Butterscotch ripples.

I'm listening to Air Supply in the kitchen while I do preparations for dinner and ignore the messages on my phone. Let them pile up. Eventually the phone company will cut me off. Exceptions I will take are Corey (who is coming over with a big fat cheque for me for my artistic contribution to his latest music video) and New Jake, who is currently at the hospital with Sam because he fucked up his insulin again and no one is looking after him so I might bring him here so I can.

Oh baby, those memories come crashing through
and I just can't go on without you.
Go on without
It's just no good without
Yoooooooouuuuuuuuu

PJ thinks I'm insane.

Ha, you're very perceptive, Padraig.

Batman wants to know what we buried in the cornfield.

Perhaps I should tell him that it was loaded.

Speaking of evil things, Caleb switched gears this morning, telling me he wasn't feeling well, asking if we could defer Henry's dinner night to tomorrow (they go to a restaurant once a week or so and eat big huge hamburgers and talk man-talk). Fine. Need anything? No? Okay great, gtf away. I don't plan to message Caleb for the rest of the week. It's draining.

Henry was not impressed and thinks his father is lying because I am always nicer to Caleb when he's sick. He told Henry I was more cuddly and so I told Henry that yes, his father lies but only to be kind, like those lies we tell when we don't really like a gift or a food or a moment but we need to be polite and not hurt feelings. Henry then asked if PJ could take him out instead because PJ doesn't care if Henry gets mustard on his t-shirt and laughs way more than Dad. I said some dads just aren't that cuddly and Henry said that sucked.

Yeah it does. Come hug me. Better?

Yeah.

I'll always be cuddly for you. 

Yeah but mo-om, you're like needy-cuddly. I don't mean to hurt your feelings though.

Gee, thanks, Bunny. Next time lie.

Okay. Sorry. 

It's okay.

Will you check on Dad?

Yes. 

Now?

No. I'm up to my elbows peeling potatoes. Why don't you check on him? 

Okay. Bye. Love you. 

Love you too. 

On his way out he asked if he could have ice cream after dinner. I said if PJ says it's okay then yes.

What if PJ says no? Can I override him with this conversation?

Absolutely not. 

Aw. Okay, mom. 

Second best fire juggler I've ever seen (evening postscript).

The Granville Island 'Cultural' Association has banned all busker acts involving fire and/or bagpipes. Also absolutely no deviations from the original audition script and no interaction with audience members will be permitted.

They're serious.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. 

Scatterminded.

Reading a ad-hoc bio for Lochlan from a website and it lists his current occupation as Tenor. I smiled and everyone else went WTF. Do the latin and you'll see. It means 'someone who holds'. He's crafty like that.

The rest of it reads like something from a bucket list filled with fireworks and circus acts (because it is). For someone so serious, it's an acute, abrupt study in contrasts. It's hard to believe but he is the same person who is directly to blame for my personality for he shaped it during my most formative, important years. Now do you see?

When he opened the cupboard looking for a stapler this morning he found seven different kinds of glitter but no stapler. He went to the desk and found sparklers, glowsticks and suckers but no stapler. I watched with amusement as he did a couple circuit of the main level before coming back and waiting for me to acknowledge him. He likes things orderly. Everything in it's place now. We've traded OCD for instruction in our old ages here, he is now difficult and rigid, I remind him to loosen up and have some fun.

I look up.

I give, Bridgie. Where's the stapler. He is defeated and doesn't even ask the question, he just says it flat.

I take the sucker out of my mouth and think about it. The sucker is breakfast, because I'm an adult and can choose to give myself a sugar high before noontime and I can choose to ignore the irritation in his voice because life is so hard for our tenor right now. It must take more effort to hold a heart surrounded by ninety-five pounds of total foolishness and utter bullshit than I realized.

The black one? The big office one?

Yes. 

It's in your hand. I wink at him and return the sucker to my mouth and he swears a blue streak and mutters to himself the whole way back down the hall.

Chelation

Late last night yet another message from the Devil pops up on my phone. Not a big deal usually but this time Ben was plugging my phone in on the dresser and he got to read it first. He shook his head, read it again and then deleted it. Then he made some lame, obvious excuse about needing his glasses out of the truck, that he would be right back.

Lame because I was standing there holding his glasses because I had grabbed them on the way up the steps.

Loch walks in and sees the look on Ben's face and asks him if he had a good sleep because Ben's been completely oblivious to Caleb's manipulations all spring. We're happy he woke up at last. He's made such a concentrated effort not to be the loose cannon anymore, I'm proud of him and at the same time frustrated that I can't ask him to deal with the monsters I make.

Tonight I didn't even have to ask and I wish he would pick a side already instead of hiding behind some magnanimous effort to see me sort out my life on my own when he's happy to throw wrenches into the works every chance he gets.

He came back an hour later tightly wound and unwilling to discuss it. I handed him his glasses and he took them and I asked if everyone was okay, sort of code for wanting to know if he's hurt Caleb, if I should go and check on him, if he needs a doctor or an ice pack or last rites. Ben stopped me before I could wind up too much and said all they did was talk and he didn't know what I had done but Caleb is a man haunted and driven by all of this turmoil lately.

Please, Ben. He plays you like my fucking fiddle. 

Does he, Bee? Does he really? How many men have fallen for you exactly and how is he pretending when the rest of us are brought to our knees? 

You can't even recognize when the Devil forces you to take his side. Ben, come ON. He doesn't have that power over you. You're not his to use. 

Ben stares at me for what seems like forever and then eventually gives me a nervous almost-laugh. Fucking Christ. I don't even know how he puts things into my head.

That's how he does it. It's frightening. 

Ben looked doubtful but relieved. Yeah, it is, actually. 

Don't spend time with him. He'll get under your skin. 

I just...yeah. I know. Fuck. I know.

But Ben didn't look like he felt better and so the moment I could extricate myself from his presence I sent a message to Caleb.

What the FUCK did you do?

Exactly what I warned you I would do, Princess. You chose to do things the hard way. I am just facilitating that for you. 

Fuck off. 

Hell, Babydoll. I'm just getting started.

Now she holds me not.

Gage is going to remain here for the spring, summer and into fall. He said he'll take off again around Remembrance Day, if we'll have him. I suggested someone put the staple gun near our winter gear, fresh into storage and when that time comes we'll fix him to the floorboards so that he can't leave. Schuy just grinned endlessly and Gage was incredibly touched that we want him to stay. He's not used to having an address for that long. He said he might order some stuff from Amazon because there is a place it can be sent. I told him he can have anything sent here now and in the future once he leaves (if he leaves) and we'd get it to him and he needed a minute to collect himself over that idea. Also over the extra blankets I put in his room and the initial G on the hook in the closet by the front door. His color will be crimson for towels and sheets. I'm running out of colors.

Some people just fit beyond measure here. That much I see from my view on my tiptoes looking over the sunset in through the windows of my house where sometimes things are peaceful and cohesive and sweet and not hard or painful in the least.

In other news, why, yes, I did fall asleep in the theatre when we went to see Star Trek: Into Darkness today. Ben filled me with popcorn and chocolate and then BOOM. I dunno. I'm sorry I'm a little narcoleptic and my chin hits my chest the moment I warm up in the dark (it happens in more than just the movie theatre). Luckily someone kicked my seat and I woke up in time for the good parts but I couldn't tell you a thing about any of it. Other than blue eyes. Oh, and Armie Hammer from The Lone Ranger trailer? Jesus, hotness.

When we were on the way home I checked my text messages and there were seven from Satan himself. He wasn't kidding when he said he would make things difficult, covering everything from my (lack of) finances to how I look when I'm sleeping (motherfucker) to how lonely he is at night to how he should maybe turn the garage into usable space so it can't be taken over by my ghosts.

I will try not to reply. I'll try very hard. I'm having such a good day.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!
She was a vixen when she went to school;
And though she be but little, she is fierce.
         ~William Shakespeare

Drama, bullshit, maintenance, peanut butter and jam.

My lunch date was cancelled on my behalf, by someone loathe to fix anything but happy to mess with the Devil ad hominem.

So instead of going downtown to a fancy place I go down to the kitchen to make something. Lochlan joins me. Silently we get out bread, peanut butter, jam and cans of pop because that's what we always made in the camper and it's sort of a habit. Also a habit is Lochlan putting the second can back because I've never finished a can of pop in my whole life. They're too big somehow. I don't like eating out of cans. It has nothing to do with anything,  I like metal in my ears, not my mouth (SHUT IT, BENJAMIN).

We each read one side of the paper while we ate, me on my knees (SHUT. IT) on the bar stool, leaning way up on the counter at the island (JUST..)trying to keep up and failing, reading a third of each article while Loch motors through everything like he's in a hurry.

But he's not. Batman gave both my boys a little time off. Ten days to get our shit together because it's not and no one can work like this and he spoils me even though I don't actually pick up his calls or reply to his texts much because can't you see? I have everything under control here.

Snort.

The Devil sent a message telling me he was sorry to miss our lunch and that he would go it alone and I replied to that because most of the time I prefer replying to his texts than having to see him in person because he makes my knees shake and I don't know why. I said Have Fun as if I was sad just because when he says he's eating alone I want to cry. But also I want to shake myself and ask why I even care but I know I would reply something snarky like Stockholm Syndrome so I won't ask at all.

Lochlan holds out the can of Ginger Ale just like he has since I was eight and a half and he realized I was wasting a lot of junk food he was paying for. Take a drink, Peanut, he orders and I listen, just like I always do.


***

A lot of people want to know what the boys are up to. It's easy to reach me. Just click on my profile, up to the left and once there you can see what music I like most (this week anyway) and how to reach me via email. Sometimes I even manage to reply, I swear.

Let's see. 

 Ben is working at home because he has time off, you see. So uh..yeah. There's that. He's great at drive-by affection as of late. He also almost fell asleep at the wheel the other night because he stays up half the night talking and other things. He still makes no apologies and no attempts to fix, he just watches me as I flop around like a psychological fish trying to sort it out myself, God bless him, he's the singular person in my life who doesn't treat me like a child. Which is why I married him aside from the glaringly obvious necrosexual aspect of my attraction to him (vampire rock stars are where it's AT). He's so depraved he makes me blush and nothing can make me blush anymore so that's saying a lot.

 Lochlan  is doing a lot better, almost to the point of cheekily thumbing his nose in the direction of the boathouse. This is progress. A few days ago he was in a fetal position on the floor so I'll take this any day. Ben cuddled him to death because Ben has a crush on him that's barely veiled so he didn't complain and pretty much volunteered but if I tell you that I'll be murdered so let's keep it between us. Loch is drawing a bit and otherwise planning work in his head. Batman keeps him fairly busy with a constant stream of commissions. I think to give him a steady cheque, not so much because his painting is up where Cole's was, collector-wise. Well, maybe. I don't know. The only thing Loch says is that it's temporary and soon he'll be back to a regular day job. I don't know what that will be but to him a regular job means busking more than one weekend a month. Watch for him, in any case and give him some money, okay?

Caleb is doing pretty good. He's part-time schmoozing, part-time money-laundering, part-time Porsche-shopping. He had his visit with his cardiologist and he's doing great. He tires more easily than he should and the headaches are sometimes very bad but he is managing pretty well, all things considered. He's excited to get back to diving but the headaches keep sneaking up on him. I don't think the stupid trips help him feel better but he says they, like me, help distract him. I'm sure it's a ploy for attention same as when he ties me down.

PJ's heartbreak is ebbing. We can joke about it now without him punching us. I just duck but the rest of them are slow, I guess. He said he's considering going the way of Sam because men are so much easier to get along with without drama and bullshit and maintenance. Finally! We agree on something! We also agree on Epic Metal Beard and he's growing it back. She didn't like it so he SHAVED IT OFF. Guys, if a girl tells you she doesn't like your beard?

Run.

August is doing great. In between hippie music festivals he is currently staying with Jake's parents who can't keep up the homestead anymore without a lot of help. He's getting everything done that they need. They were relying on neighbors and hired help for everything from yard work to household cleaning and such but it's coming to a point where they need to make some decisions, I guess. That will probably be to adopt August and mix up his name alot. Apparently Jacob's mom cries every time he walks in the room. I know that feeling well.

Jacob? Still dead but possibly visiting the garage again. I still miss him every single minute of every single day. God, my brain is so broken sometimes I don't understand how I can figure out how to brush my teeth every day but let's keep going.

Cole? Still dead with wings black as night and completely and utterly personified in Caleb so really that's the draw. Cole was magnetic, enigmatic. I can't help myself.

Matt goes to work every day, comes home every night with a kiss for his bride and they talk quietly, play some guitar and help with meals. He irons a lot of things. Like everything. I told him that is a cry for help, that he's looking to make life neat and orderly so it manifests itself in wrinkle-free clothing and he stared at me forever and then burst out laughing and said, no, Bridget. I was raised to always look my best. And it's true! He comes out in the morning in pressed pajamas and a pressed t-shirt with combed hair. He's like the Humphrey Bogart of the hipster set.  I'm sure he'd like to chase me down and iron me but I've truly been rocking this unkept bed-star look forever and he'll have to live with it (Twitch. Twitch.).

Sam loves it here. Loves being right by the water. Loves praying on the cliff and loves counseling everyone without having to arrive or leave. His pajamas are not ironed (yet) and he's giving a great indication that he's going to be the best runaway bride ever so I don't know who's counseling who exactly but I love having him here too. Mostly to steal his CD collection. And his coins. Shhhh.

Duncan S. Thompson is doing great. He has no jobs on the horizon until September and so he is On Vacation. Which means he drinks margaritas for breakfast and tries to get me in trouble all damn day. He's writing a book. He's pretending he's a monk. He loves the cats and they love him back to the point where I have started calling him the Crazy Cat Man. That made everyone happy, they didn't like it when I called him the Lizard King. He is still mostly in charge of my health and safety since PJ flipped out. We could change it back but why fix what isn't broken? I think it will be changed back soon because Lizard. Yeah.

Dalton/Teflon Jesus is a heart-stealing gypsy vagrant. The drummer he marches to has odd timing though. He disappears for days at a time and staggers back all smiles. He's a vegan suddenly which is getting lots of jabs from the others and he still works far more than his big brother. He takes every job he can get, even the shit ones. He's stockpiling money for a long trip I think, though he won't say in as many words. He shows me pictures of all the girls he sleeps with. It's like a yearbook of pretty hopefuls starting at the midlevel to reach the stars. He certainly doesn't mind. I told him he wasn't vegan if he was eating them and he laughed for days. If they only knew that he was worth seducing and the ones farther up are not but you can't tell a girl that, they have to learn for themselves. Some faster than others.

That's it for this house. I'll catch you up to speed on the next-door boys next week sometime in between life and love, I guess. Same as always. :)

Demon laughter.

A man can be destroyed but not defeated
Even when he's lying black and blue
Living on a faith above his ceiling
Never going to know if it rings true
There's a voice inside that keeps him
On the path of righteousness
You can't break his stride or change his mind
'cause he won't second guess

I took the money to the bank this morning and put it all back in Caleb's account. Then I went next door with the receipt and the now voided agreement. Because in it he says I can cancel at any time.

He met me at the door, offering me coffee. I refused politely, telling him I just wanted to drop off some paperwork. He took it from me, leafing through the forms, lifting up the deposit slip and then smoothing it out, his brow furrowing. He looks at me and then leafs through the forms again just to be sure. Then he asked if Lochlan is making me do it.

I told him I had expected it to make things easier for myself and for Lochlan too but it didn't work out that way.

Ah. By reverting back you do understand that this will make your life harder, do you understand?

Oh my God, such a lawyer.

I'd rather fight you than give in. 

It sounds so extraordinary when phrased like that. 

You're a sick fucking pervert, you know that?

Yes, I'm aware. But only with you. By day, I'm the mild-mannered Lord of the Underworld. 

You admit it! 

Who wouldn't? It's an honor and a privilege. Now what did you want to do about our lack of arrangement? Shall I harass you right now or would you like to have lunch first?

I...what? I forgot what I wanted to say. 

Exactly as I directed, via my overwhelming powerful evil powers. Lunch at two? 

Sure. 

NO VACANCY yet again.

I can't do a standard post today after all. Gage arrived right after breakfast when Ben was still in full-on metal-cookie-beast mode.

Say it with me now. Gaaaaage.

Poor Lochlan. Every time he thinks he's found a new spot to set up his painting supplies someone comes along and turns it into their space. Gage gets August's old room here in the main house, since it is still somewhat furnished. I don't know how long he is staying yet. We'll discuss that tonight, but it's sort of uncanny how he appears when the grapevines sprout and leaves just after we harvest the grapes each year. So I still don't know if I should get attached again or not, because it sucks when he leaves. I suppose it sucks more for Schuy but he can write his own blog.

He'd actually be pretty good at it, I think.

Cheer Factory.

You what the funniest thing about today is? That T-1000 comes on the stereo and Ben sings the whole thing in his Cookie Monster voice. Or rather, he yells the song. It's not exactly melodic or anything.

Time out.

Ben is home today (because by late last night there was absolutely nothing left of anyone). I stared at him from the doorway this morning as he slept. I had my nose pressed against the wooden trim, so only one eye was on him. I remained like that for so long he finally acknowledged me, because he wasn't sleeping and I could tell.

Pretty cyclops. Going to make me a waffle?

No, you can make one for me though. 

Why just one? I know you'd eat about seven of them. 

Better get cracking then. 

Will do. He flings the sheet off and stands up. He's lost all of the extra pounds he gained in March and is back to his very pale, very thin self. He's all sharp angles and sweet translucence. He's my vampire and I can't look away. Savior and sinner rolled in to one. Ben has no moral compass. He has no sense of past or future. He has no regrets and he won't surrender. He also won't apologize but I know this and I've gotten used to it. He is who he is and the only thing he's actually truly sorry for is the fact that I knew what I was getting into but I married him anyway and for that and only that I have his sympathy, or so he tells me semi-regularly.

What about Cale-

We'll sort that out later. Right now I just want to eat waffles off my bride. I mean with my bride. No, wait, the first one. You game?

We stand there grinning at each other stupidly. Because we're stupid. No hidden reasons there.