me. We are two feet apart. I could smell the scent of soap and fragrance on his skin and I could see the morning shadow on his face because he did not bother to shave. He didn't comb his hair either, tousled and wavy. He was dressed somewhat comfortably in a waffle-knit long sleeved t-shirt and black chinos. Bare feet.

Please kill me, I thought to myself.

You did not get back to me on the changes I suggested.

I sat and waited, staring back at him, trying to keep my expression completely neutral. He watched me fail.

Bridget, since you won't cooperate I have no choice but to exact a little power here. This will be unfair.

Well, then. Let's not mince words. What do you mean? Power how? If you drag Henry into this-

Henry will not be dragged into this. I already gave you my word. No, creep. You gave the lawyers your word. Because you're smarter than I think you are. He drags his hand down the lower half of his face as if he can't believe I would guess that Henry would be the catalyst that's spurring such pressure from him. That or it's the fact that we now have less than six months remaining until his self-imposed time limit.

(I know. I need this right now, don't I? Like a hole in the head. Oh wait, I asked for that too.)

What is the one thing you asked me for, Princess? The one thing you have wanted from me that I refused to acknowledge or provide?

To leave me alone?

Think harder. You've asked me several times to perform a sort of magic.

What do you want from me? You've said this is all temporary anyway, what's the point?

I make you a little magic and in exchange, you take 1983 and wipe it from your memory.

What about the rest of your...proposal?

Oh, all of that still holds. This would be a show of good faith on my part.

And I require a lobotomy in the process? Hell, if you think I'll need one before, wait until after-

Bridget. I'm dead serious.

(That's not an expression anyone is permitted to use in my vicinity. Obviously it was my cue to walk out again.)

Caleb, if you go forward with any of this you'd better run while you still can because I'll kill you myself.

Not if I kill you first.

And he smiled as if we had talked about the weather and nothing more.