The first part, unnecessary but I started it. The second made me cry when I wrote it.

Make them laugh, it comes so easy
When you get to the part
Where you're breaking my heart (breaking my heart)
Hide behind your smile, all the world loves a clown

Oh, well, let me just cover my smile with both hands.

I think I'm getting sex for Christmas.

Also for days that end in y (because I'm a raging addict and it's one thing no one's ever going to try to fix, I promise you that).

And that isn't anything new. Some of you seem so damned surprised that we manage so easily. So let me get some things straight. Because you have so many questions and some of them a a bit over the line even for me. But I understand the curiosity too. I was once a norm and it was so brief you might have blinked but I tried my best and then I went, yeah, fuck it and here we are.

Yes, we sleep in one big bed. Well, no, not all of us. Geez! Though Sam and PJ are both so cuddly when they sleep I could easily..wait, what? It's a California King size bed, which means Ben almost fits into it and Loch and I still sort of perch on the side together but we're used to sharing a twin bed in a forty-square-foot camper so there you go.

Okay it was slightly bigger than that. Maybe forty-five. Sixty?

No I don't mind sleeping hot.

Have you met Lochlan? Or Ben?

(Hey, it's entirely possible. They both have performed for money.)

We don't tuck in blankets so my toes can stick out the bottom and I don't burst into flames. Sometimes that means I wake up freezing because the blankets are all over on the floor somewhere.

Neither man moves a lot when they sleep though. They say it's me.

It probably is. I'm a total thrasher. Loch says it's like greasing up an octopus and then trying to squeeze it really hard. He tells me one of these days he's going to hold me too hard in a dream and I'm going to shoot out of his arms into the dark and stick to the wall on the other side of the room. The first time he described this I laughed so hard coffee came out my nose and it hurt.

Ben just rolls his eyes. Ben can barely stand to touch anything while he sleeps, which is bullshit because I've told the stories of precisely how many times we went camping pre-children and he would bring nothing but his charm and then sleep in our tent and I would wake up wearing him on my back and Trey would laugh and decided that Ben wanted me.

Duh.

God. Are we this awesomely dysfunctional?

Yes. Yes we are. 

Since he stopped drinking he needs to sleep like a vampire. I think it's psychological. he says it's pathological and waggles his eyebrows and says he's just waiting to pounce but then he falls asleep instead because...so....comfortable.

Tea hurts when it shoots out one's nose too.

But for the record, since this seems to be the most-asked question and I'm only going to answer this once. Yes, they take turns because trying to do it all at once with both is a little too much for me. I'm more fun-sized than full-sized. Five feet tall to Ben's six-four. We tried it once. Exactly once and never again. There. Happy now? We tried it with other people (shhhhh the Devil) and it just doesn't work. I can't. Just no.

(I said Trey back there. Holy shit. Been a while. That's what we called Cole. Long story, but aren't they all?)

************

I'm going to buy a fifty pound turkey today. I'm pretty sure it will come with pop-off wheels, a pull-up handle and maybe built-ins. The wishbone will be so big we'll be able to turn it into a swing to use to try and touch the moon. The wings we'll use to fly to heaven to share leftovers with the boys.

I can't wait.

My sea of dreams.

This world has turned to dust
All we've got left is love
Might as well start with us
Singing a new song
Something to build on

He brought me back down slowly, carefully, shaking ever so slightly, his hands wrapped around my upper arms. I am bathed in sweat and firelight and he smiles. I can see the fire reflected in his brown eyes. He drops his arms to my waist and pulls me in close. He lets out a long breath and leans his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

I love my goodnight kisses. They always start as a kiss and end as a personal hazmat situation. I was explored over every inch, inside and out. Ben is easy to rile up and tough to calm back down. Sleep? What's that? Except that he was tired and when he fell asleep finally it was flat on his back, hands on his chest and I was relegated to sleeping in the fire.

I don't mind, though the fire made a little disgruntle or two about sleeping dirty, as he calls it. I didn't care, I couldn't keep my eyes open either. It was two in the morning. Lochlan wrapped his hands around my back and fell asleep on his side, his mouth against my forehead, nose in my hair, arms locked tight against my shoulderblades. He will sleep until five and then wake up as he always has in a long-developed habit to start work before the gates open, except that there are no gates and he doesn't have to leave and so he will crawl onto me and my breath will evaporate with the darkness, his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me up against him, whispering things in other languages, cutting into my eyes with his curls and my skin with his nails until he drops back beside me and falls asleep again until a more reasonable hour, never once letting me get more than an inch away from him.

Ben's hand reaches out to hold mine as I drift off again, my arm flung out behind me to bring him along.

The fire dies down as the sun came up but we don't notice. We don't care.

I'll be your fire when the lights go out.

Maybe it was all too much
Too much for a man to take
Everything's bound to break
Sooner or later, sooner or later

You're all that I can trust
Facing the darkest days
Everyone ran away
But we're gonna stay here, we're gonna stay here

I swear to God Ghosttown is the first single from Madonna that I have truly loved in twenty years. Not since Take A Bow have I been so happy to sit and press repeat. My inner twelve-year-old who wore out her copy of Madonna's very first self-titled album is so incredibly happy to hear this, you don't even know.

But you want to know about my evening.

That's why I started with the song. PJ kept me in Fireball and eggnog, just barely level until Lochlan got home and then he handed me off and went out to dinner with the rest.

Lochlan started to lay into me about eating something and getting straight and I finally told him to stuff it. That I'm not a child. That if I miss a meal what's the worst that will happen? Ooo. For fucks sakes.

He stood there trying not to laugh at me because I'm being very serious while I waver all over the damn place. Then he smiled and said he had something to show me. He dialed through his phone music and turned on the speakers in the living room. Then he turned off the lights, put on this song (he knows how to bring out Twelve, she hides until he does certain things, you know) and we had a slow dance. Just us. Me and him. Like the bad old days only it felt like home. It felt like it used to when things were easy.

I thanked him for being the king of easy listening and he corrected me and said pop, and I said No, you can't be the king of pop. That's Michael Jackson and he's dead too. 

After that we just shut up and kept hitting repeat until Matt got home and broke the spell. By then I was straight. Straight and hungry.

Lochlan said I told you and made me a peanut butter sandwich. Also like in the bad old days. I hate peanut butter. HATE it.

I ate it anyway.

Oh, I know my adversary, she says with unsteady convcition

Because she's DRUNK! And we haven't even had dinner yet.It's the Devils night withmy childnre.

I love PJ. Did Imention that?

i do

a lot.

I had the unfortunate honor of standing in a long lineup at a store today behind someone talking loudly to their friend about how disgusting and sick cremation is, that you should never disrespect a human life by burning it down to ashes and putting it in a jar like a trophy, that it's for control freaks and people who want to hide evidence.

They started laughing and making jokes and I couldn't tune them out and so I turned to PJ who was with me and he put my head against his coat and covered my free ear while he talked nonsense to try and just drown them out. Finally he let go when they left but somehow it just got right under my skin and I wanted to track them down and say it isn't disgusting and it isn't human life. It's human death and to me it's far more respectful to properly reduce someone to a size that enables you to hold all of them with your two hands than it is to buy a big fancy wooden box to dump their bones into to be buried underground.

So fuck you, I'm done with today.

My get out of jail free card.

I'll float above the ocean
the sun above is burning my head
I will grow wings and fly everywhere

Sam was supposed to be my wingman today but he and Matt had a bit of a bickering session over breakfast this morning and so Sam stood me up in favor of make-up brunch and a stroll on the seawall downtown with Matt before they both spend second shift working.

(The fight was nerves, that's all. Their very first wedding anniversary is this Sunday. I don't mind being stood up in that case. They need more time together.)

So the only one left, since PJ is out and about and Loch is working and refused to leave me here alone is Poet. Duncan who pawned me off on Joel long enough to go to a meeting and then he stopped at the store on the way home and brought me pixi stix because he feels bad. Pretty soon I'll be making excuses to sidle past New-Jake once or twice a day for a hit off his insulin pump but in the meantime I said thank you and offered to share them. I was taught to be a good girl. I was also taught that the way to a girl's heart (through her clothes) is with candy. Ask Loch about that too, if you want.

But I don't think Duncan is leaning that way today. He wants to bicker too, it seems but I'm not biting. I'm sure by now he's noticed I'm agreeing with things I wouldn't agree with if I were on fire and you were holding the hose until I caved but I'm doing it to keep the peace and wow, is he ever annoyed.

I'm annoyed too. He ruined a perfectly good rainy Thursday with a heaping dose of Joel. When I was waiting for Joel to tie his shoe in the garage I wondered if I could just hit him on the head with a shovel, drag his body over behind the other jeep and forget he ever happened to me but then I remembered that I have no poker face and if asked point-blank I always tell the truth.

(And so I had to spend the rest of the morning inside out to keep that peace intact.)

Yes, Detective, it's true. I killed my former psychoanalyst but in my defense he had it coming. I've just been biding my time until it was right and I could get away with it. But the jig is up. Lock me up and throw away the key, I'm not fit to walk amongst the innocents, not anymore. 

*Later, during medical evaluations*

What does this tattoo say across your back, Mrs. Reilly? 

It says Innocent in Gaelic. Neamhchiontach. 

Oh, well, then, you're free to go. Sorry for the trouble. Have a nice day. 

Wh-what do you mean? 

Obviously the owner of your soul is someone who can see the future so this was put into your skin as protection against an adversary you didn't know yet. It means you're safe. You don't have to go to jail for life after all.

Really? 

Yes. 

I collect my small pile of clothes and my belongings. Thank you and good day. 

Good day, Mrs. Reilly. See you again. 

Gosh, I hope not. I do believe I'm running out of men. Those who are left are precious. 

Take care of them, then.

I will. 

There's no such thing as small talk. Not here. Not ever.

You... He points at me with his chopsticks, are possibly the worst wife in the world. 

No. If I was I would have spent all your money gambling or been poisoning your food. 

He looks into the container of rice and makes this ridiculous expression of horror before becoming serious again. So repeatedly breaking my heart doesn't count?

You started it. 

I was twenty years old. I made a mistake. 

Well, that's what I'm doing. Making mistakes, Lochlan.

You're diluting your affections to protect yourself.

Yes, that too.

I'm not going to die, Bridget. 

Bullshit. Everyone dies. We start the march the minute we're born. You've almost bit it a few times now. 

I'm still here. 

I can't go through that again.

What so..just...love everybody? What happens when Caleb dies?

You do your happy dance. 

Ben?

Shut up. 

That's my point. 

You know what I'm most scared of? Not that someone's going to die, but that someone's going to die and I'll go to someone I love and he'll flatly refuse to help me when I need him most. 

That's me. The lightweight. The one who can't help you. 

You could have but you wouldn't. 

I was reeling. I couldn't function. 

Poor baby. 

Bridget, don't. 

Not like Jake was your friend. You hated his guts.

No, he hated mine. I tried. I tried to give him what he wanted, what you wanted. I kept my distance. 

Mostly. 

Yeah. Mostly. (He stares at me. Right into me. I can't even breathe when he does that.) Maybe I'm there when you need me after all. 

What if you're not?

What if I am? 

Then my dreams will have come true. 

I hope so, because that's what I've been aiming for all my life, Peanut. 

Children. All of us.

Caleb's standing in the kitchen. We've all trying to be civilized though I never make it easy. He's talking about something I did when he switches the subject and tells Lochlan that he couldn't help it. That she's just...so...soft. 

Lochlan, who has had enough, says I heard her say the same thing about you. 

It was fucking glorious. Ben and I tried so hard not to laugh but if you want to be burned, Lochlan is the man to see.

Swimming in the frozen sky (not religious, just superstitious).

We're holding very tight
I'm riding in the midnight blue
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you

Ben is singing Walking In the Air this year at the end of Sam's service. He's practicing. It's a difficult song to sing but not as much as O Holy Night so he's not having trouble. I tried to sing it but I just need to hear it ten or twelve more times first because I rush. Ben's version is haunting.

Okay, that pretty much describes everything he puts his spin on, from baking cookies to showering.

Did you have a good shower, Ben?

Yeah, it was haunting.

I'm KIDDING. He usually says something crass about taking care of business when he's in the shower and actually...you don't want to know. It's Christmas.

Or maybe you're thinking, Come on! It's Christmas! Tell us everything.

Okay, here:

Ben is mad too. Everyone's mad, because I called their bluffs and they failed to follow through when I told every minder/keeper/husband and subsidiary man that I was going to the boathouse and that I'd be back late. Later? I can't remember what I said but barely anyone reacted. Lochlan's eyebrow went up. Maybe they thought I was posturing or phishing or testing them.

So how did I fail? I was honest, they fucking failed. They didn't bother to clarify anything and it was early the next morning before they bothered to put the pieces together.

No harm, no foul, Lochlan always used to say. Ben says I'm playing with fire and when I remind him I'm a professional at that he freaks right out and says he told me not to go by myself. And I misinterpreted that as him missing out on the show, not being protective.

Whoops.

No harm though. No harm. 

This time, Ben says. What happens next time?

You'll be there, I tell him. I'm a good girl. In the daylight.

He nods. You still need to sort this out with Loch. He's never going to like this, Bee.

He never has. You would think the exposure would wear him down eventually. 

He can barely tolerate me, what makes you think he'll ever be okay with this?

I'm not okay with this. This isn't supposed to be some big dinner-table debate issue, this was supposed to be something rare. Something quiet and suspected but never confirmed.

Lochlan walks in and manages to pick up the conversation so easily it's like I threw it at him. Well, if you were the type of person anyone could take their eyes off, then maybe that would be the case but since you continue to be raised in the spotlight, Bridget, don't bet on it. 

I think you're done raising me, Lochlan. Jesus Christ. 

I think I've just begun. You still won't listen worth shit. 

This isn't your job. 

I'm not going to stand here and let the wolves tear you apart. I'm not going to let the Devil catch you, or keep you, Peanut. That's not in our cards and you know this. Do you remember or were you too young?

I remember. 

Remember what? Ben said.

We were told we share a soul. I've never doubted that for a second, and she's ashamed that she sold the whole thing, without my permission, to the Devil. 

Are you guys for real?

Sometimes I wonder. 

But no one can take your soul, Bridget. Except the actual Dev-

Exactly. 

They called it a revelation and then they called it a sin.

Both Sam and Joel fought for my morning today, because clearly I've gone off the deep end again. I can be very reckless. I can hold grudges and I can pretend I'm punishing Lochlan all I want but he tells me with the meanest, most incredulous laugh this morning that the only person I'm hurting is myself. That he's done taking the blame for being high-scorer in the broken heart game, that maybe if I could think of someone besides myself for even half a second I would realize that I passed him and got a trophy in that game years ago, and that he's got hardly enough left to form a whole beat inside his chest. He got louder and louder and his accent got thicker and more incomprehensible until I couldn't separate the words any more, but I could see everything on his face.

Everything. Right there. Spelled out so easily in his eyes, in the set of his teeth. In his shoulders drawn tight and his fists clenched up.

Sam said my name but I couldn't take my eyes away from Loch's.

I'm sorry. 

But you're not sorry, Bridget. 

I don't do it to punish you. I do it so I don't get so attached. 

I'm not the dumb kid I was when I was twenty, don't you see that?

Nineteen and three-quarters. 

Semantics, Peanut. I'm not even the dumb kid that I was at thirty. Or forty. Why can't I make you see this?

It isn't you. 

Then what is it? Please, God, tell me what it is and we'll fix it. 

I don't trust anybody, including you, and I'm sorry but that's never going to change. 

I can fix this, Peanut. I can fix it with time. You'll see. 

I'm not worth the effort. 

I'll be the judge of that.