Pine.

If I'm a pagan of the good times
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice

I met him at the door last night. So late. I've been once again fighting sleep. Slapping my ears, pinching my legs, trying to prop my eyes open but he smiles when he sees me because I'm not in Devil-clothes, I'm in Midway-day-off clothes. Bare feet, old jeans, tiny t-shirt emblazoned with a glitter rainbow. Hair sticking up all over the place (damn pixie), no makeup. I look young and untraveled. Unhistoried. Unbroken.

(Oh, I like that one.)

I saved dinner for you.

He drops all of his stuff on the floor. Thanks, Peanut. I'm starved actually. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

Didn't hear from you all day.

We have three months to get this stuff finished and out the door. It isn't going to be pretty- But then he stops and admits his fears. I figured you were busy with Diabhal anyway.

I don't feel so well. I told him I could come and work tomorrow though for a bit.

Me neither. The relief is solid, tangible. Textured with a faint hope clause I didn't know was written in. What did he have to say about that?

I didn't give him a chance to say anything. I didn't say I was going for an even division here, I just don't want to be shut down.. I just. I mean, he's like Cole and I don't have to-

I know, Bridget.

I'm sorry.

You're here. That's more than I expected.

I fed him dinner and we talked about movies for a bit and then we went upstairs and he dropped me down into bed and followed me in the night, pulling my jeans off, my shirt over my head, marveling at the lack of things underneath. Sipping Aberlour from a shared mug and trading bright loud for dark quiet. Just like old times. Just like young Lochlan and Bridget, making love without a recipe.

I'm sorry, I tell him again as I drift off to sleep. Blissfully. Finally. I don't mean to be difficult. I don't want to lose anyone else. In him I have both Caleb and Cole. And I can make him pay the price for his decisions too. You know this, Locket, you told me-

Go to sleep, Peanut. 

But are you mad at me?

We'll talk tomorrow. I don't know what I am. I just can't even think about you going to him or I want to rip my brain out. It hurts so much. 

Sorry-

Sleep! Now!

Okay!

Hungry work.

No Masters or Kings
When the Ritual begins
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene
Only then I am Human
Only then I am Clean
Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen.

I kept one resolution and bailed on the other but the difference is I had a caffeine-withdrawal headache and a strep throat fever now too. I stood in the doorway as he left for work, refusing to make the promise he asked for. It isn't fair. It's a total and utter lack of rules that got him to this place in his life and an endless list of rules that got me to this place in mine and I'm fucking done with this. This is safe-crazy. This isn't hurting anyone. He can handle it. Besides, he's the one who bailed.

Say it, Bridget.

I'm not going to lie to you.

I can't stay. I have to go. I have to finish this project.

So go.

Stay here.

Can't. I have to go undo the damage you've done. Way to leave me the heavy lifting.

Don't go.

You can make up all the grand plans and perfect solutions you wish, it doesn't change a damn thing, Loch.

This is bullshit, Bridget.

Oh, hell, I know that, Loch.

He stood there waiting for me to say something different until he ran out of time but I didn't have anything else to say. I have to take a stand sometime, it may as well be today. He agreed to this. He never said he had to like it or accept it and I never asked him to. I never asked for any of this either but it's what I've got now and I'm not letting go of anyone.

Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife
Offer me my deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life

Waiting for Marty McFly.

Garage. Ten pm. Just before the interesting turn of events that saw me arrive prepared for my own destruction only to leave completely intact.

But I'm drunk. Not falling-down-drunk. Just fuzzy like my head is filled with cotton balls and I know enough to walk slowly and hold rails so I don't stumble in these shoes. These are Devil shoes and they're not easy sober, let alone like this.

I turn the lights on inside. It's so bright. He squints from the sudden flood assaulting his eyes.

Princess. 

Happy New Year, Jakey.

Happy New Year, Bridget. 

He only calls me by my name when he's irritated. God I miss him being irritated. I miss him being anything.

I'm not having anymore, if that's what you're worried about. 

Good. 

Unless he makes me. 

Bridget-

Just don't. I just wanted to see you. 

You shouldn't be over there.

I have bills to pay. 

This isn't the girl I fell in love with. 

I don't know if you noticed but things have changed. 

You haven't changed. 

Too bad about that. 

No it isn't. They should be doing more to keep you safe. 

They can't. I have obligations. 

Sure they could. You don't have to be here. 

This is where I belong. 

No, you belong in a warm little house with someone you love, happy and content. 

I had that once but things are different now. I walk unsteadily back to the door and flip the light off and leave without saying goodbye.


***

I see so little time
My eyes are crossed, my hands are tied
All I wanna do is to breathe in

Their plan worked really well. Someone made me a drink around four and then another around six and by nine I was a little bit a little lit, I'm afraid.  We went to the Boathouse just before eleven, where we hung out in the kitchen, much to Caleb's dismay, for he had to go back and forth from us to the others. Loch kept looking at his watch, to the point of rudeness. Then abruptly at 11:53, he stood up, pulled me up with him, wished everyone who was in the kitchen a lovely New Year's and pulled me wordlessly back home before Caleb was even aware that we had left. Loch pulled me into the house, up the stairs and into our room where he closed and locked the door behind us, looked at his watch once more, and then said Happy New Year, Peanut. This year is going to be different. We're going to get some help and change everything and the Devil isn't invited and then he put his hands up to hold my face and he kissed me like he never seems to kiss me anymore.

I was asleep under the quilts by twelve-thirty and then I didn't wake up until Ben came in (he has a key) around three I think. He kissed me on the shoulder and said Happy New Year Little Bee and I garbled something back and fell asleep mid-kiss and no one woke me until ten this morning with fruit and tea on a tray just for me.

So...Happy New Year.

So far my resolutions are no coffee and no Caleb. He's not going to be very happy. I had just gotten his approval for a less structured, less difficult time schematic. I would go see him if and when I wanted to. He fought me on it but ultimately decided it was the best way, because I would be there only when I wanted to be there. I was actually the only one who thought it was a good idea but while I was thinking up that idea I guess everyone else was thinking up this one.

Not drawn that way, just bad.

I know you've got it in your head, I've seen that look before
You've built your refuge turns you captive all the same

I'm trying to talk to you about important things and life things and you're all so incredibly concerned about PJ's bed instead.

 It's that time of year again. The last time of the year. The time I make giant impossible resolutions to do things like eat way less sugar (two cups on average per bowl of Shreddies (if it ain't white, it ain't right, I say when it comes to a sprinkle of sugar versus a straight pour.), and get back in shape because I stopped running and basically can't get up the steps from the beach without great ragged breaths so my lung capacity is ridiculously tiny now. Drink less. Worry less. Be less fragile. Be less victimish. Less quiet. Be less me and more Fake/Together Bridget. Be someone, anyone, just not this.

Be better? Be less worse. Be easier for everyone. Be.

But really you should be more concerned because fuck Disneyland, PJ's bed is the Best Place on Earth.

(Granted, I've never been to Disneyland. Never needed it after the things I have seen. The whole world is an amusement park, FYI, complete with the bright lights and the seedy underbelly. Just look around you.)

PJ's bed is the stuff of dreams. Sometimes he's still in it. Not awkward. Dreamy, I told you. We sorted ourselves out years ago. I may have thrown myself directly at him, overhand no less, after Jacob. After Joel. Sometime before Ben. Things happen and I was foundering for someone to hold on to.

In the end he decided he wanted me as a friend and we all briefly wondered if maybe he was gay (because no one turns down a Bridget, are you mad?) but he's not. He just loves me too much to fuck with me like that. Which is oddly the best gift I've ever received. My Christmas gift to him this year is a trip. A big trip so he can see the world and then decide if he wants to keep his as small as it is now. He is not obligated to be here. No one is but PJ is different. PJ is trust on two legs and absolute faith incarnate.

He's also an amazing lover. Ladies, fucking line up here, to the left. But so help me God, if you hurt him I'll kill you.

Happy New Year in advance. We're making bacon and maple butter sandwiches for breakfast and then putting away Christmas for another year. Then I need to start getting ready, beginning with painting my toes bright red (expressly, specifically forbidden) and then finding a dress that shows off my Neamhchiontach tattoo* (also not allowed unless he specifically requests that it is visible) for Caleb's little 'intimate' party tonight.

I almost choked on my own breath when I saw him use that description on the invitation. He's invited a sparing handful of us down to his place. It's too cold for the boat but the flames of hell flicker high in the Boathouse, let me tell you. From a distance it looks like it's on fire, I bet. That's because it is. Or it probably will be, by tomorrow. New Years isn't a celebration, it's an endurance event.

Don't feel bad for me, though. I go willingly enough. I go with my eyes open, hoping for Different. Hoping for New. Hoping his resolution includes less Bridget, but let's face it. He isn't PJ. He doesn't have the strength of character. He's weak to his own desires.

Kind of like me.

*(People think I skip around and many have questioned this tattoo. I explained it years ago.)

Solid state, Bitches.

Hours spent offline: 28
Kilometers driven to procure new hard drive: 78.
Money spent on said hardware: 300.68
Value of having fixed it by myself: PRICELESS.

Granted, I've had tech support (Lochlan) on the phone for like, five hours straight because I forgot to format it first but I'm good to go now. And he made me replace it myself because he's weird like that. Oddly proud compartmentalized happily within completely parental.

I mean, he still folds my soft tacos for me up from the bottom and then in on the sides so all of the filling doesn't wind up in my lap because it did once, when I was nine or so and people thought I had pooped my pants when I hadn't.

Until yesterday when the hard drive in my five-year-old secondhand Macbook died and I hadn't done a backup in about three weeks. Then yes, I figuratively shit my pants.

But I fixed it myself. And it's fucking SNAPPY as FUCK.

Go Bridget!

(Snort.)

Full Ganzfeld/No spoilers.

Of course he made me take down that entry. With more death and dismemberment threats, ironically.

***

Nothing, and I swear nothing beats lying in PJ's bed in the pitch blackness listening to Bathory's Twilight of the Gods through my new headphones. It's warm and comfortable and akin to a sensory deprivation experience. It's also exceedingly rare and mostly used for sanctioned escape from the world. It's my new pantry, maybe. A place where I am perfectly safe but can lock myself away from everything until I can get my head back on straight. An emergency rubber room.

Now with metal.

And the rest of the jersey sheets we've abandoned living here because it's so mild.

***

I didn't talk about Christmas. Ben did a magnificent job singing in church late on Christmas eve. I struggled so hard to stay awake. Sam kept looking at me during his sermon and smiling at me gently and I finally just put my head against a shoulder and closed my eyes.

I did much the same thing yesterday during The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. We saw it in AVX/Atmos and while glorious, the moment I stop moving I fall asleep. I managed to only doze off once and fought through it so I wouldn't miss anything and I wasn't disappointed. It was beautiful. The fight on the ice was my favorite part and I cried. Oh, how I cried. It was very metal. Go see it if you can. Besides, I'm pretty sure that the only reason I didn't check out completely during the movie was that the AVX seats are so high I have to brace my legs against the chair in front of me in order to recline it and so no. Sat straight up the whole time.

I wish Cineplex would fix that. The cheap seats are far more comfortable but we no longer watch movies with the serfs.

Oh my God. I'm KIDDING.

***

The total lack of meaningful posting on my part has nothing to do with any of your conspiracy theories and everything to do with the fact that at the last minute August came out to spend the holidays with us and I'm not done talking his beautiful face off yet. I'm not done hanging out in the crook of his arm and I'm never ever going to be done listening to his accent heal my heart up nice and tight.

He isn't done loading up on the kind of endless affection one can't get anywhere but here on the point and no one will ever be done wishing he would come back for good. Except then things would be hard again but watching him shut down Joel and then Caleb too is oddly satisfying. I'll spend the week trying to absorb him and then begin a pointless campaign to keep him close and fail and get all strung out all over again but in the meantime he's home with us and that's all that matters.

It's early in the morning and his first gift to me is an admission I never wanted to know. It sent me to the garage where I stood in the dark calling softly for Jake. I didn't want Joel to hear me, but I had to take the chance anyway.

He finally shows up. The dust motes all around him from the windows into the dark make him look like he was buried on a shelf all this time. He looks faded but alert. And sad.

You're finally getting better, I haven't seen you for a long time.

I don't even tell him that every day I want to come here and summon him. That every damned day still hurts like a hot poker through my heart with every breath. Guilt doesn't affect ghosts though. That's one of the perks.

Caleb said that the night he came to the camper he was going to kill me afterward and hide my body in the woods.

Why did he say this?

He said it would have been better for all of them. Better for him. Lochlan would have been blamed for it and I wouldn't have been there to fight over anymore.

Bridget, I think you're in over your head here.

But he didn't do it because in the middle of everything he decided that in case maybe he can come back that it would be nice to keep hurting me throughout my whole life. That I would be his darkness and depravity and that he would just hold Lochlan at bay with threats, fill him with doubt, keep him down. Hurt him worse this way.

That's not okay, Bridget. I think it's time you sound the alarm.

I haven't done that after every single thing he's ever done. Why would I do it now?

Because he gets away with things.

He didn't get away with murder.

Yet.

He won't kill me. He's had every chance there is. He loves me too much.

Is that what you want to call it?

That's what I have to call it.

Then go back to your pretty little delusional life, Princess. You seem happiest there.

I'd rather stay with you.

Then push him just a little too hard and let him fulfill his destiny.

But do you think Lochlan will get his soul back if I do that?

Yes, but he'll have no use for it if you're gone.

Just fast, I'm up to my elbows making turkey stock for soup.

 Caleb would like me to clarify that the swing was not my Christmas present, it was just something he noticed that I needed. So he had one made and installed for me. He also noticed that Henry needed a new skateboard ramp so he had a better one sent to us (also not a gift). It came on a flatbed truck and they used a crane to get it off. Henry's been outside ever since. With Andrew and Keith. I worried briefly about helmets for the adults but then nope. They pay their own dentist bills. Henry's wearing a helmet, however. That's part of the deal.

The old plywood ramp that Lochlan made for Henry has already been dismantled and put in the stack of scrap wood in the garage. It had BL + LM carved into the side and I'm pretty sure adolescent Caleb hated that every time he saw it.

Loch said, No matter. I'll carve it into this one too.

I pointed out it might ruin it if he did and he shrugged and said So what?

Something for the girl who has nothing.

My gift from the Devil this year is the news that he's turning the electric fence back on.

I should be happy he told me.

But he is creepy and inside my brain and did really well in the Impress Bridget category. He had a swing installed in the orchard. It's weathered grey but new and it's securely tied to one of the bigger trees which is in better condition than the rest and it's a very thick board with two ropes with big knots tied underneath each end and it only holds one on purpose and is only wide enough for me besides and maybe Ruth if she is so inclined. I like to have alone-spots. I like swings. I like flying up to try and touch the clouds any chance I get and I like childhood adventure of the simplest kind.

The electric fence is reinstated because the orchard is on the far western side of the property, down a slope underneath the boathouse and the stables. More secluded and vaguely wild and he would prefer that nothing is able to sneak up on me.

I can understand that. My hearing isn't great (understatement).

Try it out, he says. Smiling genuinely, as he only does when I am little.

I grab the rope and turn and sit down. The board is sanded smooth and weatherproofed. The ropes are soft but strong. I put my arms up high and begin to sway.

Would you like a push?

Yes, please. 

He walks around behind me and gives me a gentle shove and soon I am soaring into the grey rainy day, holding tight, the tree creaking softly as I try and pump my legs to get past the cloud cover into space. I can't do it quite yet but now I have the means. I have a chance. I could touch heaven if I tried.

Presence.

Oh my GOD.

This is great. I walked in on Lochlan and PJ sorting out their arrangement for Mr. Heatmiser, a song from the movie A Year Without Santa Claus. Which, if you haven't seen it, you should, for it might scar you for life.

Of all things.

I'm Mr. Green Christmas
I'm Mr. Sun.
I'm Mr. Heat Blister
I'm Mr. One Hundred-And -One
They call me Heat Miser
Whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
I'm too much!

Such a dramatic rendition too. It's outstanding. I don't think I have to point out who is which but Lochlan really poured it on for the second half of the song.

PJ broke in at the end and pointed out that he read my entry from yesterday and that I alternately fueled his nightmares and crushed his dreams. Lochlan cut back in and said I might be losing my wi-fi access for the holidays because some songs just don't need to be sung. But he looked so helpless when he said it I started to laugh and they began the song all over again.

Not sure if he was giving up on trying to censor me at last or is satisfied that I didn't tell you everything.

Let's go with both. 

***

Caleb messages me bright and early which is why I wound up walking in on the boys singing. Otherwise I would have slept for another couple of hours and missed all the fun. Ben is still asleep. This surprises no one. No one at all.

Santa left a present here for you. I think you should come open it. 

That typo fits perfectly. 

What typo?

'Santa'. 

Bridget..

Well it DOES. 

And then he goes to radio silence until I show up. That's how he works.