At least I made the calls.

Yes, I've been a busy girl this morning. I've already talked to Claus twice in the past twenty-four hours, I found Ben and gave him a hard time for checking out again and I talked to Batman, or rather, I whined briefly about his sudden need to make Loch so busy and he told me to suck it up, that if we want to be norms then norms work hard and don't do nearly the amount of self-aggrandizing and navel-gazing we do.

When did I say I wanted to live like a norm? Do I LOOK like I'm living like a norm? But he had already left because he's definitely a norm and he has things to do. I get to stroll around the pool, steal veggie chips from over PJ's shoulder and pretend I'm useful.

Claus is starting so slowly I lapped him five times. My brain is Nurburgring. There are very few straightaways where you can pick up speed and most people crash. He laughed heartily at my shitty analogy and asked me how I felt today. That's it.

Well, I'm cold. Like really cold and I should get socks and a sweater. 

And? 

Starving. 

What was for breakfast?

Tea and an apple. 

What will you have for lunch? 

Ummm. A ham sandwich with provolone probably. 

What did you do with Joel? 

I hit him over the head with the lamp from the bedside table and at dusk I'll drag his body down to the beach, weigh it down and heave it into the deep water by the dock. What do you think I did? I told him to leave. 

Do you have fantasies about hurting him?

Is this the part where I have to tell the truth? 

Always, dear child. 

No, I don't. But every time I'm in a room with him he is evaluating me. Judging me even. Every action I take seems to be for some sordid purpose in his eyes. If I don't take an offered salmon canape I'm returning to my anorexic ways. If I smile at a man who doesn't live in the house I'm hunting. If I don't say anything I'm withdrawing or escaping. I wish he would stop. I wish he was a fucking plumber. 

When does Lochlan come home?

Around three, I think. He had a 9-1-1 yesterday and he fixed it so today won't be so long. 

What will you do with the rest of the day?

Crash and burn on the track and then baptize myself in the pool and start all over again. 

Maybe you should take it easy for a few days. Be kinder to yourself. 

I would but then I'd probably get used to it. 

I hit the end call button and Claus disappears. Like my nerve, there long enough to be belligerent and then gone in the blink of an eye.

Love Mondays. To death.

He pulled the covers up over our heads this morning when the alarm went off and refused to budge, his lips pressed against my ear, his arms around me tightly.

Don't move. If you move they'll see us and we'll have to get up. 

Who will see us?

...THEM. 

OH NOES. 

YESSES. 

Then let's stay here all day and they'll get bored and move on. 

Except I gotta go to work. Who's idea was this again? 

Yours, I thought? You can stay home and I'll take care of you. 

We had this discussion already. I'll see you at dinner and if I'm lucky, at lunch. 

I can't wait. 

Me neither. Lochlan kisses me hard and off he goes and I burst into tears.

I don't have the guts to call Claus this morning.

I really don't. Deathbed is going through my head in my own voice and Ben didn't come up last night because he gets busy and forgets to live like a human instead of a vampire and I turn off my phone and close my eyes again.

When I wake up next Joel is sitting on the edge of my goddamned bed.

You missed your call window, Bridget.

You can go. I don't know who let you up here but you can go.

PJ wants you to honor your agreements.

PJ's a dead man.

He didn't let me up here. I just came up. He didn't see me.

Even better. Should I scream since you won't go? You're a technical intruder.

You going to keep your promises or not? Claus asked me to referee your sessions with him so you don't shortchange yourself so here I am and you can launch all the personal attacks you like, but you're going downstairs to talk to him via facetime. 

I am but not as long as you're here so if you leave I will. 

You promise? 

GET OUT. 

I'm going but if you're not downstairs in five minutes I'm bringing everyone up with me. 

If you're not out of my house in five minutes I'm calling the cops. 

Oh, it looks like it's a perfect day for Claus after all. Good luck, Bridget. 

I pull the covers back over my head but when it gets hard to breathe I fling them off. I'm alone. The door is closed and it feels like I'll never get back to where I was and all I want is for Loch to come home or Ben to come upstairs and everything else to go away.

That's all.

The Collective goes to church.

Tea in a hurry this morning. A half-stale cinnamon bun and a lot of surprised looks, not because I thought I found a safe, constructive way to spend time with the Devil for the visible future but because I agreed to spend time with him just as I manage to finally extricate myself from my former casual role as his personal assistant.

Which technically I haven't been able to pull off yet because as well-spoken and charming as he can be, he's not all that good at logistics and I, in a muted panic, seem to specialize in them.

So Sam laid down the law of the Lord and has decided that we're all going to go to church again. Regularly, not just on rainy Sundays or near Easter and Christmas. Every week without fail or absence. This went over well because Ben is sicker than ever and also hates church, the kids would like to sleep in until Wednesday or Thursday and the Devil only goes so he can sit beside me and pretend we're a Stepford family.

I tied eight ties this morning. Perfect Windsors.

Caleb was forced to sit two rows behind me as the army filed in nicely and sat in formation and I was this tiny little silver-golden headed fairy sprite popping up right in the middle. I feel the exact same way when I go to Cathedral Grove. Surrounded by very tall trees.

Sam spoke of knowing when to ask for help from others and ultimately giving it up to the Lord and I stifled a smile because I thought, goddamit, I'm not giving it up for anyone else in this lifetime, I've made enough of a mess as it is. And also I thought again about how much Sam's services differ from Jacob's. Jacob's were surfer-brimstone, all passion and small-town sweetness. Sam's are more city-hipster-casual but rooted in a belief so deep it surprises me, because Sam should have picked a mentor who was more dedicated but he loved Jake so, just like all of us.

Except Ben (Okay he did sometimes), Loch and Caleb. Oh, and Cole. Can't forget Cole. Do I ever forget Cole? I try not to.

PJ loved Jake. And Christian and August and John and I did, that's for sure. Joel did even though he took advantage.

I do, I mean. I still love Jacob. This is not past tense and what I'm trying to do always is get past the point in my head where if Jake walked through the door and into my life again and asked where I stood I'd run to him so fast I'd be a blur.

God didn't ask for fair, he asked for truth and if he promised to be the way and the light, why is it still so dark on my inside?

Sam tells me to come every week and I will find out, in time.

So here I am.

No longer a point, but instead a principality.

(Because it's a Brave Day, I can do anything.)

A surprise breakfast invitation late last night was a welcome start to what's going to be a long day. Poet (Duncan) asked out of the blue over guitars and tea and everyone kind of froze for a few seconds before recovering and I said sure. It isn't often we can connect without distractions and I haven't actually seen him much since he came back from Nevada.

He took me to a greasy little place with all-day breakfast and we ate maybe five thousand calories each. I could feel my cholesteral levels straining against my dress and boots as we walked back to the truck afterward. Whatever courage he couldn't find in his coffee cup came pouring down the windshield of Ben's truck, mixed with the heavy rain because he looked at me, without starting the engine and said if I needed to blow off steam or deal with my new/old (formally acknowledged, I mean) sex addiction issues he's still offering himself, no strings attached, no drama. I have no secrets any more. They left, along with my dignity and my privacy. We used to be subtle. Suddenly we're not and I find it difficult.

No violence, Poem. His voice breaks slightly. Oh, God, what a sweetheart. Someone please save me from this sort of blindside. I need to be able to see.

I love you, Dunk. Please know it isn't about just needing more. Caleb and I go way back. 

Yes, I'm aware. 

So you understand. 

He isn't good for you, Bridge. 

I don't say anything else on the ride up the highway and once we're parked in the driveway he kisses my forehead really hard and then gets out and I stay there for a few minutes. My phone buzzes and it's Caleb wanting me up at the new house. He's been pretending not to read my words, not to listen to my cries, not to understand that he's the root of all evil and I'm sure that's going to come crashing to a halt the minute I walk through the door. I text Loch that I'm going to the yellow house and I head up the driveway on foot. I don't have an umbrella but it's not far once you pass the top of our driveway.

The door is open and I go inside. The foyer is white marble. Everything. Floors, walls, built-in benches with a half-shelf that circles around. The closet door is redwood with a huge gemmed doorknob.

Oh dear. I say and I laugh. Caleb turns and smiles.

Indeed. It needs not only a woman's touch but a decorator's touch. Our shared hobby is trying to figure out how the very wealthy decorate with no pause to see how things actually look or feel. I'm a tactile decorater. The colors have to be restful or energizing but the room has to be touchable, too. This is sterile, standoffish, clashing and just weird.

How was Claus this morning? 

Very Santa-like. Kind and generous but he's well aware which list I'm on, between naughty and nice. 

And? 

Wait and see. 

What about Duncan? He behave? 

The food was good and the company better. 

That means no, doesn't it?

How bad is the kitchen? I haven't seen the house yet. Caleb bought it outright off the former owners. It wasn't for sale. He offered them their retirement and they took it, probably tired of wondering what's going on down the hill in the circus of the stars. The State of Bridget is now enacted. We're live.

I'm going to gut the house and rebuild. 

That seems expensive. I walk down the steps and across the great room. When I come around the corner I see his point and nod enthusiastically. Yeah. Let's burn it with fire. 

A fun project for you and I for the next year? Something constructive instead of damning? 

Sure. 

Bridget, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. 

No, you're not. You like me this way. 

I want you to be happy. He tries to smile gently but it comes out as a lie.

You're still chasing things you'll never have, Diabhal. 

I can bear the weight to still be a part of your life, Neamhchiontach. 

You think that cross is heavy now, you just wait until we get going. 

Tomorrow's already different, you fuckwads.

I'd rather talk about normal than this so let's just say I got wasted during the course of the interviews and Joel and August collectively called a stop to the whole thing five counselors in. By then I was worn out and sweetly sarcastic and Caleb was getting angrier by the minute. Mostly I would laugh at inopportune times because my phone was vibrating non-stop thanks to Lochlan who was off working for Batman because September is well in hand and that was the deal and I think Loch was really hoping everyone would forget he was employed. Such a dreamer. He's just like me.

Well, except he is way more perspicuous.

And he didn't like not being here for my impetuous inevitable meltdown.

August had a better plan anyway, and it involves bringing Claus out of retirement and setting him up for some facetime calls with me on an almost daily basis for the foreseeable future. Claus says I'm a treat and that he doesn't mind at all, that he'll be happy if he can help in the interim. He said we would see if we couldn't get back to a place where everything isn't quite so raw all the time anymore and then from there we'll deal with my issues with sex and abandonment and OCD and the Devil and the ghosts.

Do I want to talk about sex with Claus? He says it's an addiction so I can but...oh, dear. 

Here we are on the absolute precipice of eight years since Jacob died (Died? Flew, I prefer but I'm no longer permitted to sugarcoat facts just limbs). EIGHT and I still can't get out of my own way and they're holding me up forcing me to live life that I didn't choose, didn't want and don't care for. It wasn't supposed to be this way and I have such brave moments where I can get better, I can move on, I can make more drama between Loch and Caleb and I can feel anything but this but then in the quiet moments it ambushes me. It never goes away, it just waits.

People jump to end this feeling. People jump to make this feeling go away because it's anguish. It's agony and no amount of expertise is going to change how I feel.

So let's just talk about normal please because I can't talk about this all the time. You want to know how I feel but there aren't sufficient words to make you understand and there never will be.

Ben gets it. He's the only one that will ever get it close enough to make sense. I had to hand him my heart and my brain today and he lofted them up and asked which one was which and I had to remind him that it doesn't matter, they're interchangeable. They're so broken he wouldn't argue if he could.

So from here on out let's talk about concerts and clothes and boys. Let's talk about living before I lose my nerve.

I'm okay, really. Thanks for asking.

This is going to go well.

I didn't hear what you were saying
I live on raw emotion baby
I answer questions never maybe
And I'm not kind if you betray me
So who the hell are you to say we
Never would have made it babe

If you needed love
Well then ask for love
Could have given love
Now I’m taking love
And it’s not my fault
Cause you both deserve
What is coming now
So don’t say a word

Wake up call
Caught you in the morning with another one in my bed
Don't you care about me anymore?
Don’t you care about me? I don't think so
Six foot tall
Came without a warning so I had to shoot him dead
He won't come around here anymore
Come around here? I don't think so

Today we're interviewing (psycho)therapists! Ones who do all their sessions in-home, coming to us. They cost a fucking fortune. Glad the Devil is footing the bill, though he says if it turns into a blame game against him he's pulling the plug. We want Bridget functional, after all. Not useless. 

(Shhhh. You think August and Sam actually told Caleb which parts of me we're going to try and fix?)

He was worried. I knew it.

He lifted me right up into his face and kept me there, eyeing me suspiciously. We good? 

I missed you like fuck, Benny. 

That much? I should feel special. 

Yeah, you should. You should have come with us. 

I don't fit in your sardine can, Bee. 

We would've cut a hole in the end for your feet to stick out at night. 

Ah, but I was warm and had so much space here. 

Well, don't like it too much, Ben. 

I woke up constantly looking for you. 

Why didn't you call me then? 

It was four a.m. Plus you two had some things to work out. Did you?

I don't know if we did. But we're happy and we came home missing you like crazy. 

So we're cool? 

Yes? Did you expect that to change? 

Maybe. Hell, I don't know, Bridge. He has his shit together for someone with no actual roots. I wondered if you were going to up and pick a side already and leave me in the dust because I've been so closed off for so long. I was protecting myself from you and it'll probably be the reason you leave me. 

I don't want to leave you. 

Then stay. 

That's the plan. If you don't mind Lochlan staying too. We're the three musketeers, aren't we? 

Yeah. We are.

But you have to stop being so distant, okay? It's gotten really hard. 

You know what else is really hard, Bridget?

 Oh god..

Missing you and feeling bad that I've been checked out for so long. 

I didn't expect you to say that. 

You thought I was going to say my dick?

Yeah. 

That's my girl.

Tiny update, as I still haven't finished making my rounds to say hi to everyone!

Okay, I can feel my fingers now. The only time I could do that all weekend was while we slept (Lochlan's a warm body. Always has been) and when we ran back up to the camper after attempting a swim. Because that little event ended with a bikini on the ground outside and Loch pinned together at the knees when he failed to be able to get his swim trunks off fast enough to take me.

His body was ready but his clothes weren't willing.

(That was very warm indeed.)

The other interesting thing is the first night I had two whiskeys while we were making dinner and then proceeded to fall asleep sitting up wrapped in a blanket holding a hamburger in my hand with one bite out of it that I managed to eat before I checked out. I woke up when he tried to take my burger and deemed him silly for thinking I fell asleep when I totally did. I get really pissed off when people try to wake me and then I'll insist I was fine or I just closed my eyes or something.

We got a lot of talking in too. We walked on the beach and we sat in the camp chairs and we brought all our baggage out and unpacked all of it so we could see what we had. We fought. We put a few entire topics to rest once and for all and we were forced to leave some on hold lest we ruin the trip trying to be right instead of listening.

Okay, that was on me. I tried to be right a lot. I tried to take control because so much of the time I have none but things work better when he's in charge anyway so we agreed to let some things just wait. Just not today.

Sometimes we just slept. That was the best part of all. I could hear the water, it was ten feet away. I could feel the salt in the air. I could taste it. I think I need to move my bed down to the beach, except that when high tide comes in everything pretty much disappears.

Home!

I didn't forget about you, we just didn't have wi-fi.

Or cell service.

Or heat!

Glad to be back. Excuse me while I go jump into the fireplace.

Weight-rated for the elephant.

One of these days while Lochlan is standing there trying desperately to not be smug all the while being perfectly smug, Caleb is just going to take his gun out and shoot him point blank in the side of the head without even looking. Then all of Caleb's problems will be over.

But they won't in reality because we're a package deal. He's stuck with the Joker and the Joker is maybe stuck with the Devil but maybe not.

After all, who won the weekend toss of taking Bridget somewhere new?

That would be the joker, thank you. He tips his imaginary top hat, imaginary because it's upstairs safe in a box.

Caleb is off to San Francisco for a little business trip. I think the whole time he was hoping I'd go with him as his EA. He was so confident he forgot to ask and as it turns out I had other plans which is good because for appearance's sake I should be traveling with Loch or Ben and never with Caleb.

But appearances can be deceiving and frankly I'm not sure I've ever cared what people think.

Alright maybe I do. A little.

In any case the little RV is fully packed (the big one is still being detailed -it actually went back- and is more than a little much for two people used to living in a shoebox)and we're headed out after supper. PJ is dad/mom/everything for the next three nights and if I start to lose my shit Lochlan is to bring me home early, though right this second we're good, we're getting along and we're kind of excited to be heading out on an adventure for two. It's got a little tinge of deja vu and I love that part even though it's in reverse as we were usually on our way home by now, not just starting out.