News I can use.

Today I'm listening to acoustic Motorhead songs on Youtube, and I've bitten off all my lipgloss as I fight a growling stomach, a really bad cough and the urge to laugh as Lochlan quotes William Blake and juggles and tries to keep his rhythm in spite of so much distraction.

So..who can juggle to Motorhead? I think it's probably a thing, like licking one's own elbow.

I talked to Ben this morning. He's going to be home next month. He says it all casual-like, as if we are talking about the weather (we did that too) and then he pauses and asks if I heard him because I'm sort of dropping the phone and running around in circles in super fast-forward mode because coffee + good news.

I come back and he's all self-conscious and silent.

Did you say next month? Is that like three weeks early?

Yeah. Look, can I talk to Loch?

No! Talk to me! Jesus, you're always so fast to get off the phone, Ben! 

There's a lineup of people I need to talk to, to verify that you are doing well. 

So ask me instead and save time.

You tell such sweet little lies, Bee. I never believe you. How are you?

Fine, I lie. My lip starts to quiver.

Sweet, tiny little liar, he accuses gently. Talk to me, Bee. 

I think you fucked up, Benny. This would have been easier if I had aligned with the Devil while you were away. 

He lets out a long breath. No, Bridget, it wouldn't have.

Status quo then. Why didn't we leave it alone?

It's a natural inclination. I'm secure in my beliefs that you needed this time with Lochlan as much as I needed it to myself. 

Great. 

It is, actually. You'll see. Want to put Sammy on for me, babe?

Sure. Fine. 

Hey. Don't do that. September something. I'll be there. I'll be home. Love you. So much, Bridget.

The thought makes my head all jello-y-weird like it always did when Ben would come home after a long absence. As if I couldn't place if it were dread, excitement or just sheer joy. I'll go with a mix of all three.

I'm going to spend the rest of the day trying to lick my own elbow. My luck is changing, so you never know.

Black Sabbath.

Benjamin, you missed a good show.

Burning the lot.

(You just watch them. Watch as they never change, seeing opportunity to take around every corner. That's what those career carnies do, you see. They take. They take it all when you blink and when you open your eyes again you just feel stupid for having been robbed because you thought, like everyone always thinks, that it wouldn't happen to you.)

Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd, smiling
Merciless, the magistrate turns 'round, frowning
and who's the fool who wears the crown
Go down in your own way
And everyday is the right day
And as you rise above the fearlines in his frown
You look down, hear the sound of the faces in the crowd

When I brought my hands up to touch his face he smiled. I leaned up on my tiptoes and pulled him down until my forehead was pressed against his, his earnest eyes looking right into me, past the harm we bring and the lies we tell to ourselves, never mind to each other.

I reached down, taking the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his chest, shrugging it over his arms. He helped. The smile is gone from his face now, replaced by something better. I bite his bottom lip and go to work on the button on his jeans. He reaches down and unfastens it with one hand. I slide my hands down his hips inside his waistband as his hands slide around my back. With a shove his pants hit the floor just as he pulls off my dress. We are undressed, exposed. Raw-form, with no preparation or alteration.

Me with the tiny white check-mark scar under my nose and the larger cesarean scar besides, he with the long straight lines on his hips where he rode the pavement like a wave not once but twice in his life falling off motorcycles and the little crescent moon divot on his right shoulder where he hit the net hard during practice and someone had left a bolt lying in it and we had to dig it out of his shoulder while he bit down on a facecloth backstage. He always maintains that it was lucky it didn't happen to me, for the bolt would have gone right through me and come out the other side and that wouldn't have been pretty. I trace the small pink line on the right side of his temple where his eyebrow is cleaved in half and won't grow anymore because Ben got him with a hockey stick and he had to have six stitches.

This is not a love story. There is no happy ending here. Just moments strung in between life events where we affirm that our souls are one in the same, if only the pieces could find one another. We come to each other beaten, broken and scarred and we see right through the marks and the damage to what used to be innocent and whole.

He steps out of his pants, tossing them on the chair along with his shirt as I step in close again. I pick up his hand and kiss his palm. He cups my face. His other hand comes up and smooths my hair back out of my eyes.

I don't lead very often. I mostly let him direct me. I always have because he was so much older and I had no idea what to do. I didn't learn about sex at home or in school. I learned everything on the road in the Midway in a tiny airless camper. The good and the bad.

I push him down and climb under the covers next to him. I pull myself in against him and kiss him so hard he fights to breathe. He flips me down onto my back, thrusting into me hard, no waiting, no foreplay. He rises up on his elbows, my head in his hands, driving so hard it hurts all over but it's so good. I dig my nails into his shoulders and he dips his head down to mine for another kiss. We can't keep it together, he's pushing too hard so he moves so his head is just over mine, chin bumping against my forehead, arms locked tight around me.

Then he sits up, pulling back on his legs, pulling me into his lap so I am lying in front of him, watching him as he hooks his arms under my legs, hands around my hips, finding more force to draw from. When I cry out it serves only to send him further into the dark. He collapses on top of me, smothering my cries. He begins to take his sweet time. Hours pass in the dark as we retrace familiar paths.

This is what I know.

His skin. His red curls in my mouth all the time, his chin against my nose, his kind eyes closed, his rough-healed hands capable of fixing the Ferris wheel or a broken heart, if given a chance.

His voice, the narrator inside my head as he teaches me everything from algebra to astronomy to army-caliber first aid, used later when I put those stitches in his eyebrow myself because he didn't want the police involved, or the hospital, or the others. He held on to my thighs while I stood in front of him and stitched him back together. He squeezed so hard I added the marks to my scar-inventory.

His voice in my head as he explained to me in excruciating detail how to rob a mark. His voice in my head as he reminded me never to do so but then seemed so touched when I did and brought him a little fistful of reckless, hard-won cash.

His ruined words in my head as I tried to disappear somewhere far on the inside when things went so very wrong.

Don't you go anywhere, Peanut. I love you. You stay right here with me and I'll stay right here with you and we'll stay together because I'm going to love you and look after you and no one's going to take you away from me ever again. Just talk to me, please? 

And I'm afraid. I'm afraid of an intensity that began when I was nine years old and had no idea what it meant. Or what it would mean later on when I was old enough to use it as a weapon as we choose consistently to leave deep gaping wounds in each other, wounds that can't be stitched up or covered. Wounds that fester and ache.

We flatten history between us, a wedge suddenly made of only air instead of feelings that vanish as all our promises fulfill themselves in one beautiful, giant bloom of fireworks and flames.  Flames that heal.

In that brief time we forget the wounds hurt so much and we forget whose were worse and we resolve to remain intact. I sit up and kiss him hard, I kiss him for forever, it seems and he doesn't let go. He reaches out with one hand, grabs his t-shirt and puts it on me, pulling my arms through the holes, gently pulling it over my head. I get cold afterward. He's so warm all the time the minute I let go the cold rushes in and fills up the new unwelcome, empty space.

He cradles me in his arms, kissing me hard again while reaching for my left hand. He takes off one band but leaves the other. He says he feels almost sorry for Ben and for the others because they will never know love like this.

Disturbing the fleece (going dowwwwwwnnnnn in a blaze of glory.)

I'm a devil on the run
A six gun lover
A candle in the wind
When you're brought into this world
They say you're born in sin
Well at least they gave me something
I didn't have to steal or have to win

Another random Wednesday, another noise complaint. I think I've tied with Sam now. (If you want to tell me I'm tying up resources please remember *I* didn't call them.)

The police were out front when I made it around the driveway. Caleb had already gone out to meet them. Idiot called me his girlfriend and said that I am deaf and like to turn up the music.

I showed them my hearing aids and laid it on really thick. I like to hear the singers breathe! I proclaimed. They looked at Caleb and then back at me. I giggled and bounced around the pavement. They figured he was a lonely rich man with a bubbly twit for a girlfriend, who was probably a gold digger soaking up the rays at the mansion because it's Wednesday morning and she doesn't have a job, of course.

(WAIT. WHAT?)

I pouted and apologized and offered them iced tea and we didn't even get a warning this time, just a plea for consideration of the neighborhood, where the property taxes are so fucking high you can't hear the music anyway for the throngs of homeowners crying into their breakfast cereals, that they bought on sale because yeah, wheat prices are HIGH.

When they left I waved and blew a kiss and once the gate had closed behind the car Caleb looked at me and said,

Tell the rat to turn the fucking music down. And if you ever give another performance that embarrassing I'll throw you off the fucking cliff myself.

You wouldn't. I pouted and swung.

You want to test me, Bridget? Don't test me. You'll lose.

I stuck my tongue out and ran. He made a move like he was going to lunge and I shrieked and he backed right off. I don't think he knows how to have fun, to tell you the truth. And if we're being honest, Lochlan wasn't the one who put the music on so loud, but what he did do was give me a copy of Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits. Not like I was going to play it quietly.

(Yeesh. Don't you people know me better than that? Lochlan does. Pretty sure he's got a plan now to drive Caleb insane in slow motion.)

Update: It appears NO ONE has a sense of humor today. Lochlan just told me not to have any fun with the Devil whatsoever.

Or what? I countered. I'm pushing, yes, I know.

Or.....or...Just keep close to me okay? Jesus for once in your young life listen to me. 

Cold shoulders.

Caleb's honesty breaks me. I think I like him better when he's just evil.

(Don't invite me over there with one of your envelopes and then put on music I like and start talking about how alone you are. Just don't. Don't tell me you feel a thrill when I walk into the room. Don't tell me you can't take your eyes off me. Don't tell me it hurts when I leave.

You took my soul. So sorry it doesn't keep you warm at night. If you hadn't been so greedy someday I might have come to you in my own sweet time. That will never happen now so stop forcing it.)

***

It's been raining since you left me
Now I'm drowning in the flood
You see I've always been a fighter
But without you I give up

Now I can't sing a love song
Like the way it's meant to be
Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore
But baby, that's just me

I let myself back in through the side door just after midnight and Lochlan is sitting at the island staring into a whiskey. I thought you weren't coming home tonight, he says.

So you were going to drink yourself to sleep?

No, I was going to drink myself into paralysis only, so that I wouldn't go over there and beat him to death. He touch you?

No. I had a drink. He talked. I left.

And?

And...what?

He's buying your time with this house. This...life. He's using all of it to guilt you into seeing him. Those envelopes-

Mean nothing to me.

Then why won't you just stay here, Bridget? With me. Please. This is killing me. 

That's what I'm afraid of. 

Explain yourself, he orders.

We're staring each other down suddenly. He's shitfaced off a glass and I'm not much better. God, what a pair.

If I chose you and give up everything else, you'll die. Or leave. Or break.

You've done it a couple times already. Did I die?

No. 

Did I leave?

Yeah. You did. 

I didn't. Not really.

Okay, fine. You didn't. 

Did I break?

Pretty much. 

Want to know something? You can fix me. Then I won't be broken. Then we can be happy. He comes over and takes me by the hand, pulling me tight against him. We could start a fire with our breath, I think.

We have to stay here though. In this house. With the Devil watching over us. 

Fuck the Devil. He's no match for us. No one is. It's you and me against the world. Always has been, always will be. No matter who gets in my way- He stops when his voice catches on a ragged feeling and he just keeps staring. I don't think he can see me anymore, there's a lake in the way. Bridget, I-

I can't risk you. I could risk pretty much anyone, but not you. So don't ask me to. I can't. 

So you're just going to keep this up forever?

Don't be silly. No one lives forever. No one even comes close.

Miss (in a moment, pick one any one oh how about this one).

Right now, this second, I miss the Winnipeg Zoo. I miss my leg warmers from 1981. I miss my mom's chocolate-chip zucchini bread and I miss my Right Coast.

Right now I'm craving chocolate and bourbon and ice skating and James Bond movies.

Right now I'd like to fall asleep for two or three hours and try again later.

Right now I'd like to finish the book I'm reading.

Right now I could use a hug.

Right now I'm cooking dinner. Baby potatoes, green beans, baked chicken and rolls. Milk and water to drink, cookies and tea for dessert.

Right now I have a very sore left hand, same issue as before, staring down surgery, fun fun.

Right now I realized I forgot to wear my hearing aids again today.

Right now Ben is at an evening meeting. He gave me his 60-day medal the day we left.

Right now I just set the table with the silver service and wondered why everyone isn't helping.

Right now the sun has finally come out and the wind has died down.

Right now Cole is dead.

Right now the dog is asleep and so are both cats, Duncan and Schuyler too. I only know this because they haven't answered the group text chat AKA dinner call. Not the pets, the boys. The pets don't have cellphones.

Right now Lochlan is upstairs shaving off his beard in a hurry before supper. He's the only man I've ever met who looks worse with a beard instead of better.

Right now Jacob waits.

Right now it feels like fall.

Right now the tide is coming in and a silver envelope sits on the table in the foyer. Again.

Freebird is now stuck. in. my. head.

(That doctor turned out to be a veritable anomaly in the day, as everyone else I met was warm and accommodating, open and helpful. They were patient and kind. When I saw the mean doctor again outside, he ignored me. Ben said very quietly that he's actually really good at what he does, he just isn't all that amenable, okay he's terrible outside of his office. That none of what he said about Ben being off-limits holds, Ben just doesn't want to play out any of our issues here. This is a different form of sanctuary for him and the doctor was mindful of that and doesn't know me from Eve so there you have it.)

I actually had fun yesterday. They have a wee baby zip line on the wooded trail and I did it twice. I squealed and Ben finally cracked his face into a laugh when he caught me at the end of the second trip.

Later on we sat in this big sunny room that was all windows and talked. We talked about so many things including pressures and the dynamics of living with so many strong and flawed personalities. We talked about not shutting down. We talked about ways to be supportive and we talked about Ben and what he's going to do. Then we talked about unrelated things like IKEA and horses. They have horses here. I didn't see them.

The hugs got infinitely better as the day wore on as well. PLUS.

Ben still is hugely uncomfortable with me seeing him like this. He would hide from me, remove himself from me and generally always keep his struggles from me. It's going to take time on both our parts to deal with this and weirdly, WE'RE DOING IT.

That's why I had to come here.

I see that he's still alive. I see how much work he has to do, how much we all have to do and I finally understand the whole one day at a time logic, of not crowding up a list of worries, pressed against the day as if it were a door and they are blocking it from opening. I see how he lives in the moment and I can say for certain that there is no certainty in life so I had to step back and simply watch him as he tries to get better and learns to live without anesthetic.

And I must be flawed because all I can think is since that's how I live, on a white-knuckle emotional thrill-ride that never ends, I wouldn't wish it on him because he isn't as strong as I am and he probably never will be and the only way I manage is to divide myself into make believe to save myself from reality. No one does that like I do it.

I know that doesn't make sense but in terms of Ben's new Big Picture, it's as clear to me as this day. We're heading home midafternoon. First I didn't want to stay and now I don't want to go but we'll go home and muddle through many more weeks until Ben comes back with us, renewed and ready to take on..absolutely nothing. His projects have been closed down or shifted to others. He is officially retired and I couldn't be happier.

(Special note: I believe they are putting Benjamin to bed around eight o'clock each night. Which is really good but also funny. They must have tranquilizer darts for him like they do for me at home.)

On keeping a paper bag in the rental car to breathe into.

I chose wrong. I watched him bearhug everyone and then I was shoved to the front and he did not hug me.

Ben put his hands in his pockets and looked at Lochlan and asked, Are you guys okay?

He meant something else entirely and I knew what he meant, I just haven't actually acknowledged it yet.

Yes. Lochlan said it like a challenge, he's trying to own the moment and I stepped back behind him slightly. PJ shoved me back in front.

Ben's eyes flit to me again. You okay, bee?

No. I say only that. I don't feel like doing this with an audience. Ben's assigned family weekend facilitators are standing there, both with practiced poker face. It's awesome. I'm getting madder by the nanosecond.

Can I speak with you privately?

I can't, Bridget. I don't have much privacy here.

Oh. I see. 

Hungry?

Not anymore. 

For brunch, I sit between Ben and Lochlan at this giant round table that precludes conversation. I look at Ben as he eats slowly and sips coffee and smiles and laughs at the stories the boys tell. I watch him as he answers questions easily. He isn't laid back but he isn't tense either. He seems really glad to be with his friends, and touched that everyone came down to see him.

Almost everyone.

I ask him a question and he answers with as few words as possible and then smiles without his eyes as he turns to field yet another topic-change across the table. I was answered professionally, in his work-voice, that he uses with people he hardly knows in a business capacity and nothing more. I was relegated to the sidelines with that voice.

I sat there pushing food around on my plate and tried to tell myself all sorts of dumb things like he's just having a hard time letting me see him like this and he's worried I might doubt his ability to follow through. He's doing his best. Etc. Etc. Etc.

I let myself get mad because it's easier to control the inevitable tears that way and I would be damned if I were to let him see me cry.

When breakfast was finished we walked back to the area where we will be participating in some therapy later today, late afternoon. First he has a meeting and then we're going on a group hike so we are to change and then meet up and I turned to him and asked if I could have an actual hug. He looked pained but I got another eight milliseconds of contact.

Then he was out the door and I was left standing facing it, my back to everyone else as they chatted with some of the people looking after Ben and each other. No one was watching me.

So I followed him.

Down hallway after hallway, I watched him hunch over lower as he went, hands shoved in his pockets, watching the floor pass beneath him as he made his way back to his room. People said hello to him and he answered kindly. He knows everyone here. All of these people have a hand in helping him, but he people thin out as we walk. Finally there is no one for two hallways and I am just about to make my presence known to him when a doctor or someone important steps out of a side door and says hello to him and asks him something. I stop and wait. Then the person leans out and looks at me.

Can I help you?

Ben turns and looks back. His eyes widen and I see his brow go up, but only on the left side of his face. He smiles slightly.

No, I just need to have a word with my husband, thank you. 

My hopes are dashed. I'm sorry, Mrs...uh... we don't allow for much private contact on family-designated days. We want to keep our residents emotionally level during these times. I understand it can be stressful-

Stressful is an understatement. Who are you again? 

My apologies for not introducing myself. I'm Dr.______.  I oversee Ben's treatment. 

Then why did you pretend you didn't know my name?

Bridget, I want to assure you we will have time for guided conversation this afternoon in family session. I don't want you to feel as if your needs and questions are not being met. However, it's my first responsibility to see that Ben is-

I have no intentions of sabotaging my husband. 

I think you know what I mean. 

Maybe. 

Then may I ask that you work diligently at following the rules while you are here as our guest? We all want the same thing for Ben, and he's doing well. If he seems a bit removed, please understand how overwhelming this is. 

I raise my hands up and let them fall. Tears. Fucking tears are rolling now and he softens slightly. Ben stands there staring at me without moving or speaking as the doctor softens further.

I understand this is hard. From what Ben has told me you and he and the others have an incredibly close bond and live within an highly unusual set of circumstances, and I have been made aware that you have been through a lot in life. I want you to know that we are here to help facilitate all of you in creating a healthy environment in which you will all thrive and move forward. You're not going to get left behind. He isn't going to be someone new, he'll be Ben but with better tools to utilize to cope with stress and challenges. 

Do you think you can fix him?

He is fixing himself. We only guide his efforts and support him. The same as you do. 

I nod and wipe my cheeks and Lochlan's hands close around my arms from behind. His voice cuts through the weight of the air in the room as he apologizes to both men. She got away from me. She's so quick. 

The doctor looks at Lochlan and nods. It's fine. I think I've eased her mind a little. Have I...?

Bridget. My name is Bridget.

Bridget? If there's anything else I can do, we will have time this afternoon in our session. I look forward to having some time with you to discuss your fears and maybe connect you with someone you can work with as well. Is that okay?

I don't know. Is it?

He looks at me curiously and then looks at his watch. I have to leave, but we will reconvene at three forty-five. See you then. And he shakes Lochlan's hand and then heads down the hall away from us. Ben tells me he will see me for the hike and comes back, thrusting a kiss onto my forehead so hard I lose my balance and bounce off Lochlan. He steadies me and Ben smiles. I see a briefest twinkle of bullshit in his eyes and he turns and walks away.

We are back now at the hotel to change. I put on my docs, skinny jeans and a Coney Island t-shirt that Batman got for me and I put my hair in a ponytail. I didn't put on any makeup. I expect to cry pretty much all afternoon. I know now why Ben didn't want me to come here. This is too fucking hard.

Checked in.

Another week, another suitcase. Hopefully this trip will be as successful as the last one.

Ben doesn't know I'm here.

Every weekend families are encouraged to come and participate in workshops and activities and therapies and so yeah, here I am.

Ben expressly said he did not want me here. Not sure if he did that to protect himself in case I wasn't planning on coming anyway or if he's going to be really unimpressed to see me. It could go either way but frankly I really really want to see him so I don't care.

Wish me luck. Tomorrow at six in the morning (breakfast) will either be amazing or terrible. I hope it's amazing.

Fierce auras.

The bursts of uncontrollable psychic energy continue, in which I demonstrate handily how to kill a four-month old iPhone 5 and a fourteen-month-old perfectly good vacuum (fuck you, I figured out how to spell it finally, I think) in the span of no less than nine hours. Simply by being in the same room with both objects, neither of which showed any damage whatsoever but were unrepairable.

Thank you Apple genius for the new phone. Wish you made vacuums too.