I can find trouble before trouble finds me.

In the beginning it was the Ferris wheel. I thought we would stand underneath it, in t-shirts and jeans. I would have a borrowed veil and a bouquet of daisies picked from the parking lot and I would still be in the employee group that had chaperones and curfews, but it would be dusk and a minister would read important, solemn words to us. We would nod, the available carnies who witnessed would loiter and smoke cigarettes and tear up sightly. Then we would repeat the words and share a kiss and then climb into a bucket and go for a spin just as the lights came on for the evening. At the top when the wheel stops we would have a longer kiss and then Lochlan would hold my hand for the rest of his life when I fall asleep and when I'm awake too. I would do what he tells me and be the best wife ever, making him pies in the camper by the sea while he sang love songs in so many languages I stopped trying to keep up with him when I turned ten.

It changed briefly in Atlantic City when I had this rocketing vision of us exchanging hurried vows behind the circus tent that weren't touching or legal but functioned as a permanent escape from the paths we'd chosen by mistake, in haste. It would be witnessed by the dwarves and the strongman and the snake charmer and the fortune teller too (though she never liked me either, none of them ever liked me and I never found out why) and then we would come home and somehow find a way to make it legal. I'd wear my satin assistant costume and Loch would wear his top hat and tails or maybe his skintight black fire-breather tank or his athletic gear from the ropes, depending on where in the day it was, and I wouldn't have a bouquet but I have tattooed wildflowers so good enough and a ring would be from a client's cigar from a private show and we would go dancing in the empty bar down the street to the same eighties jukebox selection we've always danced to. Maybe we'd spend a day's pay on a dinner at the steakhouse first. Maybe I would change my name. Maybe we'd get better billing and could quit with the fucking freakshow if we rebranded as a team inside the tent. Maybe someone will take us seriously now, because we're salt and pepper, yin and yang, thunder and lightning.

It shifted once more two years ago when they took a collective chance the morning after Daniel and Schuyler tied the knot so tight it happily chokes them into submission. Suddenly the moment has been orchestrated for me and I have no choices at all. The dress, packed without my knowing is a simple form fitting lace shift. Palest pink to be almost white, sleeveless and square-necked and freezing cold standing on a beach on a foggy October morning with the seagulls wailing quietly and the waves lapping against the rocks. The hemlocks close in around me and I look for the garish decorations, the lights, the noise that makes me feel at home but there isn't any of that, everything is slate, muted and refined. So far beyond what I am that I feel out of place and costumed. Sam stands just in front of the water. The tide is going out. He holds Jacob's bible in one hand and smooths his curls down around his ears with his other hand. His tie knot is backwards. He's barely got a hold on his composure. I watch their faces and I try and focus on the sound of the water and I try to pay attention. I try to be present for this because this is important but also because I feel like I am marking the beginning of the end of something else. I just don't know what yet. I don't even know if it's good or bad. I don't know what it feels like to want something and get it but not on my own terms. I want to run this show and I'm not qualified to do so.

But neither are they.

Fluttering hands.

In the middle
Under a cold black sky

Halloween was very low key this year, so much so that we almost missed it in a sugary coma. I lost the toss and wound up giving out candy. We left the gates open and lit up the point like fireworks and all of the children seemed to think big house=big treat but no, small handfuls of treats were given out, as per always. Some kids were so cute! SO cute. Some were shy. One very bold Ninja Turtle turned the knob and walked into the foyer unannounced and alone, leaving his surprised parents down on the front walk.

He's lucky he was cute. And he said Thank you.

Eventually I moved out to the front yard to spare the kids in their awkward costumes the walk up two flights of steps. Caleb was across the driveway, sitting on his steps with a bowl of candy beside him. He was dressed as Doctor Strange and I laughed out loud when I saw that because other than the usual nonsense around here that we indulge in every day (top hats and fairy wings, mostly) no one had planned to formally dress up this year. Even Ruth and Henry had to be convinced to go out. Henry's still under the weather too, and Ruth went to a friend's house. So a costume was a surprise to see.

We pooled our candy, sharing the duty until the steady stream of Trick or Treaters slowed to a non-existent trickle and then Caleb invited me in for an Irish coffee.

I took the offer. I figured we were being civilized. I figured I would drink it and come home before Lochlan noticed I was gone and I'd be able to fall asleep easily instead of spending my nights wide awake and haunted and I completely forgot it was Halloween and that means, like on most holidays, that Caleb starts out great and spirals into ruthless evil the moment I blink.

He never disappoints, glancing a solid kiss off my forehead before speaking softly into my ear.

Should I call Ben to join us?

Ben and I are taking a short break while he focuses on recovery. You know this because you pretty much singlehandedly engineered it. So I don't think that would be good idea. But you can call Lochlan. I bet he'd like a drink. 

Caleb's face changes to confusion.

Oh, you meant something else, did you? I play dumb. It's not hard. 

I'm not calling Pyro. 

No, that wouldn't work, would it. You know something? I think I'd like a raincheck. 

For tomorrow?

For never. 

What are you doing, Bridget? Are you shutting me out? 

He comes over and looks down into my eyes, waiting for whatever it is I have no idea, I don't know what to say. Yes? Yes would make sense but what if I need him? What about Henry? What about everything we've done? What about my unspeakable future, shrouded in a swirling circuit of snow under glass? No? No makes sense until I change my mind. But this is not a competition. It never was. As amazing as Caleb is, he was always too old, too composed, too perfect, too serious. And now here we are standing in his kitchen and he's in a superhero costume and he's trying to dip the earth in solid gold if that's what I want and all I can think of is my very own Ferris Wheel. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He could buy me one. He could buy me a hundred.

(Stopreadingmymind.)

Stop making it so easy.

The shock of his answer propelled me off the edge of the counter and I pushed into him so he would move and I went to the door.

If that's all it would take, consider it done, Princess. 

You know what it would take. A ride isn't part of the request. 

I wonder if Loch knows he will always come in second to Jake. 

He doesn't come in second. I just want to say goodbye properly. 

That isn't true, Bridget. I thought he taught you not to lie. 

Who?

Lochlan. 

On the contrary. He taught me how to be convincing so we...so I would never get caught.

I think that means I just caught you. 

That's only wishful thinking. Goodnight, Doctor Strange. 

I was almost home free until he called from the top of the steps. I'll hold on to that raincheck for you, Princess, you never know when you're going to want to cash it in.

Trick or treason.

This first picture is me goofing around on the farm and then moments later, Bailey appears and I fall on my ass (picture #2). Coincidence? Nope.

In the third picture I am casually reading a book and I look like the illegitimate child of Rik Emmett. (Mom? Have anything to say for yourself?)

The fourth picture shows me in my natural habitat. The Atlantic. It was cold and I would go no further. Note the ubiquitous bikini. I think I was born with one on. (Again, mom?)

Someone asked what life was like before I met the boys and so I had to dig back to when I was pretty much in diapers to pull that off, thanks to Andrew, who's been here like, forever.

So as you can see it was...faded, speckled, sometimes black and white and mostly unfocused.

I'm trying my hardest to get permission from Ben and from Lochlan to post the wedding details but absolutely no one is on board with that.

Yet.

They just keep giving me sugar and I forget I was asking something and that lasts for like half a day and then we go around again. I daresay when I was a micro-me not a hell of a lot was different. So instead of wedding stuff I am trying to give you something else and now you have to promise me you won't egg my  house. We good?


We're good. Happy Halloween. Be safe out there, kiddies.

Never could hold my sugar. Dammit.

Whoops. I sat down to write on the heels of eating a whole handful of Pixy Stix and other assorted candy and I might burst into a cloud made of glitter and sugar in a minute. Not a good time to expect anything because I'm busy doing loops across the ceiling whilst reciting dirty limericks. They're laughing but I can see the fear in their eyes.

*POOF*

Two.

A small, humbling number for a small, humble girl.

Two years and today I don't know quite know where we stand. Two years and Caleb refused to give Lochlan the day off today so Lochlan quit again but Schuyler, who has the patience of a saint (and celebrated two years of marriage to Daniel yesterday because you would have to have patience to be married to Daniel because Daniel just requires a lot of patience) managed to smooth things over and he confided that he does this at least twice a week when Lochlan quits. He smoothes over ruffled feathers and indignant, obstinate stalemates and stubbornness and ire. He runs his hand over things as if the bad moments were wrinkles in a bed he is making and I wish sometimes Schuyler had that magic in more of life but if Lochlan doesn't, how would Schuyler possibly have it?

Two years ago today I married Lochlan. I haven't written about it much past admitting it for the sake of clarity here only because certain things were a bit weird-sounding otherwise. Our parents and families and friends know and care but otherwise it's not something you speak of in public because plural marriage isn't your every day garden-variety thing in the world.

Yet.

We keep quiet but in this house love is such a big gigantic thing. It tends to take over, taking up space, shoving everything else to the side while it holds center stage, a spectacle, a miracle, a curse.

And I wouldn't change it, in spite of how easy it was to be conventional once, married to a preacher on a pretty tree-lined street in a snowy city, spinning yarn and singing along with his guitar. I guess I knew at some point the circus would call me back because the circus is what I call home.

So tomorrow as a special anniversary gift to you I will write about the wedding.

Just not today. I have a date and I need to go get ready.

Clowns are the pegs on which the circus is hung.
~P. T. Barnum

Profound even in nursery school.

He turns me away from him and pulls me in tightly against his chest. My back is so warm this way and I stop shivering. My heart dislodges and pins itself against my spine, a magnetic pull forcing it there against Lochlan's heart, which has thrown itself against his ribcage and strains to get out. It hurts, almost but not quite.

When I sleep I dream that I figured out how to draw with colored pencils and I'm trying to balance on the wire. I wake up laughing. Weird dreams. I haven't moved, but Loch's right shoulder is pushed forward and down, crushing me down into the bed underneath him so and I have to push against him in order to breathe.

I don't think he minds.

I have finished NOS482 and Allegiant (!!!!!!!!!) and am back to reading Doctor Sleep. I keep picking up my phone to text Ben but then I put it down without doing anything. I still cough constantly and am trying to drink my body weight in water which isn't going well and I feel dehydrated and frustrated and hysterical and penned in. Andrew yelled at me once to go back to bed once already this morning. I ignored him.

I feel peaceful when I think about my ghosts though, down to checking my brain to make sure all of my memories are organized and easily accessible.

Once I lost Jacob's voice and I almost turned myself inside out looking for that one before I found it hiding behind the one of Bailey locking me in the basement bathroom with her while she played movies with her Fisher Price projector on the back of the bathroom door. Peter Pan. And then when I was released I promptly ran outside and start screaming Pirates! Pirates! at Andrew, who fell in beside me, trusting every word I yelled because we were both four years old with magnificent vocabularies and an inability to count past ten.

Where are they?

Everywhere! Don't you see them? I was kidnapped and managed to escape but they said they will never rest until I am recaptured! 

Quick! Let's get under the deck! They won't find us! 

Good plan! 

We crawled under his parent's back porch on our stomachs and waited, keeping guard.

Do you see them?

SHHHHHHHHH! 

He claps his muddy hand over my mouth and holds it there. My eyes are wide. Finally after counting to fifty by whispering ...seven, eight, thirteen, teen, teen, twenty, fifty!, we crawl back out and assure ourselves they're gone.

Phew. That was close.

That night I dream that I am eating crayons and trying to balance on a board. I tell Andrew the next day and he says, That means you're going to meet a pirate in real life! He won't be clear about it but he's going to steal you when the time is right and you will never go back to being Bridget the regular kid ever again! 

How do you know?

It's what they do! 

How will I know who the pirate is? 

Easy, stupid! He takes your heart first and then comes back for the rest when the coast is clear! 

How will I know when the coast is clear?

Nothing will be in the way!

But what about the crayons?

Pirates don't color, Bridget! They're big people. All they do is steal things. 

But if those things are worth money then I want to be a pirate! 

Is your heart worth money?

It's worth more than all the gold in the land. In the world even. 

What's it made out of?

Me. It's made out of me. 

Extra bonus: New-Jake is moving into Batman's place too. Today.

Extra super double-bonus: Jasper isn't moving in! Hurray!

Everyone in one place (AKA Batman's big announcement).

(I wish I didn't have to keep repeating this but no, his name is not actually Batman. It's a nickname to protect his privacy by his own request.)

This morning Batman joined us for breakfast and an early sermon on the water. I stood shivering in my dress because I forgot my sweater and Loch slipped out of his hoodie in haste, braving the four-degree sunrise in a Pink Floyd t-shirt and goosebumps.

(He's dressed up exactly four times in his life, truth be told. One wedding, one funeral, and two job interviews.)

Sam saw that and sped up his words to 78 rpm and we went around quickly. Home, family, love, God, faith, hope and okay, let's go eat. 

And true to his usual method of operation, Batman waited until the last person was finished the food on their plate (in this case, Henry, who dawdled through his scrambled eggs and Caleb, who kept refilling his coffee cup to the point where I was about to ask him if it's safe to have that much caffeine at once, and Ben who just kept on eating) to make an announcement that will probably once again change absolutely everything.

He's purchased the house up the street.

It's on the same cul-de-sac, but situated on the next point over, albeit a magnitude smaller than this point but one featuring a beautiful Mediterranean-style home that features the most impressive blue-tiled floors and the same beautiful view. I've seen the pictures, it's been for sale for some time. It's close enough to see the lights on at night but far enough to afford privacy, because it ranges in the low seven figures.

That's a perfect house for one person. Caleb congratulates him on the acquisition somewhat backhandedly. We still think real estate is a good bet but only at a certain threshold. Caleb doesn't believe in buying more than you actually need, however.

Ben will be welcome to stay as long as he needs to and anyone is welcome to come at any time. It's furnished. Lots of rooms for guests. Batman stares at me but I'm busy doing the math in my head.

When do you move in? I'm guessing he'll say at the end of the year.

I'm already settled. 

The boys stand and shake hands all around the table, good news is often embraced quite boisterously, and I lean back in my chair waiting them out. Ben already knew so he keeps eating and Caleb has suddenly lost his appetite. When everyone is settled again we discuss the noise and the traffic downtown and how quickly glass boxes and elevators lose their appeal in favor of well, this. Batman reveals that he's uncharacteristically excited to be putting down roots at last with waterfrontage to boot and it suddenly occurs to me that he has just levelled the playing field.

With explosives.

Keeping it chill for the next two weeks. Here we go, folks.

Henry is sick and convalescing at the boathouse today, playing video games and watching movies with Caleb. Ruth is working on some drawings with Daniel next door because she can leave her stuff all over the kitchen there and no one makes her clean it up at mealtimes.

I am waiting patiently at my place at the kitchen island here at home because PJ is making me a Monte Cristo. It's obvious who loves me most.

He turns around with the plate in hand, the perfect meal for me.

You know you want to marry me. I'd make these for you every day. 

Then we could share the same jeans, Peej. Because I'll be as big as you sooner rather than later. 

We should share them now if you want to get in here with me. 

You guys should get a room. Gage walks in because he smelled food.

You're absolutely right. PJ winks at me and I throw a grape at him. Perv. Hush now. 

Bridget, you just keep denying me, I'd be so perfect for you. I cook and clean and everything. 

Yup, the perfect wife. What would that make me?

Uh..spoiled?

No, it would make me the man in the relationship. 

I'm down with that. 

We should test that theory! 

Huh? It was figurative, Bridge! 

Why be figurative when you can be literal! Stay here and bend over the counter. I'll be right back. 

Where are you going?

To find Schuyler. Or Matt. Or anyone really. We'll just turn the lights out. 

You're a little monster. 

Hey, if I'm the guy I get to violate you any way I want. I just need a primer on technique.

You just...you just be quiet and eat your sandwich, little miss! Jesus! I'm shocked at the things in your head. 

Oh my God, PJ, I'm KIDDING. 

I know that, now like I said, EAT YOUR SANDWICH. 

Lochlan comes in. Wow. Bit harsh, Padraig. What's up?

The dirty mind on this one. WE'VE RUINED HER. 

Lochlan shakes his head. Nah, Brother, I think she ruined us. He takes half my sandwich and walks back out of the room, winking at me as he goes.

I DID NOT! I chase after him. I want my sandwich back.

Beginning of Six.

I didn't write yesterday. I spent it in a stupor after I looked at the calendar and realized, oh, yeah that was six years ago today that I walked down to the church late one night to ask Jake to stop working and come home and sleep already and he told me he was done.

Jake was never a person to put down roots past the windy cliff where he grew from a boy into a man. He lived with few possessions and traveled on whims that would have left most people clinging to civilization. He spent months in places like Nepal and India and Brazil. He stood high above every cloud, a blonde viking with a need to find God in tangible form and once he even said he found God in me but I'm almost sure now it was less of a revelation and more of a wishful thought.

Sam came to me last night and took the brandy away and said I really should read those remaining letters now, he made copies of everything, scanning them into the computer so that I could easily read them on the iPad or whatever but I've never opened them. They just sit.

Sam put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head and told me I am doing great.

He lies so easily. I think God gives him that power.

I told him it wasn't comforting so he shifted gears and told me to come watch television with him and we went and curled up on the couch like cats and we never turned on the television at all. He surfed emails on his phone without answering any and I fell asleep in his warm arm the moment my feet left the floor.

When I woke up this morning I was still there and so was he only someone had tucked a blanket around us. When I woke up I couldn't catch a full breath because the weight on me is so heavy. I hate Halloween. I hate that his birthday is right there and that we could have grown old together but we won't now because he took that, he took everything with him and it all smashed to bits on the pavement along with him. He took future memories and plans and my love for him and he broke it without asking.

He took Himself too. Capitalized because nothing says The Lord quite like a large nonexistent entity you pray to, worship and feel all around you all the time. God has a name and His name is Jake and He has forsaken me but I still believe in Him. Sam laughs and shakes his head and feels helpless and quiet and resigned.

Ben couldn't take the bend in my life right on this week each year that has permanently changed everything, preventing the past from colliding with the present, keeping the future just out of reach. I can't reconcile anything past 2007 so instead I retreat to happier times when I was young and knew nothing but hunger pangs and starry eyes, when I first learned that falling in love makes your body feel the same swoop of your internal organs flying out of place and your heart hitting your ribcage at a hundred miles an hour that you get when you take a ride at an amusement park and then later when you swing high above a crowd on a trapeze.

And then later still when the fear comes crashing in and everything is ripped away, including your confidence in a net below, and you are left cold, afraid of everything and stubborn as all fuck because life isn't a show after all. You can't pick your props, plan your acts or take just one more ride so you better enjoy it while it lasts. Revel in those lights, scream when your heart makes the leap and love for everything you're worth because you might turn out to be fool's gold and won't that be a goddamned surprise.