A very messy execution.

They barely survived the Christmas concert, choosing to drop an almost-altercation right between Little Drummer Boy and Jingle Bell Rock as sung by the grade two classes. PJ had a hand on Lochlan's shoulder. I think he was waiting for Loch to explode up out of his seat and tackle Caleb, who sat there looking smug and then when Henry's class came out and sang Caleb looked proud but gave me the briefest side-eye, since I sent Henry to school in a flannel shirt and jeans, same as ever, and most of the boys were dressed up.

Henry Jacob isn't comfortable dressed up and since it's grade fucking six, I'll make sure he's comfortable and everything else can follow afterward. To add insult to injury, Henry's stubborn cowlick was standing straight up, making him look like he fell out of bed and ran up the hill to school without even brushing his hair.

Afterward we went by the classroom to give our regards to the teachers and Henry ran up and hugged Loch and then told everyone this was his uncle (we left it alone) that can throw and swallow fire, that he came from...(dramatic pause)....the circus.

Oh, well, shit.

Caleb didn't react that I could see. He just exclaimed with the kids that it WAS cool and then we made a hasty exit. We walked back down to the house and then he told PJ that I needed to come work for a few hours and then when the kids were done school I'd be free. PJ, who is suddenly my mother, said that was okay while I protested that I had nothing to do and I thought I was done until New Years.

Caleb smiled patiently. Year end can't be done after the end of the year, Princess.

I rolled my eyes and followed him up to the boathouse. Lochlan walked the other way, jamming his hands into his pockets for the zippo lighter to flick, something to do, anything so that he wouldn't blow up at Caleb and get in trouble with everyone even though it isn't his fault by any means. Some jobs are just cooler than others.

And sorry but when you're eleven lawyers are boring.

I remind Caleb that I told him this myself when he started university when I was eleven.

I am smiling at the memory when he loses his fucking mind and pins me up against the wall. Which is exactly the sort of unpredictable violence that drove me to leave his brother.

How much time do you spend building Loch up to MY SON? He roared in my face.

I stare him down. I don't have to build him up and I don't play games when it comes to my children, Cole.

I called him by the wrong name on purpose so he would snap out of his rage.

Caleb lets go and I land on my feet. He grabs my shoulders and pushes me against the wall, pressing his forehead down against mine, closing his eyes. He starts to apologize and I tell him to save it, that I don't want to hear it, that maybe the judge should hear about it and maybe Caleb needs some human being classes because his demon is showing and he laughs and asks me when I'm going to give up calling him evil.

When you stop being this way! I squeal. My voice is hoarse from yelling back.

I think you'd better go. I don't feel as if I have any control right now, Bridget. He lets go abruptly. The last thing I want you to remember about me is something like this. Walk out now, okay? Go quickly, now, okay? 

I think I should stay and not leave you alone right-

GO BRIDGET! JUST GET OUT!

And he spun me around and gave me a shove toward the door. I tripped over my own feet and landed with my hands on the glass, still upright. I turned the knob and burst out into the night, gulping in lungfuls of air, wondering where he found all that sudden resolve and then remembering that he's trying to learn how to keep a promise. He succeeded.

Grounded (the good kind).

Henry's grade six Christmas concert is tomorrow. The school gave me two tickets. I went back and asked for at least twelve more and was summarily turned away due to space issues.

Eventually (today) the office scraped together two more for me.

So four tickets for myself, Caleb. PJ, our surrogate-everything who gets any child-related honor I can give him for what he does for us and one very busy stepfather who doesn't want to miss it but will have to due to time constraints.

That leaves one free ticket so Loch said he would go in Ben's place if we would have him. I asked him to check with Henry because this is Henry's show and he came back grinning a few minutes later.

That would be a yes.

(Love the living while they're still alive.)

We didn't spend our life together
and I will miss you forever

The choice was mine
To long for a time that will never come
Though we leave the world apart
I still went peacefully, quietly
with you still firmly in my heart

I will wait forever
I wait.

I call them fire and ice mornings.

When I wake up half-broiling and half-frozen, wedged into the middle of the Emperor bed with the big frame that I have come to love draping huge scarves over, yards of gossamer, translucent tulle in shades of flames and water. It's a fort, okay? Something that's impossible to build in a camper. And I always wanted one.

Lochlan's a thrasher. A hot-sleeping, blanket-stealing, dream-driven, night-enduring moonbeam when he sleeps. I have no doubt someday he's just going to up and burst into flames from the inside out. That will be the way he goes. I carry a big water bucket now everywhere I go. Just in case.

And Ben is a corpse who night after night scares the ever-loving fuck out of me. He's a vampire, his skin cooling, heartbeat slowing, not-moving-a-muscle, rigid nightmare-suffering blackout-dark nightcrawler soul dissolving into the early morning hours until you can no longer tell him apart from the skies. If it weren't for the sheer need to protect him from himself as he slumbers I might run screaming the other way.

***

I'm back in the creepy/spendy/famous grocery store, shopping amongst the only Glitterati who don't send their staff to buy groceries each week. I suppose it makes them feel human.

Me too.

Mondays will invariably find me standing fully perplexed in front of the cheese display. Because I don't understand. I don't understand what you do with most of this stuff and I don't understand why it costs so much.

(Here's where I should point out I pull the same face in front of the lightbulbs now, desperate to find the lightbulb that doesn't cost $27 a piece or have that stupid cold faint light that you can't read by).

And the Devil is still stalking me. Not sure why he doesn't shop any other day. And I don't bring him anymore because some times I just want to get something accomplished. If it's grocery shopping then that propagates into all other facets of life.

(Here's where I point out what I mean is PJ is cranky when he isn't fed regularly).

Caleb is standing beside me again while I hold this tiny seventy-dollar wheel of fancy cheese.

Good choice, he says.

What do you do with it?

Melt it in a little pot in the oven and then dip things in it. It's delicious.

I do that with Cheese Whiz.

Yes, I know. I had them stock the stuff in California so that we could have late-night cheese toast.

We didn't though.

We did not. Too bad, too. Should I get some today and we can have it at home?

No. Leave it here. I am impatient suddenly. Tired. Not in the mood to banter about products or dredge things up. And worse still is that I got caught this morning. My truancy from the place I'm supposed to be is glaringly obvious but this morning Lochlan said we needed things and we would go right away. I obeyed him because that's what I do. If Caleb dropped an order right now I'd obey that too. Because that's how they taught me to be. And that's how I am.

***

Lochlan wakes me out of a sound sleep.

You were talking.

I try to pull away from him but he has me pinned on my back. If sleeping is the only time I have with Jacob then Lochlan is interrupting my dreams and must be stopped.

Sorry. Find some earplugs. Let me sleep.

He stared at me in the dark as I lightly ran my fingers over his face feeling his features because I couldn't see them. He waited patiently and when I was finished I could feel his expression of resignation and helplessness and I closed my eyes again and returned to my dreams to finish the night in a place that wasn't hot or cold.

It was just right.

Dimachaerus.

John is all moved now. He seems relieved. He seems quite thrilled to be closer to Christian, in the house next door and a little further removed from PJ. Don't get me wrong, there is a lot of love there. They're also two big lumberjacks who like their privacy so in order to reward both for their patience I bought them both sets of real towels.

The towels were not the hit of this little indulgence but the warming racks I got for their bathrooms were. And it has nothing to do with Christmas. I believe in housewarming presents too when people move because moving just sucks and warm towels are the fucking shit, you see. I used Caleb's black Visa card to buy everything. You didn't think I sent that back when I couriered his wallet back to him, do you? He has other cards. It's okay. I'll give it back eventually.

PJ is...struggling a little bit. As usual he has approached his newfound romantic interest with a little deception. He told her he rents a room in a big house. Which technically he does.

But.

But.

I'm just going to keep out of it. But you know? I'd probably drop the commune-bomb by the second date. Otherwise you're just not being honest and why wait until it's going to hurt to know where someone else stands on that whole subject. People are either for it or against it, from what I have seen. He's had ten official date-dates. It's time.

In other news, Caleb did come back early Friday, as anticipated. He wanted to know how I did it, how I got the key for the car without him noticing, how I went a week without touch when I could have had whatever I wanted. How I maintain such a distance from him sometimes and other times I'm so close I breathe the fires that hell maintains in anticipation of my place as the future bride of Satan.

Okay, so he didn't put it like that but still.

And yesterday when he and Lochlan got into it just a little too much Ruth stepped in, putting herself in between Caleb and her father.

(Please know we have shielded the children magnificently up until now, but they're aren't dumb. They're smarter than all of us put together).

She told them to knock it off and she told Caleb that he wasn't allowed to hurt her father. She told Lochlan that he shouldn't provoke her brother's father, because it upsets her brother and that is no longer allowed. She is thirteen years old and she has the bravery of a Gladiator and the heart of a poet and all she wants in this house is peace. She wants her mother to be happier and the fathers to work together and she would also, since we're on the subject, like it if Ben were around a little bit more.

I knew this day would come. What I didn't realize is how proud I would be of her when it happened.

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.