Home is where your Ben is.

Fuckers, all of them.

Lochlan and the rest spent a lot of time talking me into dinner tonight. I'm so tired. I didn't want to go but he convinced me that a bourbon and some chicken wings would perk me up. I think it would perk him up, he means.

We walked in just as the Blackhawks scored on an empty net and there in the booth with a cup of coffee in front of him and his carry on bag beside him on the seat was Benjamin.

What a sight for my sore eyes. Ever cry in a pub? Someone walked by and tried to console me, telling me I shouldn't put any more effort into rooting for Minnesota.

 

Thirteen hours with the Devil.

I staged a bit of a sit-in last evening and had I known it would run past an hour or two I would have planned better and ordered food, kissed the children good night and told Duncan and PJ not to sit in the kitchen waiting up for me. Lochlan sat out in the driveway for most of it but he doesn't mind the hot sun and then the cool moon.

I had to pinch myself to stay awake, at least four times Caleb yelled at me to stop fidgeting so much because he jumped every time I jumped and basically we never even talked, we just sat and stared each other down.

My vote is all or nothing. Everyone is to know. Come clean. Fess the fuck up already and then the questions will stop, take whatever punishment they have for you and let's get on with our lives. Maybe things will be better, after all. Because all the things we've tried so far, time, money, absence, didn't work. What do we have to lose?

Everything, is the answer. I don't like his answer. I go back to being quiet in hopes that he, too, will shut the fuck up.

His vote is to continue to the course, to find out what it will take to win absolution from Lochlan.

You can't ask for absolution from Loch. Loch can hold a grudge forever. Loch is an elephant, he never forgets. He's loathe to forgive and stuck in his ways. Be kind, be quick and be good. The thefts, the bad things we did were so we could eat. He always told me it was only for enough to eat, or pay for a safe place to sleep and I believed him. His pride is larger than his brain, trust me.

So I sit back, sipping a bourbon watered down by an ice cube that disappeared an hour ago. I sit and watch the Devil and I think about the things I do that drove him to show up and ruin things and then to have him stand here and tell me he thought it would be the worst thing I ever went through and that I was young and resilient and would soon forget and move on and life would be a fairy tale, just as soon as he got rid of Lochlan. Once we were apart, once I was Cole's or anyone's just as long as it wasn't Loch, that everything would be okay.

His brain is smaller than Lochlan's, apparently.

Watch here now as I fire up my flamethrower and leave a path in front of me that reaches a hundred miles in every direction because that's how I feel and that's what Jacob was. A break from this. A break from Cole and from Caleb and from Loch and from everything I know and everything I am.

God has other plans for me. I wish he'd drop a note. I don't know what they are.

Caleb asks if I want a refill. I wake up and snap at him that I don't, I want an answer. 

I don't have one for you. 

Then I guess I'll wait some more. Until you do. 

Oh, and in case someone is about to call me out on this, no, I don't expect some of the boys to take up my defense even as I leave them out of the loop.

I don't expect anything except for maybe the hope that things will smooth out a little for all of us if we finally put our cards on the table but at the same time I expect men to be men and volunteer their mistakes and wait to be judged, punished, ostracized or absolved. I don't know what will happen if he tells them. I don't know if he will tell them. At this point I don't think it even serves any purpose, to tell you the truth. It's a dance we've been performing too long to change the steps now.

I don't know if Loch will ever forgive him. I don't think I would (if I were him) but there's nothing conventional about us and maybe that's how we've survived this long as it is.

bawk, bawk.

Lilting grace.

(A brief excursion to the boathouse as I am passed around, evaluated and comforted. I'm doing much better today. Yesterday seemed to be some sort of minefield I couldn't navigate without blowing my limbs off every step I took. I remember that she was ready and it's easier now.)

Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear

Caleb reaches up and smooths my hair back behind my ear as I sit on the edge of the couch and he lounges on the floor.

Zeppelin today for the devil and Skyping with Ben to keep him in the loop at all costs, by my own request because I'm tired of everyone dismissing him because he's not around a lot. He is to be kept informed of all developments or issues and his input will be sought before decisions are made.

So there!

That makes things difficult, everyone tells me.

For you, maybe, not for me, I reply.

And Caleb, well...Caleb would like actual, functional forgiveness. From everyone but mostly from Lochlan. This has gone on long enough. That's his bone to pick this week.

Interestingly, I don't believe it ever once occured to him that I didn't tell everyone what happened. For some, it's none of their business. For others with a vested interest in helping me cope/survive/thrive, it's an incredibly important piece of information that can't be left out.

Some of them have asked, mind you. Out loud. Up front, with their naive curiosity exposed in a way that made me cringe and then further dissolve as I said it wasn't my place to explain.

So I told him if he really wanted to clear the air/make amends/seek forgiveness he should apologize to the whole point, en masse.

They will rip him to pieces.

While I balance this tiny thimbleful of composure, oh, nope, there it goes.

My grandmother died last night. My mom's mom. I now have one grandparent left and he's a century old. I have one baby tooth as well. Who says adulthood is a specific path taken? Mine meanders, it doubles back, it charges forward in a rush that takes your breath away and then the phone rings.

She taught me so much. How to milk a cow, grow carrots, radishes and peas. How not to pick blueberries. How to sew, embroider and crochet. How to work a dual-fuel kitchen stove and conserve well water during a drought. How to find pennies in the dirt under the post office window for Pixy Stix (Ha, you thought that was Lochlan, didn't you?) and where to grab the leeches to pull them off my legs in Ponhook Lake. How to pull the chains for the furnace to make the house warmer and why sliding down the bannister is a bad idea if there's a large glass-fronted cabinet at the bottom.

She taught me that she braided hair far too tightly, had no patience for night terrors or homesickness but had time to cook everything from scratch. She taught me you can love someone but not show them until they realize the difference. I inherited her migraine headaches and her birthday and most likely her osteoarthritis.

My regrets include not getting home more often to say hello, even though she would not have known me this past while, and never really figuring out her secret to making perfect cinnamon rolls from scratch. She could do it without a recipe. I can't even do it with a recipe. My stitches will never be as even as hers were but my house will never be cold.

I have absolutely nothing to report except I stuck a paring knife under my thumbnail when I was cutting mushrooms and I'm beginning to think my blood doesn't want to clot but whatever. It's Tuesday. At least it's not Monday anymore right?

We thought Caleb was going to make a formal pitch to bring horses to the point, now that the stables are complete. Or maybe he would bring up high school football for Henry again. Because that's been a very sticky point as of late and I keep waiting for him to appeal to the boys to convince me that it's a good idea.

NOPE.

(Henry doesn't even WANT to play, and if his father would listen to him instead of deciding for him, we'd be all set, don't ya know.)

I didn't get much out of Lochlan at all, except that he now thinks Caleb is an artless thread-bolted miscreant. The more he sputtered and grumbled, the more colorful the insults became.

Sometimes he can be so glorious.

Caleb called and asked told me to come down and see him so we could discuss things and I said I couldn't (because I'm not allowed presently anyway but I didn't say that to Caleb), that I was going to church to help Sam by sweeping and spring cleaning and listening to music loud, with good acoustics. Also I'll be roped in to folding bulletins. I fold them all. I think Sam just likes the company, frankly but I'll go and at least make myself useful. Indispensible to someone. Sam will turn around often and tell me I have God's grace but I didn't get it by cleaning His house and I'll yell Liar! and keep working. We're a team.

Me and Sam, I mean, not me and God.

Loch gave me another bone-crushing squeeze on my way out the door behind Sam and told me to come straight back. Yes DAD. He's working on a thing or he would have come too, he says. We'll talk tonight, he says. No worries, Peanut, he says.

ARGH.

I'm actually sort of anxious to know what they discussed, if I'm being honest. Curiosity is my biggest character flaw. I'm pretty sure that's why Loch makes me wait an entire day. He's trying to frustrate it out of me.

If he's only doing this for me, who the hell am I doing it for?

Loch shows me a whole pageful of SMS on his phone. Invitations from Caleb to go out for breakfast. Or lunch. Dinner? He scrolls down. It's been going on for days. He hasn't replied once.

At least politely refuse. 

I got no use for anything polite when it comes to that fucker. 

That fucker owns this house. 

Hey my house is out in the driveway, Bridget! The minute you pack your shit and get out there I won't have him holding anything over my head now, will I? 

Loch-

Just nevermind. I'll phone him and find out what he wants if it means so much to you. 

He disappears and comes back five minutes later.

We're having lunch. 

In public? 

Sure? If he doesn't say anything stupid I won't punch him, okay? Is that good enough? 

Yes. What does he want?

I dunno. He said we could go over some investments he thinks might work for me and he said there was something he wants to clear up. 

Well, have fun. 

What are you going to do for lunch? 

PJ and I will eat here. 

Okay. I'll be home as quick as I can. 

Take your time. 

He kisses my cheek and pulls me right up against his chest so hard I grind against his ribs and then he lets go and heads out. I wish I were a fly on the wall. I'm tempted to send a chaperone but it seems like they actually can manage to get along when I'm not there.

I mean, once upon a time before I moved to their street, they were best friends for five years straight. That's a long time in kid-years. I know they miss each other. Well, I like to think they do but I don't think a shared lunch is going to change anything. Not today, not ever. They've been enemies now for decades. They both want to just move on and forget history so it's ironic that they keep each other from actually doing it.

Maybe death actually will trump betrayal. I didn't think it did but I'll find out soon enough.

YVR to LHR

Ben, Dalton and Daniel went off to London yesterday, they'll be home at the end of this week. Ben had been hoping to roll that trip into our trip to Venice that never happened but since he had to go anyway, Dalton's always up for an adventure. Daniel went with them to see a little more of the world and I cried at the airport, blubbering like a fucking three-year-old, standing behind PJ because I didn't think Ben was going to go at all anyway but he did because he's an adult, fixing his shit and moving on with his plans and I am a child, stuck forever in the past that feels like quicksand and loathe to let him out of my sight because he's one of the few people in this world that I love more than anything.

Dalton picked a fight at the gate to try and make it easier (ASS). Daniel looked pained. Ben tried to make jokes and promised to be quick.

PJ translated for me as I tried to pull myself together but couldn't. She says she'll miss you...she loves you too...hurry home...bring home some hot chicks from Europe...oh wait, she didn't say that, I did. 

Waves.

Every star is on its way
You're the only one that stayed
All the time you could have saved
All the time you gave away
You know the heart beneath the waves
The one that I was trying to save
The one that almost slipped away
Was mine

I got my first (early) birthday present last night!

Loch preordered Thirteen Senses' new album for me. A Strange Encounter. They put out an album every three years and a bit and it's always far too long for me. I'm not huge on British pop like this generally but this band has had a heavy hand in the soundtrack of my life, at least since Henry was born, and seems to be the most delicious sort of music to have in ones ears if you are lying in the grass watching the clouds play chase or sitting in the dark, attempting to fix a broken heart with scant supplies. Loch introduced me to them. He walks around singing their stuff any moment he isn't singing a Pink Floyd song, mostly.

So they're totally magical to me.

(Or, Bridget tends to absorb the musical likes and dislikes of her boys, part 473628246246. Yes, we know this, get on with it.)

Caleb asked what I wanted for my birthday so I told him I wanted to lie on a beach for an entire day without interruption.

He clarified. In the sun?

Yes, I said. Maybe in Fiji.

And he shot it down because he said I would burn inside of four minutes and also their political state is a bit tenuous and I turned away because he asked but he was prepared to not like the answer before I even opened my mouth. I would still like you to have those earrings.

No thank you. Big expensive rocks secured with half-assed butterfly backs doesn't sound like fun to me.

Hoops would be better?

No, they just get caught in everyone's shirts and fingers.

A trip, then?

I'm not allowed to travel, remember?

With me, you are.

Of course.

Subversive Princess today, I see.

Every day, Caleb. Every day all day.

What can I do to make it a very happy birthday for you?

I turn and stare at him.

Except that.

Go away then please.

Bridget-

I'm busy.

Can I see you later this evening maybe?

Maybe.

He plants a kiss on top of my head and disappears.

Loch walks into the room from the other direction and asks me why I lead Caleb on. He's annoyed at what he saw, what he heard because I make no attempt to conceal anything, least of all my half-assed efforts to tick off things on my bucket list that will never ever be crossed off.

He's right, though, we're foundering a little here, Peanut. You haven't given us a list. We may all be three and a half decades in, in knowing you but you're still the pickiest little thing that ever lived. 

Easily frustrated by things that don't do what I want them to. Not picky. 

Well that explains why there are so many of us, you're collecting parts to make the perfect guy. 

Shhhhh. You really weren't supposed to figure this out. I'm afraid I've kept you around far too long. 

Bridget, knock it off. You're scaring me. 

Sorry. What a neat idea though! 

Huh! Is it now? Maybe I should do the same! I know I won't be keeping your ears because they're busted and your mouth, because it runs, and certainly not your scrawny little arse because it's not big enough to grab and well, seems like there's not much here, come to think of it! 

Oh my God! Take that all back! 

I'm only teasing! Peanut, I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe I'd get that creepy millionaire who follows you around to disappear but I swear, that would be it.