Yes, I did succeed in making him more ornery than usual with writing that he withholds my wi-fi when I don't cooperate. He used to withhold things like rootbeer and chocolate. It's always age-appropriate.

 I think I'm going to have to start pretending I really love beets and Nascar and then he can withhold things I don't give a shit for. That would be sublime. I'll work on that.

PS. I withhold things from him too. No worries. It's not like Lochlan actually has the upper hand.

In other news, guess who called?

:)

(I don't know why I'm smiling, it wasn't the best phone call I've ever had but it was nice to hear Ben's voice.)

Groundling.

In the past forty-eight hours I sobered up, sprained two fingers on my left hand, discovered a flat tire on Caleb's car, decided Jim Caviezel should be the next Batman (in the movies, not IRL) and found the best sushi restaurant on planet earth.

I also lost my internet privileges for two whole days but it's okay. Lochlan locked me out by changing the password and the rest of them told me anyway because they felt sorry for me.

I was good though, I didn't try and use it, I just wanted to have it, that's all.

Hi, Stupid.

Last night I drank an entire glass of brandy on ice. Not a proper snifter, neat but a big-old dinner water glass with two ice cubes and the rest filled up with the finest cheap French burnt wine you can find on the point (AKA Daniel's hidden supply of Emergency Anxiety Reliever).

I walked out of the house next door, down across the grass into the darkness until I reached the midpoint of the lawn. I closed my eyes, thrust my arms out and spun around and around in a circle until I fell down.

And then I stayed down.

Because, wow. Cheap brandy and spinning isn't something anyone should indulge in past the age of oh...fifteen or so.

I lay there and thought to myself, I don't think anyone knows where I am. Then I laughed because it's nice to sneak away sometimes and not be constantly watch-

Oh, there's Caleb's face bending over mine now. Never mind.

What are you doing, Princess?

Being young. 

Why?

Go away, handsome man. No one should see a lady like this. 

I can't do that. 

Sure you can. You just turn around and lift your knees. Let them carry you away home. Leave me be. 

Only if you come with me. 

I can't feel my knees, let alone lift them. Save yourselves!

Then I'll carry you. He bends down and scoops me up. I relent because again, I can't feel my knees and I'm way the hell down the lawn away from anything and there's no bear fence on this side of the point.

I hear shouting and voices as the others see Caleb walking up the lawn holding me and I pound him on the shoulders and laugh, Drive it like you stole it! I shout, but no one thinks it's funny.

That's okay. I think it's funny.

PJ takes me from Caleb and puts me back down, steadying me in his arms. He begins to walk, half-carrying me to the house. I'm not drunk! I insist. I just wanted to watch the stars. I just want to think with my eyes open and not worry at the same time. 

You drank too much, Bridget. 

Well, I had a lot of worries to drown. I held their little worrywart heads under the surface until they stopped moving. You should have seen it, Peej. I'm a worry-murderer! A wormurder! A Murrier! Oh, just nevermind!

We get inside where the lights are on, and it's overly warm still and the kitchen is a disaster from dinner but then I see Lochlan with his sleeves rolled up and he practically drops the pile of dishes he's carrying from the dining room and rushes over. I'm pretty sure I could feel PJ just rolling his eyes quite violently which is code for Bridget's gone and done something dumb again but I didn't look up at him, I just squared my shoulders and pushed away from him to stand tall or at least just stand.

Lochlan got right in my face, smiled so kindly and said Hi, Stupid, and my knees went out from under me again.

Princes who adore you.

I'm pretty sure Ben's embarking on some noble attempt to set me free and not tie me to him if he's going to be away forever and if it's 'meant to be' then I will want to be with him when he comes back but in the meantime he won't add guilt, regret or sadness to my life by contacting me.

Yeah, right. Fucking GAG me.

(No, don't, actually, this is neither the time nor is it the place.)

I'm so dizzy from rolling my eyes I can barely walk a straight line at this point. I'm prone to cynical laughter and bursting out with my Princess-Tourette's:

Bullshit!

Fucking whatever!

and my all-time favorite explicative, MotherFUCKER.

Look, I'm glad he's straight and narrow and working hard and getting healthy and learning some coping mechanisms FOR ONCE. I'm glad he's contemplating his future, not being selfish but being pragmatic about life, serious in his thoughts, for once.

But I'm no one's fucking experiment.

Besides, at this point I have spent weeks getting my information second-hand, because apparently the six-foot-four monster metal god is frightened of the little five-foot-nothing blonde sometime-sideshow freak and has to relay all of his messages through people who probably don't have his best interests at heart when it comes to said freak and might spin information to suit themselves, and so with that said, from here on out I will continue to live, continue to love and wait for him and when he comes back, I wish unleash the holy hell of myself on him because this lack of contact is DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY.

Am I composed? Acting like a lady through this?

Nope. Sorry.

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.