Straight to voicemail.

Well, this is humiliating but after waiting forty extra hours I really don't fucking care.

She swings a string of pearls on the corner
The streelight reflects the light on the water
The string, it snaps and the pearls go sailing
And they splash and bounce and roll cross the wet street

It's difficult to be the messenger, knowing I'll be shot for sheer lack of information, knowing I am already dead.

PJ can't process my news. What do you mean you don't know when he'll be home, Bridget?

He didn't say. 

August's turn. But did you ask? 

Yes, of course. He didn't even acknowledge the question. It was a twenty-second call.

Ask Caleb. This, from Dalton.

He hasn't responded to anything yet.

Is Ben okay? Gage is uninformed and curious. Curious = caring, that's good.

I heard from him late last night. Daniel speaks up. He asked me to pick up some strings and cables before he gets back. He asked if you were okay. He didn't let on anything was weird. Sounded fine. Tired but fine.

Maybe he's just distracted. You know he gets when he's there. Like a kid who's had too much sugar and-

Bridget, He knows you don't like it when he's away. Andrew is frowning at me.

Remember when he went out to do the shows and hardly called? He's always been like this. I'm sure he's fine.

Want me to go fetch them? Duncan stands up, as if flying to New York will take half an hour instead of half a day. It was supposed to be a thirty-hour trip and still nothing.

I shake my head. Just keep trying him.

Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.

Get a little bit higher,
So we can fall til we bleed
Push a little bit harder
Pull me into the speed
So tell me can you feel this?
Come into my dream
Are you ready to awaken?
Are you ready to feed?
Cause I need to feel
Yeah, I need to say
I must confess, I’m addicted to this
Shove your kiss straight through my chest

Midnight came and went and I was still seeing everything through a spin. He walked me backwards up the stairs and down the hall, his arm around my waist, my feet hardly touching the ground as I held his face in my hands, stealing kisses he didn't seem to want to spend.

Sleepytimes, Bridget. (I'm not the only one who's fucked.)

No. Stubborn girl that I am, I bite his lip hard. He responds in so many ways I don't know what to touch first so I simply go for broke. Everything.

Wait. He says it into my mouth as he turns the knob and in we go. Pitch black, full dark. Our senses recalibrate and launch into overdrive, touch taking center stage. He closes the door and backs me up against it, lifting my dress up over my hips, hands sliding everywhere, our foreheads pressed together as we fight to breathe the little air that remains that hasn't polluted our judgement all to hell.

He tries again. You need to go to bed.

I need you. I try to slide down to the floor in front of him but he grabs my throat, holding me up. He resumes his efforts to take me out of my dress, kissing down my shoulder, pinning me with his torso as I grind against him, fighting my way back out.

I always lose.

He hooks his hands under my knees and slides me up the door and that's it, I can't fight anymore. Now I just hold on very hard as the ceiling comes closer still and then slides away. He smiles into a kiss and stops, pinning me between his body and the wall before resuming, slower than slow. I can feel him trembling and it drives me over the edge.

He has other plans, and lowers us to the floor. His hand comes back up to cradle my face as his other hand finds a purchase on the back of my thigh. He drops all of his weight on me, pulling me up into his rhythm until I forget everything else. The floor has no give, it makes everything hurt in the best way possible but he is not happy with it and so he pulls me up over his knees and sits on the floor, lifting me in his arms, dropping me back down hard, my breathing confined to a small space just underneath his chin. I hold on as hard as I can and we make our return trip to outer space, ending just as I think I can't do this anymore.

He smiles and smothers my face with more kisses. Gentle ones now instead of the ones that sting, ones that bruise. He tells me to hold on tight and he gets up, holding me in his arms and throws me on the bed, climbing on after me, over me, bringing the sheets and blankets up with him, settling in with his arms around me, landing another good kiss on my forehead as my shoulders and hips begin to burn from scraping into the carpet. I ask him how his knees are and he says they fucking hurt so bad but I don't care, no, I don't care about anything right now except for you. 

I am so tired now I can no longer outrun the tequila and it catches up with me and turns my lights out, blurring my motives, blurting out confirmations I had no intentions of making. Me neither.

***

Late this morning I make my way downstairs quietly, gingerly, mildly headachily. Loch is at the table alone eating toast. He asks me how I'm doing and then winces as he gets up to hug me. His knees are fucked, bleeding, shredded. Lochlan, we need to look after that. 

Yeah. What about you?

Just slightly burned all over my whole backside, no blood though. 

He makes a small grateful smile at that and leads the way down the hall into the bathroom so I can grab the first aid kit.

Funny how the tides have turned and now I'm the one looking after you, I joke but when I look up the clouds have passed in front of the sun in his eyes and he isn't smiling anymore.

Yeah, funny, isn't it? He corrects his expression but it's too late. I don't know what to make of it so I just load it up with iodine and gauze, taping it well but ensuring he has some range of movement. It's the same way I treat all mortal wounds for the two of us, just like he taught me to do: clean it, cover it, and wait for things to get better.

Brought to you by the Sam and Matt show. Now with tequila!

A postcard came in the mail with information from Starbucks on how my free drink entitlements would be put on the card, instead of having to have a drink postcard by itself. Um, oops. I tossed the card when it ran out like eight months ago. I'm not very good at city life, I'm afraid. Spent it all on brownies for Henry anyway.

***

I'm perusing designer (sorry, artisan) cheese in the grocery store when I'm suddenly acutely aware there is someone standing close by and talking and yet no one else is around. Assuming it's Caleb again I ignore him completely this time until the basket is lifted out of my hand and Lochlan puts packs of chicken and some green peppers in as he takes the load. I pull out my earphones and smile at him just in time to hear him decline a dinner invitation from some total stranger on my behalf because, as the stranger can see, I already have plans for dinner. Lochlan is gracious and annoyed at the same time and I don't even have a sweet clue what's going on.

Running errands has become akin to dodging the Casual Encounters page on Craigslist. I swear to God, I had no idea everybody in West Vancouver was so desperate.

I live with some of them.

***

Sam and Matt are so incredibly sweet and hot together that they have become my new television, on twenty-four hours a day, commercial-free. The romance channel. Also worth noting, we are watching Revolution on Monday nights now. It's very good and I love it. I wish it was commercial-free but I don't get the whole PVR thing and so whatever. I'm not going to spend more money on a fourth cable box for one tv show. I'm just happy there's finally something on worth watching.

***

I have an iPhone. Clearly the apocalypse is upon us. Who KNEW!? I was the very last holdout after that drunken fiasco in which I dropped the 3G and shattered it (also TEQUILA). This time they gave me one made of ALL GLASS.

I know. What are they thinking!

They were tired! Of hearing me complain! Because I dropped (!) my Nexus S in the water twice (Okay, no I didn't. I FELL IN THE CREEK on a hike and it flew out of my hoodie pocket and then three days later it slipped into a full mug of tea with honey and yeah...it was never the same and very finicky so when the boys went to get their iPhone 5s I was gifted a gently-loved 4.

I will love it hard, I promise. First thing I got for it? A slide-out bluetooth keyboard case! Huzzah!!

I really had no idea I kill nice phones along with husbands. NEW TALENT.

***

No, I'm not going to fucking Meet the Teacher night. I know all the teachers.

***

Wherrrrrrrrre is the food replicator already? I have to make dinner. Blah. Too tired.

***

Musically we're fucked. I was listening to In this Moment, Caleb has Testament on (10...9...8...7...6....6....6....hahahahahaha, how fitting) and PJ was sporting something called Orange Goblin and then Lochlan has Apocalyptica in his headphones and Gage has Evans Blue on and Jesus, Mary and...August? well, he's got...James Taylor on in there. I can hear it. I know his secrets.

***

Yes, I'm drunk! Wednesday at 4. New record! Not my fault. Matt has been mixing drinks all afternoon and apparently none of us can resist him, even though only what, four of us can partake at this point.

Good thing, that.

Drive-by Lochlanisms.

So..Frankenweenie is allowed to use forbidden words and the rest of us are still relegated to calling dead-end streets 'unturnaroundables'?

Yes. 

Relief, in Ben-form. Wiseass.

Down through my lashes today, down down down to the bottom of the sea where the plaques bolt into the rocks and the waves pound the letters away slowly.

I'm still not allowed here on the edge by myself but I'm not by myself today. Ben is here with his smile turned upside-down, raw silence on the stereo and his hands in his pockets instead of at-the-ready.

Luckily I am tired and worn to smithereens, mentally empty and not a flight risk today.

So Caleb broke your soul, Cole, your body, Loch broke your heart and Jake your head. What's left for me to have a go at? He says it softly but we haven't looked at each other in a while. I can hardly hear him.

My future. I turn and gaze at him, my back to the ledge.

He looks up. We're already driving that into the ground here, little bee.

I nod and swing my arms out wide and my whole body pivots and corrects.

Come away from there, Jesus, please. He reaches out and takes my arm, pulling me in closer, away from the bluff, out of the wind that threatens to smash me on the bronze markers. He keeps talking.

What if maybe they only temporarily wounded those parts of you? Since physically you're okay right now, except for this stupid cold. And your heart is still beating, not broken completely. You're here on earth so your soul is intact. And your head is sort-of okay. Well, maybe not okay but some days are good. I don't think your mind is broken or you'd be in the corner drooling and staring at the static on a TV screen.

So everything's fine then. Perfect, I'm still breathing, I can function moderately well and I hate white noise so tell me, Ben, what the fuck does all this MEAN, then?

It means you're...He is trying to stifle a laugh and I"m going to smack him. It means you're emo.

Wow. Yup. That's it. I'm emo. I was waiting for someone to clue in.

Sorry, I'm a bit slow. He taps his head.

Yup. You took forever, for crying out loud. I roll my eyes and climb down off the rock wall, headed toward the house.

Jesus, Bridget, I was only kidding. You smiled! You thought it was funny!

My broken heart is not funny!

WOUNDED!

Fine, wounded. Lying on the battlefield, bleeding out. Great, my death is now fucking Groundhog Day to be repeated every twenty-four hours.

So should I wait until you actually die today before we....

BENJAMIN! GROSS!

Only for me. You won't even know what's happening. You'll be dead.

I think that's illegal.

Only if I'm caught.

Inverse (two months later).

(Go back and read yesterday's post. Then read this one. Now tell me which way is up. Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say.)

Fortune brings me around for a respite when Cole and Caleb decide to go together on a rare outing to an art show, leaving me home alone. I have a cold from running around in those non-waterproof thigh-high boots for weeks on end. I am run-down and feverish and thrilled to have a day to myself. I promptly change into jeans and a worn t-shirt with a warm hoodie over that and my All-Stars. I take the bus into the city and I knock on Lochlan's door precisely at two.

He is not attentive or chivalrous. He takes a drag from his cigarette, pushes his glasses back up his nose and turns away from me, walking back inside. His apartment is three rooms and not luxurious in the least but neat and clean and..useful. The door opens into a half-hallway and the couch is along that wall, desk to my immediate right, small dining room table in the open space in front of the desk, TV unused in between, then on two walls there are cupboards that mostly construct a tiny kitchen. At the end of this open area there's a door on the left that leads to another micro-hallway with doors to his bedroom and the bathroom. I follow him in, closing the door myself. He puts out his cigarette and frowns at me.

How are you? He waits exactly five-tenths of a second and then says You know what? Nevermind. I can see for myself (Only it comes out meself). He pulls my collar down and sees marks. Who's responsible?

I shake my head.

The new guy? What the fuck's his name again?

Loch! Stop it.

I can't trust you with any of them,  it seems. You have a new best friend? Just like that.  How does that even happen?

He's just a friend. And don't you think things happen for a reason?

What things? No, they don't. There's no such thing as fate. There's plans and there's coincidence, nothing more.

What about magic, Loch?

Not the same thing, peanut. Magic, well, that's what you and I had.

He pulls me forward into his arms until my face is wedged under his chin, against his throat, his hand smoothing my hair down, his breath hot on my head. He leads me over to the bed and pushes me down gently, in the middle of a kiss. He unzips my hoodie and pulls my arms out gently and smells my hair. You smell so good, Bridget. He admires his girl before he breaks her heart into so many pieces we never did find them all. We never will.

I love you for everything you ever took from me
I love the way you dominate and you violate me
I love you for every time you gave up on me
I love you for the way you look when you lie to me
I love you for never believing in what I say
I love you for never once giving me my way
I love you for never delivering me from pain
I love you for always driving me insane

Hours later I feel rejuvenated and alive. I sit up and he pulls me back down, threading my hair through his fingers, pulling it away from my face as I gaze into his eyes. Lochlan kisses me and it means everything. He reminds me that I am to watch myself around the brothers Grimm and the new guy too and he lets go gently, pushing me away. I protest but he does not notice, too busy looking through his wallet. He takes out a stack of bills and gives them to me and kisses my shoulder. Hide those away in case you ever need them and stay here and get some sleep. You have a fever, he orders, I have to work but I want to make you dinner later tonight. He slips back into his clothes, grabs his backpack and heads out the door.

I carefully fold the bills and tuck them into his night table drawer for him to find some other time. I snuggle back into the blankets, falling asleep in the light scattered across the bed in the late afternoon, the late-fall sun still persisting through the turned leaves, delirium clouding my dreams.

1998 (twenty years in.)

It's fall. Boom. Equinox. Leaves. Color. Summer's end. She left in the night without saying goodbye probably weeks ago and I got up this morning and pulled on a clingy black knit dress, black stockings with seams that have to be stick-straight or they make people dizzy and my thigh-high boots that make it hard to bend my knees. Huh. I'll have to fix that soon enough, since it seems I'm on my knees more often than not. I spent the whole day breaking in the boots before midafternoon when I arrived at his front door.

Come inside.

I obey and cross the threshold. I wait near him until he has closed and locked the door and then he takes my hand and leads me down the hall.

How is he?

He's fine. Working hard. 

Do you need anything, Bridget? 

No, I say it softly. Yes, I need something, Diabhal. I need escape. I need protection from your brother, I need you to not pretend to believe me when I tell you Cole is just too busy for me because that's not what this is at all and I wish you would set me free and I'd also like you to know I'm only here because I'm trying to double-cross you, and failing miserably besides.

Who is he?

Who is who?

The new friend you've been spending time with. Wow, someone's fast.

He's nice. Taking his masters. More of an acquaintance than a friend. I just met him and had to give him back a jacket he lent to me. He's harmless.

You don't think things happen for a reason, Bridget?

Which things? I am eager for him to note the difference. Instead he throws me down on the duvet and pulls off my boots. He admires how straight I put on my stockings before he rips them to shreds and he admires his girl before he breaks her soul in so many pieces we never did find them all. We never will.

I’m the one that you need and fear
Now that you’re hooked, it’s all becoming clear
That all your judgments that you placed on me
Was a reflection of discovery
So maybe next time when you cast your stones
From the shadows of the dark unknown
You will crawl up from your hiding place
Take a look in the mirror
See the truth in your face

So how can this be?
You’re praying to me
There’s a look in your eyes,
I know just what that means
I can be, I can be your everything
I can be your whore
I am the dirt you created
I am your sinner
I am your whore
But let me tell you something baby
You love me for everything you hate me for

Hours later when my hands are so sore I can't lace my boots properly, he pulls my hair until my head tips way back and I let my eyes take their time to land back in line with his and he kisses me once more as if it means anything and he reminds me that I am to watch myself around new people and he lets go roughly, pushing my head away. I bite my tongue when my head snaps forward hard and open my mouth in surprise. He does not notice, too busy looking through his wallet. He takes out a piece of paper and removes a pen from his breast pocket and scrawls something on it. Then he gives me the paper and kisses my shoulder. Stay and rest, he orders, I have court, but I want to take you to dinner tonight. He takes his giant, heavy briefcase with him and leaves.

I rip the note into tiny pieces and throw it up into the air, letting it fall all over the room, tiny shreds of whatever horrible little bit of information he has for me scattered on the late afternoon like the fall sun on the newly-turned leaves.

Through a Barlow lens.

When he lifted my chin up he scowled into my face, bonked my nose with his and then kissed me on the forehead when my eyes filled up with tears.

I told you not to do that without me there, peanut, he scolded. I had lifted a wallet from a man who was too inebriated to move quickly enough and crowed so in my victory that I didn't notice his friends, who were just fine, standing just to my right. I dropped the wallet and took off running and was not caught but I hurt myself something awful when I dove between two rows of barbed wire into a empty field on the perimeter of the show grounds.

I lay bleeding in the grass in the dark until I was sure it was safe to get up and move again, since Lochlan said a long time ago if you are caught, drop everything and they will usually stop chasing you pretty quick. This was an offhand remark he made, since he was not actively recruiting me to go out alone and pick pockets. If anything he HATED when I was with him and he had to resort to that to feed us.

Ow! I flinch as the warm cloth touches my abraded ear. I think I left half my hair on the fence.

I think I need iodine for this. Was it rusted? Why am I even asking? Of course it was rusted. Probably filthy. Jesus, Bridget. What have you done?

I close my eyes and he keeps working as gently as he can. Underneath all that blood I bet have no skin left. My shoulder is the worst, I imagine we'll go outside so he can pour cool water over it because if he puts the rough washcloth on it I might punch him in the face to make him stop.

He frowns. Empty your pockets. I think we'll go outside and I'll flush everything out.

I smile and turn around and pull out three twenty dollar bills. Never said I didn't take the cash before I dropped that wallet, because I watch him more closely than he realizes, sometimes.He is my hero, because I'm twelve and don't know any better yet.

His eyes light up and he grins and laughs. Well, isn't this ironic! I get to spend this on a first aid kit.

.nevigrofnU

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.