Living the life of Reilly.

It's the colloquialism I hate most.

He's living the life of Reilly. 

No, he isn't, for Jake Reilly is dead and in his place stands his tiny blonde and deaf widow and she isn't in the mood for your wistfulness, your familiarity. Hilarity, it is to her, for she is held prisoner here in your memories instead of being free to go and remember her own. How dare you?

How dare you.

Lochlan and Caleb are both still alive, if it matters. Lochlan only went to tell Caleb to back off. Caleb laughed in his face and that was that, apparently. Lochlan's hands are tied, bound by our past and knotted up in our future and so he is helpless for now and I call the shots.

So I called them as Caleb loaded them in by name. Every bullet is named Bridget, every aim will kill. If he squeezes even a little I will be crushed and a memory unto myself. I don't know if he would ever be frustrated enough to do so, I don't want to be around to find out.

I went to see him and he held the memories to my head, safety off and I told him this isn't how he's going to make me love him, that there are nights and weeks and months and hours between Lochlan and I that no one can supersede. That no one can possibly comprehend.

That's in the past, Neamhchiontach. 

No, that's in the future, Diabhal. It's a future without you. 

He squeezes the trigger and my head explodes, showering us both in glitter and blood. Bits of my heart slide down the walls for who knew that my heart was in my head while my brain thumps against my chest like a drum?

I did, he tells me and he keeps squeezing until the clip is empty and so is my fucking head.

Swimming with the enemy.

Yeah. 

He's going to be my shadow. 

Nine on the dot and he arrives at the kitchen door with a bottle of leftover champagne, two towels and his wetsuit. 

Let's go try the toys I haven't played with yet. 

PJ's eyebrow went up but he didn't say anything. 

Can't. I have a mug of tea in my face so I talk behind it. I have to take Daniel in for his appointment. 

Afterward, perhaps.

Movie date with Joel this afternoon. That's YOUR fault, remember? 

Tonight? 

I stare hard at him. I need notice. Maybe you should do up an envelope.

When are you free next? 

Tomorrow morning. It's Saturday. I don't have any plans. 

Would you like to try the waverunners with me tomorrow then?

I would love to. Also I'll try to pop in and see you later for the field trip and clothes money. And to give you the exam schedule for the kids. 

That would be great. I think I'm going to go try these things out on my own then. No time like the present. 

PJ can't take it and tells Caleb he'll go with him. No one is supposed to go alone and really, he is free since I'm taking Daniel in town.

Really? Okay great. Let's go. Some company would be great. I've got the warming drink for afterward.

Okay but I have to warn you. I look like a naval mine in my wetsuit. 

Is that so?

Yeah but she looks like a vanilla bean in hers so I consider myself lucky. 

What's up? Loch walks in and grabs a mug to pour some tea. 

I'm heading out to take Daniel to the doctor and PJ and Caleb are going to use the wave runners. 

Got room for a third? 

I was about to say no when I realized he wasn't looking at me. 

Caleb's eyes flicker briefly just once and then he turns into a teenager. Yeah. Come on! 

And I wander next door in a daze. 

Hey Bridge. I'm ready. Daniel is putting his wallet and phone in his pocket. He grabs his crutches and waits for me to open the door for him. 

What's wrong?

Nothing. Loch and Caleb and PJ are going waverunning. 

Ah. Nice. 

No, I said Loch and CALEB. 

Oh, I missed that part somehow. 

Yeah. 

Should we stay? Send in reinforcements? Call the military?

No. I guess PJ is there so no one will die. But really, what is Caleb up to? 

He invited Loch and Loch said yes?

No, he invited me and I couldn't go so PJ said he would spot him and then Lochlan walked in and invited himself. It was weird. 

That is weird. But maybe they're trying to be friends. 

I don't know. I'm pretty sure those days are over. 

Then just wait and see. Things will be okay. 

He passes me and I lock the door behind us. I feel like I'm going to cry and I don't know why. Things haven't been okay for thirty-six years. Why would that change now? 

(The bluebird in Winnie the Pooh.)

I'm hung over today and ashamed. Champagne is not friendly fire, it's a weapon of mass destruction and I am a hell of a lightweight target. I couldn't speak in simple sentences by the time Lochlan carried me upstairs.

You'rnt Pooh Bear. You're Owl. Owl knows thing. 'Watch out for the jagulars!' you say. I'm listen. I try.

Oh, Jesus, Bridge, come here.

He opted for a cool shower for both of us while I worked on coherent speech. I felt okay, par for the course as my inebriations seem to affect my verbal and motor-skills first always.

Better?

Possotly.

Time for sleep.

He should haven't named me Kessie. Whyyyyyy.

The bird?

Yeah. Why am me Pigalit?

The annoyance factor, probably.

Thank fuck you.

Yep. Sleepy time, baby.

And lights out for me but then the Devil came to breakfast and he was attentive and helpful and he saw the kids off to school while I gingerly cradled my skull from the inside by gritting my teeth which worked for a time until the rest of the collective appeared and found out I was feeling poorly this morning. They began to talk loudly and slam things around the kitchen as hard as possible because they think it's funny.

I won't ever do that again but rarely do any of us drink to excess these days.

Caleb waits until everyone wanders off with coffee/juice/toast and Lochlan has gone to fetch Daniel and then he looks at me. He hasn't shaved. He's in a slate blue t-shirt and jeans. Bare feet. I kind of want to stare for a while but also I still want to barf.

You should have stayed last night. I would have made sure you remained awake until you felt better.

Such concern for someone who must have refilled my drink six times over.

We were having fun.

Too much fun.

Not enough fun. He stares at my eyes. It's hurting me. I look out at the water.

Are you going to follow me around all the time now that you're retired? Is this what it's going to be like?

Yes. I think I will. At least until the novelty wears off. 

Great. 

It is, indeed. I'm having fun so far. What about you? 

A warning that you wanted.

I invade you now
I take you down
I make you now
I erase you now

Here's to actual retirement, said the Devil, raising his glass, just shy of his original teenage goal in Freedom Fifty-five. This took forever with three false starts in which he poured his assets into one thing after another instead of taking his toys and going home already. He has enough toys. What he needs is a break. This came a complete surprise. I thought he would hold out on me forever and keep working.

I actually didn't think he was serious when I was nine, when in one of the early, numerous fist fights between himself and Lochlan he threw Lochlan down in the dirt and proclaimed his bravado, the kind only utilized by your average egotistical seventeen-year-old.

At least I'm going to be somebody!

Lochlan got up and took Caleb down in a running tackle, oh he of only fourteen tender years at that time and said he was too.

The were both covered with dust, Christian and Cole pulled them apart and told them both they should grow up first of all, before anything else.

And so Caleb became somebody rich and Lochlan became somebody famous but only if you read the local financial papers and only if you know your friendly neighborhood freaks. Otherwise they are just two desperate men looking to grab that brass ring of a heart that belongs to me and only seems to beat really loudly just before it breaks.

Lochlan is going to kill me with books. This will be how I die. He brought home Finders Keepers, the sequel to Mr. Mercedes and I squealed, half in dismay because I put aside King's Revival in order to dig into the Outlander series. I'm never going to catch up.

That's totally fine.

:)

I couldn't talk to Ben today. I didn't have any courage. I couldn't put on a happy face. I can't even think of him without bursting into tears and wondering why my loyalties only seem to ever extend to whatever is within arm's reach instead of what my heart has already mapped out without waiting to consult my brain, who logically went in a completely different direction and is now lost, stranded somewhere I can't easily see.

It isn't fair that I now count Sam as being more forthright with affection in Ben's absence. Making up the difference. Filling in the gaps. An incendiary device in thought, let alone in practice.

And yet still, Lochlan doesn't say a word.

When Matt comes home early I am handed off quietly. Back to PJ, or Duncan or Daniel until Loch comes inside and cleans up. I feel like I'm the national treasure to be guarded. I feel like meat. I feel spent and all cried out and here I was, such a brave little asshole telling Ben to go. Standing up to him as he looked for ways to tear me down, refusing to give in to his plea to say the word and he would stay.

I'm not going to be his regret, keeping him from doing what he lives for.

But maybe I already am.

He says that's insane and I nod because of course it is if it comes from me. He says if things stay this way then we'll be okay when he comes back. We tell ourselves these stupid reasonings so that we can sleep at night but really it's because we have no idea what we're doing here.

I don't see how tomorrow will be different. June wasn't. July won't be. August is over the garage biding his own time until I collapse from this weight and September is a lifetime away.

The Devil took the call in my place and probably told so many lies Ben will never bother coming back at all if it weren't for Daniel but that remains to be seen. Ben won't just accept whatever Caleb tells him but Caleb has a long history of promising to help Ben all the while twisting a knife in his back. I can't count on the Devil to smooth things over. I made this mess myself and I'm not mature or decisive enough to sort it out now so what do I do?

I pick up the phone and stare at Ben's picture. Five missed calls and eighty-one text messages and I press the button again to turn the screen off while I turn my face back in against Sam's blazer because it's better than trying to be brave.

For me it's not memory lane. It's more like an eight-lane highway. It's the TransBridget.

(A seventeen and twelve to offset the aftertaste from yesterday's twenty-four and seventeen.)

Overdue, where did it all go wrong
and I'm too soon, where did it all go wrong?

I wasn't allowed to order french fries just now. My nose is really stuffed up, my throat raw to the point where I cried out for a drink at three in the morning and Loch resorted to giving me a tiny sip of very warm beer.

He was gone and back at six with groceries as a result. Cough medicine. Juice. An ice pack and tylenol. Today I'm only leaving the camper for lunch. He'll bring dinner home with him but since I feel okay right this second, he risks putting me behind him on the motorcycle for the eight-minute trip down the highway to the diner.

Now that we're here, he has ordered for both of us. Spicy chicken soup. It comes with a roll, butter and a drink of choice. He ordered orange juice for me and for himself too. He's going to get sick within the week. I always seem to get it first. He said that's because I'm smaller and weaker, but he's not saying it to be mean, that's just the way it is.

While we pick at our rolls waiting for soup I start carving a little army out of my pat of butter. It's as hard as a rock. Soon the tiny standing army has taken shape and Loch is mesmerized for a long time before talking about nothing, like we always do when we're waiting for food. We've covered everything there is to say so the only thing we have left is the same questions with more entertaining, surprising answers. It's fun.

What do you want to be when you grow up, Bridgie? 

I think I'll be an astronaut. 

Oh, hey now, what gives? Last week you were going to be a ballerina!

I've decided it looks boring and I get wedgies really easily so no. 

But tutus! 

I will wear them with my astronaut costume. 

Is it a costume? 

A uniform? No-a suit! It's a spacesuit. 

So a spacesuit with a tutu. I'll be able to figure out which one you are from my telescope. 

I'll wave. You'll know it's me. (I am serious. Also naive..)

True. You'll probably be the smallest. I'll find you. What will your job be in space? 

I will choose new colors and paint the planets. I bet they are overdue for a fresh paintjob.

All of them? You're going to be gone a while. 

No, see, I'm making an army of butter astronauts. Butter-nauts. They will be tasked with doing my bidding in space. 

You're going to rule space now? 

Maybe. 

A little mean ballerina-naut?

Ballerinaut. And I won't be mean. Everyone will get lots of space soup to eat. I will be friendly AND generous. 

Nice. So you're going to bring these guys with you into space instead of spreading them on the roll?

No, silly. These ones know their fate already. Onto the roll they go. I squish them flat against the bread with a very serious expression and we both laugh. I start coughing, barking like a seal and everyone in the diner turns to look at me.

I guess we'd better go back home so you can have a sleep and feel better. 

I feel fine, Locket.

But if you have a dream you can finalize your plans for space. Maybe pick some of your colors out. If you like. 

Will you stay with me? 

Of course. I'm going to be the first one who hears what colors the plantets are going to be next. That's an honor, you know. 

It is. Hey, Loch? 

Yes? 

Thank you for the soup. It's really good. 

You don't have to thank me. It's probably my fault you're sick in the first place. It's still not very warm at night yet in the camper. 

Yes it is. 

You think so? 

Well, you are warm and I sleep right there, I point at his chest, and so I'm warm too. 

He smiles but he doesn't say anything and I pick up my bowl to make sure I eat every last drop of soup.

Not proud but not sorry either.

Raised by wolves
Stronger than fear
If I open my eyes,
You disappear

Yesterday's round of cliches and mounting egos ended abruptly in the dark as memories drowned us once again. We only ever get so far before we're yanked back by the leash of our past. It's not a leash, it's a noose, jerking me off my feet, out of the present, far away from the future. So much for hope.

Ciúnas, Neamhchiontach. Ciúnas.

Lochlan-

Just don't say it. Let me have this night.

He kissed my earlobe. My nose. My forehead. He smoothed his thumbs across my cheeks and cupped my head in his hands. His top hat puts his eyes into shadow. His eyeliner is smeared down his cheeks and across his lips. He's covered with fuel. I can smell it in his hair and on his skin. I reach up with one hand and try and wipe away the black. Underneath this is the light. Underneath all of these trappings of the Demon Juggler of Embro is my Lochlan. Or at least I hope so.

He keeps talking in other languages. Gaelic mixed with French mixed with Romanian. His hands are everywhere, his mouth everywhere. My clothes are landing on the filthy hotel floor one article at a time until I am naked and overheated and flush. There is no air conditioning, no standards for cleanliness and no identification required when you check in to this hotel. It's a dive. It's a forgotten strip of loneliness underneath a highway overpass in a city I wouldn't go back to on a dare. It's a shame.

He leaves his hat on as his hands come back up to cradle my face. Our clothes have made a sea on the floor, one of familiarity and small comfort. I wash them out each night in the bathtub and hang them on a string that Lochlan tied between the shower head and the window blinds. It only takes a few days in this heavy beach air to dry things and we each have four outfits plus our show costumes. We can't wash those. There's only one for each of us and we wear them every night. Loch's black pants are heavy with fuel and I worry that one of these nights he's going to go up in smoke but he tells me he's so careful, that he would never leave me alone here. He promises.

I take the whiskey and warn him that he'd better keep that promise and he smiles.

Are you happy, Neamhchiontach? Are you okay now? 

I nod and swallow three times, then two more. I'll numb myself right out until I am. Then he will be happy too. He wants me to lie when he asks. That much I have learned. The whiskey holds truth's head underwater. Truth is drowning. Truth is dead.

He lifts me up in his arms and wraps my legs around his waist. He walks to the bed and dumps us both down onto it. A kiss to distract and then he has turned me inside out. There are no lies here now. There would be no place to put them. He pulls his hat off and sails it toward the table on the other side of the room just as I reach up to smooth his curls out of his eyes. I want to see him. It's still light out and so I want to see his expressions. They are so incredible as he goes through desire, passion, euphoria and then contentment.

We are almost to euphoria when the knocks start against the door. What begins as a polite rap soon turns to a steady pounding as he ignores it in favor of one last time making love in this place we'll never come back to. He stole the cash box yesterday while I made up an argument with the boss about how I should be paid more because I'm a performer now and not just a grunt. Lochlan took half the contents and then I picked another fight while he put the box back in place. We came back to the hotel long enough to collect our laundry and steal a map but now the hotel manager has realized that we're about to skip town without paying our bill and he wants to make sure we don't leave.

Lochlan takes me to the ceiling and holds me there while he finds his place beside me as the pounding on the door takes on the same rhythm as my pounding heart. I am shaky and spent. He lies down beside me smiling. Eyes flashing, face in an all-out grin.

This is not the life I planned for us but if you can bear with me, someday it will be, he says with a wink. We jump up and dress as fast as possible, buttoning buttons while we throw clothes into our bags, tying ribbons while I walk around exactly five times, checking the room to make sure we've left nothing behind. This is how we operate. Loch takes my hand and pulls me into the bathroom where he cuts down the string line and then takes the screen out of the window. He lifts me up and I go through easily to the dirt lot on the outside. He passes through my bag, then his bag and he starts to climb through when abruptly he stops and says one second, disappearing back into the room.

I can still hear the pounding on the door. I hear him yell One second! toward the door and then he is back. He passes through his top hat and then he climbs through the window. He loads both bags on his shoulder, puts his top hat on my head and takes my hand as we start to run. If we're fast enough there's a bus that stops just before the underpass to get back on the highway and we can leave this godforsaken place behind.

Saturdays are for sabbaticals and for strawberry-blondes too.

Batman came down to the house this morning to tour Lochlan's latest refurb (he's been restoring vintage camper trailers and even a few RVs, did I tell you this already?) and said that Lochlan would have the summer off because there isn't enough work for him right now, that Batman likes to slow down every now and then and appreciate the beauty in life.

(The camper thing is Lochlan's own endeavour and is not what he does for Batman. Batman has him doing a sort of tech support, set-up computers job. It's completely unnecessary. Don't even ask.)

Love my semi-retired millionaires, yes I do.

Lochlan has his own sugar daddy to level the field too now, in that he keeps his pay with benefits and come September he may have a slightly different role in working for Batman. Also a raise.

And Batman enjoyed his little tour of the airstream, pulling open drawers and testing the fridge and they talked about labour costs versus materials and the markups involved (not much) and Batman was quite taken with Lochlan's efforts to give people a fair deal on old campers while still making enough money to almost live on.

Almost.

Well, he could live on it but not here.

Batman said that if we needed anything he would be available around the clock. I'm sure I know what he meant but it still surprises me when he leans in to my ear and says,

Even the most neutral countries, when pushed, will pick a side. I like the one I'm on. 

Who wouldn't?, I think to myself as I watch Lochlan struggle with a stuck drawer. His hair has lightened at last to match his scruffy beard. He's so beautiful and delicately-boned and fierce I want to cry. He looks up and gives me a self-effacing grin and tells Batman he'll fix that tomorrow and Batman nods because he knows Lochlan will fix it.

Maybe he'll finally fix some other stuff too.

This was Batman's way of apologizing for agreeing with Caleb and the others in not allowing me to go to New York on short notice to see Ben, however briefly it would have been for.)

When Batman leaves I pull the drawer out and chalk it so Loch can see where it's sticking. I put it back in but can't even get it to go as far as he could. Loch reaches in around me, gives the drawer a shove home and then spins me around, pinning me against the little counter. The walls are close, the ghosts of amusements past are all around us and he kisses up under my nose and then full on my mouth and he says that this is amazing, that we ended up on our feet here beside the ocean in a pretty little trailer with two children running around and all our friends close by and that we have three cheques coming in regularly and that maybe this is it. Maybe we made it after all. Maybe after a summer alone together this will feel right even if it feels unbelievably weird right now.

That this is what we always hoped for.

And now we have it and we both suddenly decide we can't jinx it, that we will get used to it, not take it for granted and respect the circumstances that led to this moment right here.

I wanted to hate him for pole-vaulting right over the subject of Benjamin but Loch is right.

All of the big things I put on my list when I was twelve have materialized abruptly right in front of me and I don't know what to do with it all. I don't know how I should feel. Grateful? Guilty? Saddened? Elated? Peaceful?

I look at Lochlan for my cue. He runs this show, after all.

Feel hopeful, Bridgie. Like Sam said. Hope is here whether you decide to acknowledge it or not. 

We head outside and Loch's phone beeps. Batman has sent Lochlan a message which he reads out loud. 'I forgot to mention I give my employees a summer bonus when I shut down for the season. Enjoy.'

Lochlan whoops really loudly and picks me up, spinning me around. As I go around the sun reflecting off the airstream blinds me, so I can barely see the form of Caleb standing at the top of his stairs watching us.

Spending all my time today twisting in the sunny breeze on the swing in the orchard. I asked Caleb if I could paint it and he said that would be nice so on the board there is a mermaid, only she isn't smiling, she's got a flat expression like she isn't sure.

I don't know where she got that from.

Oh, yes, I do.

If I'm out there I have no cell service for whatever reason and so I can ignore the phone in my pocket, ignore the boys since they have to trudge out here instead of calling, it's just too far, too tucked down the hill. I can stop time and just think about nothing but the wind and the water and the crow that's been watching me the whole time from the top of a branch nearby. He is not a sentry, he's a scavenger. I'm not a person, I'm a fragment. I'm a meal.

This is not life, this is a dream. I would say nightmare but Lochlan brought me home a mood ring and PJ made soft boiled eggs and toast points for lunch and you'll never find those sorts of comforts in a nightmare.

Not mine, anyway. Mine are filled with underground tunnels and concrete floors and single flickering bulbs and ghosts that tell me all the things I want to hear and all the things I don't.