Scratch-and-dent sugarbaby sale.

I'm sure it's the right decision. I just worry about you so fucking much, and I worry about you being away from the water again.

Lochlan has his hands in his pockets. He's cold. The wind is endless this morning. We're on the wrong side of the fence on the dangerous part of the cliff, watching the action far below as Christian and Schuyler remove the bronze plaques from the rocks far below. It's low tide. It's the only chance we'll have to collect them. I'll leave the trees we planted. I have peppered the country clear across with little memorials here and significant odes there but currently ghosts are not on my mind. I have to dial in my focus on the living.

The living stands with his hands in his pockets, zippo in his fingers, probably. He's in a fine dark-grey v-necked t-shirt that cost me more than he would want to know about and his army green cargo pants. His rarely-worn silver chain is tucked inside his collar. He looks slight. Pale. Always a little too thin but stronger than his build suggests. His confidence picks up where his appearance leaves off. He never seems strong but he is. He just likes to be busy. He hates being parked in front of a computer and will be using a standing desk when he starts working nine to five again soon. Regular paycheques for a regular mortgage.

We wanted normal, we're going to get it.

Ben is sleeping in. Still worn out. Still taking up the emperor bed which will be dismantled next  and so I should go in and get him up but Lochlan wants to make sure the others come up safely before he leaves, so I'm not allowed to make my way back to the gate into the safety of the backyard. As long as he can see me that is the safest place, even if it means I remain perched on this ledge in the wind.

I should be across the driveway making my apologies in person but Caleb (generously and without hesitation on the phone) volunteered to host a sleepover and movie weekend for the children. He's maybe as afraid to be alone again as I am to leave him alone here but at the same time when has he ever made things emotionally easy for me? That's right. It happened the last time we forced a logistical separation. So that's what I'm doing again.

 (In case you wondered about him being alone here? He's received more than one lucrative offer for the whole property and is currently mulling over terms. Maybe that was the catalyst as much as anything. The minute he bought the other house developers came out of the fucking woodwork. He won't be left behind.)

Against my wishes we're checking into a hotel downtown tonight while Batman's people unpack the new house literally overnight. Once they are finished we will have brunch downtown and then head home. To the new home. It was the one final service Batman offered and then pushed for.  

Make it as painless as you can while you can, Princess, he told me and so I nodded and signed off on that too.

In the meantime I am gulping down lungfuls of salt air like it's the last thing I ever breathe.

I could pretend he's not as scary as I make him out to be but I really have to stop lying sometime.

(Ben is home. Ben is beautiful and I cried and cried as if when I blinked he wouldn't be there anymore but he still is and I didn't sleep last night I just hung on to him like a velcro monkey so please excuse whatever rambling stupid crap I'm about to put down here.)

If there's one thing I'm fairly good at, it's learning from my mistakes.

Stop laughing. Okay, please? I'm trying to live gracefully here. I'm trying to figure out how. The collective as a commune does not work. There are too many egos and not enough boundaries and zero privacy. We were so busy holding each other up we didn't see we were holding each other down. They spent so much time watching me that they had none left to spend on themselves and when PJ moved out abruptly this week I guess it was confirmation that by taking apart what we built they all might have a chance. That if we all remain here nothing is ever going to change.

I don't need a safety net THAT big. The one I have works just fine.

We bought a house shortly after New Years. A beautiful little new house up in the woods. Far off the beaten path but oddly closer to everything we need to get to. No longer will I have to go venture down the big scary highway for over an hour to grocery shop. No longer will I have to ask four times what they said instead of the usual two because the wind is roaring in my ears.

There's no private beach. No driver. No support network in the new house. It's all ours and we'll either finish ourselves off or...thrive, maybe. Only Ben, Lochlan, the children and myself will live there.

Caleb will be fine, I hope. I realize I may have broken his heart along with his patience but it was necessary. The pressure he was putting on me was so tremendous and so I just kept planning and planning and not telling him anything and then I chickened out altogether and told him in front of the facilitator as we sat for our quarterly meeting as a blended family.

The look on his face.

Further confirmation that this is the right step.

The children are very excited.  And we don't need to live within Caleb's means. We did not earn them.

(Can you tell I'm inwardly freaking the fuck out over his reaction? Or lack of one? I couldn't tell him or he would have prevented me from leaving and I have to go. I can't stay here anymore. He's crushing me.)

We want normalcy.

Well, as much normalcy as a nuclear polyandrous family can have, that is. Lochlan is very happy. He's so freaking happy. There's a lot of talk that he did his magical brainwashing and I'm just a puppet. This is not true. It just isn't so stop. You're going to hear different all through this but it isn't him, it's me.

I'm going to escape the Devil with twenty days to spare.

I'm going to keep looking after my boys, no matter what, just more like in the way we used to when I had the castle. If they don't visit me every single day there will be hell to pay, but it isn't anything like the hell we're in right now.

Batman and his amazing team of miracle workers helped orchestrate this. I do apologize for pretending we were on the outs but I had to in order to keep Caleb in the dark. At no time did I choose Caleb over Batman. Neither one is mine to keep but at least Batman has marginally more self-control and a better view of the big picture.

Caleb has tunnel vision and at the end of the tunnel is me.

I'm not his vision, for fucks sakes and I play him thinking there will be no repercussions. There are always repercussions. I just don't know what they are yet but as bad as things will be with him, they will be better for everyone else.

It'll work. You'll see.

Swim out on a sea of faces,
The tide of the human races,
An answer now is what I need.

See it in a new sun rising
See it break on your horizon
Oh, come on love, stay with me

Grifters by choice.

Today I....

I....disbanded a whole commune.

By myself.

No, that's a lie. I've had a lot of help. A lot of help finding homes, collateral, spending money, protection, support and all sorts of other things because this was (IS) bigger than just a move. This was like brain surgery. This...was really hard, I've been working at it for months.

It was necessary. It was...time?

I'll talk more about it once I find all my stuff. Namely the power cord for my macbook.

The lesson to take away?

Never con a con artist, for she learned from the very best.

(I'd write more but Ben comes home tonight and I need to go find a pretty dress and tidy up and make sure I've got something ready for him to eat right away. He's always starving after a flight. Too nervous to eat in the air.

He'll smell like airplane fuel. I like that part. It means he's tangible again.)

My fault.

Okay, then.

This morning the boys are singing Heartbreaker. En masse. Daniel's got the falsetto. I'm kind of worried about this bunch now. They know too many awesome eighties songs in full.

Oh, wait.

I did this to them, didn't I?

Hahahahaha.

Your love has set my soul on fire, burning out of control
You taught me the ways of desire, now it's taking its toll
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be

You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around
No no no

Shifting my dream for one chance to breathe
And the blue in my eyes fades out.

My time ran out and I'm home now.

Blah.

On moving heaven.

Ben didn't know I was coming to see him and so when I was shown into the reading room, as they call it, he was standing in front of a shelf trying to choose a book. I walked up behind him and stood there peeking out around his right side as he picked up Hemingway and then Brown and then finally pulled out a Lee Child book, a Jack Reacher novel to be exact and I waited until he was a page or two in and just starting to turn on his heel to take the book with him when I said,

I hear Mr. Reacher is only an inch or two taller than you are. 

He spun around far too quickly for someone so large and dropped the book on the floor.

My first thought is What the fuck, beard?

My second was He is fat. I love it. 

My third I forgot because he pulled me right off the floor and up into his arms and CRUSHED me like a little fucking bug but it was fine because that hug lasted something like twenty-five minutes and only when they came and got us did he finally let go.

As far as I know the book is still on the floor.

So Ben is sober, fifteen pounds heavier and seriously unshaven. His hair is still short though and freshly trimmed. I guess they have a barber but he said it's cold outside and he's doing a lot of walking so he grew a beard. There is snow here, I might grow a beard too.

He told me not to grow a beard.

The more he talked to me in that sweet only-for-Bridget way he has of addressing me the more my resolve dissolved and the less stoic I became. It was hard to remain angry. It was hard to keep my distance and hard to talk about things like how our plans are coming along at home when all I really wanted to do was stay in his arms and let the world disappear.

I'm still here. I can't leave. I don't want to go home without Ben so I'm trying to move heaven and earth to have him moved closer to home or something. I need a little luck now. All these resources at my disposal, I'm finally going to utilize a few of them to get what I want, which is a little help in keeping the promises Ben made to me because he had a hard time keeping them himself. I can manage it. I promise.

I might be tougher than I look after all.

Inner pedagogue.

There are things I don't tell you as I narrate life in twenty-minute or four-minute or twenty-four-hour increments here. Just because I'm good at recounting (or is that recanting?) conversations form thirty years ago doesn't mean I'm necessarily good at anything else.

So while I sit here waiting for the plane, let me talk about some stuff that maybe isn't so relevant, exactly.

(I'm on my way to see Ben.)

Because he won't talk to me over the phone and he's not in a position to come see me, I'm going to see him. Thank you to Batman, who once again intercedes when he sees that everything is wrong and everything isn't going to get better on its own. I don't want to go right now. I'm fighting the flu. Things are understandably good with Lochlan and August, strained with PJ and Caleb and...nonexistent with Benjamin.

Batman told me I was fearless as I slammed around the room throwing things in a bag, extracting promises that I can fly home first thing in the morning, telling him he just can't keep barging in and changing everything in my life. He stood with his hands in his pockets admiring my tenacity and complimenting my action. He said I was so annoying. He said I looked pretty when I cried.

At that point I knew for sure he was full of shit, for when I cry all the color pours out of my eyes and runs away and I flush like a little baby tomato. It isn't pretty. It's saturated misery. I shrivel up and blow away. And the worst part is? Tears are sort of the beginning of every emotion now. From joy to surprise to frustration to helplessness to love.

So fuck it. That's not fucking pretty. That's just...dumb.

But I packed and I sat in the passenger seat of Batman's car and I said goodbye to Lochlan for the fifteenth time, and Batman pressed the button and put my window up too soon and Lochlan turned away because he works for Batman now and what are you going to do? And we drove away and now here we are and I'm sitting here thinking Huh, I should write in my blog. 

But all I can think about is to point out that the only hobby I have left is writing. Which is also work but I didn't tell you I am painting again because it's probably a phase. Or how much I still love collecting meaningless and meaningful things, only so long as the meaningful things are very big (hearts and loyalty and forevers) and the meaningless things are very small (keys and sea glass and....cake) and that I really really am not feeling well or brave enough today to go anywhere at all.

I'm not brave. I'm afraid.

But I'm doing it anyway.

Okay so maybe I am brave.

And now I gotta go.

Stanley Park, possibly my favorite place in the world.

I found a really cool shell today at Third Beach. B for Bridget!

Roughly yesterday, or thereabout.

Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me resurrect
Right before your eyes

The liquid in the glass goes around and around. It's making my eyelids heavy but the conversation terrifies me to the point of permanent wakefulness. I raise my eyes up to watch him as he stares out the window, holding his own empty glass.

The scorched earth policy was my plan. Ruin you so that he wouldn't win.

I nod. I'm fascinated when he lays his thoughts down, naked and uncensored, covering themselves fruitlessly in the glare of so much sudden attention.

How am I doing? He turns with a smile and I return to staring into my glass. Bridget. It's a warning to pay close attention. I ignore him and continue drowning in the fumes. Straight Canadian whiskey and I could light my breath on fire from a hundred yards away. How close are you going to get?

I look up and smile. The truth is the only escape I will have from the Devil and yet I made a promise. We buried the truth in the cornfield at the end of the fourth row on the inside, away from the highway. In the pitch dark. In the dirt, digging with our hands and we chose to leave it there instead of redeeming Lochlan and crucifying Caleb.

Because we had to. If we had a choice we would have chosen it, as it were. As Lochlan told me while I stood there and cried because I wasn't old enough to understand why this was so frightening, only that it was and we had to make it go away. Everything is simplified, dumbed down and covered with dirt, turned over and packed down hard and left forever to rot in the ground.

But secrets don't rot. They just fester and linger and wait.

You're going to ruin us all, Bridget and through us the children too. We're tied together now and if one of us sinks, we all drown.

I wish Caleb would shut up now, I'm worn out. I finish the drink and stand up.

ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? He crosses to me and wrenches my wrist. I drop the glass on the floor and nod up at him. He softens marginally and I can respond without flinching so hard. He likes it when I react to him with fear. I maintain that I can't help it but he certainly can.

Leave the sleeping dogs. Leave your failed attempt at young love to the past. Leave your giant addict husband to his altered reality and come to me, Princess.

You are...

What? What am I?

So fucking completely delusional-

My quiet effort at speaking back to him is rewarded handsomely, just as I hoped it might be. I'm not afraid of Caleb. He's too smooth to be as frightening as Cole was, too in control to ever be out of it, too hopeful still to go too far and I know precisely how far he will go and I learned a long time ago that I can take whatever he gives me.

By midnight Caleb goes to refill our drinks and the knock on the door is less of a knock and more of a battering ram. I walk down the hall without my shoes and Lochlan is in the kitchen, in Caleb's face.

Lochlan drops his argument when he sees me. I am twelve, standing in the doorway in a dress that's threadbare, slightly too big so the ties are wrapped twice around my waist and knotted in the back, and my too-long bangs are in my eyes. I am covered with scratches and razor burn and the daze in my eyes leaves them unfocused. My eyes and lips are swollen and I have seen too much for such a young age.

He crosses to me and takes my hands. Come on. I need to get you out of here.

The secrets don't go anywhere, Locket. You know that, right? They wait for us.

He looks at Caleb and then back at me. Don't you listen to him, Peanut. He can't hurt you anymore.

Caleb's voice is sharp and sure, cutting through the whiskey like a bright light.

That's not true and we all know it.

Sleeping on wheels (circa 1983)

Is this long-term, staying on the road? How can we keep it up? Will it last? I mean...um...is it something we can do for a while?

Sustainable, Peanut, that's the word you're looking for.

Is it sustainable?

Yes.

Why?

Because I have no expectations and very basic needs.

What about me?

You have pretty basic needs too, Bridgie. Food, shelter, safety. Education. Fresh air. Vitamins. A really good wide-toothed comb for all that hair of yours.

No, I mean do you need me? Am I part of your basic needs?

Yes.

Why?

You ask too many questions.

Just answer this one and I'll stop.

Why are you part of my basic needs? I feel better when you're around and something's missing when you're not with me. I worry about everything that has to do with you and at the same time you teach me things about myself. I'm selfish. That's why. I just need you.

Goodnight, Locket.

What? Was the answer good enough or are you angry? Just goodnight? No comment on my commentary?

If I say anything I'll cry. That reason was a thousand times better than I thought it would be.

What did you think I would say?

Oh, some dumb thing about me being easy to spend time with because I mostly learn and don't talk back.

Yeah, no, that's not a good answer. And for the record? The one I gave you doesn't even begin to cover it. There aren't enough words I could teach you or enough ways to convey exactly what's happening here. Soul-mates comes close.
 
We're not soul-mates.

Oh really? Then what are you to me?

I'm your muse.

No, the circus is my muse. She's dirty and exciting.

Wow, from awesome to asshole in fifteen seconds flat.

I'm the best at what I do.

Yes, you are.

Goodnight, Peanut. 

Night, Locket.

Hey, Bridget? 

Hmmm?

I love you. 

I love you. 

You're supposed to say 'too'. 

No, then I'm just returning an offering. My way means I am confirming my feelings to you independent of your own and it's a random coincidence. 

Okay then. Sweet dreams. 

You too, Lochlan. 

You used 'too' right there! 

'Sweet dreams' is not nearly as profound or important a declaration as 'I love you', now, is it? 

If I had said you don't talk back would you be doing it right now?

Of course.