Twosday (something neat).

Because I hardly ever follow up on a damn thing and I wrote about this almost a year ago, here is my view when I'm flat on my back in the big bed.

Lochlan put the whole galaxy on the ceiling for me. The tiny fairy lights trace the path from Mercury to Pluto and back (yes, Pluto) and underneath the planets the ceiling is covered in glow in the dark stars. When we turn off all the lights, it's positively breathtaking because the fairy lights have given an extra boost to the path that the planets are one so the stars glow slightly stronger along it than the rest of the ceiling. It also reflects in the patio doors so it looks like it goes on forever.

Yes, the stars make the shapes of their constellations. Not all of them, only my favorites. He's a perfectionist.

Pictures don't do this justice. This is only Earth, Mars and Venus besides because they are right over the bed. It's a pretty big room and the galaxy goes from corner to corner, side to side. A huge lazy oval. It's fucking amazing. I fall asleep in outer space and I couldn't be happier.

Christmas crow.

Let me clarify, because everyone is clearly literate but gets a fail in reading comprehension or maybe I was too ambiguous for my own damned good. (Not sure when I've ever been on my own good side, but if I need to spell it out then I shall and then we'll move the fuck on, because he comes home tomorrow and I don't want anyone thinking I'm not fit to greet the guy.)

Here's the thing. During his time away, over the phone with all the courage of a faceless audience, Duncan said more than once that he wasn't sure if he wanted to return to the Collective. I'm not sure if he was feeling me out, testing me or just voicing early doubts. He never clarified it for me so I took it at face value.

To that end, I don't want him to come home if I'm just going to be sated, comfortable having everything as it should be and everyone home only to have him wake up weeks or days or months from now only to decide he's going to leave.

(I unreasonably ask for forever-promises on a regular basis. I'm aware it's not realistic or healthy. I can't help it. My brain needs instant relief or it goes missing.)

So don't come home and break my heart, is all.

Around here that isn't a lot to ask for. Maybe it is. I'm sorry. I understand living here within this intentional family is intense and dangerous, more difficult than easy but these boys are my family and you don't just check out so if he's going to come home only to leave then I hope he tells me up front.

That's what I meant by a test. I want him to tell me to my face that he's going to be okay here again. Like before he decided he should fall apart. He wasn't supposed to be one of those ones. He was supposed to be strong and silent and now there are doubts cast over everyone left as they seem to fall one by one. I want them to be happy, above all. If they aren't then I'll take the broken heart but please try to make it hurt as little as you can.

So PJ making me cry, forcing me to promise him I'm not going to go after anyone else was unnecessarily harsh and completely unnecessary. I should have just written what I meant instead of trying to protect myself from real life issues that I don't want to face. I know how Duncan feels. Courage is so easy when you're not being stared down. I just want to be excited and not afraid.

Can't take me anywhere and sorry but I'm not sorry.

My punishment for missing church yesterday was to spend most of this rainy Monday helping Sam around the office.

I'm only here so he can pick my brain, test my resolve and shore up my heart for the next incoming storm. The one named Duncan. I don't know why Sam worries and I don't know why he bothers standing up to Joel/Loch/Ben/Caleb when it comes to me when he could just let go a little but at the same time watching Baby Preacher jockey for senority warms my heart and I know it's wrong but if I didn't love Sam he wouldn't be in my life.

I keep trying to compare all this to Joel. Sam and Joel are the same from a qualifications standpoint now (casual counselors) though Sam has all the credibility in the world where Joel has none left but Joel isn't a part of my family. Just a part of my team.

Kind of like Corey isn't family. There's no love lost there. But Corey doesn't live on the other side of the driveway.

(If he did I might move because he scares me something awful. He's cutting. He's a bully.)

Sam has already established that I am looking forward to Duncan coming back so that everybody is home safe for the holidays and we'll be supportive and loving to him because he wants to be here and he wants to be well without being beholden to alcohol and maybe get back on track to being the coolest guy in the world.

Bad Bridget who is never going to show her ugly face in this church can't wait to have Duncan back so she can test him and see if he can handle her.

(Because he promised once that he could indeed and she still believes him.)

LED-lined.

And I'm not seized in desperation
No steel reproaches on the table from before
But I still can feel those splinters of ice
I look through the eyes of a stranger

This morning is made up of giant Christmas trees up and lit, Sheri Moon Zombie's amazing ass, Lords of Salem hangovers and early preparations for Duncan's return.

!!!! Finally.

Also Count Chocula. I had my first bowl. I didn't like it. Ben was marginally sad at my reaction, even helpfully pointing out that the milk was turning chocolate, just like it's supposed to but that didn't help. Yuck.

Oh and church hooky because I sleepily told Sam that we would be along and then Lochlan came down and pulled me back to bed by the front of my pajamas and then he didn't have anything to hold on to in seconds and I fell back asleep afterward and they didn't bother waking me up so I missed church and then lunch too and oh, it's not even morning anymore so there is that to point out.

Oops.

It didn't help that Lochlan just lay there smiling at me. Threatening that if I set one foot on the floor I was going to get it and then I got up anyway and he pretended to get up and I ran but once I got to the door I realized I still needed to shower and change. He laughed and ambushed me in between the shampoo and the soap. Again.

So yeah. That took forever.

But I'm up now and I'm starving. Literally starving.

Caleb called from London. I missed the call and he didn't leave a message. He sent a picture of some goodies he is sending back, including Lochlan's favorite snacks that you can't buy here. Nothing like Count Chocula but too sweet all the same.

Oh yeah and Duran Duran. Because I'm amazed that I can still retain perfect recall of song lyrics I learned at ten and eleven years old but  I've been grocery shopping three times in a row and still can't remember to put lettuce on. the. fucking. list.

But damn.

(Also I can't find my pajamas now. Loch laughs and says he burned them right off me and I must have not been paying attention. Huh.)

One millionaire short.

(I'm your slave)
This is what I crave
I'm lost, I'm saved

Caleb called last night during dinner.  We had everybody on deck including Joel, New Jake and Batman, for chrissakes and I had to bail halfway through.

He couldn't sleep. It was his last night in Dublin. He was all packed up and down to the casual outfit he had on and his laptop, ready to head to London first thing (not to the Hyatt Regency, thank heavens) for the busiest part of the trip. He again offered to send for me and be there to meet me at the airport on arrival. I didn't answer him and he changed the subject, asking me if I could send him the notes from a strategy meeting for one of the tiny little firms I talked him into funding here at home with nothing to go on other than a gut feeling. It's a test. So far so good. He admitted he needed more to do, that he doesn't have enough to keep his mind occupied and that's why he's wide awake at such a late hour. That he needed to hear my voice to calm himself down. To soothe his scarred heart.

He then tore me to shreds for not being there with him. For making him go alone. I sat there with my finger on the button to end the call and finally Ben came out and did it for me.

He'll figure it out, Bridge. Come in and finish your food. 

Warmed me on a blustery damp Friday. (I wasn't going to post it but then I couldn't not.)

Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me resurrect
Right before your eyes

He took a huge gulp of what they thought was whiskey but it was fuel. He didn't swallow it, instead turning to me, kissing me hard. As he pulled back he sprayed the fuel all over me and then touched me on the shoulder with the torch. The audience gasped as I went up in flames before he swooped back in quickly with a wrap and made a romantic show of pulling me in close, effectively putting me out. Then he would try and soften it with another kiss and then fake-sneeze a flame. He would shake his head, kiss me again, and sneeze out another flame. By now the audience has forgotten the horror of his favorite trick and is laughing along. He finally takes another drink before kissing me long and hard. Forever until the catcalls begin and then when he lets me go I pretend to be dizzy for a moment before sneezing really hard, lighting all of his torches, held out like a bouquet.

It was very popular.

The poster said WITNESS YOUNG BURNING LOVE! It had a cheesy drawing of Elvis in a top hat, instead of Lochlan. We weren't there very long.

***

There’s no reason to cry now
There’s nothing to forgive
This suffering’s my blessing
The death of sin is how I live

This morning Sam confronted Lochlan in the front hall and asked if he actually tells me lies about Cole and Jacob being alive.

Loch stood his ground and said he did, that he does whatever it takes to get me to sleep. (He was surprised though.)

Sam told him I needed to learn to do it on my own, that it sets me back, giving my brain conflicting ideas and refusing to help me acknowledge death as I should. As I have.

Loch said he doesn't care, that sleep comes first and I'm smart enough to see when I awaken who's alive and who isn't. That if I don't sleep all bets are off and then we have a lot more to deal with. PJ wandered in, toast in hand, because both Sam and Loch have been known to engage in surprise fist-throwing and we don't want to send Sam to church with a black eye. Not now. Advent is starting soon and besides, they're fighting on the same team, they just forget sometimes.

Sam said if I need help he is here to talk to and Loch gave him a shove before PJ put his hand up in front of Loch and blocked him from doing any more damage. I went in and said it was an old comfort from years ago that has less to do with ghosts and more to do with a blanket quiet for a severely overactive mind and he's doing no harm by it. Sam seemed to accept that but still shot Lochlan a look that would have cut glass. I gave Sam a quick kiss to see him off and Loch just glared him right out the door.

I took him back for a little comfort of his own. Back to the show.

Norms don't get it, Locket. Doesn't mean it's not okay for us.

I know, Peanut. I just don't know what gives him the right.

He cares, that's all.

He should mind his own.

We are his own.

I felt his hands relax finally. Just a reminder that yeah, family. This is it. We're here. We're not always going to agree and yet Lochlan shouldered my safety and sanity for so long without knowing how to help me that he devised ways that were neither right nor even remotely acceptable but he did the best he could for a teenage boy in charge and it doesn't do any one of us any favors to question that at this late stage in the game.

Sam figured it out before he got to his car and came back, barging back in through the door and PJ swore and tried to head him off but he smashed right into Lochlan, throwing his arms around him, holding him close.

Sorry, my brother. Trying to protect you both.

Loch nodded and put his arms up around Sam too. I know you are. Thank you for that. It means a lot.  He nodded as they let go and Sam left again, with a nod to me to have a good day.

Sometimes the surprises are from the audience. Sometimes it's the performers' turn to gasp out loud and then relax when it all turns out okay.

(At least we get in for free.)

If I lie on my side pressed against him I can count his freckles. One by one as they fade into winter to hide until the warm weather returns. His hair already seems longer, darker, the curls bigger still. The circles underneath his eyes holding his freckles captive are deep and dark and tell a story you might hardly not believe if it weren't for his eidetic memories, organized by season and year. By Bridget. Bridget at eight. Bridget at fourteen. Bridget at twenty-six. Bridget at thirty-three. Bridget now. Bridget at ten. Either mislabeled or he removed it to wax it nostalgic and now that it shines bright he's forgotten where it belongs.

Most of those stories I have too but mine are arranged haphazardly, clumsily, remembered in a completely different way, having taken away a different slice of life for being younger and far more naive before becoming vaguely, reluctantly hard, jaded into a concrete green for the things I have witnessed with my own eyes when people are free to be themselves. I only ever slept at night because he would take the most unpleasant of stories and explain in the way that only he could, telling me that the man that shot the other man out back was merely practicing a trick or the boy crying with the black eye walked into a light standard and was going to have his pictures taken for school the next day, or that if we didn't eat tonight, we would have the most fantastical breakfast in the morning, right after we've slept well.

Sometimes when he feels patient and generous he tells me Cole is off seeing the world and that Jake is downstairs. Sometimes he tells me the Devil is only in my nightmares because funnel cakes do funny things to my brain. Sometimes he tells me the feeling of falling is the same for falling in love, that agonizing lurch when your heart hits your breastbone and your blood begins to float and that it's not supposed to be scary.

He has two hundred and sixteen freckles left and that means winter is almost here.

Well, YEAH, if you walk in and I'm busy yelling the lyrics to Sex Metal Barbie while I test Christmas lights on the floor behind the dining room table well then you can't LAUGH, MOTHERFUCKER!

So who did save your soul?

(Hold still for more first world problems because I swear storage capacity is worth more on the black market than bullets and gasoline combined.)

Ben took me out to breakfast this morning where we loaded up on hash browns and sausage and egg mcmuffins and then on the way to get groceries he ambushed me (again), taking me to the phone shop and trying to set me up with a 6 plus. He got one on release because he's one of the eight people in the world with hands and pockets big enough to deal with one. I grabbed it with both hands, tried to shove it in my pocket and then shook my head. I knew I'd regret it. It made for a fine angle from which to plead my case for a 128 GB regular 6.

Sold.

I loaded on every single thing I've got and I still have 80 GB free.

*falls facedown in surprise*

Damn. I'll never run out of music now. This is a very far cry from my 8-AA-batteries-an-hour (sorry Cole, I know those were expensive) Sony Walkman with the option of only bringing one cassette at a time. I always played Jewel's Pieces of You because she's easy to sing along with and it was 1996.

So just..yeah...I still have that album on my phone right now. (shhhhhhhhhhhhh)

It's good, okay?

Caleb was all Good for you! on the phone like I finally let Ben buy me something. I'm very bad with that. I don't know if you noticed but it's very hard to let them buy me things. They'll all nod sagely and agree that it's tougher than they would have thought.

Until I showed Ben the box full of new phones since probably 2006 and he laughed. I don't think I've ever made it more than 14 months without someone buying me a new phone. It's pretty much the only thing I collect, other than boys. Reluctantly, of course.

(Phones reluctantly. Not boys.)

(And yes I blubbered through my call with Caleb. Because I'm a big fucking baby, that's why.)

(Do as I do, not as I say.) Quadrilaterals and polynomials.

You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.

It's like he's waking up. Eyes flashing, smile unable to leave his face, curls highlighted in the darkness. No longer in the shadow of the devil, he thrives in the moonlight, charm leading the way. A quiet confidence tried on for the first time in ages, inspected and repaired to one hundred percent. My heart soars. I wish sometimes that it was only us again, plotting our course on a stolen gas station map with a borrowed pen and the most foolish of dreams, dreams we never finished. Dreams we don't know the endings of yet. Dreams we can maybe finally afford.

But it isn't just us now and we have a whole built-in circus full of characters, full of workers, everyone knowing their role, playing their part and when the Devil lets go he leaves a wake of flames behind.

Only one person can control those and it isn't me.

Our audience is each other, our acts change daily, costumes too. Our profit is high and our word of mouth travels as far as the eyes can see. To a place I have never seen, a place Lochlan describes as magical, full of adventure and surprise and comfort too because comfort is essential when you travel so lightly as we are wont to do. I nod enthusiastically. I'll believe anything he says when he says it like this, only the adventure came to a grinding halt right here, grinding, sliding right to and then slightly over the edge of the world, tipping perilously toward the ocean but not quite. The wind ruffling our hair, threatening to help gravity just enough to end this grand adventure but our hero thought of that already and has fashioned a safety-rope made of my fears and doubts, twisted tightly together in lengths, knotted for strength, destined to save us somewhere along the line, the face of caution and preparation to his headlong rush, the childlike fear of the unknown that kept him from taking me into his arms and dropping off the face of the earth never to be seen again, lost in a mighty whirlwind of show after show after act after show. Going down in history as the courageous lovers who never saw the end coming until it was too late.

Except that isn't how it ends. Our act has changed so much through the years, veering haphazardly down one path, doubling back before heading deliberately down another and still here's one more path and it's different than all the rest but as he always tells me when the doubts rear up like boogeymen to chew off my limbs and then feast on my heart,

We're together. We have food. We have heat. But most importantly we have each other and I'll never need for more than you as long as you'll have me and be beside me. 

We need more than food and heat, Locket. I have to have grade ten math to graduate and I need an actual job and if we ever get caught we're screwed-

I'll always provide for you. I'll teach you the math. And you don't need a real job, that's why we're here. I'd rather do magic for the rest of my life than suffer indoors at some stuffy office gig and we're too good to get caught, darling Peanut. And that's the best magic right there. We're independent. We're perfect. We're invincible! 

Does this mean I can go get cotton candy for dinner? 

No. I stole beets and carrots from the field just down the road. You need vegetables to grow strong. 

You just said I was perfect. 

Perfectly miniature. I think you'd have a easier time if you grew just a little more besides. Then you could reach those dreams without me holding you up.