Stowaway.

Matt left for the UK this morning for his contract there until Christmas and Sam up and ran roughshod over Lochlan, August, Claus, and PJ in attempting to assert his place as the penultimate expert on me, and said he would look after things. That he has the time and the skill and everyone else could go back to whatever they were doing.

Sam's heart somehow became stuck on me and I didn't realize I was carrying it. I didn't realize I would become his pet project. I didn't realize he would use me to ease his pain and hurt Matt in the process but it seems like he's going to, right off the bat without even foreplay here. His announcement came via our family SMS message group and the 911 group as well. One is used for stupid shit like reminders to stop loading the dishwasher steak-knife blades up and the other is for emergencies, like someone needs CPR or to have a truck lifted off their chest.

I got it too. Ten minutes after I saw his car pull into the driveway from taking Matt to the airport.

I found him downstairs in his kitchen making coffee. The table is piled with notebooks and books from the library. There's a stack on the chair and two books on the floor too. Just like Jake. Sigh.

My phone is blowing up in my pocket, on vibrate but I need to deal with him first and then I'll put out the fires across the rest of the point.

Samuel. 

Bridget. Did you sleep?

Yes. Did Matt get out okay?

Of course. He's a good traveler. 

Why didn't you go, Sam? 

It came at the worst time of year for you. 

For me. What about you?

I'm not leaving you right now. 

I'm not yours to be left. 

He made that horrible face when he's trying not to show any emotion and then resumed making his coffee with his back to me. Between Caleb probably about to come barging up here with ultimatums for you, Ben's recent recovery glitch and Jake's anniversary I know where I need to be. 

Yeah. With your husband. 

I don't know how long that label is going to hold, Bridget. He says my involvement is fairweather at best and maybe he's right. I don't have enough room for everything. 

So then what's the matter with you? I yell at him and turn him around so he'll look at me and not miss. You need to pick the most important thing and everything else will be okay!

I did.

Dancing on the ashes of a love that never ends.

(Maybe we're all working that last nerve today. It's going to be such a tough week in more ways than one.)

I kind of got into it with Matt this morning. I don't even know how we got to the point that we did but it's amazing to find out the dynamic of how we interact isn't how I thought it was.

I got up at six, did all the chores, drove the kids to school and then came back and traded off with PJ, who took over because I'm still not at full capacity and so I took my headphones and my phone and crawled into his bed with the curtains drawn and the lights out because his bed is warm, usually unmade and smells like Irish Spring and spilled whiskey.

I had a blissful nap, emerging around ten. PJ asked what I thought of the new album and I smiled big. It's just like Hysteria, I said.

Matt is off this morning, packing for London (here we go again) and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Def Leppard? You going to make a new pole-dancing playlist?

I don't know if I could even fault him. My very brief attempt to pay the rent stripping (why the hell not? I'm used to being on stage. I'm used to having my clothes off) is rather legendary. I danced to half the songs on Hysteria. Matt wasn't there. He's only heard the stories. Maybe that's why he doesn't get to make jokes about it. It was so brief I don't even know if I have the right to be offended but I am. My face must have said it all.

Oh, Bridget. I didn't mean...I'm sorry. You've led such an extraordinary life and done so many crazy things, I was just trying to..I don't know what I was trying to do. Be too familiar, probably. I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you.

You didn't exactly. I don't even know why it stung. Facts are facts. Let's forget about it.

I just keep my feet in my mouth these days. I didn't mean for you to be a victim of that as well.

How are things?

Tense.

I can well imagine.

Why won't he join me?

Loyalties.

Hoes before bros? Wait. Too soon?

Jesus, Matt. Get on the plane before I rip your face right off, okay?

Samhain until sundown.

Took Sam vintage shopping last evening, and he bought himself a corduroy blazer. If it had been green I would have burst into flames but it's caramel-colored like his hair. It suits him to a tee. I cried anyway because yeah. Don't go there, Samuel. I know it's been eight years but I'm not ready for preachers in corduroy blazers just yet.

I saw a Prada bag at the vintage store too. Three Louis Vuittons, a lot of Michael Kors, one very lovely pink Chanel, and enough Fendis to fill the trunk of my car. I bought nothing.

I should have bought something but Sam kind of blindsided me. Then we did our grocery shop for the food bank and the halloween treat shopping for the church and then we came home and battened down the hatches like in The Purge movie where all crime is legal from sunset to sunrise.

It's kind of hilarious. I donate the candy now instead of giving it out because then I don't feel bad but both Ruth and Henry were at parties and really I still am not at a hundred percent and now I see why fancy stores have big overstuffed chairs to sit in. I used to call them 'husband chairs' because husbands hate shopping but it seems they should be wife chairs. Because I hate shopping sometimes.

***

This morning I got to see the jacket in action at the Samhain service, and Sam did a lovely All Souls Eve/Druid/Unitarian/Wicca mashup that left everyone a little breathless and spooked. He's good at roping in everyone, even the absolutes (as he calls them, people with closed minds. A lot of them read my blog and send me shitty emails) and today was no exception. I came home and lit every candle in the house and then blew them all out again hoping for that same goosebumpy feeling.

It'll come. It's probably still in the garage, preparing for its grand entrance later this week.

Food.

Got a cheer this morning when I appeared at breakfast. Dressed and showered and only holding my head when no one is looking.

And all you people want to know is how big is the bathtub in the master wing ensuite?

It's big. Really big. I think a giant built this house. There's a couch in the bathroom too. A sitting room with bookshelves and a fireplace.

But yeah, that bathtub is big. It's like a small hot tub but oval. No jets. Just a soaker tub that fits us without a lot of room to spare and a nice big window for lots of light.

I kind of love it and love hot baths so it works and if it fits Ben easily, well that's a bonus because he's six foot four and all legs.

And eyes. Big gorgeous dark brown eyes that warm me without having to light a fire for the bath. I could eat him up with a spoon sometimes because of those chocolate-hot coffee eyes.

Snort. Light. I mean press a button on a wall and flames appear. Shazam.

***

Schuyler and Daniel are having a feast for their anniversary and anyone who wants to come is invited except they didn't think I would like it so they cautioned me to be prepared. I walked into their kitchen, saw a huge platter of crawfish and screamed. I don't like baby lobsters. They're spooky.

I will never live this down.

They had a wonderful anniversary for the record and are doing amazingly well. We got them a porch swing for their present. It's hard to leave but I did because they needed privacy. They couldn't keep their hands off each other after a while and I worried I might get rolled up into their plans if I didn't make my exit sooner rather than later.

***

I went to Fat Burger last night for the first time. Overpriced? Undercooked. Not inspired. Expensive chain with few tricks? Will go back and try something non-burger. I'm not a food snob but come on.

I mean really. I'm not. Went downtown for ACDC, wound up eating nachos in the stadium hallway. Rush show? Pizza Hut in the arena hallway. I'm maybe the furthest thing from a food snob you've ever seen. And I'm hungry today. Really hungry which means I'm getting better finally.

***

Update: Fat Burger got another visit and has redeemed itself. Ben figures I probably was too sick to enjoy it the first time and also cannot possibly eat one of their burgers because they're too big for me and should stick to baby burgers or pretty much anything else. He's right and the nacho fries were divine. Also the chicken tenders. And the wings. Poutine. Alright. Now I see why they call it what they do.

I spy five birds, a small safety-pin, a pinecone, a spring and a pumpkin's grin.

Something about being sick sees me spoiled rotten, if only I were well enough to enjoy it. Trust me, I'll enjoy it when I feel better but for now I'm moved to tears every time someone comes in and sits down on the edge of the bed and says I brought you something.

Ben brought me eggs Benedict take out from the place we go to sometimes. Extra hot. With potatoes on the side and juice too. He said Feed a fever, right? And I ate everything. Then I slept, the sleep you can only have if you don't have to get out of bed ever again. It was glorious. I'm up all night so I'm enjoying the drifting off during the day. It's like being on a boat that's been cut from it's anchor except that I am double-tied.

August brought me a bracelet to balance my chakras, tying it firmly on my wrist. You need to get yourself in order, he said. I asked if he would be back later with his singing bowl and he got all excited. I will! I didn't think you were interested in that!

PJ brought me I Spy Spooky Night because I used to spend hours searching for the things in those books with the children on snow days or when they were sick in bed. He helped finish the first pages and then left me to find the rest. It'll keep you busy, he said.  

Lochlan brought contraband Laphroaig, and we had a toast to our good health and then a good ironic laugh because who is healthy? Not I. I slept hard after that. Licking gravestones is exhausting. He said, Sleep, Baby Girl, which is where Cole got it from.

Cole came and fluffed his wings and left black feathers all over the floor. When my fever broke, they were gone. Sleep, Baby Girl, indeed.

The devil brought me a visit with my soul. It's got a few cracks and when I held it up sideways, sand poured out of it in a fine stream like an hourglass. You said you'd take care of it, I accused.

I did, he said. I left it the way I took it from you, from the beach at low tide. Time hasn't marched on, Neamhchiontach. It stands still. 

Duncan came up and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Want me to sit outside your door and keep these clowns out so you can get a little rest for a couple hours or so? 

Yeah, that would be great. I smiled at him so weakly I'm sure he thinks I'm about to die but instead of panicking he pats his iPad and leans down to kiss me on the forehead. You smell funny. Have you been drinking? 

Just a toast to my good health. Apparently that's how the Scots fix everything. 

Naw, Bridge, that's how they break everything. I'm not letting him back in. 

That's fine. But only for a couple hours, okay? If I sleep too long I'll be up all night again. 

When I do wake up I have missed supper and there is a small pile of offerings beside Duncan, out on the landing in the big easy chair with the ottoman by the window.  Flowers from Corey, A whole gift basket of treats and comforts from Sam and Matt, and the promise of a Halo 5 tutorial from Dalton, because there's no local multiplayer and that sucks. And Duncan is replaced by Schuyler and Daniel, who take up residence on either side of me in bed and proceed to spend the rest of the late afternoon watching movies on my laptop and snarking on my appearance until I kick them out, replacing them with Lochlan and Ben, who now complain that the bed smells like Chanel Number five and coffee.

It does.

We change it. I am just about to crawl back in when Ben stops me, saying I really need a shower. It's been two days. I smell like a boy.

This surprises you? I laugh and then cry because I feel too weak. He reworks it to be a bath for three and we strip down and pile into a steaming hot tub, with a boy at each end and I get the middle. Ben rubs my feet while Loch washes my hair and then we add more bubbles and hot water and I float until I'm weaker still. A butter not, because now I can't move at all and this was a mistake. It wasn't though, as Ben pulls me out, wraps me in a warm towel and sends me back to bed while they go downstairs to clean up dinner.

And now I'm wide awake.

Cloudy and seventeen. Not sure if you'll get gibberish or just poor editing here so humor me.

I figured it out.

I'm allergic to rain.

It figures, since I am also allergic to cold weather, snow, wind and too-hot sun. I told this to Loch before and he laughed and agreed with me. Today he just rested the back of his hand against my forehead, frowned into my eyes and then refilled the humidifier and checked to see if my juice was still cold.

It's the high point of the day now. I get fifteen minutes with my laptop  to do emails and everything before he takes it and I go back to sleep for the rest of the day, which is dumb because today is our anniversary and it's supposed to be a special, exciting day out of the ordinary, a day in which we celebrate our fourth anniversary as old marrieds, except we're technically not married because that's illegal here but we don't really mind because this is a choice not a birthright like gay marriage and I doubt there are ever going to be a lot of people fighting to be married to more than one person at once because as everyone always says marriage is hard enough with one other person, let alone two.

Being sick is harder though so I'm going to try to get better. Rest. Fluids. Blah. The flu sucks. They let the Russian doctor (the old one, they don't trust the younger son in emergencies such as Our Princess Is Sick) all the way into my inner sanctum (bedroom) because I couldn't walk to the bathroom even and Ben helped me and then I couldn't pull the covers back up because my head hurts so bad so Ben did that too and he didn't like it so he called it in and nope, it's just the flu because there's a lot of people living here and I'm never a very good fighter so I just get everything and go down for the count while they generally work through it or fight through it and come out okay. Ben joked that if I doubled my weight I would probably be okay but then I pushed away the toast I couldn't eat. It's not going to happen any time soon.

But I still remember that morning on the cove when the fog was still low and it was chilly at sunrise and Lochlan took my hands and told me I was his heart and I thought good when he said that because mine had liquified and absorbed into my body and my hands shook because I thought my head might explode from happiness because it doesn't know what to do with that feeling, it's fleeting and unfamiliar but somehow we persevered when we were always fractured before, we made it through when we usually get so bogged down and we still have Ben with us and he's a gleeful sort of happy that doesn't go away easily anymore so maybe I can let my guard down for thirty seconds or so and just enjoy it while I get better. They've promised me scary movies and pizza in bed later and maybe a champagne toast if I'm still awake after that and god knows Ben can't keep his hands off me but Loch will probably yell at him for pushing too hard while I'm too sick to meet him halfway and that will be par for the course because that's how it goes and I don't mind, I'm just pinching my grey skin today and marvelling at how happy I am (and how pale too). Geez.

Here comes Loch. Fresh juice, grim face, a late rose from our garden in a vase, and the ipad because I can read it lying down. Things have changed from the days in the camper when he would steal bags of ice from the bin by campground office and pack them so tightly around me that he would have to sleep on the floor for the lack of remaining space.

God love him, we finally found some first-world problems to have. Don't think we don't know how lucky we are here.

Princess of good intentions.

This is what cancellation insurance looks like but it's okay, we have an open invitation to reschedule our trip (pending availability) which involved a long drive to a remote but exceedingly well-appointed mountain cabin for a close but far getaway for three. A staffed cabin with wi-fi and a huge bathtub and four fireplaces so 'cabin' might be selling it short, here.

Except I woke up with a fever of a hundred and four and chills and delerium and hallucinations and can't walk a straight line to save my soul. Caleb told me I'm allergic to being without him. Ben said he knew the fact that I had the sniffles and was uncharacteristically draggy and uninspired this week was going to result in something awful and Lochlan said You have the flu. We'll go another time.

I laughed and told him I said already I wanted to spend our anniversary in bed and it looks like I got my wish.

Netflix and chill it is.

Or I suppose, Netflix and chills.

Microjunkie.

I sat through my sessions this morning with Claus,  then with August and Sam and then with Joel too and then finally I was released to Daniel who helped me soak off the nail tips and all of the acrylic goo. I wound up with my fingers wrapped in acetone and tinfoil for the better part of forty minutes, all told, but there's no damage to my actual nails and I can feel my fingertips again.

What an awful feeling. I can only imagine what breast implants feel like. God.

I promptly painted my very short nails black and now I feel like me again.

***

Lochlan was gone for the morning, heading out with Ben for a monthly No Girls Allowed breakfast in which they discuss me (I could tell because my ears were burning) and then he worked for a couple hours and now he's home. I have to pack for our trip but he won't tell me where we're going, only that it involves a little bit of everything so dress comfortable.  I will probably just let him pack for me then. Ben came back in between and said Loch seemed lifted and confident, happy instead of defeated, humiliated and in turmoil. Then Ben looked up and said he didn't mean to say that and I said he should have, that if everything is sugar-coated then nothing is good for me, right?

And he said if you're finally fixed after all these years what are we going to do with all of this new free time, Bee? 

We're going to fuck, Ben. We're going to fuck like rabbits and it's going to be so good you won't remember that there was a Before Normal and After Perfect.

I love it when the strangest, filthiest things come out of that perfect little mouth. 

Come out? 

I mean go in. 

Jesus, Ben. 

You started it. 

***

What happens when he comes looking for you?

I keep doing what I've been doing, Loch. We've had breaks before. 

Is that what this is? A break?

I don't know what this is, to be honest. I just don't want to hurt you. 

Maybe we're even now. 

Maybe. 

He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back as one of those concrete-kisses lands against my forehead. Every kiss, each word has weight with this one. Every gesture has a meaning a thousand layers deep. Every emotion is turned inside out and worn for all to see. If ever there was a mate to the soul I used to have then it's definitely his.

Part 2: Death of a Party.

Ben looks at me in the candlelight but doesn't address me directly. It's like I'm not in the room but no way is Lochlan going to take his eyes off me for a second.

Let her have what she wants, Brother. Be generous. It works. 

I can't. Loch is stoic and anguished. He'd like to be as confident as Ben but most of the time Ben finds his courage in a barrel, bottled after twelve or twenty years.

He can't have her the way he wants and so all this does is function as a transaction. She keeps her predictable routine, he goes away for a little while. You don't want him leaning on her or you, for that matter, if she puts him off indefinitely.

I don't want him touching her.

Don't think about it like that. Think about her coming back to you.

Hey. I almost shout it from my place beside the window and they both stop and look at me. If you don't want me to go, we won't go. If it's not a good time or you think I can get around it some other way then I will. I don't want you to be so unhappy, Loch. 

Since when do you listen to me. 

I'm trying to be...um..useful. Proper. Righted. Less insane. 

You're not insane, Baby-

I know exactly what I am. And you still want me anyway. You think I'm going to risk that now? 

***

Five in the morning and I crawl into bed with the Devil. He left lights on and glasses out. He really thought I would cave in and come to him but I didn't. Not the way he wanted me to, anyway. He wakes up slowly. I watch his eyelashes flutter and his head lift in confusion, arms coming down around me. The horns are hidden, the goatee gone, and all he is now is a man in pajama pants and tangled sheets. A restless sleeper. A devil with his stinger removed.

He clutches me tightly against his chest.

I'm going to miss you, Diabhal, I whisper but I don't think he's still awake to listen.

Part 1: Death of the party.

I could hear people as I moved from room to room, checking to see that food was being circulated, drinks refilled and everything was clean. I don't have to do this, it's technically Caleb's job once I make the calls, but it feels like my responsibility all the same. Plus I hate mingling with people I don't know but who know me, or at least like to pretend they do.

Someone grips my elbow a little too tightly in her claws. I turn to see one of the wives of Caleb's former partners from Ontario, with garish makeup settled into the lines on her face that even a stellar plastic surgeon couldn't erase.

I hear you are the party planner? Can you tell me more about the fire juggler? I think I'd like to hire him for a night-or maybe a lifetime! She cackles as I move to the window and look out, ignoring her. Loch is in the driveway surrounded in a half-circle by Caleb's cronies. He's dispensed with the flowy flammable shirt but kept the vest on with those tight jeans (not mine) and is throwing his batons to raucous applause. He's concentrating but charming too. Smiling, and keeping up a banter with the crowd but sometimes letting the conversation fade as he does more difficult throws.

He looks damned hot.

(Mine.)

The woman with the claws chases up behind me. Maybe you have a card for him?

I turn and try not to glare at her. That's my husband.

Oh, I didn't know. I thought you and Caleb were-

No, Caleb is my brother-in-law. I don't want to do this right now. I want to escape.

Oh, I was mistaken then. I heard through the grapevine that you were together. She looks doubtful.

No, sorry.

Maybe you can play matchmaker for me then, if Caleb is the eligible bachelor?

Isn't your husband out there? I point toward the driveway crowd and she laughs harder and pats my arm sympathetically, because I don't get her joke. I excuse myself finally and head outside to watch Lochlan, with a bottled water for him. He gets warm, unsurprisingly, when he performs.

He sees me and wraps it up. Maybe later on I'll do a little more. Thanks for the attention, kind folks. A hat is passed. They don't realize he isn't hired entertainment. He collects some six hundred dollars and change, several business cards for people who want to hire him and far too many admiring stares from the women in the group.

He hands me the hat and shrugs. I don't know who it belongs to. And then he kisses my forehead and wraps his arm around my neck. Several people remain, watching openly as he stares at me, with that look that we exchange that apparently makes other people burst into flames on the spot.

Case in point as Caleb steps forward, putting a hand on Lochlan's back.

You're a hit, he says. Caleb is dressed (not at all ironically) as the Devil, but in a seventies cut three-piece pinstripe disco suit and he has shaved his facial stubble into a goatee. He added horns from a theatrical makeup kit and all-black contact lenses that color his entire eye surface. They're bottomless and hungry. They're frightening too. His costume seems so normal and yet out there for him. He rarely dresses up.

He is frightfully drunk as well and has forgotten Lochlan hates his guts.

You two. When Ben goes to bed, come back for a nightcap.

Not tonight, asshole, Loch tells him and picks up the torches.

Maybe. We'll see. I'd rather leave Caleb twisting in the wind then outright angry at our refusal.

Bridget- Loch's warning is predictable.

We'll see how tired I feel. I smile at Caleb. Trying to keep the peace and pull the rug out from under him at once. I bat my giant fake eyelashes at him and he grins dazzlingly back at me.

Go have a coffee and some sugar, baby. That will perk you up. He kisses my cheek and heads back into the house.