In the dark the sand sparkles like stars, scooped from an earthen sky and released from my tightened fist into a galaxy patterned on a dark damp rock masquerading as the universe. In the dark the saltwater stings a cold dance against my skin, baptism by sea, clarity via the elements. The sea is my giant crystal ball, it helps me see everything and what it misses I can find in those stars as I touch them and let them go. The sound rushes in to fill my head, muting everything else until the focus that remains is distilled down to the purest form.

Sea, myself & sky.

It's a game I've been playing inside my head forever, a play upon learning grammar in elementary school. Me, myself and I. Subjects. Objects. Pronouns. Intensifiers. I look up sharply at the teacher. Intensifiers? I've got intensifiers. My half-formed little eight-year-old brain smiles as she thinks of her boys and returns to her daydream in which it's not even day, it's night and it's not even in town, it's at the beach, and it doesn't even matter because the sea will still be here waiting for you even if your brain is full and your mind is harried and your grammar is wrong and your dress is still too big, Bridget. She's there and she keeps the stars on full reflect and she will drown all your fears and she will show you a different way to predict your future if only you let her surround you. Lean your head back, spread your arms out wide and tread the sea like the longest journey you can imagine and at the end, there you are.

No spoilers!

Oh my gosh. The movie was freaking GLORIOUS. Ben Affleck looked great in Gucci. Don't ask how I could pick out so much of his wardrobe as Bruce Wayne. He's now my favorite Batman of all time, forever. I cringed, I cried, I spent half the movie thinking Doomsday was Colossus with a skin issue and there were bagpipes, for the win.

Worth the price of admission. Grim as all hell. Destructive to a fault and I wish it never ended. I'll go back and see it again with the rest this week.

Damn.

My money's on Batman (no, not my Batman, the Ben Affleck one. *DROOL*)

Sam is PISSED that we're bailing on Good Friday services (on the beach, no less) because we have tickets to see Batman V Superman this morning. Whoops. He nailed me to a cross and put me on his schedule which means I get fiery-Finnick service later alone because I need to be saved or something. Because I'm the chosen one. Because I've been crucified. Because I'm fucking Wonder Woman and so I made an executive decision and bought the tickets before the internet arrives to spoil the outcome of the movie for me. Not going to happen today, folks, and I promise I won't spoil it for you either. Wish us luck, it's always a logistical nightmare to take more than a dozen people to the movie theatre.

For everyone else, not for us. We're good. But the rest of the world hates being stuck in the long lineups for popcorn just before it starts.

White flag.

Batman called to clear the air before we see each other tomorrow and asked what the nightmare was about.

How did you know I had a nightmare?

Bridget, we do a daily group chat before your feet hit the floor each morning. Tell me. 

I dreamed you came down the arrivals hall and you had Jake with you. That you found him and were bringing him home and my head exploded. 

If I could do that I would, bridget. 

Best to leave that alone. 

I am bringing home someone I think you'll get along with just fine, however. 

Oh? How did things go. 

Got it straightened out. Thanks to your boy, there. Also, tell him I found the job he thinks he lost. I'll bring it with me. 

Thank you for that. For all of it. 

Bridget, I'm not as black and white as you seem to think. I understand the difficulties you two face. 

Really? I don't think anyone does. 

I think everyone does. That's why they surround you both. Everyone just wants the best for you.

Remove 'the best for' and you've got it. 

Stop. I can't wait to introduce you. Please be on your best.

When am I not? 

This. THIS.

Behold, some schoolwork my mom sent in with a box of Easter treats. This masterpiece was created when I was ten. Hard to believe I was the most artistic kid in the whole school, thankfully since I certainly wasn't the most academic one. The boys are having a field day, remembering little Bridget, when she was too small to have much sway at all, let alone a fully-formed opinion.

At least I knew what I wanted from an early age. Except Lochlan isn't in the drawing, he had tied me to the wheel and was running it from the ground. He didn't want me to leave him.

Maelstroms and motives.

Thought I would die a lonely man, in endless night
But now I'm high
Running wild among all the stars above
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me

The way it was told to me, Batman got halfway through lecturing Lochlan on the whole idea of not being able in life to just stop what you're doing and hide or leave or escape, that bad things happen every single day and business doesn't just stop for every tragedy or news story. He said it sounded heartless but the show must go on.

Same quote Caleb used on me, ironically and it had the same result on Loch that it had on me. A swift correction and a ceasing of any sort of mutual effort to get anything done at all.

Then I quit. Loch told Batman out of the side of his mouth in his half-angry, half-bemused lilt and got on a flight and was home late last evening. He flew commercial because as he told me, I got the bonus-bonus but I guess it'll have to last a while because I lost me job. 

I pointed out that he knows where it is, he's the one who left it there.

No matter, Peanut. I'll figure something out.

I smile, half from exhaustive relief and half because he's been saying that for thirty years. If ever a soul needed a net it is this one.

(Batman will be back on Saturday. Brace for impact. Dalton and Dylan aren't fazed and will be continuing their itinerary until the fall unless I get too spooked and extract them with more exciting means. It could happen. You'll see.)

He opened all the windows so that the smell of avgas and panic would dissipate overnight and then after making sure we had enough love to see us through the dark (Oh, we do. We have enough for the rest of this life and the next because we're not sharing anymore.) he passed me my headphones but he picked the music and I was asleep before the end of the first song.

Ostrich millionaires and the girl who cried wolves.

(Jesus Christ. I'm the Queen of Hearts today.)

Do you know if your soul is removed early for whatever reason (like in heated negotiations with the Devil for permanent ownership of it) that the remaining stalk can be replanted and sprout a new one? It grows slowly and you have to change the water every day, like celery, but then you have a new bargaining chip with which to negotiate when you are trying to spend a hundred thousand dollars on a jet for a one way flight home for three people you care about so dearly it's criminal.

Yes, Dylan. Even you.

I might have promised my new fledgling soul to the Devil for his contacts when he stepped in at the last minute of my call to the Russians because I want a fucking plane and I want Lochlan, Dylan and Dalton on it and I want it in Vancouver by tonight.

Not gonna happen, Princess. These things take time. 

Money makes it happen faster. 

He can fly commercial. 

(I can fly commercial, Peanut. Don't waste the money.)

I don't care.

(I don't care, Locket. If you get blown to pieces there I won't survive it.)

(But you're safe.)

(Not without you.)

Did you talk to Batman? 

He's busy. He told me life happens and if he ran and hid every time a threat played out in the world he wouldn't get anything done. 

He's right. The show must go on.

The show is rescheduled if the whole motherfucking tent is burning down, Cale! If you're going to use a quote like that on me at least understand what it means! 

Bridget, calm down. 

I'll calm down when he's home! 

Sugar up to my knees.

Thanks to the mild weather Caleb had my Porsche brought out of storage (put away last November) a few weeks early. He had it detailed, delivered and then told me to come out to see it, to have a seat and reposition all of the seat and climate controls the way I like them.

I turned on the fan full blast and glitter came out the vents.

I squealed and he laughed and said it was payback, but since it's clean glitter in a very clean car I plan to leave it all. over. everything.

They can pick it off their tongues for the next six months, like I do. My car looks like a snowglobe on the inside and that's just the way I like it.

Weapons-grade feelings.

Yes, I love you

Lochlan on speakerphone last evening, warning us it will probably be most of the week until he gets home.

Go outside and listen to the record I sent you, he instructs. He sent me Oceans of Slumber's Winter the other day, which is a masterpiece so underrated it's almost criminal if you're a progressive rock fan or a music fan at all, frankly.

Not now, Bridge. It's dark, John tells me. User override. Lochlan's time difference is excused. It was very very early in the morning for him. It was daylight.

He said he saw the album art online and went down a rabbit hole. I'm kind of stunned by the way we find music sometimes. I can identify with that. The rabbit hole, I mean, though the artwork is neat, too. I already had put that album in my skull from my perch on the wall at the end of the yard, as I do, in the rain. I'm good. I'll do it again today. Just because.

I'm good, I repeat to him but he never believes me. Doesn't believe Ben has retreated, doesn't believe I've resorted to sleeping on Sam's couch, doesn't believe I've even had time to listen to his offering as I've probably been busy lining the boys up and picking them off, one by one with my cold naked charm.

They only love me when I'm good.

It's Saturday morning and they seem to be on a relentless mission to spoil me. I love this. I could get used to this but I probably won't let myself because in there somewhere is the voice of a twelve-year-old telling me I don't deserve it.

Ben woke me at fiveish this morning. Not gently, no. Instead I was lifted off the bed until the only thing touching it was my heels and my fingertips on one hand before I grabbed onto him because as always I am afraid to fall. He was rough but sweet, sleepy but awake and ready to wind me out, letting his own wants stay on the back burner. He put me back down, turning me over first, one hand sliding underneath my abdomen and the other covering my whole face. This was nothing short of glorious and we somehow got perfectly synced, achieved nirvana together and then collapsed on top of the sheets, out of breath, perfectly warmed and smiling, Ben moreso while I practically dozed because he loves the noises I make. He loves everything.

No offers this time to go to the Devil?

I only do that as a front for the fear. 

The fear?

Of not being able to make it the whole way. 

So Loch is libido backup?

Naw, he's your lover. That's a turn-on too. 

Then what is Caleb?

Risk. Darkness. Ever feel like you just need to do things that are more out there? Just to feel alive? Watching the Devil take you over makes me feel alive. There's no jealousy, no regret, just hunger. It's amazing. 

So today?

Today you're mine. I have no intentions of sharing you. 

A delicious little tingle of bliss runs up the back of my spine and I shiver.

Until Loch comes back. Then I get everything I need. 

Same danger?

No. Lochlan's too hippie to be scary. 

He can be scary, Ben. You didn't know him back in the day. 

I would have loved him just as much as I do now. 

Yeah, you definitely would have. I stop talking, relaxing my body one part at a time until the next thing I know it's hours later, the sun is streaming into the room, the curtains are open and so is the door and I am tucked neatly, thoroughly under the quilts and it didn't hurt to open my eyes. First time in two weeks I feel as if I've caught up on rest but could still always use more.

A knock on the door and there's PJ's shoulder hovering just outside. Decent? Ben asked if I could take care of a little project for you. 

I am. Where is he? 

He and Dunk went to a meeting. 

Again? 

I think he'd rather stay sober than take any more risks, Bridge. Anyway, here's breakfast. He wanted it to be perfect. He comes in with a tray with coffee, an omelet, toast, strawberries and a tiny rosebud in a shot glass.

I don't think my brain can take this level of spoilage, Peej. 

Try yourself. You're a little too austere about shit, Bridge. Just enjoy it. Relish it. Maybe even ask for it once in a while. 

Who brings you breakfast in bed, PJ? 

Your husband, you little blind tart. 

That's deaf tart to you, asshole. 

I poisoned your food, FYI. Ben's mine.

Seems to be a lot of that going around lately, doesn't it? 

How about you just eat? I want to run the dishwasher before I go out and it's getting late. Some of us have things to do. 

I have things to do too!

Like what?

Well, I have to eat! So either sit down and entertain me or get lost and I'll ring you when my dishes are ready. 

I should negotiate for some butler pay. 

Yes, you should. Want me to talk to the boss about that? 

No, Bridget. I've been asked to keep you away from him until Loch comes back. I'll have to enlist Sam because I have to go out.

That's probably a smart move. 

It is, because I'm like that. I'm definitely going to ask for a raise. 

Hey. 

Hey, what, Princess?

Can you stay and keep me company while I eat?

Only if you share. 

Here's a piece of toast?

That isn't what I mean. 

PJ! 

I'm kidding! Christ! Well, I'm not but the joke was begging to be told, you know?