(The one thing I've never pointed out is when it comes to the memory thief, I am eight.)

By the time I heard the sound it was too late and it was raining broken glass all around me, black cinders fluttering among the shards almost in slow motion and I looked up to see former windows, now framed in flames. I am transfixed by fire, always, but in this moment Lochlan is nowhere to be found.

The memory thief runs toward me, his face blackened, tie shredded, it's awkward knot loosened and askew. His formerly white shirt is almost grey now with soot and he throws his arms around me as he runs past, pulling me up off my feet, against his chest tightly. I put my arms around his neck and watch the fire get smaller as we get further away from it. Everything around us gets darker but he keeps running as hard as he can. I can feel his heart pounding through his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps and he squeezes me so hard against him that it hurts.

When the fire is a memory of its own he begins to slow and then finally he stops and collapses to the pavement, spilling us both to the road, holding my head in his hand against his shoulder to keep from cracking it open against the ground.

What did you do? I scramble away from him and to my feet, fists tightly curled and walk back twenty feet to watch the flames as they eat everything they touch, including everything I held so dear that I depended on him to protect and keep until a time came when I could relive everything again without it hurting so much.

We're going to reinvent ourselves, Bridget. We're going to start over. No more dusty file cabinets and locked drawers. No more thieves and interlopers. No more substitutions. No more waiting. I burned it all down. 

He sits up, elbows on his knees, pulling off his tie and tossing it to one side. He starts to laugh. I should have done this years ago.

You didn't ask me, Sam!

You would have said no. 

All of that belonged to me. That whole block.

That whole city, you mean. Just wait. The whole thing is wired to go up but I've got it on a time delay. For safety. 

I didn't ask you to do this. 

It was too dangerous to leave it any longer. Someone was going to get hurt.

Who was going to get hurt?

You. Or maybe me. Maybe all of us.

So you destroyed it?

Yes.

And then you got drunk.

Yes.

Why?

This is a huge step but we need to make it now and we need to do it together.

What do you mean?

Just as I ask the question a deafening rumble begins and the ground starts to shake and then an explosion levels my world.

When I next open my eyes I'm lying on the ground on my back. It's daylight and everything is covered with a thick layer of ashes. I can't breathe or hear anything except for an incessant ringing and there's nothing for miles in any direction.  I sit up and Sam is grinning from ear to ear beside me.

It's too late now, isn't it? I ask him.

WHAT? He yells. I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I THINK I MADE THE RIGHT DECISION THOUGH. I THINK THINGS ARE GOING TO BE A LOT EASIER NOW FOR BOTH OF US.

Full frontal disappointment.

Corey sent a huge flower basket this morning by way of apology for his bullheadishness. Looking back I was still ladylike and didn't stoop to his level as much as I probably could have, probably saved only because I am usually loathe to interrupt once the boys get going. I called to thank him right away, I mean this basket could barely fit through the door. I thought we would have to open both. It's got silk butterflies pinned everywhere and has roses just spilling out of it. I've never seen anything so lovely.

The note said,

Mrs. K. I am an ass but the observations hold true. I still love you as you made me famous and I could retire at 40. Don't wreck my friends and we'll call it even if you promise to visit me in the home when I'm 90 and maybe then concede to give me a spongebath. 

Love, 

Corey. 

PS. Loch you love me bitch admit it. 

I don't know how he got the flower shop to write all that but money can buy the most interesting things.

Really, you deserve it. You have put up with a lot. 

And you, not living here, don't know the half of it. 

Sorry, Bridge.

Apologies like this are accepted! I can be bought with flowers. 

Good to know. 

Come for dinner Saturday. Be on your best. It will be cheaper. 

Noted. I'll bring potato salad. 

No, just bring you. 

Okay. 

***

Sam fell asleep last night with every window open downstairs and the heat from the rest of the house sucked down the steps and outside. I went down in five layers to trace the source of the freezing cold and it was like Zathura when I opened the door only instead of seeing outer space it was Hoth. I called out to him and immediately went around closing doors and windows and telling him he really had to learn to batten down the hatches at night because this was one habit of Jake's he didn't need to fall into, especially living at ground level and then I made it to the bedroom door and he's-

Oops.

Still sleeping.

Buck naked. Face up. Half on the bed. Half not except that something is wrong because Sam isn't messy or forgetful or a free sleeper like this and I grab a blanket from the couch in the living room and go back and throw it over him and sit down and yell his name in his face and he stirs so slowly for a brief moment I think he's dead and I lose my mind.

Literally lose it. As in full and utter breakdown right there. Fireworks and demolition from the top of my head to the bottom of my heart and he opens his eyes and it takes a lot of work and then I realize where I've seen that kind of whiskey effort to get out of a blackout before.

Oh, Sam. I thought you were dead but you're just stupid. 

Hard to believe behind his back they call him 'The Mountain'.

And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues

It seemed like a normal, albeit very tired Tuesday morning. I'm washing endless dishes at the sink. PJ and Ben are sharing the newspaper at the island. Lochlan is trying fix something on my macbook. Sam and Duncan are talking about the weekend. August is stretched out on the couch by the fire, eyes closed. Dalton isn't up yet. Quietish. Elton's on the stereo. My choice.

John comes in from running errands, including taking the children up to school because it's pouring. All hands on deck, he calls and everybody groans but gets up. That means he wants everyone to help do one single trip bringing things inside. It turns a lot of work into a two-minute job.

The second everyone is out of the kitchen he locks the french doors behind them and grabs me in a dance. A very elaborate tango through the kitchen. Just me, John and Elton while he sings the song. I am surprised and thrilled. I love dancing. I love Elton. I love John when he's in these kinds of moods. He spins me past the glass doors while everyone stands there and stares, my arms high above my head and brings me back in, swaying me back and forth in his arms, smiling down at me. He ends the song with me back where I started at the sink and he heads across to unlock the door but before he lets anyone back in, he blocks them.

She needs more fun. More good days. More HAPPY. Got it?

They nod. Loch walks in and pretends to throw a nasty uppercut and John pretends to hit him back but then takes him into his arms and takes him for a waltz around the kitchen too. I turn up the music and we all watch and soon they are all begging for turns and my eyes start to sting just a little because it's so much fun to watch them getting along so well.

Dalton finally appeared and had no idea what was going on but thankfully was a really good sport and got the last dance of the morning.

This can be cult rule #1. Forget the sex parties. I want breakfast dancing.

Teflon Jesus and the pull in every direction except away. Also, Cor, we still hate yer fucken guts. (<--that part was not me, that's Loch).

Hardly three weeks have gone by and Dalton got the call to go back out on the road. I heard him talking on the phone late last night. He's not much of a door-closer and I was in the library so I got an earful. He was quick to convince them he wasn't interested and I went to bed at ease.

Until Corey showed up this morning to try and turn his screws a little more tightly. Dalton doesn't like to be bugged so I didn't mind running interference.

He just got home. He's already given his answer, Corey. 

Ohh. Here comes the microqueen with her decision. No boys off the point. The cult is closed for business, is it? He smirks at me. Asshole. 

We're a cult now? 

Bridget, this is the first and only cult revolving around a woman that I've seen. I'd say there's some quality issues involved with that but yeah, it's a fucking cult. You've got your sex parties, your built-in preachers, your decades of brainwashing, your faithful followers, and your closed-off property. A little recruiting, a lot of rules, no strangers, no peeking, and at the top of the heap is your little fucked-up self. 

Oh my God, Corey, you're so jealous. Stop it. I'm flattered but you're not my type. 

Because my dick would have stuck right out the back of your fucking head, midget. 

Enough, Corey. Dalton isn't in the mood for one of our fights. Corey and I never got along, precisely for this reason. He wants to be here and I have no patience for his egotude.

Sorry, Dalt. I just don't get what it is that keeps you all here. 

Exactly what you listed. Sex parties and decades of brainwashing. Dalton is deadpan and I giggle.

Corey rolls his eyes.

If you change your mind about coming out it would probably be good for you to stay away from Mrs. Koresh here. I think Jake taught her everything he knew and she just picked up the torch after he offed himself. You know why he did that, right? It's because you fuck anything that breathes, Bridget. 

Except you. 

ZING. Love you, Babe. See ya later. 

I hope not. 

Christ, who let him in? Duncan strolls in and I point at his brother.

Dalt! 

I didn't think he'd be that big of an ass. 

It's Monday. Of course he is. All of the weekend hope is gone. It'll be back around Thursday. They laugh but I'm crushed. We are a fucking cult.

I'm not too crushed though. I'm so glad I can keep Dalton home for the summer and away from that crap.

The movie by myself.

Lochlan broke his shiny new rule first thing this morning when we went to the theatre to see Warcraft (Sunday is a good time to see a movie because hardly any one goes and Ben doesn't get harassed at all) and at the last minute I bought a ticket to see a different movie.

I don't actually play video games much (you have been left behind) so I got myself a ticket to see Me Before You.

Which was not a funny, sad romantic comedy chick flick like what I thought it would be, even having read the controversy in the paper, knowing the main character wanted to off himself because he felt his life was not worth living. It sounded a little heavy. It sounded perfect, because let's face it. I like my life a little heavy.

I left the theater unable to breathe. Only because it was a real kick in the arse. A punch in the face. Live boldly indeed. Their relationship was neither trite nor predictable, the story was neither cheesy nor hokey and it was well worth the thought parade and the unhappy ending. I loved it, I loved that it made me think and I loved that it made me smile and cry at the same goddamned time. It's far far deeper than you would expect and way less fluffy than it probably should have been been and very very good. It should almost be required watching, in this day and age with our grand debates on euthanasia and perhaps on how to compromise in relationships too.

I think I had a better time than the boys did (their reviews of Warcraft were the following: Awesome! So cool! and Amazing!) and I'm also a full-fledged card-carrying grownup because I've been to a movie alone.

I didn't get mugged or anything. I ate a whole popcorn without having to share, which may have been a bad idea. I didn't eat anything else yet this weekend because I am still full from it but yeah, good movie.

Really, really good. And so very sad. But so very good.

Rule.

Two days later and everyone remains disappointed in me, Claus is 'deeply saddened' and the majority blame Ben for that one time when he said he really really liked watching me fuck other people.

He. wasn't. even. there.

He's also really mad at me, for the record. Mostly because once again the back of my skull features a really large human bite imprint that really fucking hurts when I touch it and my hips show a set of bruises in the exact shape and size of Caleb's fingertips. Neither Ben nor Lochlan ever leave a mark, but with Caleb it's a hallmark and nothing has changed.

And two days later I have apologized to no one. I am a package deal and it's a difficult package. Comes with a ghost or two and a fucked up feral freak of a girl and I make no bones about it. They all know up front what to expect so don't be surprised when what you see is exactly what you get.

And Ben falls off the wagon two, three times a year. I fell off it for the first time ever and it took a bite out of my head and told me it loved me, fucked my heart out and shoved me back across the driveway into loving arms. Seems to me I'm doing pretty good.

Is that what you call it? Pretty good? Jake has that disapproving smile on his face as he steps into the light in the garage. The smile that means he still wants to be polite but can't stand to be, either. 

Can you look after Cole for me? 

I always do. He isn't easy though. 

I know but thank you. I appreciate it. 

For how long?

Eternity. 

Bridget-

That's the deal. Or until I get there. Then I will take over and you can be done. Soon, okay? 

I turn to leave and smash right into Lochlan, who has added horrified to his tired, pissed-off, fed-up expression. Bridget, what in the hell do you mean by that-

Nothing. I'm just trying to placate him, that's all.

What do you mean by soon?

Nothing, I just meant until I'm dead. 

You said soon. That means shortly.

Loch, I don't-

That's enough. This ends right here. 

He took my hand and kissed the back of it and said I stray no further than the length of his arm for the rest of my life and if that was a problem, well then too fucking bad. My first thought was easy and my second thought was really freaking dirty and awful but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Or..

Uh...

Indemnity.

Mama, ain't the blood just proof I'm human?
Mama, ain't the wound just retribution?
Well Mama, ain't the scar like a vision of grace?

I found Cole, in the fog, in the rain, in the waves crashing against the cliffs, in the concrete room where I keep my memories of him, in the mannerisms of his older brother, so much like him and yet nothing like him now because his heart beats an unsteady rhythm like the rain did just yesterday. Just for me. Just long enough for me to find purchase on the wet earth and then I was sent home in the dark to make my penance proper because as the Devil said it serves no purpose any more to use the living to visit the dead.

He didn't mean himself. He meant August because for as much as I can find Cole in Caleb I can find Jacob in August but this entry today isn't about Jacob and it isn't even about Cole. It's about a six month break that ended yesterday with a crash against the shore that signaled a truce of sorts. I offered my body and he offered a ghost. I took all of my fear and anger and put it on him and he took it and wore it and wept from it and let it eat him alive and let it wear on him and finish him off and then he let them devour him whole with their rage and let their fists connect with him and their words strike him down and he rode on through the dangerous night with me in his arms and he promised things would be better and I wouldn't have to hate him anymore and we won't have to be enemies and he said he was trying to protect me too and he was trying to fix things and all men are selfish if you give them the chance, Bridge, not even one of us is different and in the morning things looked better. The sun came up and I could catch my breath. He slept uneasily beside me, that uneven beat still thrumming through what was left of the night, a song no one knows anymore because it's unfamiliar, words we've never heard and I realized I don't hate him anymore. The only difference is like everything he doesn't do anything halfway. It's all or nothing, every time. That's what makes this so difficult for him, is that he is forced to be the bad guy, the ghostkeeper, the past.

I still don't see a future, I tell him over cheese toast.

Look harder. It's there. You weren't taught to be short-sighted, he says, and he drains the rest of the coffee in his cup, kisses my cheek and leaves the room.

"It takes a man to make a devil." -Henry Beecher.

I want you to know
All is blacked out but continues to grow
I need you to see
Nothing can change unless you believe
I won't let it go
I'll stick to the plan
We're deep in the throes

I won't let it go
I'll fight til the end
And then you will know

Who will save you now?
Who will save you now?
Tell the world I'll survive
Who will save you now?
Who will save you now?

Alone with this vision
Alone with this sound
Alone in my dreams
I carry around

I will not take from you and you will not owe
I will protect you from the fire below
It's not in my mind
It's here at my side
Go tell the world that I'm still alive

This morning every breath washes over me in panic. Every step feels like it's weighed in concrete and every breeze across my skin is raw. I can't find a way to distract myself or soothe myself from this feeling. Nothing is working. Sam isn't home, August and PJ are both out. Loch and Ben are both working and I'm supposed to call Christian or Danny if I need anything and instead I'm climbing the walls. Duncan and Dalton are both home and asleep and I don't dare wake up either one with a psychic crisis because Dalton will suggest we do something constructive and Duncan will suggest something destructive and I don't want to do either of those. I know a surefire way to calm myself but he is evil and forbidden and maybe exactly what I need right this minute because I can't breathe and all I want is Cole. Sometimes it's nice when the grief can hurt just a little bit less. Sometimes it's nice when you can still touch a ghost long gone.

Presence.

But never have I been a blue calm sea
I have always been a storm

I feel asleep waiting for Ben in the big hanging chair in the lounge area of the studio and he woke me with a sweet kiss long past my bedtime when he finally took off his headphones and noticed I was still there. He's been holed up for weeks. Part of me wants to stamp my feet and say it isn't fair, the other part reminds me that this is how he is. How he's happiest. This is what he does, nevermind the others who unhelpfully suggest that this is because I have rejected Caleb at last and maybe now Ben has no use for me because I'm not depraved anymore or maybe because my loyalties aren't as divided  clearly I must be devoted to Loch and now there's no room for Ben to maybe the simple fact remains that he's finally grown bored of me (wow, thanks Duncan) to PJ's incredible suggestion that I should have been down here forcing him out of his rut long before now.

I don't know who is right and who is wrong so I asked Ben and he laughed and said Nobody, but since we're alone, there's been something I've been wishing for. And he unzipped his jeans and grabbed me by the back of the head and made sure no one's going to call me a lady any time soon.

When I was done choking on his absence he wiped my face with his t-shirt and said he bet I didn't miss him anymore and said if I needed my jaw realigned the next one will probably put it back and he laughed and sat down heavily on the floor right in front of where I lay in the chair. Still sideways. Still somewhat sleepy. Still kind of surprised. He puts his head down to match mine. So we can talk.

What did I miss?

Spring. 

What else?

The meltdown-countdown. 

You seem to be doing okay from where I sit. 

Yes, Ben. If you stare down the end of your dick, everything looks terrific. Jesus. You've got the penis-equivalent of rose-colored glasses. 

I told you I wasn't going to fix things. 

You're not even around for moral support though. You've bailed entirely. 

You're safe. And I've got my own shit to fix, Bridge. I'm trying not to drink, here. 

Then let me help you.

Pretty sure you just did. 

Well, then fuck Bill. They should ask everyone if they're friends of Bridget. 

Here on the point, they do. The program is called BB. 

BJ, you mean.

Right. Because that was amazing. I've been missing out on life haven't I?

Yes. 

I'm sorry, Bridget. How can I make it up to you?

Stop disappearing? 

Dammit. I was hoping you'd let me return the favor you just did for me. 

Well...you could do that to. 

Awesome! And before I could say anything else, he got up on his knees, grabbed my hips, pulled my jeans right off and the rest isn't even remotely fit for print.

My sweater saved my life yesterday and other stupid stories I'm not going to tell you.

Well, did she make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love?
And is it over now
Do you know how
Pick up the pieces and go home?

Loch hung over the fence just before sunset and grabbed me by the hood. He got me going in a good hard swing and then with a shout he defied gravity, bringing me back over to the safe side once again. Then I got the usual routine of being backed up against a wall with his finger in my face, his harsh words in my ears and tears swimming in my own eyes as I bit my lip and tried to be brave while he demanded that if I'm insolent enough to break the rules then I'm brave enough to stand there and absolutely not cry to his fucking face while I get in trouble for it. No? Oh well, then DON'T DO IT AGAIN, OKAY? 

And I nodded even as he tried and failed to keep his whole face from cracking into a smile because he's not all that good at being parental to me anymore even as I'm absolutely awful at following rules and really that side of the yard is one of the few places with completely unspoiled beauty and no electric fences or obstructed views and so when I need to think very hard and I'm not allowed on the beach then why, yes, I will end up perched out on the very edge of the cliff with my back right up against the fence where there's no actual room to stand. If you saw it you'd be horrified. Even the fence posts are engineered to hook back in underneath about three feet back from where the fence sits proper. It's terrifying in places.

It's also liberating because I'm the only one small enough to fit on that side and sometimes I just need to pause the whole world and hop off and you'll know it when I do because your CD will skip, your video will buffer or you'll lose your train of thought. Sorry, sometimes it can't be helped.

But really, I'm fine. I just have to figure out how to reorder my stuff every time I drive over a bump in the road and all my things fly up into the air and every time that happens there's one less space to put everything when it all comes back down and I have to rearrange it. That's how Sam described it and it's perfect.