Ascetic. Autodidact.

(baby)
I will be your father figure
(oh baby)
Put your tiny hand in mine
(I'd love to)
I will be your preacher teacher
(be your daddy)
Anything you have in mind
(It would make me)
I will be your father figure
(Very happy)
I have had enough of crime
(Please let me)
I will be the one who loves you until the end of time

It was when our eyes locked that he kissed me. Slower than molasses, hotter than the fire he throws as if it can't hurt him. He pushed himself back up with his arms, ducking his head down again for more kisses. He runs his thumb across my upper lip. He smiles softly, red curls covering his eyes.

Then he stands up, pulling me up with him, pushing me down to my knees, pulling me in again, my hair held fast in his fist as he looks down at me. I look up past the sinewy muscles under flushed skin and marvel in the wonder on his face. Sheer love written all over it, ownership, obsession.

You belong to me, he tells me as he looks down at me. And I nod, even as my knees begin to burn.

Okay so the devil is homeand allegy pills and martinis just dont mix. the lobster was fucking stellar thoguth. yay! Tomorrow sobeer words. Okay, no internet for bridget.

I really really hope from now on all I do is write about PJ but let's just say 'we're cautiously optimistic'.

And when I'm gone
Who will break your fall?
Who will you blame?

I can't go on and let you lose it all
It's more than I can take
Who'll ease your pain?
Ease your pain

Six days without affection and I walked through the front door and into the kitchen, dropping my things as I went. Unannounced. Almost two days early.

At least five chairs were knocked over backwards in the rush to get to me first. I think Henry won. Someone bumped the Scrabble game they had going and all of the tiles slid from their spaces as I was ambushed with a giant group hug. (Later I looked and noticed that WHEN and ORE had gotten mixed up together and you know what THAT spells). Then everyone traded places and again I was crushed in the center of my life by so many arms it almost made up for such a lack of human closeness so far this week already.

My hives went away, which goes to show you it isn't the shellfish, it's stress or that glaring lack of touch. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining that my boss acted..like a boss (Jesus, bad spot to trot that colloquialism out), I'm complaining that I am so used to being happily smothered all damned day long I was ice-cold and completely miserable walking around with no one to hold and no one to hold me.

Lochlan was so proud of me (for what? Apparently for not sleeping with the Devil. It TAKES SO LITTLE TO PLEASE CERTAIN PEOPLE YOU SEE AND BOY ARE WE EVER PATHETIC). Ben was less thrilled (because he actually doesn't mind when I sleep with..oh NEVERMIND) and more cautious, wanting me to explain how I came to commit what is probably grand larceny when all I had to do was ask him to come get me at any minute of the day and he would have arrived in just under four hours.

(I'm kidding about the grand larceny. I think I am, anyway).

This morning I woke up in my favorite place, am back to very very little sleep and really really glad that I don't have to depend on push-buttons and total strangers for basic comforts like coffee, safety and common sense.

I got the coffee and the safety right here. Not doing so well with the common sense but whatever.

And while I was gone, PJ done got himself a woman. HOLY SHIT. I think we'll have to move John to the quarters vacated by Gage in order to give PJ as much space as possible to fuck this one up too have some much needed privacy. So the Christmas tree acquisition(s) will be delayed while we throw some stuff across the lawn.

Maybe this year I'll post pictures.

Of the trees, not of John's stuff scattered all over the backyard.

Geez, people.

Mistakes were made, Mostly in the airport.

The Devil should have realized that I have had thirty years to develop my own skill set of sorts, trained under the watchful eye of someone who flies so far under the radar you only see a flash of red and he's gone.

So when Caleb tried to set me up last evening I saw him coming from a mile away. The mark. The target. The only way I could see to deal with him anymore, shifting into my alter ego as he spent the better part of the week being kind, patient and sweet. I could see the bottom swinging free for me to fall right through while I clung to the edge, the sharp metal cutting my fingers straight through to the bone. His sweetness was a trap, the whole trip a kidnapping attempt and his efforts spent in vain, because I'm not for sale. I'm not for rent and I'm not free to a good home either. As inwardly feral as I can be, I have value to someone, and that someone isn't him.

Caleb pulled a Jacob, of all things. Tiny twinkling lights. Dinner. The white tablecloth. The suit coat. Everything I love most right there. Setting me up using my most beloved history as a template for his new design. He pulled a Lochlan too, choosing eighties lovesongs as audio poison, drawing me in to kill me slowly.

I ate. I drank. I danced in his arms under the moonlight and then I picked his pocket, taking his wallet and the keys for the rental car we never even used until I took it. I excused myself and went inside the house and then for good measure I locked the door from the inside, trapping him on the patio, making for a lovely head start.

I drove to the airport, abandoning the car in short-term parking and I flew home on a flight that was only half-full. I sat on the plane in my cocktail dress and heels, holding a man's wallet and a boarding pass. The flight attendant asked me if I wanted a drink and I just kept saying yes until he brought me something he thought I might like. For courage, I thought to myself, and drank it in one go.

It turned out not to be necessary. I might still be on Santa's Nice list after all.

Now the miles stretch out behind me
Loves that I have lost
Broken hearts lie victims of the game
Then good luck it finally struck
Like lightning from the blue
Every highway leading me back to you

This morning I express-couriered Caleb's wallet back to him. He will have it before he goes to his first meeting of the day tomorrow. It cost me almost two hundred dollars. Tomorrow is his most important meeting of the week.

Lessons learned?

1)Next time just take the unlimited credit card and not the whole wallet. You save a lot of money that way.

2)It's probably not a good idea to sabotage someone who knows where you live and is coming home Friday morning.

3)Always always wear underwear since you just never know when an entire airline terminal will watch you attempt to retie the ankle bows on the heels they made you remove while you're wearing that dress, the one that seemed long enough when you tried it on but now is just wholly inadequate.

In between.

He walked back over to the other side of the counter, across from me and placed his hands flat on the surface. He leaned in, eyebrows up, eyes wide and he said to me,

I want to be a Good Human again, Bridget. I want it so much it hurts, and it isn't something I can acquire. It isn't something I can have built to my specifications, it's something I have to ask for from you. 

It doesn't work that way.

He starts to talk and his voice just stops. He is frustrated and angry. He sits down wearily. I've tried everything and I'm tired, Bridget.

I wait. I'm thinking.

Say something. 

This is a trick to let me think I have all the power right now. Why should I say anything?

It's not a trick. It's honesty. You wanted me to be honest, that's what I'm doing. When you were little you told me about it and it's true. You're so bright. Even back then you just knew the difference. There has to be a way to switch sides again. 

There isn't.

                                                               ***

 I am standing in front of him as he leans against the fence. Eventually I get tired and lean too. Against him instead of the fence. He's wearing jeans and his necklace. A black leather cord with a Pisces symbol on it. I am sliding the pendant back and forth, back and forth while he talks. I'm hardly paying attention, I'm too young to be involved in much of their conversation at ten-and-a-half. He is eighteen and has an odd amount of patience for me. He must have wanted a sister.

What were the words you used, Bridgie? 

Good Humans. 

That was it. Good Humans. I think you're right by the way. People are inherently good or inherently bad. 

Good Humans, I repeat and pat the pendant against his skin firmly.

Am I a Good Human, do you think, there, little one? 

I look into his eyes and answer honestly. I don't know yet, Caleb. I watch his blue eyes as they stare back curiously. He finds me intriguing. I don't know why exactly. I think he's my friend though.

                                                                 ***

We order in pizza. He cracks a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses and we take it all outside on the back patio without turning on any of the lights.  We're watching the water, chewing thoughtfully and not talking for so long I start to get sleepy.

Good Humans, he says wistfully.

I am startled out of my doze. I still can't believe that you remembered that. 

He finished his glass of wine in one large swallow. I can't believe I had to make myself a Bad Human to fully understand your definition of a Good Human. 

And now you're looking for absolution from a Grade-schooler. 

She's the only one I will ever want acceptance from, he whispers.

The devil is in (the details).

Sunday was more of the same. Slightly removed, highly amused almost unspoken direction as I scribbled notes and kept track of Caleb's day. Only he kept upstaging my tasks by doing everything for me. Arranging breakfast, then lunch. Then dinner too. Carrying my bag which I kept having to stop him to dig into for my pen or his Blackberry or my planner. He made ridiculous small talk all day long and never once did he offer his arm, in spite of uneven paving stones and a rush to get to the next meeting. Traffic indeed. Not sure exactly what the merits of this place are unless you invest heavily in plastic surgery technology or despise actual seasons with a passion. Christmas looks like Easter here. Same tans. Same fake breasts and pastel pumps everywhere.

And so by dinnertime I was out of my mind. Stop it. 

Stop what?

Being fake. This isn't you and it's not going to work. You don't change. 

Maybe I'm trying. 

Bullshit. It's a challenge. I am poking around, risking certain peace for familiarity.

His eyebrows go up and he leans across the table. What do you want me to do?

Be yourself. 

The shutters come down over his face as it hardens and I watch with fascination. He sits back in his seat gazing at me. Amusement abandoned in his expression in favor of slightly guarded desire. He continues to sit there for a few moments and I stare back, never once breaking his gaze.

He breaks it first to signal to the server. I watch this unfold. Something has come up, could we have the bill please?

The server looks at our glasses of water and frowns and Caleb hands him a bill for the trouble. They can flip a coveted table that much faster tonight. No harm done.

He stands and comes around to pull out my chair, I stand up and he motions for me to lead the way. We leave and the car is already outside. I'm guessing he has a doomsday-driver button in his pocket or something.

We don't say a word on the seventy-five minute drive back out to the shore. Not a word. I look out the window. Sometimes I text Ben. Caleb takes several phone calls but I don't actually listen in.

When we get to the house Caleb sends everyone home for the night.

And then he turns to me and asks me exactly what it is that I want. And then he turns away as if he doesn't want to know.

I tell him I want to go home.

His answer was spoken clearly in the silent room. 

No. 

No? 

No, Bridget. I'm not finished with you yet. 

I knew he was in there somewhere.
 

Angel, second class.

At seven last evening I was officially dismissed for the day, not harshly but kindly so. Told that I was free to do whatever I liked for the evening. No more work. No more notes or coordinating or paying attention. I just sort of stood there looking up at Caleb. He waited quite patiently for me to acknowledge my release. I am not used to this.

What..well, what should I do?

He repeated himself. Whatever I liked, whatever I wanted to do.

Oh. I see.

I had him call the driver and I was taken back to the house. I called Ben and then I spoke with both children and then Lochlan took Ben's phone and shut himself in the library and spoke to me quite patiently. Asking seven thousand questions. Telling me to come back. Pick an emotion, he dealt it and I cried and then when I finally hung up I sat on the edge of the bed with the sea in front of me and I still didn't know what to do with myself.

A text from Caleb told me to remember we have another earlyish day planned for Sunday so I should mind that info when I made my plans and I replied with two words and then I turned off my phone.

Fuck you. 

I went down to the kitchen and picked up the doomsday button and wondered if Gregory could fix my loneliness. I wondered if I should ask him if he'd watch a movie with me. I wondered if I should just ask him to call the driver back to take me to the airport so I could go home and end this charade, this bizarre alternate universe. I lasted less than thirty hours. I concede. I give up.

I sat there holding the button so long the evening ended in the blink of an eye and Caleb was standing there smiling. Maybe not smiling. Doing that kindly-staring thing, almost gazing at me.

What time is it, please?

Eight. 

(Oh, the evening hasn't even started.) You're back early. 

He smirked slightly. I came back as soon as you sent me that lovely 'Fuck you' message. I would have been faster but the traffic here is nothing short of pure insanity. 

I raised my eyebrows. There is no more to the message. Sorry if you cut your evening short for that. And I don't know why you brought me all the way down here for this. What the fuck is this? Some sort of lesson on what life would be like if you were the perfect boss? 

He smiled wide. You got it. I'm being the angel now, George. 

Did you just call me George? What? What are you talking about?

It's a Wonderful Life. The movie. I'm showing you what life would be like if it were the way you asked it to be. A perfect opportunity. At Christmastime even. 

I stand up, balling up my fists. He looks at them and bursts into laughter.

You're angry! Oh my God, this is so perfect. Bridget, darling, you wouldn't want me to be anything different. You can't cope. You don't know what to do with yourself. I've never seen anything so amazing in my life.

Notes from the City of Noisy Surf.

I could have remained home but something in me knows better after twenty-two years of traveling with Caleb and five years of fighting with him in front of lawyers and judges. Sometimes things are better off left alone.

Something in me also knows that I can't control the moderate full-body trembles that begin when he opens the car door for me in our driveway and end when I make it back alive.

However, as usual the Devil has many surprises in store. Like when I asked which hotel and he just smiled and kept looking out the window. I put my head back and closed my eyes. So tired all the time. When I opened them I smelled the salt air and saw the ocean. He has procured a giant private house overlooking the bluff. We're in Malibu and outnumbered by the help, five people, who (including the driver) will be seeing to our every whim.

No, not those whims. The other ones that involve food or directions or my first question, which was How do I open these blinds? after fifteen minutes of fruitless effort. I posed that question to some young man named Gregory, who attempted not to smile as he walked back to the door. I thought he was leaving but he pressed a button on a bank of controls inside the door and the blinds slowly rose.

He said he would show me which button so I could close them at will and I looked at him curiously and asked why I would ever close them again?

He smiled then.

Later Caleb showed me a small device that looks like a pager. Actually it looks like a doomsday button. There's nothing else on it. Just a button. No screen. No screws for battery removal or anything. He said that device is mine while we're here, and if I need anything I press it and Gregory will attend to me.

Anything? I ask and Caleb rolls his eyes. Will they listen to safewords? Is he protection detail?

Bridget. It's a warning so I drop the device on the counter and leave it there.

We drive two hours to dinner. It's pretentious. Everyone in the restaurant is tall, blonde and tanned. Caleb knows someone. I eat something only if I recognize it and make an effort not to bulldoze the vertical construction too soon. We make small talk and I fidget alot to control the trembles. I drop my knife twice. I only drink water, even though Caleb ignores me and orders wine which will be wasted. He frowns and then asks me if I'm feeling well.

I say fine, how about you? and he looks confused and disappointed. I guess he still expects the relief his trips used to bring to me. Well, they don't anymore.

When we return to the house I go upstairs to see the view again from that wall of windows and I notice that only my things are in the room. My dresses in the closet. My cosmetic bag on the counter in the bathroom. My book placed on the table beside the bed, which has been turned down already with a rose and a chocolate on the pillow.

I head back downstairs. I forgot to even look at the ocean. Caleb is on the phone and so I wait. When he's done I ask if he's leaving me here or what the fuck is going on exactly.

What do you mean?

Where are your clothes? They're not in the room. 

Who's room?

Ours. 

That's your room, Bridget. 

Yes, where is your stuff?

In my room. 

I don't understand. 

This is not a pleasure trip. You are here as my assistant. 

I still don't understand. 

You've asked for boundaries. I'm giving them to you. 

Oh whatever. 

You don't want your own room? 

Do you have a doomsday button-thingie for me too that you'll just summon me later?

No, Bridget. I don't. He just stood there. I wanted to flee. Then he said Go get some sleep, tomorrow will be a full day. And he leaned down, kissed my cheek and returned to his phone.

I turned and went back upstairs. I took a hot shower, stripped and got into bed and lay there in the dark wide-awake all night, button in my hand, wondering if Gregory was still around because I can't fall asleep when I'm alone. At some point I believe my brain must have shut itself down using some built-in safety mechanism, because when I woke up, the sun was shining and the ocean was still there and I was no longer shaking like a leaf.

Because the Devil always wins.

I am in Los Angeles.

:(

Graceless (I can see through you).

My headphones are on loud while I wash dishes. I'm singing Outside. Because it's a sad song and because I can easily cover it. Kitchen Karaoke. Tuning out. Pick something. The children are watching movies with August and John and everyone is keeping their distance from me.

I'm angry. Really, really angry. First Caleb has the nerve to bring up the horses. Ben demands heaven for Jacob but isn't there to fill in the gaps and now this. Being accused of setting us up to fail? When I was twelve? What the fuck. I don't even know how Loch arrived at that level of desperation.

Then his hands come around my shoulders and his head lands on top of mine, his sharp jaw cutting into my skull. He takes one of my earphones out and puts it in his ear and he begins to sway against me, keeping me captive in his arms as he reaches around me, taking the brush and the bowl I was washing out of my hands, putting them back in the sink, turning the water off. Turning me around. Pulling my hands up around his neck, putting his arms around my waist, tucking me in against his chest.

We're dancing in monophonic. We're not resolving anything falling into familiar comfort patterns but three-decade habits can't be broken overnight, oh, no. They just can't.

I pull back and look up at him. I want to tell him to fuck right off. To go away. To not do this and just let me figure out how to live but then he looks directly at me and in his eyes I see so many nights and so many stars and so much pain. I see agonizing worry. I see how he taught me to live safely, loved, in the dizzying lights and the power ballads and the blistering heat, every moment a thrill, every ride a masterpiece. Every sky brand-fucking-new, every day. Every time I fall in love with him I ricochet back to this.

I want to concede. I want to tell him he wins but I don't take risks anymore. No one gets one hundred percent of anything except for me now.

He pulls me back in until my head is cradled in his heartbeat and my breathing slows, knees weakening, hopelessness taking over in the dark where reckless abandon and sweet youth used to be.

You can't go.

I can't stay either.

Let me fix it. 

I don't think you can now, Loch. It's too late.

It's not. Trust me. He brings my fingers up to his lips and stupid hope inside me surges forth, as if it's going somewhere. It should know better by now but that's the thing about hope. It's a promise of change.

There's twenty of us and one of him, Bridgie. 

Yes but he's Henry's father. And he's the Devil too.