Yawns aren't contagious and that's how I know he's Satan.

(It's not even eight in the morning so this won't be arranged the way I like it but I rounded up my hourly rate for the Devil for my assistant services and he didn't even bat an eye so here the fuck I am. We've hit mid five figures. This makes me laugh. I don't even know what I've gotten myself into anymore that he pays me so much for doing stupid things he could hire a service to do for fifty bucks. Especially since I wind up giving it all back to him in rent and putting what the boys give me toward their share into certificates that they can cash in later, with interest. I'm nice like that. I try to look after them too because they look after me. And that is all above board and has nothing to do with sex, since fully a third of my readers have decided I must be sleeping with everyone. Christ, people. I would have been worn clear through years ago.)

Caleb uses work as an excuse to chip away at my resolve when I'm angry with him. I get easily distracted in the details and drop my guard every. single. time. We only seem to be at DEFCON 3 today though. He's being Charming. I'm being Distrustful. We're using our Words. This Sucks.

I am terrified of revolving doors and won't walk through one alone.

Converting dirhams to dollars is pretty easy and surprisingly cheap, making this trip I'm trying to finalize for Caleb to Dubai in November much less painful than I expected it would be. The Atlantis? Check. Races? Check. Dolphins? Check. Driver? Check. Bridget? Not on your life.

Cookies before ten in the morning? Gross. Not what I meant by breakfast pastries.

Headache? Check.

Coffee? Where? It hasn't been delivered yet.

Idiot wasn't ready when I arrived either. Also well planned. He's possibly the only boss that can spend the first quarter of a workday in nothing but a towel and not get sued for it.

I really have no patience for this today.

He just offered to reformat his Dubai meetings to Sydney if I wanted to go there instead and doesn't get that I'm not leaving the continent with him. Also, you know, I JUST FINISHED booking everything.

Since he slipped that I technically have to sign nothing, I'm back to actually not signing anything and it's nice to just say no.

I do love planning his trips though. Maybe I should have been a travel agent but close enough, I'm a dreamer.

Oh look, fucker can do something. He's ordering a rush breakfast. Finally.

I hate this office. But he hates working from the boathouse so once he was dressed we moved.

I hate my dress too. Maybe light wool before ten in the morning is also gross. So are these shoes. His dress code for work is misogynistic beyond the pale. I should be home in my cutoffs and my Breaking Benjamin tank top. I hear rumors of new music. All the Bens are spooling up at once here.

And the screen on my phone now displays a message from Lochlan. He's so sweet.

It says,

GET
YOUR
ASS
HOME
NOW

It's so nice to be wanted. He's up early though. I feel like a tug of war. I feel like a loser. I feel like crawling out of this dress backwards and walking down West Georgia naked sipping on a pitcher full of coffee.  I wonder how far I would get? That would be something. Something better than this.

But not right now, because I forgot to block the meeting rooms for the trip. Shit.

World domination on a preteen maturity level.

I remain sweetly satisfied that I gave that horse a beautiful place to finish out her days and am incredibly grateful to Ben for his efforts in dealing with this as quickly as he could. He found her on the ground in her stall (said he wouldn't fall for her and he lied, they all lied and spent more time with her than I did) and the first thing he did was text PJ and tell him not to let me out. PJ then invited Joel over to be flayed alive. Two birds, one stone, they figured. PJ and Ben are quite the productive duo when it comes managing me and while I am blissfully ignorant of fully half of the efforts they put in, I appreciate the full hundred percent.

The boys called the vet, arranged for the haulers and also cleaned the stables once Aurora was removed. Ben himself moved all my art supplies back into the stables once the floors were dry and said we really have enough to deal with around here without having to nurture end of life animals larger than him.

So my plan to create a hospice for horses is not going to fly but that's okay. I like the art studio. Besides, most of my plans get vetoed anyway.

For example:

Let's paint the house black! Like the old one. It'll be great.

Let's set up a trapeze at the edge of the yard. 

No? Okay, maybe just a bungy jump. Dip your head in the sea. 

Let's buy the other eight houses up the road and block the highway exit to the neighborhood and NEVER EVER LEAVE. 

Let's all fly to Australia but just for the day because bugs. Big freaking bugs. I couldn't sleep there.

Let's shave Daniel's head but only on each side and leave the middle for a foot-tall mohawk which would be a great way to relive the 90s when Daniel had to duck to get through doorways.

Let's go eat somewhere weird for dinner. I don't mean A&W. (The A&Ws here ARE weird, for the record)

Let's put two entire bags of chocolate chips in this recipe instead of two cups.

Let's have a horror movie marathon and eat saaaaaaalsa and grapes but call them guts and eyeballs.

Let's stay on the octopus until we throw up.

Etc. etc. No one listens to me. Would you? The only person who forces my adult side is the devil and that doesn't seem to be working any better. It's fine, I don't actually want to discuss that today anyway.

I have today to relax and unclench and drink coffee out front with Matt and Andrew (Andrew is officially on duty in case I crash) and then maybe later I'll paint. Lochlan is working and Ben is working and PJ is still asleep! At eleven in the morning! Because what a lazy fuck!

Maybe I should be PJ when I grow up.

I would totally do it just for the beard. Oh WAIT! Peeing standing up! I'm game. Bring it on.

Ten days in heaven.

Yes. My horse is dead too. Maybe I'm the soul collector. Someone make it stop.

The ridiculous spot between alright and okay.

Destabilized as always yet I am the glue holding this family together with paper-thin wishes and stuttering lights.

It can always be worse. The horse is dying. The Devil? Dying. Lochlan is dying of frustration and Ben will kill himself with work. The rest will languish fearfully for me and myself? Well, I've already told you how I'll go and I'm still almost convinced I will fly off the cliff and drown quickly in the sea but it won't be because I jump. I'm not Jacob and I no longer have the courage to step off platforms hoping for the net.

(Nets aren't real.)

They never actually catch anyone because I don't think anyone ever wants to be saved.

John told me not to go out to the stables for the time being. That the vet is coming back. That they'll make sure everything is taken care of. I know. I called the hauler number myself. They're on standby.

Caleb told Lochlan that it's only a matter of time and that pressure has already cracked me and that he can seep in now and Lochlan is so powerless he's a dandelion blown against the wind.

Loch dug in his heels and refused to concede anything because a promise is a promise and once renewed is stronger than ever. There won't be any big shifts and Loch gambles on Caleb's death being next even as we watch Aurora from a respectful distance.

Because it isn't nice to live with pain. It isn't nice to be in pain and it isn't nice to never have relief from that pain. Funny how it's so pragmatic for a horse and such a blooming tragedy for a human. How long do we suffer? Why do you get to decide how long is long enough when you damn well the answer is forever.

Deep breaths, Bridget. Deeper still.

Joel came and tried to apologize. Tried to dismiss, tried to excuse, tried to repent and I sat silently staring through the glass into the woods and he touched my hand and I flinched and PJ jumped to his feet and Joel had the nerve to ask him if he could leave and PJ said nope and then asked me if I wanted Joel to leave and I didn't answer him either. I just kept watching for bears and for lights eventually as they flickered on one by one, powered by the sun, programmed to come on as the sun dropped below my horizon, as the bottom fell out of my universe and I found myself floating in space again, pinned to one of Saturn's rings securely, hanging by my hems.

It's dark and lovely and quiet now and Joel's voice has disappeared. PJ is no longer there and I open my eyes and find Ben staring down at me. I raise my eyes and Loch stands by the window, staring into my woods. He names the lights, the stars, the planets for me and I commit them to memory that we will strengthen with the glue made of time in our endless late summer when all the things we thought would come together mostly fall apart.

Ben smiles gently and tells me he heard I fell asleep midsentence and that doesn't happen so often and I reach up to touch his cheek.

Tired, I tell him and he nods. Close your eyes, Bee. We won't let the wolves get you. 

But everyone's a wolf, I promise and I'm in the dark again, where Loch unpins me from the ring and throws me clear into the sun.

Shape-shifting dates and comfort boys.

Forty-five days of sobriety and I catch Duncan sneaking in the front door this morning. He looks fucking thrilled and tired but sober and I grin in spite of myself.

Great. Probably the very last person I wanted to see first. 

Wow. Let me go get my phone so I can document your walk of shame here, Poet. 

It might be a rare thing, better do it quick, Bee. 

That good, huh?

I expect girls to be mostly different and usually taller versions of you but instead they're all dripping with makeup and hairspray and questions that seem to lead to whether or not I can marry them tomorrow and buy them trips. 

Where did you meet her? 

One of the AA guys had a sister. She's in recovery a few years. Has her shit together okay but just..trussed up like a fucking peacock. 

But you...managed. 

I did. Then when the sun came up I got the hell out of there because I didn't want to see what she'd morph into in the daylight without all of her decorations and...and....I just realized this is destroying my mythical reputation as a lizard king if I tell you this stuff. 

What, that you're afraid of cosmetics?

Basically. 

I won't tell anyone. 

They already know. I have no need to impress them. I was still hoping to be the cool one around here in your eyes though now that the dust has settled. 

Did the dust settle? You haven't spoken to me in ages, Duncan. 

He scratches the back of his neck and looks so sheepish I want to alternately nail him to the wall and let him off the hook. Bridge, I don't think I want to add any more drama to your life. Caleb seems content to look after that. I also don't want this to be weird. Let's just pretend we're the same as ever. 

Unrequited?

It's good enough. I miss you, Bridge. I'm trying to get my shit together again, if you can forgive me for everything. 

I'm sorry I make things hard for you. 

Oh, God. See? There you go with those words of yours. 

I realize my double entendre and burst out laughing. He laughs and rubs his eyes wearily. PJ walks in and smiles when he sees we can't keep it together but we are together at last.

What did I miss?

She don't hate me, Bro.

Sweet times, Brother. But I knew that already. 

Can I have a hug then, Duncan? It's been a while. (I reach up for him without waiting for his answer.)

Yeah it's been a while. Come here. You're going to need an extra pair of arms when that skeleton of a horse drops out in the driveway anyway. 

Wow, thanks. 

Oh, Poemgirl, it's going to happen any minute now.  Sometimes the Devil is right, you know. You can't save anything else until you've saved yourself. I'm learning it, too.

Threats to nowhere.

Can you please make him leave now that you've got what you paid for?

Bridget, you need to learn to coexist with your critics. 

He isn't a critic, he's a fraud and since I don't plan on ever speaking to him again you'll be wasting your time keeping him in your corner. 

I only want you in my corner. 

Tough shit. 

It is, surprisingly. But you're doing great and I want to see this continue instead of the endless backsliding. 

Then take me off guardianship. And leave all of this to Ben because he's done more for me than any of you ever have.

Demonstrate actual change. And Ben has the weakest character of all.

I've been running your stupid shit for a year now. If that doesn't qualify me as independent I don't know what does. And say one more disparaging thing about Ben and I'm gone.

I cosign everything you do. And Ben admits his flaws freely. I admire him in case you think otherwise.

So stop signing. 

It's my money. 

I thought it was my money. 

It's for you. 

Well then take it all back and I'm not signing another thing. 

Then you'll never be free, as you put it. If you don't continue to make progress with me then I can never approve the removal of those orders. 

It's been six fucking years! 

And you're still talking to ghosts and running off and fucking things up every chance you get. 

I don't know how to do anything different. 

I am teaching you! 

No, you're not! You're only making things worse! 

It's better to keep things the way they are with regard to our legal arrangements.

Then I'm clearly too young for you if I'm a child in the eyes of your system.

You always were. Do you think that ever stopped me? You're missing the point, Bridget. You're not well, You probably never will be. I love to watch you test your limits and muster your courage. I like to watch you pretend in front of me because I know at any second I can rip away your transparent little facade and see my girl. At any second. 

Then you just contradicted yourself. 

I don't really care.

Well I do. 

Then tell someone who can help you. Maybe Batman is up for the challenge. Oh, wait, he didn't turn out to be as helpful as you had hoped, now, did he?

I don't need his help. 

Well, Pyro certainly isn't going to help you change. You think I like to keep you young and helpless? Where the hell do you think I got the idea from?

You don't disparage him either. 

I can do whatever I want, Princess, in case you hadn't noticed.

Pedal backwards.

While I was off eating Cartem's and walking a techy floor show yesterday Joel was presenting Caleb with his notes on me. A followup, if you will, six years late. A condemning account of how I'm doing well but it's all a front, fake and put in place because I am spoiled and coddled and protected.

Oh, I didn't realize I was supposed to be drafted to the wolves, but he says I am enabled to within an inch of my life and that Caleb is possibly the worst offender, furnishing me with all my heart's desires save for..you know, anything I've actually asked him for. Not sure I get that part but Joel seems to take special offence to the power Caleb gives me with his money and with my own in the form of the credit card.

He also took offence to Ben's generosity and said I was being set up to have my heart broken again.

Last time I checked, that was called living. If you take the leap you take a chance and you might end up okay but apparently I should be alone, working to provide for myself and getting regular heavy counseling because that's the healthy way. Instead I made a commune, threw myself into a plural marriage and take too many fucking risks!

Because YOLO.

Because dammit, Joel, you aren't qualified to judge me.

Besides, I'm still under limited guardianship, if you want to be purely technical here. I'm shared three ways legally between PJ, Caleb and Lochlan. And I don't frankly care if the greater world sees me as a fully functioning six-year-old. The greater world never did anything but pay money to stare anyway.

Special Interest Group on Computer Graphics And Interactive Techniques Conference swag.

There's a mouthful, but sometimes I get to go to some mighty interesting things. Today I got my first walking teapot from Pixar! Also seventy billion pins, some of which are storm troopers! I'm very popular at home right now. HUZZAH.

There, but for the grace of God (go I).

Be my reminder here that I am not alone in this body
This body holding me, feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion

Maybe by his own recognizance, maybe at Sam's urging, Batman wants a barometer and I'm having none of it. Where was he a week ago? Where was he when I've been hiding in the garage or the library watching my mind squeeze through the cracks in the floorboards and soak into the bedrock?

I've destroyed Caleb's work, I've failed at being trustworthy and oh, yeah, I found my Lateralus CD under the seat in Daniel's car. Because I had to move the seat up all the way to reach the pedals and I saw it when I was getting back in. So I still haven't grown any and that's just the last straw, I tell you. 

Batman puts his hands in his pockets and laughs nervously because when I get going he doesn't know what to say and I know he liked me quiet and easy to lead. He isn't used to strong personalities, he's very unassuming, able to step back and blend into his environment and that's made for an easy time for him here. Sometimes I wish he'd go home. He wants to be my conscience but that position has already been filled by Sam, who reminds me daily that I need to think before I say things and not do so much damage when I spread my moods over the collective like thick warm butter, suffocating every living thing for miles.

If you want to come in and save the day I think you need to start sooner, otherwise maybe you could be my friend? My nosy neighbor? Part of my storied past?

Indeed. I don't want to get involved without being invited but I think sometimes you have resources that you forget about, that would make your life easier. 

I snort. (Easier? Naw, I'm going to do this the hard way, gunning her straight through.)

So I'm here as a reminder, that's all. 

I'll keep it in mind. 

Better yet. Let me deal with him. 

I can deal with him. 

Yes, I see that and I see how poorly you come out as a result. 

I'm fine. 

He shakes his head and stares at me. You're never actually going to let me in, are you?

It's my turn to look away and shake my head. I've got a lot going on. 

Nothing's changed, then. 

Nope. 

Then can I extract a promise that if you need anything, be it money, muscle or just a hug, that you'll come to me? If I can do anything. I feel helpless here, Bridget. 

Don't. You live in a beautiful spot. The view's not bad either. There's New-Jake, shirtless in the driveway cleaning the bike and I gesture at him. Batman smiles.

It's a waste is what that is. 

Maybe he'll be only unscathed one here. But then Jake sees me and hurries over.

I doubt it. 

Me too. 

Thanks for the vote of confidence. 

If I had any confidence in you being able to weather these years relying solely on your own stubbornness, I wouldn't be here right now. You're tough, Bridget but you're no match for this. 

Sure I am. I'm here, aren't I? 

Only because they won't let you go.

I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Right here. Right now. You worry too much.
 

That time Monday turned from black to green.

(So many things have been altered to bring this to the page, forgive me if it seems simplistic or glaring, it was the only way I would be permitted to write about it. Also dealing with big important expensive things makes me cry. Like everything does.)

Caleb's independent board is all but dismantled, thanks to a huge undertaking on my part to offend, disturb and anger each one of them, independently.

They didn't like the fact that I am using de facto household budget logic here, that I pointed out they sign their name on things quarterly, making decisions at random but mostly following the herd and for that they are collecting big fat paychecks.

I slipped in four different caveats and finally Caleb caught the last one, having missed the previous three. It said, "And if Bridget wants to buy all the golden sheep in the land in order to spin their fleece into chains which will hang from the necks of any musicians she encounters on her trips to the New York studio, she will have carte blanche to do so."

They ALL initialled that and Caleb yelled WHAT THE FUCK? so loudly in the boathouse that I heard him from my kitchen, over the sound of the time machine, sans hearing aids, no less.

I texted him immediately. I KNOW RIGHT?

So he called a meeting.

I'm pretty sure you could hear him tearing strips off people. Confirming what I had been telling him all along. All five who initialed the release? Relieved of their positions. Two remaining who did not see these forms but seemed to be so easily charmed? Reassigned back to the legal team where they belong. This isn't a company, this is a family and if he ever listened to me he would keep his fucking money in the bank where it belongs, instead of paying people so he could talk about his board and his capital and his ventures and his seeds. I'm so fucking done with this shit. I've never SEEN so many people waste so much time on so little work.

After things calmed down, after the room was cleared, Caleb turned to me, hands on the table.

Tell me what you're thinking, he demanded.

I'm wondering how in the hell you've done so well for yourself without ever paying attention to what's going on around you. I'm wondering how much you threw away. 

He burst out laughing. You should be counting how much I'm going to save now that the board will be dissolved. 

Depends. Is it a finder's fee? And the board was supposed to be dissolved last winter, you lazy fuck.

I'll ignore the namecalling because your addendums were hilarious. And you're possibly the best money manager I've ever utilized.

Do you use them all?

Only the really pretty one. His eyes flashed and he came over to where I stood, at the other end of the table. He put his head down against mine, pressing his cheek against my temple.

I'm sorry, Bridget. I'm sorry for trying to hurt you, I'm sorry for not softening things. I'm sorry for not being my brother's keeper. You've been instrumental in directing this project and I need to pay better attention. I need to listen to you. I need you to help me.

Three things, Diabhal. Firstly this project is my family and secondly, I already decided I'm not going to believe you. Cole was a lot of things to me but I know damn well he loved me and you can't take that from me. Thirdly, stick the money in the bank and leave it there. Stop trying to stretch everything. Stop risking, stop wasting.

I wouldn't dream of it. Forgive me. His lips are against my forehead.

I want to go. Let's pack up. I step back and his eyes swim back into focus.

Breakfast? (He is desperate to spend more time.)

Only if it's in paper. (McDonalds. Five minutes to order, ten minutes to eat.)

Yes, fine.

He walks back down to the other end of the table to collect his things. I pick up my bag, stuff my phone and my doodle-covered papers into it and walk out. I take the elevator down alone and stand on the sidewalk, breathing the hot stale air of the city, realizing I really surprised myself in not being intimidated by people who are supposed to be so much smarter than I. Relief makes me burst into tears.

Skateboard Jesus slowly rolls past me and he says, What have you learned this morning? 

So many things I can't list them all. 

Good for you. You make Jesus proud.

No, I made Bridget proud. 

Same thing, he says and he picks up speed, disappearing into the crowd.