Tuesday, 13 October 2015

Iconoclasting as we go.

Caleb is back, making it all the way to my bedroom door last evening before anyone saw fit to question him, and he knocked gently and I said come in before I realized it was him.

How are you, Doll?

Rough weekend. 

So I hear. What can I do?

Keep away. The blast radius might be bigger than originally estimated. 

You're a bomb, are you?

Maybe. 

He smiles. We brought you home some souvenirs. Can I take you out for breakfast in the morning after I take the kids to school?

Sure. Crazy loves eggs Benedict. 

Okay. Keep the wolves away and I'll see you here at nine. He leans down and wraps me in his arms, kissing my cheek. Get some rest, Neamhchiontach. 

I thought you'd be mad. 

You fall apart every time I travel without you. I'm taking it as a compliment. As for Pyro vilifying me the moment I'm not around to defend myself, well, I'll deal with that later. Been a long day of flying and I'm tired tonight. Sleep well, Princess. 

You too. But it wasn't him calling you out. It was me. You're the only one who has blame placed who is still alive. 

Lucky me. Sleep now, Baby. I have to leave my house before the wolves blow it down with you in it. 

Night night.

It's a house made of straw, Bridget. He's going to burn it down. 

He's not the bad one. 

Neither am I. Not anymore. 

It depends on who you ask, Caleb.

I know it does, Bridge and I'm doing my best here.

Monday, 12 October 2015

Beating the Odds (take it any way you want).

They were right. I'm more dopey today than I thought I would be. Joel has come to stay for a few days. Til the storm passes, he said and he smiled like he used to and I kicked my sleepy brain with my pins-and-needles foot.

Caleb called and I talked to him with my brain full of fuzz and my mouth full of marbles. His questions were gentle and thorough and then he confirmed everything with Joel besides. It was a glitch. A blip. An accident waiting to happen. How is Ben? he asks innocently and I swore and finally hung up. Ben doesn't want to be in third place but he isn't. It's not supposed to be my fault that he drinks but it is. He'll get his shiny new twenty-four hour chip this evening and I'll be proud of him when he does.

We'll make it, he promises, echoing what Lochlan repeated to us last night in the dark when it was just us three. I nod. I know we will. 

I just have to keep my head on straight and do a better job of correcting it when I see that it isn't. I need to not dwell. I need to do my homework but also figure out how to put it aside instead of letting it eat me alive. I need to find a better place to keep my ghosts because there isn't enough room for them here.

Loch winks at me. We gotta travel light, Peanut, he reminds me, and now I finally know what he means.

Sunday, 11 October 2015

Mini-nuke.

The good thing about losing it a little bit is that you have onsite experts to help sort you out when the storm clouds finally clear.

It's pouring right now. Did I mention that? And I have benzo-blood flowing freely through my veins. If there were a care in the world it wouldn't be mine save for the fact that I am medication-resistant and I care very much indeed.

August is such a gentleman, continuing to sweetly refuse me as I try to make him suit my wants instead of my needs. He's the closest thing I'll ever have to Jake again and damn if I don't want to use that to my advantage. He's not Joel and he won't let me and I love him for that and I hate him too. He and Sam talked me down. They're still doing it. I'm still up here on a ledge. It just doesn't seem as urgent anymore.

Joel brought the drugs. I know he gets them from the Russians via Caleb. That's fine. As long as they're safe. He knows what he's doing. I told him his nickname was going to be The Sandman again and he laughed helplessly and reminded me that that would be great if the drugs actually worked the way they're supposed to but let's be honest. No one gets tranquilized like a horse and then makes Thanksgiving dinner. Because usually they're lights out. He is incredulous. It barely makes a dent in me. I'm getting tired but really it just took the edge off a tiny bit so I could catch my breath, taking a moment or several to wonder why I still get blindsided by grief and self-doubt almost eight years in.

Eight YEARS.

I'm here to tell you there is absolutely no timeline for this. No deadline to get better. Don't believe them if they tell you different. It doesn't go away, it just sometimes gets buried until everything else and then one day you uncover it again and BOOM.

BOOM.

He's dead.

Completely dead.

Cue more screaming.

Ben had a drink. Sam took the bottle and poured it out on the living room floor. It was a poignant moment. Sam was disappointed that Ben put this on me. He blamed me for his stress and fear and used me as an excuse to fall again and Sam didn't let him go there. I did though. I get it. I'm impossible. I'm killing them all and I can't help it. It's like the streetlights. It's like my lack of censor or filter or complete inability to let it go. I'm writing my own demise, self-destructing from the outside in or the inside out, I don't even know which. Ben isn't going back to the farm to get better but he's going to go back to two meetings a day and the house will be dry again for the foreseeable future.

PJ didn't like that but he gets it. He picked up the slack. He saw me rounding the corner and heading for home and he put his arm out and clotheslined me on it, flat on my back on the floor and he held me there and hollered for Loch who made the call and Joel was here while I screamed at the top of my lungs not to bring him in. That he doesn't deserve to help me. That he doesn't get hero status after everything he's done to me and Loch said he loved me but for everything that is holy to shut the hell up or he would choke me out and I smiled at him sweetly and he lost it.

PJ sent him to August who reminded him that Cole did this and Caleb has picked up the torch and that Lochlan needs to be stronger than I am or we're never going to make it. I looked over PJ's shoulder and fought to get to Loch but no one would let me and I promised him we're going to make it. I promised him again over dinner as my turkey was cut for me and I face-timed the kids (who were away with Caleb at Grandma's for Thanksgiving) somewhat successfully but I don't think he really believes me. Not when we live in the shadows of the dead and the shadows of the living alike.

I made a joke while we were cleaning up dinner about going to suck the booze off the living room carpet and bought myself an extra bedtime dose of false reality. Thanks Joel. I love you too, fucker.

Friday, 9 October 2015

His glasses hung from his right hand as he sat in the chair, folders, books, papers and his bible opened across his lap, untouched mug full of coffee on the table under the lamp to his left. His eyes were closed, his mouth was closed, his hair was in his eyes, bits of it curling up over his ears, and his feet were bare. His jeans were threadbare, blue button-down shirt worn thin.  His work clothes. The reverend-uniform. Typical for him midweek. The wind blew against the storm windows. We put them up last weekend because it's Thanksgiving and we didn't want to have to do it in amongst cooking turkey and entertaining all the boys, even Ben who got left out of invitations but unbeknownst to me would be invited for dinner two days later and told to smarten up and help with me and help he did.

I take the glasses out of his hand gently and put them on the table beside his coffee. Then I take the cup and as I turn to go he says my name.

Bridget. 

He knew then and there he was leaving. I wonder if he knew he'd never come back? I wonder if he left and then realized it was a mistake and then somehow knew he couldn't come back, or wonder if I would take him back if he did. He knew when he opened his eyes and looked around for his glasses and then for me that he was going to leave and I didn't know until he left. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't be better or more or perfect or somehow less me.

I couldn't stop him.

I wasn't good enough. He didn't want me the way I was. The way I am.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

Chops (because we don't want to talk about how the Leafs did last night).

Listening to Disturbed cover The Sound of Silence right this minute reminds me of Ben singing carols by candlelight in the church on Christmas Eve back when we lived in the cold place, when we first fell in love and he lived and breathed trying to be less scary, more tender.

It's beautiful. The song and his efforts back then. He succeeded ten times over and here we are today and he's still singing. I respond to men who sing. Go figure.

And I'm still listening to cheesy songs because yeah..this morning August, Sam, Ben and Loch did a smashing rendition of Chicago's Hard Habit to Break. Loch did it sans accent (!), full lead, obviously practicing the singing tips Ben's been giving him. It was beautiful. Made me cry. Not the pretty kind, the sobby red kind.

Of course. Because arghh. But they don't mind and I got a hell of a group hug at the end. I might have cried some more. Words hit home and usually knock me down. I can't help it. I'm unsteady on my feet.

So it was a solid, typical Thursday breakfast.

Wednesday, 7 October 2015

OH and this.

Hockey season starts....right now. :)

(Progress not perfection, August. I got it.)

Oh, I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

I remember that time you told me
You said, "Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Wet curls and damp flannel in the dark. Relief. I got us on the last hayride of the night.

The 'hayride' is a one-way trip down the highway on a wheeled wagon pulled by a very noisy tractor and it's the only way tonight to return to the campground from the lake. Summer's over. The parking lot at the lake was closed so we walked in in groups but now it's dark and I don't want to walk back. I believe the tractor driver is the Funhouse operator. She's from this area. She said it's full of bears. She said to make sure we were on the truck by eight. We will be.

I smile in the dark. I'm anxious to get back anyway, bears notwithstanding. It got cold so fast.

Loch jumps up on the back of the wagon into a veritable company full of strangers and reaches down his hands to pull me up. We stay at the back. Everyone is older, louder and ignoring us. Passing a few flasks around. Talking about their families, their homes. This is normal.  Lochlan settles back against the wooden bench and pulls me in close against him. He's warm. I close my eyes and he throws his head back. We sleep every chance we get.

Then I hear an owl and get spooked. Halloween is still a couple months away. Loch's birthday is in a week and a half. School is in a week. It feels like fall. I don't want to leave him. Something big changed last summer and something bigger changed this summer. I don't know if I can wait until next summer to see what happens next.

My eyes are open wide now, watching the dark sky. Counting streetlights. I lift my hand to mark them and they go out as we pass.

Stop that. He squeezes.

Stop what?

Putting out the lights.

You can see that?

Of course I can. I can feel your energy from here. You're too small to keep it all inside so it leaks out and turns things off. It's like a poltergeist. But it's an emotional one. Tonight it's your fear shutting off those lights.

I thought you didn't believe in that stuff.

Bridget, what I tell people I believe in and what I know for certain aren't always the same.

Why?

I don't want people to know anything about us. Mystery is safer. 

Why is it safer?

It just is, he says with all the conviction of a soon-to-be seventeen-year-old boy. And with all of the determination of an eleven-year-old girl, I believe him.

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Deep sea diving.

I poke my head into the hole, pulling the day down over me like a sweater. It gives my hair static cling but I'm ready. The sleeves are too long and the bottom is unravelling. Kind of like my life, I guess, except I can't just fix it so easily. This color might not be good on me. The wool is a little bit itchy and the cut barely flatters and-

Yes, I know.

Stop with the allegories and get to the dirt.

There's no dirt today unless I feel like pointing out that the Devil has congential assholery and has been trying to weaken Ben's confidence by walking around talking about how Lochlan may have (*may* have, there's your disclaimer straight from the Devil's mouth) won the game against Caleb. That I might be settling in at last, having made a conscious or unconscious choice here and am content with it, something surely the Devil doesn't buy for a sweet second but wants Ben to be aware of. You know, to help out.

Seriously. Some days I fantasize that I ask my army to toss Caleb over the wrong side of the cliff and I don't cry when they do.

(Some days. Other days he has a heartbeat flutter in his sleep and I lose my ever fucking mind.)

Ben tells me not to worry, that he stopped listening to the Devil years ago, that he humors him as an old man who wanders the property meddling in our business. He makes me laugh and then he picks me up off my feet and kisses me hard before he goes off to a meeting so he can actually learn how to make more courage because he gave away what he had on hand.

Lochlan is too busy today to run interference, too busy to throw punches. This is deliberate thanks to Batman who sees, who knows more than he ever lets on.

Sam tries to keep it all together.

Cole threatens to tear it all apart.

Jake just doesn't want to be here.

And I'm trying to see if maybe there's another day that fits better than this. Something softer, smaller, better-constructed and in a more flattering shade of black.

Monday, 5 October 2015

Default Protector/Don't take it (personally).

If I can get through tonight,
I'm waking up with my wings.
There's no way I can sleep my way through a fight,
And I think I'm gonna like what tomorrow brings.
Look at my eyes,
Don't even know who I am.
That's how I spend all my worthless time on the floor,
Waiting for you to tell me I'm a man.

But you and your face of light.
It's a brilliant roman candle that separates the day from the night.
It's that clean, clear truth that sorts our the wrong from the right.
You and your face of light
 It must be hard to be a man. Especially one in my life.

Here, take this. 

What is it?

It's my heart. Can't you tell? Maybe if you rinsed it off it would be more evident. 

I'm honored. 

Don't be. My hands are full. Thanks for helping out. 

(Much later)

Hey. So. I'm going to need that back. 

I thought it was mine?

No, remember? I asked if you could hold it. I can't put it down on the ground. Last time I did that it got rocks and sand embedded in the surface and it doesn't work right anymore. 

Oh. 

But don't worry. You can have it again soon. You did a really good job taking care of it.

But Bridget-

Shhhhh. I know. This is hard, isn't it?

Sunday, 4 October 2015

Lying in the dark last night, both hands wrapped around Ben's neck I fell asleep so fast when I woke up my arms were rusted and my neck was painfully stiff. Ben was smiling in the post-dark. Teeth bright. Eyes black. Cool skin, warm heart. Tightest hold he could keep me in without crushing the air out of my lungs.

We never ever sleep like that. Something's wrong. Maybe he felt one more piece of my puzzle snap into place and he got scared. Maybe he realizes he drifts farther than I do sometimes. Maybe we don't make enough effort but I don't want to weigh him down and he doesn't want me to worry.

Maybe we're dumb about that and we probably already know.  I pull myself tighter into his arms until I can only breathe a little bit and I feel his arms leave me as Lochlan presses himself against my back. Ben's arms make a cage as they wrap around Lochlan's shoulders and I close my eyes and sleep a little more. Something's right.

This morning things don't look so bad. Lochlan and I may be sorting things out but we're making sure Ben stays on the same page with us. He's keeping up quite nicely.

And because of that I slept like a baby, until after ten this morning.