It wasn't the fear that gave me the thrill, it was his confidence in me.

Loch has been sent up. The music's been on a loop for upwards of six minutes. Too long. They wait for a signal from me to show that I'm ready but it didn't come. The crowd is getting restless. The performers are restless. The show is now delayed slightly and that results in a percentage lost from lingering merchandise and snack purchases on the way out as people rush away instead, having expected the show to end at a certain time. The walkarounds will want more money because instead of sitting outside in the shade having beer they have to engage the rubes for longer. The whole thing gets harder and I can't give that signal.

Breathe, Peanut. No different from in practice. 

Trying. My chest hurts. 

A deep slow breath then. He holds his lips against my forehead. I'm going to be on the other side. Just come to me. Don't do anything else. Just come to me. See you in a few minutes, baby. 

He turns and leaves and I watch the top of his head far below me as he makes his way around the outer ring. Then he disappears and I take four long, slow breaths before he reappears on the platform across the tent. He motions for me to come to him and he smiles and I think I would do anything for that smile. I know if I fall he'll jump and hit the net before I do. We tested it in practice. He is unearthly. He is Peter Pan.

I feel the crowd thrumming now as I give the signal, an electric murmur in the darkness, blown away into breathless silence as the lights are switched on and I am temporarily blinded from below. My sweet smile is fixed in place already. I take my first step and the roar from the crowd is unbelievable. Loch holds his arms out, eyes glossy, stupid proud grin splitting his head in half. I don't watch the wire, I just focus on balance and I move steadily, slowly. A weird grace that comes out of nowhere as I walk across our inside sky. I can't even walk down the sidewalk while chewing gum without tripping in real life but this is not real life, not by any stretch of your imagination or mine.

The grin is closer now, brighter than the lights.

When I reach him, Lochlan will have the biggest cheer for me. He is magical. He is safe. I touch him and his roar deafens my world.

A whole lotta nothing.

Today brings a shiny new twenty-four-hour chip for Duncan and a big sigh of relief that everyone came around. I held mirrors up to their faces so they could see him in themselves and pointed out the identical features, the common bonds, the easy rationalization of a band of brothers who have spent too long watching too carefully. I gave them all outs today. Reminders that they are free to go, that maybe this isn't the spare utopia they envisioned in which we would be safe and be together and that's okay. That I can help as much as they need with financials and references and employment even, because I know the right people. Indignantly, obnoxiously, I was refused, time and time again as each boy took a turn accusing me of wondering if they had any self control, especially in light of recent revelations and how dare I question their character when I was the one who helped them construct it over the years.

Crushes are just that and they ebb and flow like the tides and we've made another mountain where a molehill would have sufficed.

And so we tore down the mountain and I had a good long think and I know everyone else did too and maybe it's just another test, another hurdle to jump, another drama to play out until people are tired of attending the same show over and over and then we'll switch the theme again. I talked until my lips were blue and my head hurt and I assured them over and over that I know what crushes are and I know their value and no one has anything to worry about and Lochlan after far too long nodded and said he isn't worried, in all honesty but he thanked me for softening the blows I landed on Duncan with a little bit of affection mixed in because he's very low down and needed that, even if it was misspent hope or a gentle wish or whatever. It was the truth. I would have gotten around to him, I swear but Ben got in the way and never got back out of it and then he gave me Loch and then they gave me the Devil every now and again and really my hands are full while my brain is a small child wandering unbidden into the road but otherwise I'm doing okay and we've come so far.

I've come so far.

This isn't the first time a friend has confessed that they don't want to be friends if there's a chance they can be more. It might be the first time it doesn't send me down a rabbit hole of full-life-destruction though, much to Duncan's dismay. So we'll let it ride. Just leave it alone and he'll either figure out how to quiet his feelings or he'll leave and I'll miss him desperately. I'm prepared for either eventuality. Like I said before, I hardly ever cry anymore lately and I only lie through my teeth when it's really important that I tell the truth so take it for what it's worth. Nothing to you and everything to me.

(No one was very happy when I just went ahead, talked to Duncan while the rest of them were still sleeping and then solely decided that he's not going to be made to leave. But I had to skin all of them alive to make them see why.

Here's the thing. He's their brother. He's one of us. He's special and you don't just rip someone from their home because they drank too much and spilled some secrets that should have never seen the light of day!

That was countered with some incredible sharp, pointy comments on how my ego runs this show and I'm stacking up future emergency man supplies.)

Oh, well then. Let's fight. Because if you think I've ever reduced any of you to meat-status and your friendship doesn't trump every damn other thing then you don't know me at all. You can't run a collective on sex. Jesus Christ. What kind of machine do you think I am? Better yet, what kind of monster?

But thanks for trivializing, minimizing and pretty much dismissing everything good about me. Ironic how you're doing precisely what I would never dream of.

Conversations made of cellophane.

Duncan is still not sober so I joined him for a few this morning because hey, who doesn't want whiskey for breakfast?

 He is six-two, close to a hundred and seventy pounds. I'm five feet tall and wavering somewhere between ninety-five and a hundred, I don't know but I lasted through two of his drinks and then I was toast and the real talking began, locked on the front porch, the only private place in which to have a conversation without a lot of indignant hotheaded husbands/brothers/uncles/sugardaddies taking over. Besides, I needed him to be honest, not defensive and I've never thrown a punch at Duncan so I figured I had the best chance of sorting him out and keeping the peace besides.

I asked him what happened to recovery and he asked me what the point of it was, that it was less frustrating to be shitfaced all the time and then he cared less. I asked him why he suddenly cared so much and he said it wasn't sudden in the least and he thought with my crushing on him all the time that it wouldn't have taken so long but here he is years later, years older, doing the same dead-end jobs, taking the same trips, suffering through the same detox, and alone. If I crush so hard and he's so cool, then where's the love?

(Daggers through my chest. That's where it is, it all poured out through those holes you just made, Duncan.)

This was designed to make your life easier-

How? I can't bring a girl home! Jesus, what am I supposed to do? This isn't a normal existence.

You don't bring them here..I don't know. Do what Dalton does! Or PJ.

You want to know how fucked up Padraig is from you?

Do what Dalton does. I repeat myself.

Dalton doesn't do anything. He talks so big. Bridget, he hasn't fucked anyone in years. He yanks himself to a picture of you every night and picks a name for her to tell you lies later on. It's all bullshit. No one here is happy. Jesus, look at Ben.

Oh, tell me about Ben before I kick your ass.

But Duncan laughs and takes another drink and just shakes his head.

That's what I thought.

How well do you really know these guys, Bridget? Are you so blind that you can't see the lineup out your fucking door? We wait for Ben to crack, for Loch to get fed up and disappear off to his precious freakshow again, we wait for Sam to really be realllllly fucking sure he's switched sides and then we wait some more. Sometimes we're number one to you and sometimes we're last but the lineup still goes right up around the point.

Do you want to stay?

I want to be here but it seems the price for your happiness is my own.

Then go. Live your life. The door is always open. I don't want you here if it isn't where you want to be.

Or we could have an arrangement.

I can't sleep with you.

Why not? Is it that I don't interest you in that way or because your schedule is full?

I need to go in.

Help a guy out and answer the question. You've done a solid number on my ego over the past few years, grant me that much.

I sit back down and he passes me the rest of his drink which I finish in one swallow. Great. I can't feel my ears and I'm about to break his heart. I should lie. I should make some shit up. I should take the easy way out but when have I ever done that? I opt for half and half.

If Ben hadn't gotten under my skin I would have picked you.

That so? Well, I wouldn't have shared you with anyone. He's fucking insane.

I don't know if I ever gave him a choice.

So I was next.

You were next but you know..you're you. One minute you're the biggest clown in the room and the next you're the ice-king. Too cool for school. I never know which one I'm crushing on.

He laughs. Not your fault I don't have my shit together.

Are we good or is everything going to be weird now?

Weird, as always. This is you we're talking about, correct?

Should I dissolve it. End the whole thing? Disband the collective?

Naw. It's special, what we have here. It's just not the cakewalk everyone imagines it should be. Sometimes it's hard. It's hard to watch you be surrounded by people, know that you feel alone anyway and think I'm the one who could fix it. 

I don't feel alone. I have you guys here. You're why I get up in the morning. 

Pretty sure Loch's neverending teenage libido is why you get up in the morning. 

Shhhhhh, Poet. Don't wake the beast.

Good is subjective.

You know the heart beneath the waves
The one that I was trying to save
The one that almost slipped away was mine

I was sinking at such pace
Holding breath beneath the waves
The time it takes to compensate is up

I see the waves
And the time it takes for me to be saved
And its easily the most powerful thing I've ever seen
And you have to know
I couldn't see it here on my own
And you have to know
I couldn't see it here all alone

Today will be a wrap-up of some cliffhanger trains of thought. No time to waste. It's Saturday and the boys want to see the new Transformers movie. I want to watch Wolf Creek 2 and Willow Creek and have a scarefest. It's a standoff.

***

Sam got some new clothes. We're really really proud of him. He looks so good. Like when you pour caramel on a vanilla scoop kind of good. Matt finally convinced him that the map of Poland buckle needed to be retired, I told him he looked a hot mess and he grinned until I pointed out it wasn't a compliment. We steered him toward wrinkle-free summerweight pants and some gorgeous shirt colors that highlight that beautiful hair of his. Matt's going to be beating the church ladies off Sam with a stick, sort of the way Sam fielded endless questions about Jacob's relationship status back in the day.

Well, back in the day when Jake was alive.

Jake never had any style either. I think it goes with the territory. God first, self last or something. But damn, some of Sam's jeans were ancient. Like high school ancient and he said everything that is new is nice and feels good. He'll be more comfortable and I'll be less inclined to straighten his collars and remind him he's missing buttons/zipper pulls/the fact that there are holes in everything.

He said You're good to me, Bridget. You're a good person. A good girl. I nodded but didn't reply.

***

Caleb's appointment downtown was met, after all the fuss and it wasn't anything to do with the board. It was at the bank, where I had to sign for my own black card. With my name on it. And not even his last name, for once. It says B R Reilly on it and there is no limit. He said he grew tired of reaching for his card and not finding it, as I made pinching it a hobby for fun but then I would forget to give it back.

I started to ask questions and he squeezed my elbow just hard enough to make me turn it rhetorical so I waited until we were back in the car.

Why would they give this card to someone without a job? 

It's tied to my account. 

So you have to pay the balance?

Yes. Anything you charge will be on my statement, under your number. 

So you can keep tabs on me? And also what if I just go and clean out Louis Vuitton tomorrow?

I can already keep tabs on you quite easily, and Vuitton isn't your thing. I don't foresee any problems with this arrangement, it's simply easier for both of us if you have a card of your own. 

This arrangement?

You get the things you need, I take care of the bills. 

Sugar...?

Exactly. 

Are we formal now?

We've been formal for four years, I thought. 

Oh. 

I didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride home and it wasn't until I came inside that I remembered I forgot to say Thank you so I called him and told him and he laughed and said, Don't thank me. As I've said, you're a good girl. I just want to make things easier. 

But I could hear the smile as he said it.

***

Ben is mostly over his outrage. He's asked a lot of questions and punched a lot of walls but really there's no blame to place anymore and it has no bearing on anything. It doesn't affect me when I'm with Caleb and Ben and so he's agreed to just leave it woven into the tapestry that is my life instead of grasping the thread and pulling until the whole thing unravels. Besides, I pointed out it made me brave and crazy once we joined the circus proper, something I might never have done had I continued to lead such a protected, sheltered life under Lochlan's watch. Loch snorts when I say it and says if anything I was always the brave, adventurous one and he's still surprised to this day that I ever listened as well as I did. I pointed out I'm a good girl and he nodded, defocused and said Yeah, you are. 

The best, Ben repeats. We're very lucky. 

***

Duncan hit the floor hard, falling from the wagon when he hit a bump, laughing too loud and I knew he was drunk when he came home. He called for me and I was already there, standing to his left, just behind Andrew, who frowned and put his arm up to block me. Duncan saw that and lit in to both of us with a rant that left me wondering about the state of his presence here at all, as he railed against the alpha hierarchy and remarked on how he didn't know he was going to be a monk, and maybe I could make the rounds a little bit, keep them all happy, doing my bidding like a proper queen and then he laughed and said, Oh, right, she's not a queen, she's only a princess. Be a good girl and service your knights! And then Dalton knocked him out for his own good and sat there on his brother's legs, apologizing to me until I finally spat Enough. You didn't do anything!

But Dalton said he's been listening to Duncan complain about the state of the collective for years and didn't alert anyone because he was hoping his big brother would just grow up or drop it or something. We'll have a family meeting tomorrow when Dunk is sober and talk about things. I'll have to strap them all in their chairs.

***

We saw this last week shopping and Lochlan brought it home this morning, because we needed a shitty wafflemaker that makes a ridiculously inefficient number of waffles over an even more ridiculously long time period.

But really those issues pale if I can decimate a plateful of clowns for breakfast. I mean, there's so many in this house. I bit their heads off first, so they wouldn't suffer. I'm a good girl like that.

Can't start without me cause I'm the boss.

I've been lounging on Ben's lap in one of the big Adirondack chairs all morning. It's raining fairly hard. We don't care. He keeps twisting ends off of Pixy Stix and pouring them into my mouth. He poured one into my ear and then stuck his tongue in there and then he made a face and I laughed. The wind picked up and all the sugar flew sideways into my hair, sandblasting my face and showering him but all he did was chuckle and reach for a few more paper straws. My lips are coated with pink sugar. He has it in his hair. He drops the remaining ruined candy and takes my face in both hands. The smile leaves his face.

Bridget, you're wet.

My eyebrows go up and my mouth twists slightly but I don't think the punchline here is required. I start shivering. It isn't warm.

He laughs anyway. We should go in? 

No, we should stay here. 

So I get the cold romance and he gets all the hot parts?

Is that what you think?

Hell, no. 

Then why did you say that?

Because now every time I want to touch you I have to stop, drop and roll first. Unintended side effect of being in a marriage with the pyromaniac. 

I wince when he says it and he catches me. You realize he's going to call you Frankenben for the rest of the weekend.

Then proactively, Bridget,  I'll kick his ass. 

No you won't. 

Who will stop me?

I will! 

HAHAHA. How, exactly?

Sugar gives me superhuman strength. 

Prove it. Get up. 

Oh, that's easy. See? I-  I fight to stand up but he won't let me.

See what? 

Not fair. 

Sure it's fair. Sugar is no match for FRANKENBEN! He licks the entire side of my face, across my forehead and down the other side. When I open my eyes he's grinning at me.

I didn't expect you to be so delicious, Sugargirl! 

That's Sugarbaby, if you're splitting hairs. Caleb is standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looks incredibly unimpressed. His umbrella drips in a circle around him. It's pouring now.

I should be splitting skulls. Ben whispers to me. He winks, kisses my cheeks and lets me up.

I walk right past Caleb, ignoring him completely. He calls out behind me, We have an appointment, Princess. We're beyond late. 

Then cancel it due to rain!

I go in and run right up stairs. I need to shower and start over. What a mess. I rush into our bathroom and smack into Loch who is just coming out, combing his hair, clean and showered and what I should have been an hour ago.

He grins when he sees me, soaked to the skin, pink glittered sweetness, unable to stop smiling. What are you doing?

Ben and I were out in the rain eating candy! I think I missed a meeting and now Caleb is in trouble because of me.

He grins wider and plants a kiss on my incredibly filthy, sticky face. So it's a good day. 

Yeah, it is.

Breach (2014 Bear sighting #5).

I was electrocuted for NOTHING.

Last night the bears crawled over the stone wall from the house next door and sniffed around the driveway and the backyard for over an hour. I watched from the balcony. They left empty handed. I always feel so bad for them. I want to run out and barbecue them some steaks and say Here! Eat this and now climb the mountains to the top and live up there where you're safe! but I know that isn't how things would go. Soon they'd start trying doorknobs, telling their friends, marking their calendars. It's Thursday so Bridget's probably grilling steaks because by the end of the week she's a lazy little fuck with cooking so come on, line up right here behind me!

This morning Caleb stood out back with his hands in his pockets and said I'm going to have to do the front of the other property too and drive the bears back up toward the highway. I frowned and he turned to me and said, It has nothing to do with water, does it? Your preferred method will be death by mauling. 

John gave him a shove and got a warning. I had to spit out a warning of my own to Caleb but I did so in gaelic mostly because I was hoping he had forgotten certain things. I bet wrong.

I feel like I'm managing a daycare here some times. You know that?

You don't have to stay. 

Wherever you go, I go, he says and Daniel excuses himself to go inside. He holds up his coffee cup as his savior. Anyone want a refill? But I know he's not coming back out until Caleb goes.

It's fairly early for people to be running from you, Diabhal. Good job.

Lullabies and ceaseless roars of my own (SWP is TEN today!)

Last night Loch kissed my fingers and lit them on fire. He's not supposed to do that indoors but I didn't say a word, I just lay there and smelled like smoke and counted stars that I could see through the open balcony doors and bumped against the weight of Ben as he slept hard in spite of our efforts to make that impossible.

This morning he said if we go too far and light the bed on fire he's enough of a heavy sleeper and far too big of a man to be easily rescued and maybe he should up his life insurance a little. I frowned and he laughed and said he was kidding, that something so beautiful couldn't hurt anyone.

That's what Loch said to me the first time he transferred fire to me. That's what Caleb said to me the first time I threatened to pay back the Brothers Grim for their efforts over the years.

Fire is beautiful. I've been surrounded by it all my life. I'm not afraid. There have been few accidents and little permanent scarring from the silent, hypnotic flames.

This morning everyone is up and in smart-casual because it's graduation day, even though the teachers strike rages on and there will be no ceremonies at school, no final chance for exchanging yearbooks to sign, no marks, no report cards. Ruth starts grade ten...holy shit. We made a certificate for Henry since he's leaving Elementary school forever behind. He's in high school now, can you believe it?

Me neither. He was almost three when I started this journal.

And on that news, today marks a decade of writing here, across six different machines no less because I type really, uncharacteristically fast and hard. Happy birthday (anniversary?) to my blog, Saltwater Princess, one of the few places where I always feel safe, no matter what. I'll toast to my damn own self, because I currently exist in the center of a circle made of people who would rather see me drown this website in gasoline, throw down a match and make a bonfire out of all the words I've etched into the screen over the years.

No thanks. I think I'll keep going. Not sure I ever knew where I was going with it but I'll know when I get there. I never needed an audience but somehow I have one anyway, like with everything I do, so as always thank you for reading.

If you really loved me then you'd know I'm not a diamonds kind of gal.

(Hey look. Pretty sure I've written this in some form already.)

The tiny box pushed is pushed across the island this morning. It's early. Sam is up and gone to work, it'll be another hour before PJ or the kids get up and I think Loch and Ben will sleep all day. I left the windows up and our bedroom is cool and breezy and dark.

So I get breakfast with the Devil which he is delighted about in spite of the fact that it wouldn't have been his favorite part if I stayed and I didn't realize how much he actually covets sleeping with me. Actually sleeping, not the other thing. Cuddling down and finding dreams. Letting go.

Lochlan's going to exploit the fuck out of this for the rest of our lives and I could have really used this information back in our Vegas days when I would easily black out on broken champagne glasses, orphan dollar bills and betting chips. 

I've seen this box before.

I think you've earned a bonus. You gave me exactly what I wanted and you didn't talk back once.

I pull the ribbon and open the lid. The diamond earrings. I frown at him. I don't want earrings. Ben just eats them. I hate the way they feel anyway.

These are to replace the one Ben ate and if necessary you could use them to barter with in a post-apocalyptic situation.

You definitely spend too much time in this house. And besides, the ones he ate weren't real. Just glass.

Bridget, I'd like you to have some nice things.

I do. My boys are so beautiful. My children are perfect. I need nothing else. Some of my memories are beyond compare. I dream on a Ferris Wheel every night and I've seen almost everything there is to see. I don't need a flashy pair of earrings because then you may as well hang that Sugarbaby sign right around my neck.

I grow weary of seeing you in questionable quality jewelry. It reflects on me.

Then look at someone else. Also wow. You're a shallow dick this morning. From the fire to the ashes, I see. Which is it? Are they so I can have nice things or are they to make you look good?

Neither. They're a mistake, I gather.

Yes they are. Take them back.

I can't. Your initials are engraved on the backs.

You can have that filed off and pawn them. You probably used the wrong letters anyway.

Who's oozing with class now?

I never claimed to care. I cut my teeth on the freakshow, or have you forgotten?

I wish I could. You won't let me.

It's the only ammunition I've GOT.

PJ walks in rubbing his eyes. Cale, if I have to toss you out could you at least pull this a little later? I'll wear the earrings and be your baby. Just don't you touch my ass.

Caleb stands up, puts the box in his pocket and kisses the top of my head, telling me he'll come back when I've woken up a little. He nods at PJ on his way out and PJ pantomimes running after him with his arms outstretched, making me laugh.

A girl named Monday.

The wind drove me out of the vineyard this afternoon and the rain followed it, chasing me right up the path, up the steps and in through the glass doors in a halo of tangled blonde.  I shut and locked the door behind me and made a cup of tea, ignored all the messages piling up on my phone and decided that yes, I still hate Mondays. I stuck my face in the back of PJ's flannel shirt as he washed up at the kitchen sink and asked him if I could just hide behind him for a day or maybe a month or two but I wouldn't take up any room, I swear. He laughed, giving me a hug, pointing out he thinks he knows that sometimes I miss sitting in the cupboard where no one could find me but where eventually they all knew to look. I nodded. I sure do. I miss it more than he realizes. He speed dials Sam and Sam walks down the hall in bare feet and cargo pants and a white t-shirt, holding his phone and smiling and I feel like I'm in a laundry commercial. Sam ticks through his gentle list of What I Can Do and I follow his instructions, breathing in the long way so I don't swoon on my feet. He tells me Monday will soon be over.

Oh well, good, then. I really don't like her at all.