Pop-up ex-wife (kill me, please).

I would have apologized to Caleb but then Sophie arrived and August promptly swooped over and distracted me. I didn't know she had already called ahead to tell Caleb she was coming. They don't tell me these things, they let it flash into me and watch it sting.

I was already drunk and so I asked her if she was here for the annual sugar daddy fishing derby. That she could catch a nice one and that I heard that there was one swimming around nearby. Then I laughed and August grabbed my hand and tried to drag me back to the house. Too late though.

August. You look well. 

You too, Soph.

How is life treating you?

Life is good. I have no complaints.

What do you do these days?

Private counseling. 

A lot of clients?

Just one but it's a personal position. Lucrative but I'm here because it's rewarding.

I snort with laughter and cover my face. She stands there towering over me looking poised,

August is my resource. He looks after me now. formally and informally. 

I'm glad to see you're in good hands. She smiles warmly at me. I want to smack her but I probably can't reach.

Just then Caleb comes out and pales slightly because..well, because I'M there.

Sophie.

Caleb. 

Glad you could stop by. I have a light supper ready for us if you'd like to come in. 

I would love to. I'm just finishing catching up with Bridget. 

He nods at me and I mouth a good curse or seven at him. August squeezes my hand and makes our excuses. Time to go in. Bridget and I have a record-listening date. 

How lovely. Take care, both of you. 

You too. 

He crushes my hand and drags me away. I'm still imitating her as we arrive on the front porch.

How much have you had?

Enough to have no censor but not enough to barf on anyone's shoes, sadly.

Sorry you had to see her.

Sorry she shows up on my property and flashes her perfection at everything with a cock? Mmmm. Right. I just feel haphazard and chaotic now. And really really drunk.

She's jealous of you, Bridge. 

AHAHAHAHAHA. Of what exactly? That I can fit inside my own handbag? Woo. Yup. Envy me, world. 

That you're loved by many. 

And I drive the rest to die. 

Bridget-

If you're recompensed to make me feel better you best get at it, because the clock is ticking. Are you paid by the hour or the session? The week maybe?

I resorted to a text message apology to Caleb once the alcohol wore off. He never did reply.

Going to go apologize for being a bitch. 

wish me luck~

Same camper, different park.

(Look, if he's going to mean, I'm going to have to match him. Otherwise he'll just eat us alive.)

I tried on a maxi-skirt today at the mall. Were it not for the meter or so of extra fabric underneath my feet, pooling on the floor it was perfect. I look good with a train, do I not? 

Sigh. 

I bought a pair of flats, three t-shirts and two dresses instead. The Gap is always fairly kind to me and Lochlan approves, saying I look like 'myself'. Whatever that means. Basic? Casual? Short? 

Average, I think he means, as he had zero use for my outfit this morning as I prepared for a meeting in which I learned Caleb left himself as cosigner on everything and I mean EVERYTHING. I got all dressed up in a summer silk dress and killer heels and lipstick and ducked behind my baby-lawyers to hide while they crafted sternly-worded suggestions in a letter to Caleb that will be delivered tomorrow. 

Happy Canada Day? 

Right. 

Caleb was in the driveway when I got home, pulling on his best Jeffrey Dean Morgan look, pretending he just 'happened' to be out there when I returned in Sam's Soul. 

(Woah. That sounds odd. It's Sam's Kia Soul. It's like a mini SUV. I love it and he lets me drive it when he borrow's Ben's truck for big jobs. But can you imagine if I could test drive Sam's actual soul? Give me one chance and I'll play God sooner than you can finish asking me if I want to. Second on the to-do list as the Lord would be to resurrect his son. No, the other one. Jacob. Jesus and Jacob, the righteous fucking twins, back from the dead with all y'all souls.)

Neamhchiontach. 

Diabhal. I nod. 

Happy Canada Day. I'm taking the kids for a beach picnic for lunch. Would you like to join us? 

Not today, thank you. I need to go change and then check in with Daniel. We have a call with Ben in thirty minutes. 

Ah. How is he? 

Daniel or Ben? 

Both. 

Daniel is doing well but he's uncomfortable. The cast might come off next week. Ben is Ben. 

Ben is Ben. Would you like me to talk to him?

And say what?

That you're hurting and that Lochlan is taking everything Ben worked to build and that maybe it's time to come home. 

Ben knows what time it is.

You're so proud and so stubborn sometimes. 

I can't do anything about this-

Sure you could. Organize a disaster. Orchestrate a meltdown. Cry just hard enough and Ben liquefies and comes running but you won't. Instead you're the walking wounded, lashing out at the rest of us, punishing me, punishing Ben and throwing yourself at the mercy of the logical freak instead of doing what you're expected to do. It isn't self-improvement or progress, it's just a new spin on an old record, Bridget. You're not getting anywhere, you're worse than ever. 

Your confidence in me really is astounding. 

I would protect you. 

From what?

Yourself. 

No one can do that. 

Ben could. But you threw him away in order to put all of your newfound trust in someone proven time and time again to be woefully unprepared to manage the scope of your emotions, from the comfort of his grungy little RV, no less.

We'll learn how to do it together. 

You two have learned nothing as the years go by. Absolutely nothing. 

We learned what's important. And what isn't. 

And what isn't important to you both now, that was before?

You. 

A doughnut with the sin removed.

Loaded smile
Light the way for those you left behind
Set the earth on fire
‘Cause I don’t want enough
I want it all

Love left me hollow
I’m with you in the end
Cold, crippled, and shallow
Don’t leave me here again
I can’t go on
You are bound to break me in
I come undone
Don’t you drag me down again

Lochlan doesn't want to be described as or have anyone interpret my loyalty to him as submission. He doesn't play those games. We've tried. It doesn't work. It's sort of like when I wear high heels and nail polish I look like a little girl playing dress up. Same with us with regards to sex games. It isn't natural for us and so we don't. He isn't wired like other people. I mean, don't get me wrong. He has a stupidly hungry teenage-boy appetite for me but he's not going to tie me up and expect compliance or invoke any sort of role-playing.

He is different.

Actually right now he is tired and worn, with bags under his eyes and the unnatural thinness that he wears by now most summers when his hair lightens to blonde and he embraces the sun, working in the heat, forgetting to stop for meals or even breaks for that matter. Each fall and winter he packs on twenty pounds and then it melts off every summer. Like insurance for the hard season ahead.

The work is still voluntary. Word of mouth is spreading and he's refurbished more campers this spring  than the last two years combined. The work is honest, the money is good and the location is a-okay, he says, fulfilling his hard-set criteria for most jobs.

He works in the sun all day and makes a hundred trips a week to the hardware supply store and then I think sometimes he stays up all night watching me sleep so I don't get taken in the night by demons or allies alike.

Not an easy life, by far and I'd like to change that and that's one of the biggest reasons for why I cut Caleb loose even though if you ask him we're 'on a break' or 'working things out'.

We aren't. I'm through. He can accept it or die in denial, I don't really care.

What I do care about is my redhead right here and he needs kindness and rest and a bit more of a break than he's had thus far and I'll be the one to see that he gets it.

***

Can you run and get my payout, Bridgie? 

Where is it?

The Winnebago on the south side of the lot. You can't miss it.

Okay! 

I came back fifteen minutes later, overheated and almost in tears from frustration.

What's the matter? 

I couldn't find the booth where you win a bagel! You said I couldn't miss it but I must of! 

His face. The smile was suffocating his amusement and I knew he was trying not to laugh at me. No, it's a Winn-e-bag-o. It's a big brand of RV. 

Oooooh. 

Want to try again?

Yes! I'm glad it's just a camper. I didn't want to have to try to win any of those games. They're all fixed anyway, like you showed me. I thought you were crazy!

Overtalking, the classic distraction.

A new pastel pink bikini was delivered to me this morning unannounced. Caleb had it sent from a store where I once admired their things and then came to my senses because swimsuits, in my universe, don't cost $1100. I promptly got what I needed at Wal-Mart with the dark green number for a cool $17.99. 

He says that's why it doesn't last. I pointed out they don't last because sand/concrete/wood is snaggy and the bum fabric gets grabbed and pulled so easily and sorry, but I'm not one of those Ibiza ladies in her high heels, full makeup and jewelry dancing on a yacht in my bikini and never sitting down. I'm a kid. I skid off the dock on my arse. I sit on the beach. I sit with my feet in the pool. Fuck Ibiza. Fuck yachts. Swimsuits are for swimming. Those people are wearing glorified lingerie. 

I went over and asked him to send it back. Just lie and say it didn't fit or was redundant, that I can't take gifts from him anymore and that thank you but I plan on picking up a new suit this weekend. Probably at Wal-Mart. 

He cringes. (Wow. Nice. It's horrible if it isn't Dior? What the fuck, Caleb. You weren't raised like this so fuck off with the snobbery, I'm thinking but he's busy steamrolling ahead.)

My parental support includes household needs. You're part of the household and have a need for a new suit. Enjoy it, Bridget. With my compliments. 

ARGHHH.

Is that 'thank you' in Carnyspeak? 

No. 

Bridget, the money I have given you is yours without conditions but I still have more than you so if I want to treat you then I should be able to pick up the occasional item that you require without it turning into world war three. 

 I fired you. 

No, what you asked for was a break. 

Wow, I love revisionist history. I asked for a permanent bre-

A physical moratorium, and as you can see, I've chosen to decline. I'm hoping this phase of yours doesn't last long. In the meantime please give an old man somethig nicer to look at then your half-naked bearded friends around the pool. 

You're saying if I grow a beard I would be less attractive to you? 

I didn't say that. 

Oh so you're saying if I did grow one I'd be as attractive?

Bridget-

Maybe moreso?

Stop. Please. 

What if I get PJ to wear this suit and I'll wear his board shorts? His beard is so lovel-

What will you wear on top?

Nothing! He doesn't wear a shirt. Why would I? 

If you would like to skinny-dip, call me. 

I knew it. The beard turns you on. 

Christ. Will you keep the suit, Bridget?

Because beards are hawwwwwwwwwwwww-

BRIDGET. 

I'll ask Lochlan if it's okay. 

Why does he need to approve this?

Hey, I didn't say I didn't want to be submissive anymore, I said I didn't want to be a sub to YOU. 

I draped the bikini pieces over each of his shoulders and went home. 

I see red.

I wasn't sleeping, I was just lying facedown on the chaise under the umbrella. In my bikini, which is getting worn out on the bum as is always the case. It's dark green and plain and my towel matches. I have a headache. I'm about to drag myself back across the lawn to my own house to maybe try and actually sleep for an hour when I feel lips against my shoulder and a hand land on the back of my head.

Neamhchiontach. Are you awake?

I shake my head but otherwise I don't move.

Why don't you come inside for a drink and cool off?

Caleb got central air. I'm jealous. Our house is oppressive in places and I have kept the curtains closed for days now but that reminds me of the time Jake left and I didn't want to see any light at all so I can't be inside. I could spring for the central air but it's usually only two weeks worth of weather cumulatively each year so it seems like such a waste. Also I have a theory that if you never manage to tolerate anything you'll always be miserable.

On the other hand, well, here I am with headaches and nausea and extreme crankiness.

He moves his hand from my head, tracing his fingers down my spine and I shiver because that's what I do. Of course he mistakes that for interest and slides his hand down over my thigh.

I hear Loch swear (record time getting across the backyard) and I look up but Caleb doesn't move.

Loch says a whole host of lovely things to him in Gaelic and I cringe. They're going to drown each other before June is over.

I roll over onto my back and look up at Caleb with a smile. Diabhal-

He puts his hands up. It was just a suggestion. I'm trying to do things to help make you comfortable in this heat. He smiles down at me as if Lochlan isn't even there.

Except that he is and he's now beside us and he shoves Caleb right into the pool.

I'll admit, it's not nearly as frightening as when he's tackled Caleb and they've gone over the cliff. One of these days they're going to bounce off the face of it and not survive. So this is child's play. I roll back over and put my head down. I just need to lie still and then I'm not too hot.

I hear Caleb get out but Lochlan's already gone back to the house. He doesn't mind the heat. Never has, never will. And frankly I don't blame him for pushing Caleb into the pool to break whatever spell he was trying to cast over me. Caleb should know better but he can't seem to help himself and has been cornering me every chance he gets.

Did you have your phone on you?

Yes, Bridget. I always seem to.

You should leave it inside. 

I'll bear it in mind. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

If I just stay in bed I don't have to acknowledge the fact that the Canucks just traded the best thing that ever happened to them to the Hurricanes.

Right?

Mr. Benning! Please quit while you're ahead. Wait, you know what? Nevermind. You passed on Lucic yesterday. Obviously we are not on the same page here!

Stomach in 'nauts.

I feel a little bit fragile today, seeing as how there have been five voicemails (and now the space is full) and twenty-eight missed calls from Ben. There are 312 messages from him and I haven't even woken up yet. Today is the first day where someone doesn't have to get up and leave for an exam or to pick up a mark or a report card or a locker-contents. And so I didn't rush so much. I bribed PJ heavily to let the dog out and back in and my plan is to burst into flames from the heat. It's so hot out the air feels like lava to me and I don't want to move.

Maybe the heat was what led the US to finally legalize marriage for all, across the board. Something that feels like old news as we achieved this a decade ago here in Canada and I am so happy that the rest of the continent is finally on board. Congratulations. There's a whole lot more I could say on this but it doesn't matter anymore. Love won.

Love is the best.

As long as it goes well, I mean. And even if it doesn't, well, it's still the most important thing.

It goes well for some of us. One of the selfish joys of polyandry for me is that I have backup love. If something isn't going well in one area it's usually going well in another. Last night after the awful call with Ben, it was late so we went to bed. I fell asleep with my hands up by my chin and my face tucked in under Lochlan's chin, his arms tight around me, forcing my heart up into my head where it ate my brain so that my brain couldn't continue to lie there awake plotting sabotage or mutiny or worse.

When I woke up the same way I could face the morning. Loch has a neat way of convincing me it actually is a new day and that things will be better. He does it without words though, and he's mighty stingy with it. I opened my eyes and his face tightened up. He's smiling but I can't see him, only his neck.

You're awake. 

Mm. It's Friday. 

It is Friday. He squeezes me hard against his chest. What would you like for breakfast? 

A banana. 

And? 

Some juice. 

Okay. I'll be right back. Don't move. 

Breakfast in bed? 

Why not? We're not in a rush. 

Will you bring enough for both of us?

Of course. 

I smiled and closed my eyes again as cooler air rushed in to fill his space and fell back asleep. When I woke up next Loch was pointing a banana at my face.

Wakey Pea-naut. 

Pea-naut? Hahahaha.

Why 'naut? Fill up that 'space'.  

Oh my God, the puns. But if it's a galactic breakfast I see no butter. 

I ate it. I brought this up half an hour ago. 

Why didn't you wake me up?

I just did! Eat your banana, you lazy little thing. 

If you slept the way I did you'd never want to get up either. 

He grins.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/trending/pee-chlorine-red-eyes-swimming-pools-cdc-1.3127865

Wow. THANKS DUNCAN.

They just levelled a total open fire ban on the province, which includes campfires and fireworks. Lochlan had already smartly stored his torches, away and clean in the garage until the fall because the grass is crunchy and brown. He still has magic up his sleeves, however. Always. He can still juggle fishbowls or ice cream cones or open beer bottles without spilling a drop so he will chip away at maintaining his odd skillset without a break and if he gets bored with that he's already unicycled the circumference of the new pool a few times as we ran to keep up and tried to push him in.

Maybe it's a good thing it's not saltwater. Unicycles aren't something you can buy at Wal-mart. If you can then it isn't a very good one. They should be exceedingly light and made of good quality parts.

No one would let me have a turn at navigating the edge of the pool. Loch said if I fell the wrong way and cracked my head open on the pavement he would never forgive himself. This said as Caleb was saying Absolutely not! in his perfect End Of Discussion voice that almost drowned out everything else.

I'm surprised I'm allowed over there at all. I actually haven't been allowed to be there alone yet. I asked if we were keeping a buddy rule for it and that it was a good idea but they shrugged and said no, not really. Duncan has been living there mostly since it was finished and he swims alone all the time.

So the rule is just for the children. PJ said anyone under six feet tall qualifies as a kid here. Lochlan (5'9") asked what the fuck? and I wondered aloud how will we account for Ben when he comes back as he's the biggest kid of all and yet he is 6'4" and change. He'll be cannonballing into that pool until Christmas, until chlorine kills the grass twenty feet out from the edge and he won't even bat an eye.

He's already excited. I talked to him this morning. He forwarded another list of perfectly clean drug test results and some cheesy videos of him and some of the other guys sitting around watching chick movies and reciting the lines from the movies in tandem with the characters.

In return I sent him a video of me losing a burping contest with John, one of the kids reading their report card results in goofy accents and making their excuses, one of Loch juggling emptying wine glasses full of spare change instead of putting them away as he emptied the dishwasher one night. And then one of PJ screaming like a girl on the waverunner just to make us laugh. He can hold the note for at least two minutes straight. I lose my shit every time laughing.

Ben did too. It was great. He watched them all through on his phone while I watched his face on Skype on his laptop and then he looked at the floor for a while before telling me he missed being home.

Then come home, goofball. Use your out. Pack it in. You have a replacement. Take him up on it. 

I don't want to disappoint everyone. 

But it's cool to do it to us. I get it. 

Bridge-

I gotta go. Need to find a buddy so I can swim. Harder than it should be but they're all busy. 

Bridget-

Bye Ben. Talk to you soon. 

No love-yous, no don't-gos, no nothing.