My mailman has recovered from his nervous breakdown and other Monday tales.

I'm bigger than my body
I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons
I'm bigger than these bones

My mailman HATES me. After I decided he was inept and unprofessional (no uniform, no badge, nothing, driving a filthy little sedan that seemed to be full of garbage and practically snarling at me every time a package was brought to the house), he disappeared for most of the fall and surfaced today, driving a clean sedan, in uniform and with a smile on his face, as he greeted me and chit-chatted about the shitty weather while he tried to get the packages to scan.

Rehab? Fell in love, maybe? I have no idea. It's just great to get packages again without having to pull them from a snarling void.

We get a lot of mail. This is important.

Caleb also seemed to recover from what seemed to be a panic attack last evening. He got very pale and short of breath and it occurred right in the middle of a fresh tear-down with Ben, who jumped in with both feet after Caleb lobbed a shitty comment at Lochlan about not being able to afford a real trip and Lochlan said something awful in return that I won't even repeat and Ben said it was nice to get away and be in the present without any history in the way.

Or any future, Caleb interjected, because it's not like you two are going to have one with her.

Cue a shoving match, a freshly cracked glass door and maybe I should be the one having a nervous breakdown.

But he gave in so fast and sat down on the back steps and just asked everyone to stop.

That's my cue to lose my mind but he swore he was fine, just tired. Didn't sleep with me away. Worried about my safety and my psychological comfort.

Man, they don't like it when I travel with anyone other than whoever is worrying, do they?

Well, you can rest easy now. I'm home and I'm fine. 

I guess I don't have to worry about any more trips in your future, as it will take Pyro another decade to save for one. 

Don't be an asshole. 

Why not?! He is! 

Wow. You sounded sixteen for a minute there. 

I certainly don't feel it these days, that's for certain. 

***

Five gifts left to buy and I'm fucking DONE Christmas shopping. Done and done.

So happy. Been at it since Labour Day.

Don't act offended, there are only thirty-eight days left!

(I only have eighteen thousand things coming in the mail though, that's why I was so happy to see that my mailman got his shit together finally. Last year I was too afraid to order much of anything at all.)

***

Neat cryptic message from Batman over the weekend as well, and I still can't get ahold of him to find out what it means. Digging. Good news. Someone's full of shit. No worries.

I hate it when people say No worries. It's artificial and flippant. It's usually reserved for stupid things like if I apologize after I ask for an extra topping on a pizza I just ordered that's already been rung through or if we can move tables after being seated in a high-traffic area at a restaurant. As if they have nothing at stake and are trying to talk me off the ledge but they don't actually care. I fucking hate it. Say it to me and I'm liable to rip your face off and shove it down the hole I just made.

Can't wait to see him, in other words.  No worries, indeed.

Pancakes for everyone.

Home too late for church but Sam said he would lecture me later, as he had his hands full with the children all weekend, not that he minded, exactly. That's a long story for tomorrow, for today I'm still on a cloud.

The best moment of the whole thing was when Ben held up his glass of orange juice (because he didn't want the fake champagne because that's like a vegetarian eating wannabe-weiners, he said) and said simply Happy four years. You guys make me so happy. His face held nothing but joy and both Lochlan and I felt our eyes welling up and then my nose started to run and my words left my brain. Because yeah. If Ben is happy it seems like everybody is happy. If he is happy the world is good.

I held up my glass and looked at Ben and said simply, I love you. Then I looked at Lochlan and said I love you and I watched as their eyes misted over something fierce and they returned my words to me so I can keep them forever.

We clinked our glasses again and then Lochlan said about seven hundred words in a mix of Romanian and Gaelic and I had no idea what he said but his eyes were red and streaming by the end of it and he wiped the back of his hand under his nose and looked at the floor and I understood his words without knowing what they were and Ben put his hand out on Loch's shoulder and drew him closer and we stayed like that for a long time with me in the middle but not. All threequal. Even. You know what I mean.

This weekend was sorely needed, a respite from routine and from people too. Not saying the boys aren't very respectful of space and time but sometimes you just....need to sleep until five o'clock without people gingerly knocking on the door asking you if you want anything, if you're okay. Sometimes you want to wander into the kitchen in your cashmere underpants that fit so perfectly it might be criminal and hold the fridge door open to see what might be good without someone yelling at you to close the door, already. Or Put on some clothes!

(The kitchen was very well-appointed if we wanted to cook for ourselves. We didn't, but I got admiring looks for standing in front of that fridge door anyway. Ben asked why I didn't do that at home and I just stared at him with horror until I dissolved into laughter because he never did understand why, even after being reminded that the three of us share our house with eight other people. He was still sweet about it though. So? he said and smiled at me widely.)

Lochlan asked me what I wanted for dinner and I was quick to answer. Pizza! Pizza for everyone. Pizza in bed. He laughed too and asked what it is about pizza I love so much when I'm away from home and I never know the answer to that other than it's always different and always good and I'm not irrational or elitist but very down to earth and easy to please. (The other dinner was pancakes because that's what we had for our wedding dinner. Because..oh my God. Pancakes. I don't have to explain. They're delicious.)

Wonder where I got that from? I poke him and he laughs. He is relaxed away from the Devil. Calm and pragmatic and silly all at the same time. He slept well over both nights (when I let him) and there didn't seem to be any jealousy issues. They took turns. They were affectionate with each other. They talked a lot but they also kept the conversation in the moment. We didn't bring up the past. We didn't plot into the future. We just focused on right-now, right-then.

But mostly we slept.

And it was probably to keep up our strength and fortify our resources for the next round of whatever's coming. Which is probably a good thing because one never wants to go through a rough period OR a war already exhausted and weakened. It's better this way.

You want to be strong.

You want to be ready. 

Four for three in two because one.

The trip for our anniversary has indeed been rescheduled and we're leaving in a couple of hours (!), just as soon as we get the children settled in for their weekend of pizza, video games and movies with Caleb, who has his turn anyway this weekend to choose activities and Henry likes camping at Dad's house. Ruth loves that she can watch any horror movie she wants and stay up as late as she wants.

I want to tell her that's how the Devil operates, he gives you anything you want in exchange for your soul, but really that isn't what he's doing, he already has the soul he wants, he just wants to be the 'fun' dad with all the lax rules where Lochlan is still prone to yell Eat your vegetables! across the table when the dinner noise reaches full throttle and she attempts to be excused with half a plate left in front of her.

No one's going to miss us, in other words, not even PJ, who is looking forward to an extended break. The only one I worry about is Sam, who doesn't really cook or eat anymore unless you put something directly in front of him and is on shaky ground as of late with Matt gone but Duncan and August both promised to draw him out and at least keep an eye on him.

Otherwise every last one of them was all smiles and encouragement. Go. Have fun. Get rest. Reconnect. Enjoy! The same words over and over.

We do need this. We get lost. We pick sides. We forget that it isn't two or twenty or the past or the future. It's three and it's now. It's us. It's this. I'm so excited I could burst. I've seen some pictures of where we're going and it's somehow cozy and incredibly luxurious at the same time. I hope it's nice.

Happy fourth to us. We packed non-alcoholic champagne and sparklers. And hardly any clothes.

Snort.

(Schuyler and Daniel are going to see Matthew Good this weekend in place of Caleb and I. That works out a little better than our original plans, in all honesty and they are really looking forward to it while Lochlan breathes a big long sigh of relief. He didn't plan it this way though, the resort had a cancellation and called to offer us the weekend on short notice so we said hell, yeah and here we go. Storm and all.)

A world covered in bees.

I see you returned the bracelet. I got an email for the credit to my account and you aren't wearing it so I supposed this is a lesson learned. 

The lesson being not to buy expensive jewelry for other people's wives?

No, I should have gotten it engraved. Then you wouldn't have been able to return it. 

I think I have enough monogrammed things. 

An army, if I recall correctly. 

I do actually. He's not being generous. Most of the boys have a B tattooed somewhere. It's like playing Where's Waldo? (Maybe that's Where's Bridget?) when I find it tucked into the design on inked sleeves or worn brazenly on the chest like a shield. Gage wears his coyly, in his knuckle tattoos that, when held together, spells B-I-G-B-R O-T-H-E-R which is sweet (he is Schuyler's older brother) but also hilarious because his left hand, when held alone, says OTHER. I always tell him he didn't think it through, though he says it's fine. (The boys call him their 'other' brother, a nod to Neil Gaiman's Other Mother character in Coraline.)

The Devil sighs and puts his hand out for mine, lifting it up and putting it in his coat pocket, still holding it, so I'll be warm. I didn't think I would need gloves for this early Remembrance Day ceremony but it's freezing. My ears are red from the cold and he squeezes my fingers and says we'll go get breakfast once this is over. He was invited to this, one of a long list of local business people. I'm the assistant today, the plus-one. And yet he doesn't seem to care that people near to us are openly staring at the fact that he is holding his assistant's hand. He will pass it off as his freezing sister-in-law. What a great excuse.

When the silence ends he lets my hand go and we head to a favorite brunch place. It's exceedingly busy yet they find a table for two in the back, probably paid for with a fifty or maybe even more, I ignore these things and wait in line unless he is here. The table is quiet and sunny but not glaring and he quickly orders plates for each of us and hot coffee. Not just coffee but hot coffee as if there is a difference.

While I wonder what he ordered for me, he wonders how I plan to keep him close exactly. How long I'll hold out on him. How long I might use him by stringing him along telling him he isn't banished from my heart exactly until I figure out my next move or simply wait him out.

Henry will be eighteen in a little over 1300 days.

Maybe I can wait that long. Or, you know, maybe not.

The food arrives just as he's reading my mind, his face fighting to remain neutral in expression. He ordered matching Monte Cristos and fruit. God, sometimes he gets everything right though. Feed Bridget and she's yours.

At least until the next meal.

It's complicated.

I tried to fire Claus but he refused and said he'll be reachable when I decide to summon him again. God bless that man. He tried.

Where's the good in goodbye?
Where's the nice in nice try?
Where's the us in trust gone?
Where's the soul in soldier on?
Now I'm the low in lonely
'Cause I don't own you only
I can take this mistake
But I can't take the ache from heartbreak

The family meeting this morning after the kids set off for school was adjourned quickly on account of everyone ganging up on Caleb, who then started shoving back, catching Sam off guard. He landed on his ass. Lochlan got a good shove too but he recovered easily because he's smaller, more nimble and a fucking former acrobat so really, no big deal.

I helped Sam up and asked them to stop fighting and just talk but apparently that won't be happening today. Sam walked out dragging his pride behind him. Caleb asked if anyone else wanted to go to the floor or could they just honor the choices Bridget makes without adding to the pressure.

When I said I wasn't giving anyone else up ( and really the longer I live in this freaky 'after' life that Jake isn't a part of any more, the less inclined I am to write people off) I meant that we still have to strike a very fine balance with each other with regards to Henry, first and foremost, and then all the other stuff secondarily. Like my finances are pretty much tangled in his octopus reach, our histories are equally interlaced and frankly we have some goddamned serious issues between us with regards to sex and permission and brainwashing that I don't think Claus will live long enough to fix and even if he could I won't share ninety percent of the details with him because he would judge me or run away horrified.

Everyone judges me, which is why I'm so up front with certain details that seem provocative but are just my own attempt at transparency. But not all the details, because...yeah. No one needs to read that.

And as angry as Lochlan gets he feels as helpless as I do sometimes, in that Ruth and Henry are mostly inseparable and she goes where he goes, so if Caleb takes Henry away for a weekend, he takes Ruth too. And I know Caleb would never harm them. He's a very good father. But he still runs legal roughshod over me and if he decided to be less nice about things he could make my life as a mother pretty fucking difficult.

So, yeah. It's a dance that I only know half the steps to. It's a dance I'm going to continue to learn, and if anyone is surprised that I crawl into people's beds to have important conversations with them about important things than you don't know me very well at all. What I did was not give up and resume a sexual relationship with Caleb, instead I merely left the door open in case it comes to that again. Sometimes it's easier to give the Devil what he wants than try and be as powerful as he is. Something I am clearly not. I'm just a well-indoctrinated little clown.

And I don't see that changing any time soon.

So if you see his name mentioned in my posts, hold your cries of hyprocite! and consider the permanent damage instead. Sometimes it's too severe and people can't be saved, no matter how hard Lochlan tries.

I've put on the makeup before in public. It's liberating and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, okay?

Lochlan said that last picture wasn't so happy after all and so he did this:

*POOF! pic removed*

It looks more like I usually appear. You little fucking clown, as he said.

Damn right I am. :)

Photobombed by death.

I don't know how long I'll leave this post up because I hate looking at my own little head but here's an amazingly morbid shot of me attempting to hide behind Halloween decorations that we are finally putting away, when Lochlan said there are no pictures of the pixie cut I alternately love and despise and took a shot.

(I have similar photos with actual people who were living when we took them but I guess now they're not so it's possibly kind of fitting.)

Actual post later when we're done, unless I just take this guy and go curl up in a corner somewhere. Loch will probably set it on fire before I can do that because he's the one who gave me the title for the post when it flew out of his mouth before he realized that...yeah...and now he feels like shit.

But I'm smiling in this picture, and that hardly ever happens anymore.

*POOF* {picture removed}

On Sundays we're a cult.

Looking at horse auctions in church and dead silence eventually overtook me and I looked up to find Sam staring at me. He made a curt reminder to put phones and devices away, that we might be the better for it if we were engaged and in the moment more instead of virtually parking our brains.

Yes, Dad.

Loch nudges me hard and holds out his hand. I surrender my phone and sigh, settling back to listen to the pre-pre-pre advent service in which we are reminded to find the spirit early and hold on to it tightly in the midst of a psychological war to appeal to our consumerist, excessive sides. A reminder to exist within our means but fully explore them with God in mind.

A real hell of a fundy sermon for Sam this morning, who is still kind of losing it here. I'm not sure if it's relief because Matt is gone or sheer panic because..well, he's gone. Every time I try to talk to Sam he flips the conversation around and tries to make it all about me and we get nowhere.

Batman leans in toward my right ear and asks What kind of church this is again? 

Roman Catholic, I say while staring straight ahead. Loch stifles a huge laugh on my left and PJ kicks our feet under the pew from behind. If I start giggling now we'll all be goners and Sam will be even more weird so instead in my mind I formulate a plan on how I'm going to spend the afternoon once lunch is cleaned up. New Jake invited me to go for one final ride on the Sunbeam before he takes it apart and stores it for winter but instead I think I'll take the other bottle of Laphroaig and lie on the garage floor and talk to ghosts for the rest of the day.

I bend my head forward and look down toward the end of the pew on the right and there's Caleb looking back. He shakes his head once to the side to indicate No, you won't and I slouch down further in my seat and try and focus on Sam, who's now heading into Baptist territory. He likes to make everyone comfortable (even people who aren't even held hostage by him today, people out in the rain) and so he takes his own advice to explore all aspects of the Christian faith, whether we want to join him or not. Choose your own adventure, he says to warm laughter.

I pick Lochan's pocket and he grins as I go back to looking at horse auctions. It's better than listening to patchwork religion, frankly. I think Sam's pinwheeling for answers and it's so obvious it's rather painful to watch today.

Three steps forward, seven back. Today is Jake's birthday and he's in the copper box on the shelf.

Ten in the morning and it's pouring rain and I find Lochlan on the beach. He's in a sweater and a raincoat and boots and he's got his best friend whiskey with him. He doesn't acknowledge me until I slip on the rock I try to step up on to stand beside him and he reaches out an arm to steady me.

I'm sorry. We didn't speak much the rest of yesterday.

Maybe Caleb's right and I'm a fool.

I'm the fool.

No one's debating that today, Peanut. 

Then what are we doing? 

Toasting the one who didn't make it to his birthday, maybe. 

I thought you didn't care. 

What I care about is that the person I adore most in the world had someone pretty important to her pass away and it fucked her up good and so I'm going to mark the day with respect and then get on with my life. He's gone. I'm still here and I love you. 

Any bitchy assholerish false composure I had just drowned itself into the sea. I love you. I just feel weird and abandoned and betrayed. And I miss him. He was big here. Like so big he blocked out the sun. 

What happens if you put it away? You think somehow that will dishonor his memory? 

Maybe. I don't know.

I get that I failed you and then I ran but I came back. He failed and ran and never came back. So he gets hero status and I get pummeled into the ground? I don't get it. 

You're a safe place to take it out on. All my fears. Everything stupid. You never told me it was dumb or blew it off. 

So I'm not safe but then I'm safe? 

It's an easy event to use against you in an argument. That's all. 

I get it. But I'm not going to live in the shadow of a coward. He couldn't love you the way I can. No one can but me. 

But I'm an asshole. How can you love an asshole?

No, you let things get to you and had an asshole moment. If I thought you were an asshole for wearing your grief so transparently then I would be the asshole, now, wouldn't I? 

How did you get so smart?

I'm not. I just had to grow up fast. I had you asking questions all the time. I had to be ready with answers, you know?

So can I ask you something?

Bridget, he's not coming back. He's gone. I'm sorry but the men in front of you who put up with you, we're the ones who love you. We're going in circles here. We need to stop doing this. I love you. Just stop.

I nod. He's right. I'm lucky. And at the same time I can't handle this outpouring of support that I somehow push away. Claus isn't working. Sam isn't. Not Joel. Christ. No, he's not working either. Help me, please. I'm drowning in the sea I made.

Loch is still staring at me. What about Caleb?

I take the bottle from him and take a long burning swallow and then pour the rest out on the rocks. Happy Birthday, Jacob. Forty-five. What a milestone. What a waste.

I should be planning a forty-fifth birthday instead of this.

(Eight years today and this doesn't hurt any less and everyone's a liar.)

The ache of regret and dread woke me up early and I made my way downstairs to see Sam, after telling Loch that I was going to get juice, that I'd be right back.

What if the letters had instructions on where to meet Jake in the future? Maybe he just needed some time and now he'll be waiting forever? We made a big mistake burning them. I shouldn't listen to you. Maybe I just need to keep listening to myself on this subject and not let you all steer me in the wrong direction. 

Bridget, stay here for a bit. Let's talk about-

I need to go. 

He lunges for me but I've already gone back up. Loch and Ben are dozing still, the house is dark and quiet and I go see Dalton next.

He puts his arm up with the quilts over it and I crawl in beside him. He brings his arm down and pulls me close.

Any other day I'd be drawn and quartered for this. 

Would I be a bad person if I keep Caleb? 

Depends. What's the motive?

Not losing anyone else. There's too many empty places at the table as it is. 

And you think you can fill those holes by sleeping with the Devil? 

No, but I feel less alone. 

If you still feel alone between Loch and Ben then I would say nothing's going to help you and maybe you should keep the Devil on ice until you figure this out. 

I say nothing but kiss him on the cheek and slide out of his bed. I put on my docs at the side door and head across the driveway to the boathouse. I look back once because I think I hear PJ call me but it's the wind so I keep going. The boathouse is dark too and the Devil is in his dreams so I guess I'm already there.

I slide under the furs beside him and his arm comes around me as he wakes up.

You okay? He says, in a voice thick with sleep.

I shake my head against his arms but say nothing.

I don't think Loch can be the man of your dreams if you wake up missing someone else, Neamhchiontach. 

Keep Loch out of this. 

He's in it, though. Fighting a ghost. It's the only thing that helps me sleep at night, knowing that he knows he'll never be number one to you. 

Do you need to do this now? 

Forgive me. It's hard to wake up triumphantly and triumphant to wake up hard because there's a Bridget in my bed. 

I'm not going to give you up. 

Music to my ears, Baby Doll. 

I can't lose anyone else.

You never lost me, even when you asked me to step aside. I don't think it matters what you do. I'll be here until the end. He kisses me on the forehead but doesn't let me go right away and I don't try to leave. It's warm. Secure. Safe.

I leave him reluctantly and head back across the driveway, where PJ opens the door before I can turn the knob and frowns at me. How long were you there? 

Five minutes. You going to lecture me? 

If I must. 

For the record I'm going to manage my own affairs from now on. 

How does Loch feel about it? 

Feel about what? There's Lochlan now. Awake and ready for a fight.

Bridget's going to use her grief as a shield to deflect any criticism she faces for continuing to sleep with everyone. (Thanks, PJ for picking sides today of all days.)

I shrug. You don't have to be assholes about it. 

Neither do you, Loch tells me. His eyes are flashing with tired rage.

This is what you signed up for. Maybe you shouldn't have walked out when things got tough. 

I came back. All in, Bridget. You have my heart. 

I'm not all in. So I don't know what I have for you. 

Look, just ride out the day and tomorrow things will seem better. 

Why? Is he coming back?

Who? 

Who do you think?!