Frustrations and..cats.

Found my birthday present, if you please.

***

For the record, my phone (not even a year old and already replaced once) is going insane again, as is my truck key fob (which just had a replacement battery last dealership quarterly visit). I swear to God when the aliens come they're going to be looking for me first to see if they can reverse-engineer my technology and learn how to fix..earthly junk.

At least my hearing aids still work but they mostly live in the drawer because I do dumb things like duck when someone clears their throat and dive under the table when they close drawers in the kitchen if I'm wearing them. It's stressful and unpleasant and I know I need them adjusted but also I hate them so I'm not rushing to fix this, if you know what I mean.

Today is marginally cold and overcast so I opted to do inside chores this morning because chores, they never end and I'm thinking a few more years of all of us trying to keep up with this house and the grounds while I simultaneously try to keep two husbands and a demon happy, raise two teenagers and feed all of our friends is going to be enough and I'll be screaming for a household staff.

Not a maid or a service or a butler but a whole staff. Asher can come back and maybe bring a couple friends.

May as well go big or go home, since between the supervolcano in Montana and the Ring Of Fire activity as of late we'll probably be dead soon anyway.

***

Caleb summoned me to see him just after lunch.

Good morning, Beautiful. Have you spoken with Ben?

Not since he got up early to head out. Is everything okay?

He came here first. He wanted a little assistance in sorting out some anniversary plans. 

Oh, that's nice.

Not really. He thought a trip might be fun. He wanted to take you back to Venice. 

Why are you spoiling the surprise then?

I said no. 

Who says you get to decide?

Every man on this point would agree with me. Ben hasn't proven himself. 

He's been sober almost a year. 

Yes and in the six years you've been married to him how many times have we had to rescue you from him when you thought you could handle him?

He's fine now. 

And we want him to keep getting better. We can revisit this next year. See how he does. 

That's just great. When will I ever be the adult around here and get to make decisions about things I want to do instead of them being made for me all the time?

Never, Bridget. I'm speaking as openly and honestly as I can here. I don't think things will change. Ever. 

I forgot. The Devil can't have faith. What would he believe in, after all?

You. 

I'm not a religion. 

Look around, Bridget. The hell you aren't. 

Tell the wolves I'm home.

Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

We finished the chores with time to spare, lamenting the gorgeous property without decent landscaping because anything you do out here is going to be blasted by wind and salt and Bridget's Big Feels anyway. I can erode iron with my mind, or so they say. Imagine what I do to the grass.

Lochlan peeled off his t-shirt and let his milky white redhead flesh meet the sun for the first time this year. He stretched out on the big wooden double lounge chair and patted the space beside him. I curled up against him, fell asleep and found the time machine that took me back to a scrubbly, sunny hillside with a big wooden lounge chair just like this, a day off and a pale Lochlan who was much younger than he is now.

This is the perfect day, he said then and he says now and I am switched back to the present. I nod without opening my eyes.

Shush...I'm dreaming of the last chair we slept on in the sun.

Sam breaks the euphoria anyway because his curiosity is almost as dangerous as mine.
  
I'm assuming you're remembering better times? 

Better? Loch is surprised. No. They weren't better. It was just the two of us. We had followed a group overseas and then found ourselves alone and I took Bridget to stay at a house I had been given the address of from someone else on the show who took in performers but it was difficult. It was a beautiful property but we didn't speak the language and they were less than pleasant. They thought I had kidnapped Bridget because she was so young.

Did you? 

Maybe. He smiles.

Manic panic.

Everything that drowns me makes me want to fly.

Oh haiiiiiii.

Blonde again.

Three boxes of stuff and some deep conditioner and I look just like I did before. Daniel has missed his calling. When I dyed it blue last summer it took infinitely longer to revert because he didn't help. I'm relieved. Weirdly, Andrew and Dalton are even more relieved. Caleb and Ben both asked me not to dye it again. What the fuck.

Priorities, you know.

Since I won't turn off Counting Stars (alternating with Heart of a Graveyard and Invasion because yes I made a playlist with just three songs, dammit) and I figured out all the words (had my hearing aids in just long enough, you see) and I've been singing at the top of my lungs to the point where Caleb went to finish his work in the grotto out front before I texted him and asked if he could put in outdoor speakers there and I would never come inside and he said no, because I'm always too cold to be outside and I never want to be there in the grotto anyway so he's not putting any more money into it.

I texted back that the beach is in the back, so...well, duh.

I've had no sleep and way too much coffee. I also have a stomach ache from eating ice cream for lunch and I spent a good twenty minutes catching Pokemons on Google maps and now as punishment for the music + junkfood + gameplay on Diabhal's time I have to do actual work. Nice. No rest for the wicked, as always and he's already threat-edited half this post.

Joy.

Big screen buffet with a side of Jesus.

Church in the pouring rain this morning. Umbrella wars in the parking lot as there were literal jostles to keep me dry (for the record, I don't think I'll melt. Maybe they're not so sure). Sitting in wet tights. Singing in wet shoes. Ties loosened, yawns suppressed. Collection plates filled with arcade tokens. Next week Chinese chocolate coins. Someone has to keep Sam on his toes. Once we we used Lego. That was fun.

Caleb just frowned when I passed him the heavily loaded plate and tucked his envelope in underneath the tokens as best he could. He leaned forward after handing the plate off, frowning at Lochlan, who was working hard at staying awake. I stepped on his foot twice and he just grimaced from the sharp heel and ignored me otherwise.

Maybe chocolate coins aren't such a good idea. I'll probably eat them all in the car before we make it all the way to church. Good. It will keep my stomach from growling.

Ben is still sleeping. He was up late doing some work and came to bed so tired he forgot to take off his t-shirt and when I woke up it was as if someone went Sous vide? Mais non! BROIL HER! I was gasping for air. Lochlan woke up with a start and then laughed quietly and closed his eyes again for twenty more minutes.

We got Netflix this weekend and no longer sleep either, you see. There are too many fun things to watch, like all the Fast and Furious movies again. Sharknado! The 100. Breaking Bad. I almost stayed home from church to start that one. It was a tough call but I really had to get rid of all these tokens. My purse must have weighed twenty pounds.

This afternoon Daniel has agreed to dye my hair back to blonde. Red is fun but not on me for so long. I miss my silver and gold.

YES.

My Dear, find what you love and let it kill you.
         ~Charles Bukowski

Salvaged to salvager.

Caleb found an interesting old photo last night. In it he and Christian have me swinging high between them, their arms up in the air, me dangling from their hands. I am about eight or nine in this picture, Caleb is eighteen. I think Cole took it with his pocket 110 Kodak camera. He took that thing everywhere and it was a far cry from his eventual collection of high-end Canon cameras, some of which I still have.

Caleb said he was going to have the photo framed. I just rolled my eyes. Andrew and some of the others kept remarking on it, all evening long.

Look how little you were! I bet they could still do that. Let's try.

Let's not.

***

I woke up in my usual man-sandwich. Ben has taken to sleeping wrapped around my back again but instead of moving back to his coffin position in order to actually sleep he's not moved an inch, waking up warm and suffocating and comfortable as shit. I don't mind the weight, but what little amount of room I have for wiggling is all but gone and soon I wonder if they'll just kick me out all together because they get closer and closer as years go by. Lochlan sleeps facing me, his chin on my head, arms around my neck and shoulders. He heats up to a good hundred and ten degrees each night and basically I'm sure I begin each morning poached, sous vide, and ready to eat.

Fitting, since no one brought me egg mcmuffins this morning. Ben, get your clubs.

I might only be kidding.

We had breakfast on the porch with Sam. Toast. Captain Crunch. Coffee. Bananas. Sam did a little off-the-cuff, off-the-clock counselling and Ben was very gracious considering he has the unfortunate designation of being married to us and all of the baggage we carry around from place to place as wayfaring freaks.

He is the glue, the enthusiasm and the fervent wish for routine and for home that keeps this solidly moving ahead. I don't actually have to fret about being left out. They both do as we sometimes pair off for geographic or argumentative reasons. He does not want to be left behind for historical reasons so it's in our best interests to keep him informed and educated.

One of the things I learned over the past two or three years is that when you are a kid and things happen you are forgetful, resilient and forgiving. You gloss easily. Years go by and you dismiss horrifying betrayals and events as water under the Bridget and then you mature and realize those things (which you thought everyone went through) weren't normal and may very well have had an incredible mark on shaping who you are now.

This is where we are today. Currently both the departures of Cole and Jacob are less terrifying than other things, eventual tragedies sure but not something that shapes a person except in future displays of emotion. I cry randomly now. I can't help it. It starts like a nosebleed and I can pinch my face and sit down for a minute and it passes. Sometimes I just ignore it and stand there breaking someone's heart as we choose lightbulbs or hull strawberries.

Other things come back to the forefront as I struggle to coexist with those who shaped me into who I am today. Are they to be thanked or blamed for this mess? Did Lochlan stunt my growth with all of the candy and g-forces and teenage lust of the early days on the midway or did Caleb stunt it with his own brand of despicable evil, bestowed on someone who surely would have been an angel, had she been left to thrive but instead wound up in some sort of multi-decade game of Stockholm syndrome, symptoms coming and going like the phases of the moon?

Ben doesn't actually care. If he knows all the details then he has more power. If he has all the details then the past can't shut him out, and he can't be dismissed on account of being a bystander. An outsider. A saviour, of sorts. A deliverer from evil. A hero.

I say that with the tears just running and he finally looks at me and his eyes are all but swimming in the soft morning light and he says me? A hero? I nod and he just shakes his head.

I never asked for much. But then I got you guys and realized I have everything now.

McPeace (just a thimbleful of grace for now).

It's still raining. I opened the door this morning to find Caleb standing there with a beautiful bouquet of white roses and a bag from McDonalds. A big bag. When I opened it I saw a dozen egg mucmuffins and as many hashbrowns.

Flowers? What flowers? The way to my heart is a seventy-thousand calorie breakfast path.

But then he asked if he could join us and I hesitated before saying yes, always tipping toward acceptance for Henry's sake. He followed me into the kitchen and Loch stood up so fast he might have been sitting on a spring.

Caleb put the bag on the island and then apologized to him and then to me for engaging in very poor timing to rehash a very old fight. Loch is indifferent and cold but accepts it. We're trying very hard to live with this and every cog in the wheel is just one more thing that keeps this from being some idyllic dream compound like what you'd see in the movies. Caleb puts out his hand and Lochlan shakes it and PJ exhales slowly, probably glad he doesn't have to play bouncer again, always.

I get a brief brotherly hug and we are digging in.

I almost forget to put the flowers in water. The kids mow through their food so quick it's unbelievable and disappear again to play Minecraft with Christian. He is blowing up everything they make. They love it. I find a vase and point to it and Ben pulls it down from the cupboard and then he is off too and soon it's just three of us in the kitchen because PJ has joined the gamers after eliciting a firm promise that we won't kill each other with sharpened English muffins.

Caleb asks if we would like to talk it out. Formally. Maybe with an objective party or someone of our choice. If we can get past the parts that keep the resentment on the front burner why wouldn't we want to do that?

Loch says no, we deal with things in our own way (Sure do, Loch. That rug we keep sweeping things under is hella lumpy, no? It's also eight feet off the ground now) and I nod to back him up, not to agree with him but Caleb won't know the difference even though he's staring at me as I watch for Loch's almost imperceptible cues and follow suit.

How did you do it? Caleb asks quietly.


Do what? Loch's losing patience now. A breakfast sandwich only gets you so far. He passes half a hashbrown to me and I eat the rest of it instead of taking a bite and passing it back. He should know better but when he holds his hand out again and I put the wrapper in it he just stares at me like I am the smallest, most wicked potato thief in all the land.

How did you manage to get and keep her loyalty? It's not as if your overall treatment of her was all that stellar, thinking broadly. 

Some things are meant to be, Diabhal, and you shouldn't mess with them. Lochlan meets his eyes and does not waver now. He holds the gaze of the Devil and he holds control. If there is only one thing in his miserable life that he can control, this is it.

Caleb returns it with a struggle but an admirable one. I have underestimated both of you. 

It's not that you did, it's that you keep doing it. You need to step back and realize you can't buy this. You'll never have this. Lochlan's words are so sharp I have to fight to keep a blank expression because they're cutting everyone in the room and when I shift my gaze to Caleb he is staring at me.

You can't have her. 

I don't think he even hears Lochlan but Lochlan says it anyway. His confidence in this one thing is contagious and I hold Caleb's gaze to show him Lochlan's right. There's to be no more changing teams, no switching sides. If I go to him it's on my own terms and not his and it will always be temporary. Fall asleep happy, wake up alone. What's the dream in this? Oh, right, it's better a rare Bridget than no Bridget at all but Caleb has already recovered from what tiny vulnerability he allowed to slip out just now for all the world to see.

I'll continue to make my remunerations, of course. I want you both to know I'm committed to atoning for the mistakes of my past. 

Lochlan reminds him he doesn't want his money.

Well, you may not want it but you need it, Loch. I want assurances that Bridget and both children will not be forced to live within a strained budget. It brings peace of mind for both of us. Leave it, please. For now. 

Loch nods, relunctantly. He's not anxious to begin the fight anew. No one is. We're old and tired and on the verge of almost being pleasant. Had Caleb not brought McDonald's for breakfast I'm sure I'd be kicking discarded heads off the cliff right now, my sneakers covered in blood. Ben, with his golf club, sticking it hard into the sides, metal sinking into soft brain matter, leaving a sticky, suction-thwock noise as each one comes away.

God. It's too early for this shit, isn't it?

Bringing forth a war.

Ben didn't let us get so far last night and I made a rare executive decision to delete not one but both of yesterday afternoon and evening's short posts. You didn't miss much. We sat out front watching the rain from the relative coziness of the porch, sipping on some whiskey (Ben had iced tea) and then Lochlan and Caleb started in on each other and Ben told Caleb twice it was time to go.

Caleb ignored him so Ben went and picked up Loch (right up off the ground because he wouldn't go willingly) and took him inside to the care of PJ and Sam, and then by the time he came back out, I had taken over from where Lochlan left off and Caleb and I were fighting wholeheartedly about the past. The Big Ticket Things this time and Ben got an earful he probably didn't need, one which I've probably never formally discussed with anyone, preferring to gloss whenever it comes up because damn, the past hurts.

And we were hurling it at each other in great big spiky mouthfuls that landed hard, every blow. Leaving marks, leaving blood but we couldn't feel it because of all the whiskey. So Ben listened for two whole seconds, told Caleb if he didn't go back home right that second that Ben would throw him in that direction and then Ben picked me up and carried me inside. I was still yelling all the way across the front hall and into the kitchen and then he put his hand over my mouth and told me it was okay. That I could stop.

Then he waited a few extra dozen seconds to make sure I actually was going to stop.

You good?

Yes, we've settled our differences.

It sounds like it! What are we going to do about this?

Nothing? Leave it alone!

Is that how he escapes scrutiny? He points at Loch. Because you won't address it?

He isn't under scrutiny!

Maybe he should be. Maybe we all should be! Didn't we already go through this? First with Cole and his abuse and then with Jake and his massive lockdown that had you so far hidden that when he killed himself it still took us DAYS to find you!

DON'T YOU SAY THAT!

Bridget, I-

JUST STOP IT. STOP IT!! 

They threw themselves around me then. All of them, Ben included. I couldn't breathe enough to shout anymore. The group hug sucked all the air right out of the room.

And then there's this:

I died. Lochlan went oh, fuck, seriously?! and everyone else kind of rolled their eyes and mumbled stuff about Game of Thrones defectors.

(I love both but in a fair fight I'd pick AHS, speaking honestly.)

(wait for it...3....2....1...)

JESUS CHRIST, BRIDGET!