Forge welding.

Somewhere safe.

He's called already. When you were working. Lochlan says the word 'working' like it's filthy and frowns at the floor. His hands are jammed in his pockets and I hear the lighter clicking and clicking furiously. I wonder if I should fill a bucket and carry it around behind him for when he fumbles and sets his cargo shorts on fire.

Is he going to call back?

No. 

Did he want to talk to me?

No. 

Wow. The look on his face is getting worse instead of better.

What did he say?

You know something? I'm like the cleaner. Someone makes a mess of you and you default back to me, get yourself together and take off for someone new. You're making a habit of this and you get burned every fucking time but you don't learn, Bridget. So here's the thing. I'm not the back-up guy, okay? You get that? If you're with me, you're with me and there's none of this...this BULLSHIT that goes on all around me. You are mine. You got that? I'm sick of watching this. Stop running to these broken ones and JUST. STAY. HERE. 

I watch him as he melts down. He shines brighter and gets hotter as he goes. His cheeks turn pink and his eyes blaze and he finds a conviction that is generally too slippery and hard to hold on to. He finds his own worth in these little moments where he doesn't just up and shut down.

I watch him because he has me clutched in both hands like a rag doll, shaking gently with the emphasis on each word deployed like a challenge.

Just stay with me, Bridgie. 

I AM! 

He lets go but keeps staring and I burst into flames. Self-immolation is totally the new self-destruct. We're so doomed people run from us in the streets when they see us coming. In case it's contagious.

But are you? Don't answer me right now, just think on it and I'll ask you again later. You've got some hard choices to make here, young lady, and it's time you made the right ones. There are no fairy tales here, just horror stories.

Straight/forward.

You got me. I always spin you a buried memory instead of keeping up with the present when I feel kind of boxed in.

It's no big deal, really. Lochlan was vaguely annoyed but not too concerned by my trip down memory lane and I felt a little better because I could at least think about something besides the quiet phone in the pocket of my sweater.

Ben didn't call. Daniel went to spend two and a half days with him and is home now. He said Ben looked wonderful. He said he was in great spirits, very upbeat and sociable and healthy and well-grounded in his wellness plan. It was all the things Daniel didn't say that seemed to be the most telling and eventually I let him off the hook, much to his relief.

I'm sorry, Bridget. 

Don't be. You didn't do anything. 

I should have made him call. 

Oh, well that wouldn't have made me feel better if he had only called because he was forced to. Really. It's okay. I'm just happy he is doing so well. That's all I want is for him not be crushed by this.

He could still be a man and call you, Bridget. Did he call Loch?

Not that I know of. 

Daniel eventually was ambushed by Schuyler, who missed him and had all sorts of plans for the two of them for this afternoon, and I stood there in shades of green, wishing things were that un-complicated in my life.

I don't think they've ever been easy, to tell you the truth, when instead I would much prefer to lie.

Only once, we ran out of money on the Midway.

Caught between a lousy manager and a crooked accountant we didn't get payout. Lochlan had just finished buying a new battery for the motorcycle and a new bathing suit for me. We had enough money left for two days of food, tops, but not at the rate Lochlan worked. Hard physical work from sunup right up until he took his shifts manning the rides and then more work until bedtime. He was barely a man and hungry a lot. We were both still growing.

But we didn't want to go home.

And I watched the cons. I knew how things worked in the real world. Well, I thought I did anyway.

When Loch went to cover a shift for someone I walked down the road to the main thoroughfare. It took a while. Along the way I streaked a little dirt along my chin and under my eyes. In the fading light it make me look thinner, more run-down and more appealing, maybe.

I went to the take-out window of a little diner and stuck my hand in my pocket as if I had money to spend. The man running the place stuck his head out the window. He was wearing a paper hat. It's old-fashioned.

What can I do you for, little lady?

I shook my head. I'm not sure I have enough.

Well, tell me what you'd like and I'll work it out.

A...hamburger and onion rings....

And you have how much?

Two dollars, sir, I lie with a sweet smile.

That will be even then, I'll get you a bag.

Well, see, the problem is my big brother is working the fair and it's for him...and I'm so hungry too now that I can smell it but I only have what he gave me...I bite my lip hard and make myself cry but only a little.

What does he do on the midway, sweetheart?

Setup. He's too young to be fully insured though. We need the money so he can't quit either. The lies keep rolling. I've decided I will do whatever it takes for this food.

He looks back over his shoulder and then smiles at me. Let me see what I can do.

My mind is scrambling suddenly. What if he asks for the two dollars I don't have?

He appears back in the window with a huge bag, stapled shut. It has a name on a piece of paper stapled to it. It's not my name. It says HARMON. He's going to give me the wrong order and pretend he made a mistake. I look at him with wide eyes.

Thanks! Come again! he says, and closes the window to prevent me making a fuss and letting whoever else is in there in on the swap. I whisper thank you at the glass and turn around.

Oh, what a long walk back. By the time I get to the Ferris Wheel, it's dark and I'm late and Lochlan is looking panicked and scared. He sees me and lets out a swear word just under his breath so the riders won't catch it. I look up. It's a full complement tonight, just started so I hold the bag up.

What is that?

Dinner.

He takes the bag and looks at the tag. Then he rips it open and looks. Peanut, there are four cheeseburgers, two fries and two onion rings in here. Did you steal someone's food?

No, I pretended I was going to order some but then didn't have enough money for the food so the man at the take-out window pretended I was the one picking up this order.

Oh my God. This must be twenty dollars worth of free food. What did he say to you?

I relayed the whole exchange to him and he nodded. Okay, the only thing you have to do is never be seen there again. You can't even walk past it. In fact, I'm mighty pissed at you for not telling me where you were going in the first place and we're going to talk about this tonight at home. (Home is the camper, FYI).

I promise. Can we eat now?  

Yeah. You want onion rings or fries?

Both. I want both. 

He laughed and pulled me in close, thrusting the bag of food back into my arms, wiping off the dirt-smudges on my face, kissing me really hard. Our stomachs growled in unison, like music we would finally be able to turn off for a night.

Sometimes the angels punish us by answering our prayers.

I might still be high.

Last night we went to see Rush for the third time. It was so laid back I sat in my seat and drank beer ($10 for imported Keith's from home and yes I paid that without shame and it was WORTH EVERY CENT) right up until they came onstage and then I stood up and remained standing for the three hours of blissful music. BLISSFUL. I was more happy to hear stuff from Clockwork Angels than anything, especially Carnies. That's a recent favorite. The whole catalogue, however, paled in comparison to The Wreckers, which was a masterpiece live.

And I still can't hear the little vignettes that they play in between sets but that's okay too. I'm just happy to be there.

(I'm also completely obliterated today because I have a gift for choosing seats online that come with built in companions who smoke copious amounts of drugs and while I don't really care or partake, this little princess is no match for the almighty British Columbian weed, it seems.)

A very special thank you goes out to the bald man one row below who unknowingly taught me how to take a better concert photo.

I present to you the HDR setting: 

I love this shot. It looks like an aquarium. I think these were the lights during Wish them Well. 

What an amazing night. Lochlan is still sleeping. I'm up early hoping for my phone call so that I can tell Ben all about it.

Brokedown palace.

(I was allowed back on account of it being daylight and for the promise of a hefty freelance paycheque and and because he is Henry's father and Henry was there doing a puzzle at the kitchen counter, a glass of orange juice and two chocolate-chip cookies stacked near his elbow. But being at the boathouse is not what this entry is about.)

Little impish one, remember what we planned
We won’t hear whistles calling when we are out to sea
Come lay under my wing, morning’s over the shore
I love you, I can teach you if you believe

I have on a tiffany-blue embroidered shift dress and cream-colored leggings, no shoes, blue toes and Caleb clearly disapproves. I'm parked on the big couch in front of the big window drinking tea and listening to music while I fix the latest round of crap notes from the temps that keep getting hired and fired. I believe the last one's name was Samantha. She lasted four hours. He said she left in tears because he barked a whole list of orders at her and then didn't say anything else for the whole morning, even when she asked for clarification on something. His positively icy objective disdain is kind of scary. Back to the drawing board for him.

Or you could work for me. 

We go through this every summer. I need a real job. 

This is the best job you will ever have, hands down, Princess. 

Hands where?

Bridget-

That's why. Because of that. Because you never act like a boss with me. 

What do I act like?

Like a lover. A real busy one but still. 

He laughs and I have decided my whole life is a farce. Lochlan hardly speaks to the others save to hammer home his ownership stake in me so far into the ground it popped out in Austria five days ago. I need to find him and let him know I'm fine. I said I would spend an hour and I lasted forty-eight minutes total.

I make my way back across the driveway barefoot and enter the side door to the kitchen only to find a war zone of dirty dishes and recycling to be sorted. Only I shouldn't be cleaning up this mess because I didn't make it.

Lochlan comes into the room and I'm still standing there looking at the sink.

Hey. What's wrong.

I need to get out of here. 

Why?

Really fucking overwhelmed right now. Drive, don't talk. 

Without a word he passed me my bag and grabbed his keys. He went out back and lied to PJ and PJ confirmed he would take control and then we were off. Halfway down the highway I turn in the seat toward him and tell him to pull over, I think I'm going to have a breakdown of some kind. He doesn't.

He keeps going until we hit the parking lot at the beach and he comes around, flinging open my door and pulling me out and half dragging me down to the edge of the water until I focus on the horizon and he stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders. I lean back against him, take a deep breath and start to cry.

How I know I'm awake.

Lochlan is going to seethe through every interaction he has with Caleb and instead take his frustrations out on Sam and Danger Duncan, putting them on notice every fifteen minutes or so it seems for standing too close/touching me/being too possessive.

I asked them both to give us a little breathing space while I sort out his misguided perceived affronts.

Sam will return to sermon writing, premarital counseling (for the record twelve weddings he has between now and mid-September) and the agony of planning his own wedding, Duncan will put his shades back on, collapse into a lawn chair wearing only a kilt and read.

Both don't deserve the shit they got this morning for doing exactly what they're supposed to do, shadow me as I wander around the property being Difficult. They drew the short straws since PJ is traveling, Christian is away on business and Daniel has gone to spend a family weekend with Ben.

(Excuse me for just a moment while I hit my head against the stone wall out front until I get really dizzy and hear loud wet smacking sounds.)

And Caleb is out front with the children while they teach him to ride the unicycle.

(Excuse me while I swim in my disbelief. Tired. I think I'll float on my back for a while now.)

Ruth loves everything about it save for having to wear a helmet. Dad insists. I don't think Caleb is too worried but if she has to wear one so does Henry. At least that's what Lochlan told them when he gave a little brush-up skill lesson before the kids took over and Caleb came out to vie for favoritism. He needs to step up the game, there's a Midway this weekend and that is Loch's arena entirely.

Lochlan wanted to take a nap with me in the sun to rest up for the coming weekend festivities but first I made him go and apologize to Sam and Duncan for being such a big shithead to them both and he did, taking me by the hand as witness and tracked them both down and gave them long hugs and said he was stressed and that was no excuse for his behavior and that he was sorry. He asked for forgiveness and got it willingly. Pretty sure it was the hugs. Everyone loves those.
 

Standard practice (with a gap in between of only thirty-four years, precisely).

I got it into my brain that if I could somehow get them both on board I could fix all of the broken things. Them together, alone with me, without Ben, just the way we used to be, the three musketeers, me playing monkey in the middle, midway through yet another ruined popsicle while Caleb drank a beer and caught up on hometown news and Lochlan ate enough hamburgers to feed a small village before venturing into a sort of dinner-coma where he lay.

It was like having two big brothers sometimes except for all of Caleb's focus, Lochlan had none, distracted and dreaming through his waking hours. He didn't like jobs and chores. He didn't want any responsibility. Caleb didn't seem to want to have much fun, cutting himself short to go and study or network or research. He didn't come out much as a result and sometimes we didn't see him for months. He called those 'semesters' because he was taking college courses while still in high school and he called the rest 'hard work paying off.'

But when he was there everything was the best. I thought he was so handsome. I would sit and look at him in the dark when he didn't think I was looking at him. He was handsome in a magazine model way. The Robb Report. GQ. That kind of Cary Grant handsome.

Lochlan was handsome in a boy next door oh please kiss me kiss me now way except no one was thinking about kissing me, I was eight.

Eight is not a kissable age.  

Even twelve is jailbait age, Cole said and he laughed uneasily and asked me what I planned to do with my future because someone was going to go to jail for kissing me eventually and he wanted to know if it was going to be Caleb or Loch.

No one, silly. Besides, I already kissed Andrew so no one's in trouble.

Preschool kisses don't count, they aren't the same. 

Well I probably wouldn't kiss your brother, he's way too old for me.

Barely two years older than Loch. 

There's no...I mean, I'm not..Caleb doesn't look at me like that. 

Okay, Cole said. But that smile. He's so full of shit it's reflecting in his medium blues.

Anyway, my plan is to marry Lochlan eventually. When I'm way older and he's stopped staring at Bailey.

You should stick with more immediate plans like getting a new popsicle, Bridgie. 

Okay. I went into their house and admitted to Cole's mom that I dropped my popsicle and she fetched another for me out of the deep freeze with a smile. Having a good evening, Bridget? The boys being nice to you?

Yes, they're all super. I smile at her as I unwrap my cherry double popsicle and immediately begin to head outside, for it will end up on the ground sooner rather than later and I don't want it to happen inside. I just can't figure this out. Two sticks. Melting the whole time I'm trying to eat it.

Good. That's the main thing. She smiles back and heads down the hall as I grab the screen door handle with my sticky fingers.

When I come back outside both Lochlan and Caleb are sitting quietly on patio chairs. Caleb is emailing and Lochlan is sprawled out flat on his back watching the stars. They both look up at me at the same time and both shake their heads at the fact that I'm holding a double popsicle in one sticky hand.

Or I was, anyway, until it slid off the stick and hit the ground before I even made it back to the chair in the middle.

(I am aware that no one thinks we have any brains at all with regards to the incident the other night that brought Batman screaming back into my universe but really if you only knew certain things, for when it comes to the three of us some things aren't nearly as shocking or out of the ordinary as they might be to others and we fully acknowledge that fact.)

Deliverance within reach.

Lochlan calls while I'm driving. Caleb lent me his car because he still feels that if I'm going to drive at all, his car is safer than the truck. I'm sure I've had this conversation before with Jake when I bought that very unreliable ancient C10 but as you can plainly see when pushed I come out swinging, defiant and downright unexplainable.

The phone rings a thousand more times and I finally hold the button down and tell Siri to call Lochlan. She knows what's up. She doesn't even ask to confirm, she just dials. This is the sort of relationship I have with this phone. I mean this man.

He answers in a panic.

Bridget, you get your little arse home right now. I'm going to give you ninety minutes and so help me if you're not within reach by six o'clock I'm coming to get-

Relax, Locket. I didn't sign up for anything.

You know what? Just stay put. I'll come and get you. 

You don't have to-

Just stay there. Give me an hour to get to you. 

Loch. Stop it. I didn't go. Do you really think I would go without you? 

I wouldn't put anything past you now. You grew up and left me in the dust here and I spend my days in awe of the adult you've become. 

Right. That's why you were ready to drop everything and come save me. 

I didn't say the awe was for how smart you are.

That's better. 

Drive safe. I'll be waiting. 

Can we come back on the weekend after setup and take some rides? 

If you don't know the answer to that by now, Peanut, then I don't know what else I can teach you.

He hangs up and I tell Siri that Lochlan can teach me how not to want to run away all the time. He seems to be able to manage it and I still can't do it at all.

She tells me she doesn't understand and instead asks if she can call the Devil for me.

I laugh.

Hell yes please.

Sonny's dreams can't be real
They're just stories he's read
They're just stars in his eyes
They're just dreams in his head
And he's hungry inside for that wide world outside
And I know I can't hold him though I've tried, and
I've tried, and I've tried

Last night as I slept the Dealbreaker Fairies struck again, much as they did when Ben took a drink and started in on me, because certain things are not allowed. These are rules everyone agreed to when we decided to centralize the Collective. These rules are carved into stone. Only I don't know what happens if they are broken repeatedly. I'm sure eventually we'll find out. Ben is working at that doggedly.

They paid Caleb a visit in the night and removed the weapon. I don't know what they did with it, I didn't ask. I didn't ask which boys are the Dealbreaker Fairies, I only know that this morning power had shifted back and I worry that this is needless and ridiculous and exhausting and never changes, which is ironically what Caleb wishes for and never gets and what I can never seem to get away from. Change.

Here's some change. This morning Batman roared down the driveway in his fancy sportscar and made no attempt at mystery or surprise. He simply slammed his way into the Boathouse and then he left just as quickly and I was thinking too little too late as he glanced my way as he turned around the fountain loop and then looked back at me, satisfied that no, the Devil didn't shoot me in the face over the weekend, I'm still living, breathing, waiting for Ben with one part of my heart while I saw the other remaining living piece into two with a rusted blade. Or into three. Maybe four. Five? I don't know, I was never very good at counting. I'm just grateful that they keep each other accountable, and grateful that Lochlan's pride is still flexible enough that he asks for help when he feels as if he might take things too far, because Caleb isn't the only one with self-control issues. I'm pretty sure if Loch had his way he'd be spending the afternoon digging a third grave on the property.

Whoops, did I say third? I meant FIRST.