I'm always in trouble right up until they make my excuses for me and then suddenly I'm not responsible. It's a roller coaster. I hate extreme rides. Give me the rickety little Ferris wheel off to one side and you know where I'll be for the rest of that day and the ones that follow.

I put my hands up over my ears and Sam pulled them off. He's in my face. I'm still in the trouble part of this. 

Why were you even there? He's beside himself. He doesn't understand this part of me. How could he? I don't. 

I stare back evenly but my brain wanders back to the bear. I thought it was small. I thought I was safe. It told me I was safe and yet when Caleb came out to make sure I was safe to walk the fifty feet from the bottom of his steps to the kitchen door I was a foot from it and it was big.

Maybe he magnified it. 

I didn't magnify it, Neamhchiontach. It was real. I think you minimized it somehow to withstand the shock. He strokes my head and Sam stands back. They're all rattled. I almost feel like I've achieved some higher level of understanding, sifting through the mundane, the inconsequential to discover life has this whole profound stage where everything is magnified. Everything feels bigger and the little things dissolve entirely. These big things are life and death, love and hate, risk and safety. Survival. Awareness. Faith, or maybe not. Maybe letting go of everything I believe in and seeing what comes to me next. 

Sam calls it something else entirely. He says I have broken with reality, that it's shock. Nothing more. That I will come around. I'll feel better. I'll be myself again instead of whoever this is. He says I was vulnerable to it, that between Ben's abdication and Lochlan's efforts to also stand back and see what happens, I'm doing that thing where I coast. 

Coast. 

I feel raw. I feel like I'm about to shatter. I feel like I might throw up. 

John says You saw a fucking bear, Bridget. Up close and personal. Make your peace with this and get some rest. 

PJ said I'm going to pour you a drink. You'll be fine. You need sleep.

But there's no peace and I'm not tired suddenly and I don't want any more alcohol. Sam takes over again. God bless him, he tries. Jacob left him a riddle with no answer in me.

If Jake came back, I'll be fine. If he doesn't, nothing's every going to change. 

You love too hard, Bridget. You leave yourself unprotected. 

You can't love someone if you're locked down like that. If you aren't willing to take the risk. Let's face it, I'm the bravest person you'll ever meet. 

If brave means foolish, then yes, Princess. You're brave as hell. 

(Hell isn't brave. I was there Sunday night. Hell is paved in pewter silk, five o'clock shadow and a hunger that never diminishes. Hell is a monster and damn, does he ever feel good, but brave? No.)

But I nod because I'm above all this and I can't seem to come down. I'm still worried about exploding into a firework of broken glass. I'm worried Sam might be standing too close when I do. 

The girl who loved.

Three forty-five and I'm tracing the B in DIABHAL on his back while he sleeps, facedown in dreams.   I can't cover the whole letter with my hand flat, that's how big the word is hammered into his flesh drop by drop with permanent ink so he never forgets who he is to me. The letters are half solid, half filigree, so ornate if you didn't know what it said you'd be hard-pressed to read it outright. It's a beautiful piece, making up for such an ugly event that we relive over and over again.

In contrast, my neamhchiontach tattoo contains two of the letter C. One for Caleb, one for Cole. It's tattooed across the top of my back in Caleb's handwriting, freakishly neat and flourished in a masculine yet beautiful way. It had to be his hand that wrote it. That was part of the deal.

His dream must be good. Usually if I wake up, he wakes up, if he even sleeps at all.

*
Five forty-five and he has turned but not acknowledged me in his sleep as I quietly dress and let myself out. When I make it to the bottom of the steps there is a bear in the driveway.

Not a big one, but big enough. Maybe three years old. Probably a hundred and fifty pounds.

I'm not allowed to dance with you, I whispered and he stopped and looked in my direction, sniffing the air.

It took a step and waited for instructions. If it wasn't going to be a dance, then what? What are you out here for in a night that belongs to all the things that can destroy you? the bear said to me.

It's daylight now. Nothing can hurt me, I told it as Caleb picked me up right off the ground so violently I lost my breath, rushing us both back up the steps and into the house, locking the door, choking on adrenaline. In the dark my estimate of a hundred and fifty pounds was off by double or more, I found out later.

*

Seven forty-five and I watch as the boys fan out across the property in search of the bear itself and then the breach in our supposedly well-fortified fence efforts.

The gate was open between the stone walls on the way across to Daniel and Schuyler's. Daniel couldn't manage it with his crutches on the way back last evening. He was rife with dread and apologetic to a fault.

Dan. We said. Stop it. The bear would have climbed the walls had he not walked right through.

But still.

Plans were drawn up for new self-closing hardware on all the gates and a top rail drilled into the stone to make things even less appealing. There is a trap on the road up the street from our gates. This is a nuisance bear and has been in other yards already.

And we have a fortress now, moreso than ever.

Lochlan's arms closed around my neck from behind me as I stood watching the sudden frenzy of work, still a little dazed that I could have reached out to pet something that would have killed me.

Twice in the same night.

All 10 games, 66 goals and just like that Canada takes the World Hockey Championship.

YEAH.

SUCK IT, EVERYONE ELSE.

Sorry. Realllllly drunk fight now.

Maybe it's starting to sink in finally, and maybe I am still sicker than I thought.

Ben never entered into this to try and fix things or make up for things or change things. He and I were attracted to each other probably more physically than anything and the love part was slow in coming. We had a lot of growing pains. He had a huge substance abuse problem and an ego problem and was immature and sometimes selfish to a fault. He never wanted to be conventional even as he found it fun in the way that anything becomes a novelty in its infancy. He wanted Loch on board for the parts he couldn't cover. The serious parts. The tough parts. Any part that contained his absence, really. Lochlan was an easy sell. A duplex marriage. Polyamory. Divide the love and it grows instead of fractioning off. Split life evenly down the middle and watch it flourish.

We're good at this. This works. Ben has no ego with me, with us. He is patient and generous, perpetually distracted and hopelessly in love with Lochlan.

He keeps saying that this will give us a chance to sort everything out, but that isn't what this is. This is a test and it's one for Ben to find out if he has a place here. If there is room for him in the big overwhelming teenage love that is Lochlan and Bridget.

I know there is, we've been doing this for years.

I have been pretending for days now that he is just downstairs working and everything is business as usual. It's better than thinking he's walked away. Better than thinking he might come back and everything would be different or that he might not come back at all.

Better than waiting for him when he's barely left.

Better than losing my mind.

Better than feeling my heart break again when sometimes it feels as if there are hardly any pieces left, big enough to fracture. Most of what is left has been pounded into dust. I'm not capable of weathering any more but Ben knew that if he left me choices that it would be okay. So August came back. Joel didn't go very far, Daniel and Schuyler crowded right in and Sam set up a command post downstairs to conduct the whole mess like a song. Lochlan held back, held his breath while Ben gingerly pulled the trigger on the legal side of things because he wanted to all along, and now who knows?

Who knows?

First.

The sea knows where are the rocks
And drowning is no sin
You know where my heart is
The same place that yours has been
We know that we fear to win
And so we end before we begin
Before we begin

DUDE.

Hands down easily the best show I've ever seen. The band brought all the class. The sound was great, the crowd was nice, the merch was fast, the projection screen/concept (innocence and experience tour so the stage was an i and an e connected by a catwalk) was original and well-executed and the band was..well,

They were U2.

They sounded precisely like their albums. No lie. I was stunned at the quality of the show. They brought humor, politics and raw given talent. They brought it all.

I cried like a fucking baby during Pride. I got three songs off my list (Pride, Vertigo and City of Blinding Light) plus a little bonus because at the end of The Miracle of Joey Ramone, Bono took his first little walk out into the crowd singing Radio, radio, radio from the end of Promenade and I lost my shit.

Every Breaking Wave and Raised by Wolves are now both easy favorites.

Edge fell off the stage at the end. I didn't see it until I read about it later and watched the video. He's okay. Sucks to be scratched up for tonight's show. Makes me remember how fragile these guys are and how ambitious to embark on a huge tour knowing that things happen, people get injured or sick. Cancelling is expensive and trepidatious.

But yeah. That was a life-altering show and I'm grateful for having gone. Here are the requisite pics from our once-thought-to-be-terrible seats which turned out to be the best view in the house. I never sat down once but still had to go up on tip-toes to see over arms and heads.

(The pictures are watermarked because the internet is a terrible place and these are my memories but enjoy them in all their fully-compressed Blogger quality nonetheless.)

For those who are not U2 fans and come for the drama, there was none. Both Caleb and Lochlan were on their best behavior. Lochlan had an absolute blast and Caleb even let his hair down for a couple of hours, drinking beer and grinning his face off. He may have danced. I'll never tell.

Okay, he totally fucking danced.

Radio radio radio.

1. Bad
2. Pride (in the name of love)
3. One
4. City of Blinding Lightss
5. Stuck in a moment you can't get out of
6. Hold me Thrill me Kiss me Kill me (I know it's from Batman Forever. Don't judge.)
7. New Years Day
8. Vertigo
9. 40
10. Promenade

That's it. That's my dream list of songs (maybe they're in order, maybe they're not) that I want to hear tonight at the U2 concert. It's the first show of the entire world tour and I'm already just about to throw up from excitement. I contemplated driving into town to pick up merch yesterday instead of waiting and then I decided to listen to a few more songs first and changed my mind. 

40 seems like it would be the best song to save for last. I now I'm going to cry a bunch of times. I know I'll sing. I'm just a little worried that I will explode from excitement between now and tonight. I hope I don't. That would be a tragedy. 

Also sad is that I had to give away Ben's ticket because Ben isn't here. He was supposed to go with Loch and I. He saw them before anyway. I gave his ticket to the Devil (also a fan), who promptly looked at Lochlan and said, 

How about that, Sparky? Looks like we're going on a date.

I also worry about cars that have blue teeth because it sounds so ridiculous, does it not?

Hello from Sam's bed. I'm taking up Sam's side (smells like teen spirit, wouldn't you know) while Matt sleeps soundly on the other side. Matt has a really really bad cold and called in sick and I offered to make him the Polish (very strong paint thinner-like) tea he makes when I'm sick but we both declined in favor of more sleep.

Every man I know can just put his head down and fall asleep. Is it penis related? I lie down and the worries smother me alive and I have to spend an hour or two shutting them down one by one like warehouse lights until I can finally have enough peace to let go. It takes forever. It's mental. It's anguishing. It isn't fair.

Matt smells like patchouli, if you wondered, like I did. He smells like Jake. I think they wear the same scents. Essential oil blends, not aftershave or cologne because we're hippies first and refined folks second.

I smell like antibiotics and despair as usual. It must be addictive if you have a penis. I don't know. No one will let me borrow one for a bit to try it out. I don't think my dresses would hang right if I had one anyway and besides, they pop up (not the dresses, silly) when you wish they wouldn't and who needs that madness?

So yep, just lying here trying to have a nap. As soon as I get rid of all these needless penis worries. Not like I'm going to grow one any time soon and wait, there was an earthquake in Japan and another one in Nepal and suddenly anatomical worries seem so shallow and I can do so much better and worry about the big things and...and...

Note to self: Next time someone offers you a blackout drink to help you sleep, fucking take it, idiot girl.

Princess bitters.

Daniel is such a good sport. He let me paint flowers all over his cast and then I painted his toenails hot pink.

Ben watched via Facetime while he and Daniel spent time together. 

I said nothing but after he tried and failed to engage me five times over I gave him the middle finger. 

I'd eat that right off you if I was there. 

Then come and get it. I told him. The look on his face said he understands exactly how I feel about his absence and how it's finally beginning to sink in. 

When Daniel's cast and toes were dry I hung up on Ben and made some ham sandwiches and tea for lunch, brought on a tray in to the living room. We're going to watch musicals and fall asleep on each other because it is the best way to heal from everything. Broken bones and kidneys and everything in between. 

Like hearts maybe. Or spirits. Or promises! 

Meet my lizard kings: Meriadoc and Peregrin.

Eight-fifteen and the kids have gone to school after failing to secure any rides whatsoever today. If it's raining they can easily convince any one of the boys to drive them up the hill. If it isn't raining they must walk, for it builds character to make your own way.

Or something like that.

We try not to spoil them.

Or rather, I try not to and everyone around me does their very best to ignore my attempts to make tough, resilient, self-reliant humans. You know, everything I am not.

Caleb comes around the side of the house to the front porch where we are languishing with the last of the contents of the teapot and the headlines and says Neamhchiontach. 

I see Duncan shake his head just once.

This won't be good.

Yes? I ask. I don't know what he wants, truth be told. It's early. It's Monday. I have no plans other than a trip down the road to the store because we need milk and juice. I drank all of the juice. All of it. Not sorry.

Come. I need you for the morning. 

Duncan says, she's busy. You can't see that she's busy?

She doesn't look busy, Caleb states.

Well, she's very busy today. Dalton confirms this with the most beautiful smirk.

My eyebrows go up and I look back at Caleb. I'm so busy. I'll have to catch you another day. 

What are you busy with, precisely?

She's busy with...things. 

Yes, things. 

I'm busy with things, Diabhal. If you give me a little warning next time I can try to fit in a little time for you. 

If we finish the things.

Yes, but these are ongoing things. 

Who do I have to thank for your bodyguards this morning? Pyro? Benjamin? 

I heard it was PJ. 

Really? I thought it was Sam. 

You said Batman! (I jump in because this is too much fun suddenly.)

Maybe it was...God himself. Dalton makes his chin quiver and I laugh.

Christ almighty. (Caleb is so done.)

That would be his son, yes, it could have been him too! Dalton suggests this and Duncan nods enthusiastically.

Bridget, I'll talk to you later today, when your fan club gets bored. 

We're not fans. To have fans you have to do extraordinary things. She doesn't do anything extraordinary. 

Well, not to us anyway. 

Probably for the best. That would be so distracting. 

Speak for yourself, idiot! 

(I called him the Hot-Ness Monster once. He did not approve.)

I drew a four of swords this morning and almost dropped the whole tarot deck on the kitchen floor. I always wanted the fortune teller's job as a child because she had all the answers if only you would ask her the questions. I wanted to wear big golden hoops in my ears and stand in the doorway just after sunset, accepting cash from the hopeful who would pay anything for me to tell them what to do. Nevermind that ninety percent of it was bullshit. Ten percent was still the truth and that's all that mattered.

I'm not feeling better today, in fact, I'm feeling a whole lot worse but I'm going to grin and bear it because that's what one does when one is me. Today feels a little edgy and whole lot helpless as if the tiny part of me that is missing Ben so badly but is hiding like a spark under a pile of dried twigs is just going to erupt and spread like wildfire until there is nothing left of anything.

I can't let that happen so the part that is angry at him prevails until further notice.

And Happy Mother's Day. For me it's like being a Christmas baby in that Mother's Day and my birthday are too close together to have two celebrations so other than eating dinner outside (a special treat because BUGS, they hate them) and perhaps a fire show at sunset from THAT guy, it's going to be quiet.

However, I'm going to stretch out in the shade and read all afternoon. I got the entire set of Outlander novels for my birthday and so far they are very good.

(So very, VERY good.)

A woman who's in love with two men, one of whom is a redheaded Scottish highlander who is difficult and one on the fringe? No, I don't know anyone who would want to read something like that.

Oh my GOD, this book is about us. 

Not hardly. I'm a Midlander, if anything. 

True. And I wouldn't miss Frank. Not even for a minute. 

Because he's boring?

Well, that and because he's no Jamie. 

What's so good about Jamie? She doesn't even know him. 

She doesn't have to! He has red hair and an accent! Nothing else is required! 

Maybe Claire is a little too shallow for her own good. 

Eh, she's holding out so I doubt it. 

She's holding out? Then what's the rub? 

I have no idea, they just had a drink together though so it's inevitable?

What is?

Torrid eighteenth-century sex, naturally.

Oh, I see. You're reading historical porn?

No, I told you. They just had a drink. Give me a few hundred pages and then probably, yes I am.

I wish the fortune teller could have told me that! 

Why? What would you have done differently?

I would never have taught you to read! 

I could read before I met you, Lochlan, Jesus! 

Dr. Seuss doesn't count, Bridget. 

Too bad. I could have written a sequel. Oh, the Assholes you know!

Is that right? But he's laughing. He's laughing and he didn't stop for half the morning. Every time he looked at me he would burst out laughing again.