Silver tongues and transparencies.

La breithe sona duit, le mo ghra go deo.

(Rusty as fuck.)

This morning at four I went and fetched the champagne and the scotch too and brought them back to bed. By eight the champagne was everywhere and the scotch was mostly gone and Lochlan and I were both birthday drunk, sticky and worn the fuck out.

All birthdays should start like that, I think. 

He is fifty-one today. 

We showered and put on jeans and sweaters and took the rest of the scotch and a breakfast picnic down to the dock, sitting with our legs dangling over the side, sharing a thermos of coffee, toast wrapped in foil, oranges and then the rest of the bottle of scotch, passed back and forth until Lochlan tipped the remaining few drops down his throat with a flourish. 

I stood up and made my speech to him. I do it privately now, for it's easier and somehow less and more raw all at once this way, and I can say everything I want to say without any pressure, without any worries that anyone will have hurt feelings or surprise news. 

When I sat back down his eyes were swimming in tears. Half of that is just being drunk at nine in the morning and the other half is a blindside of emotion. 

I did so good with you, Neamhchiontach. So good. He shakes his head in disbelief. He doesn't mean he raised me well, though he really did, he means he is happy I'm his wife, that we're still together. That we picked each other and we kept each other and we persevered and here we are. 

You know how people say life flies past in the blink of an eye? That it's so fast? It isn't. It took forever to get here. 

But here we are. 

Happy Birthday, Locket. 

Thank you, Peanut. I have everything. 

There are still presents, but not until after dinner. 

Speaking of which, you up for a show tonight? 

I choke and inhale the Scotch. Great. Now I'm going to die. 

When I'm done coughing and he's gently pounded me on the back until I can breathe again, I ask for who? Not like I'm going to perform a show for everyone. We're not a family friendly act unless we're busking. I know exactly which show he means but for who is a mystery. Maybe Ben. Yeah, he probably wants to pull out all the stops at last and show Ben how we managed. Where the money came from that we didn't steal. Where the reputation came from when we didn't lie. 

Diabhal. 

I choke again but this time I let myself die. When I recover he takes the bottle and laughs. No more for you. You can't control a thing about your feelings. Jesus. I didn't realize the extent.

There's none left anyway. And we did a show for him once already. 

A full show, Neamhchiontach. 

No use calling me that if we're doing the whole thing for him.

I know. 

What have you done? Did you sell us out to him? 

No, Bridge. I felt sorry for the guy. So I said we'd give him the full show. My gift to him on such a generous day. We head over at nineish, after the party. Once we're ready. He's coming here around five. 

That is generous. 

He's got nothing left. We can at least entertain him. 

But Lochlan always had a masterful poker face, and I know he's holding all his cards close. I don't know what I'm walking into and I'm no longer looking forward to an event I practically live for, cake and speeches, dinner and celebrations. Now I'm dreading the evening ahead, and no one will tell me why. 

Relax, Peanut. We're going to have fun. We should keep our skills up anyway. Tonight's the perfect chance. And he smiles like everything is so wonderful, only I can see so far right through him, it's as if he isn't really even there. 

I hate it when he comes back.

I don't know what Lochlan's up to either but he's a grifter by trade so I don't question him, I just watch and learn and maybe someday I'll understand better how he went here to there, eviscerating a hard list of Don't-Touches that featured Duncan at the top or thereabouts in favor of a night we can probably never speak of again but won't ever forget.

I don't know whether to pinch myself for the dreams or renounce the Collective and spend the remainder of my life in a convent atoning for these sins.

Bless me father, for I am wicked-good, I whisper to no one in particular. I stretch my arms out. They ache today, worse than yesterday. Ben. Ben really liked Lochlan's actions as retold by me and took it out on me from three this morning until about nine-thirty. To that end it was worth the confusion that remains. So worth it.

My phone buzzes softly and when I check it there's a message from Caleb. He's home. See me at four. No I missed you. No I'm disappointed in you. No hint of the carnage and chaos to come. He will be angry. I'm not sure I'm concerned, exactly. I'm too busy trying to figure out how Lochlan is conducting this orchestra. I'm waiting to hear the song.

He just said "Last night I rode a poem", in an Elmer Fudd voice and I laughed until coffee came out my nose so now I have to tell you about it or you won't get the joke.

He came out almost directly behind me, leaning against the french door just outside in the tiny private side yard patio and watched as I sat in one of the chairs, wrapping the sheet more tightly around myself, a strapless dress made straight from his bed. I struggled to pull a cigarette out of the pack on the table and then lit it with the same hand as I held the sheet tightly twisted in my other fist.

My hands are trembling but he can't see that because it's dark save for the string of tiny vintage bulbs they left up from when this was Sam and Matt's place. Always on. The rain spits against the clear pergola cover. It's dry underneath. I take a drag and frown at my shaking hand, passing him the cigarette. As I exhale slowly I remember why I don't smoke.

As I exhale I remember why I don't do this.

Everything okay? The Lizard King speaks quietly as I stare at my hands still. I nod, turning my now-still hand back and forth to catch the light against my ring. Loch comes to the door and Duncan moves away, letting Loch out onto the patio.

It's late. We should go up. 

I nod again but make no move to get up, instead tightening the twist on the sheet. We were watching a movie and I had a drink. Then I had three. Then Loch said if I was going to get it out of my system tonight would be my best chance. The house is quiet, almost empty, the invitation is there. Duncan nods in his icy coolness, whatever disbelief he later admitted to well hidden in the beginning.

My fear of being outclassed disappeared quickly. We followed him downstairs as he turned on lights and once there he made no move to do anything, offering a late night snack instead. Olives. Cheese. Bread and some prosciutto. Ginger ale instead of whiskey to fade the buzz so there would be no mistake. No excuses.

No going back.

But I don't live with regrets and I get tired late at night so I made the first move and broke whatever ice held us paralyzed for too long, looking back at Loch who got closer as the night wore on. Making sure he was there. Making sure he didn't leave. Making sure he was a part of everything and somehow he's almost fine with anyone who doesn't wear the face of the devil. I get that and yet this doesn't make me better, it feeds the beast. It makes things worse but somehow it also took us right past the place where we flirt with danger and opened it right up so that it's no longer dangerous, it's done and somehow that's a better place to be.

Duncan holds the cigarette out and I take it even though I don't want it. I'm already getting a headache. My arms and legs ache. My whole body is exhausted. Then his easy voice cuts into the fatigue like butter.

Before you go, tell me something. Would you do it again? 

I shoot a look at Lochlan. Duncan reminds him that he's not offering a regular thing, but he wants to know if I liked it. He's curious. He wants my approval. Everyone always wants my approval but this is the last thing I expect from the coolest person I know, the one who comes into the room like a God and if he says hello it's like he's doing you a favor and you instantly feel the flush of being popular, like him. And he's asking me if he was good.

Seriously, Bridget. Tell me. 

Oh, here comes the flush. I let him off the hook, rewarding him with a look in the eye the way I rewarded him earlier with a bite against his shoulder, my arms around his back as he pulled me up against him so hard I saw stars and we weren't even outside like we are now.

I'd come back in a heartbeat, Poet. And I might. If Loch is up for it. Loch is noncommital and always afraid I'll bond too closely with those I've already bonded with for life. He gets to choose, and like I said, he's having fun sticking it to Caleb while he keeps me a little bit sick. But Duncan did this on his terms, refusing to come upstairs, instead asking us downstairs. To his world. It was a power play I didn't expect but one I instantly appreciated and respected. He really surprised me, further when I had my own curiosities fulfilled in that he is just as good as I thought he would be. Maybe better.

Definitely better.

But I'm still curious. Your turn, I tell him. Would you? I expected him to refuse, telling me I'm too much trouble, too heavy. Too small. Too crazy. Too risky. Too much. 

Hell, yes. Lochlan's faith in you is clear to me now. Caleb's obsession is completely understandable. But at the same time I feel like the elephant in the room is gone now that I'm on the other side, so to speak. I don't feel so anxious. 

You were anxious? 

Been working toward this or something like it for years, Poem. 

Then you caught Lochlan on a good night. He's using you to twist Caleb's screws tight. You have to be okay with that. 

I am. Not like I didn't get a lot out of it. Jesus, you're sweet. 

It's a myth. In the daylight, you'll see. 

I've seen you in the light. Doesn't change my mind. 

It will tomorrow. Like you said, you're on the other side now. 

I'll prove you wrong. Go get some sleep. Or stay here and sleep. 

We'll go. Loch steps back to my side and holds his hand out. Time to turn back into a pumpkin. I take the proffered hand and he pulls mine up to kiss the back of it, holding it against his lips. See you tomorrow, Brother. He squeezes Duncan's shoulder with his free hand and Duncan pulls him close for a quick hug.

Tomorrow, Brother. Thanks for the evening. 

And we're gone. And this morning when I woke up it wasn't a dream. It was real and my legs still ache but at least my mind is quiet. Lochlan is mildly agitated and takes forever to come down but me, I'm on a high that won't quit. This is what I live for. This is what I came for. This is what the Collective means. A way to bounce around inside and outside of my head with safe danger everywhere. Danger I can reach out and touch only to find it isn't dangerous at all. At least most of it.

A household equinox.

Summer is officially over.

The sun is setting earlier. We're in sweaters suddenly, abruptly as if someone flicked a switch. Pumpkin spice? Sure, I don't care, as long as it's hot. The garden is winding down in a big way with the only thing left being the last few ripening tomatoes, a few cucumbers, two giant pumpkins and a single soon-to-open sunflower, after months of bounty. It fed us for a couple of months and I consider it a resounding success, in that we finally after last years' false start, were able to figure out how to grow radishes and corn and also way more vegetables from seeds than from seedlings. I'm seven times as proud as usual and plan to branch out with even more next year. The only thing that didn't grow at all was the lettuce but even when I could grow it it bolted too fast to be used up and wasn't even that good, honestly.

The corn on the other hand? We've never had better.

I may never run out of basil, either. Of that I'm reasonably sure.

Four days of solid rain out of the past five have made the grass green again and the evenings darker than they should be for this time of year. I'm anxious to put out the Halloween decorations and have a fire going all the time. I'm excited for Thanksgiving and for Christmas too, and yet it seems like there should have been a few lingering weeks of hot weather and light nights after school starts that won't be there. School starts next week. Already. Suddenly I'm a 'Grad Parent' and also the mother of a newly-minted senior high student. They don't need wardrobes, only a few things. They don't want school supplies (rolling their eyes), because the teachers don't care but they will need pens and paper and mechanical pencils and they've already been to school to select and lock their lockers and make sure their friends did the same, close by.

The summer didn't rush by this year. It's a first. It meted itself out evenly, slowly. We did a lot. A lot of work. We had a lot of fun. We stayed up too late and went to bed too early sometimes. We swam constantly. We ate a lot of ice cream. We didn't try a single new restaurant, I don't think and I didn't care (I usually love to do that).

We had another wedding, though it was small and it wasn't here, per se. We rearranged life just a little and it worked out better than I could have imagined. I still struggle with a few things. I still fight the fight I've fought all along.

And now the final weekend is here before school starts. Ruth and Lochlan's big birthday weekend is starting up in earnest. The boys will come back (early) from Burning Man and we'll settle into a new and different routine for the coming season. Like we always do. I've been cooking and baking and decorating on the sly (one closet is FULL of balloons blown up and ready to be deployed) and the presents are bought and wrapped and both parties (one family, one friends) are planned for tomorrow and for Tuesday, of all days and I think we're ready. Bring it and bring everything else too.

I faltered a little, that's all. I'm okay now. Some days are tough but I'm tougher.

Never gonna happen.

I woke up to...everyone. Lochlan was wrapped around me. I put my hand out and touch Dalton who is in front of me. Duncan is beside him. Christian is sitting on the floor on the other side of Duncan, head back, dozing slightly. Sam is in one chair, head bowed as if in prayer but he's sleeping. Andrew is in the other, head on elbow. Ben and Daniel are on the couch asleep leaning on each other too and PJ is sitting on the far corner of the bed looking so pleased with himself. He leans in, wide awake.

Here's the army for you. I'm heading out. Taking the kids shopping. 

I nod because it's a fuzzy thought and I can't get it to focus quite completely but I sit up anyway and rub my eyes.

Loch sleeps on a trigger so he's up instantly. Hey. Did you sleep?

Like someone in a coma. Everyone is stirring. Did you all stay all night?

Dalton is up. No. We came in way early this morning so you would wake up surrounded. 

Jesus, this could only be better if we were all naked. 

I'm game, Ben laughs. He looks tired in a bad way though.

Sam chuckles quietly. Me too. 

Christian stands. This is where I make my exit. A chorus of hilarious protest goes up.  

Stay, I tell him.

You snore, Bridget. 

Please tell me it's a nice snore though. 

It's nice and loud, if that's what you want to hear. 

Lochlan smiles and kisses my cheek. Better this morning? 

I hope so, I tell him. I get up and pad across the room stepping over big feet and go into the bathroom. When I come out half an hour later, freshly showered and in my favorite robe, Lochlan is the only one left. All the curtains and blinds are open and the bed is made.

Your playa name is Circus Peanut and this is your theme camp, the theme being communal living. Here we demonstrate a working commune as run by ex-sideshow freaks. So far so good. We need to disperse the workload more evenly though. You had too much of a share and you crumbled a bit yesterday. 

I need a vacation. 

Then welcome to Point Perdition. It's a mini-burn, just for you. 

Do we have an orgy dome? 

Well, you cut right to the chase, don't you?

Maybe. Do we? 

We might. I'll show you later. 

SERIOUSLY? 

Help less.

Today didn't happen. Today was kind of a shoving-embrace-rejecting, double-Ativan, ghost-craving, fight-picking, uncontrollable-crying, miserable awful terrible no good kind of day. It was a day in which I made soup and bread for dinner after making soup and bread for lunch. I couldn't manage the day at all. It started up and took me over. It swallowed me whole, not letting me get a handle on it before flinging me off and I never did get control of it and so Ben said that's enough, Bumblebee and I've been sent off to bed momentarily, in clean pajamas and a freshly-washed face and I can't feel my chin or my elbows anymore but I also can't feel my past and tomorrow's going to look a whole lot better, he said. I asked him why and he said because you and Danny and I will spend the day at the park if you like and I told him it was going to rain. He said that was okay, that I'm not made of sugar but I wasn't convinced. What if I am? He smiled and said it would explain why I'm so sweet. But I'm not sweet, not anymore. And he stopped smiling and Sam came in and kissed my forehead and reminded me that being tough isn't an around-the-clock job. Sometimes you need breaks.  

It's a break all right, I told him and then everyone left and Lochlan came in and shut the door and stripped down to a t-shirt and his boxers and he said eight hours straight of sleep would help me and I said help me what? and he said he didn't know but I guess we'll see. I never liked surprises but I'm anxious for tomorrow nonetheless now. See you then.

Calls of the wild.

Batman called this morning. Told me he was having the time of his life, and the only thing missing was me. That this should be a required life event and that when he comes back he hopes to spend more time with me, having fun. Not in any sordid way, just in general. He was envious of our night of dancing, he said and he'd love to join us for the next show.

What if it's like Slayer or something non-danceable? 

Then we'll dance to it anyway. Why the hell not? 

(Well, there's the biggest indication that he's taking the drugs right there. Batman is not a 'why the hell not' type of guy, honestly.)

Bridget, you there? 

I'm here. 

I love you. 

I bet you do. 

August called too. He said it's even more awful than last year and he'll probably come back before Saturday. He wants to know how I feel, what everyone is doing (to me, probably and not just in general), and if I want to talk for a while, if so he can go find a charging cord and we can continue in a bit. I let him off the hook. I'm too tired for barometers and too sad that he's not here to listen to his voice without the accompanying physical presence.

Caleb called and said he'd bring me next year but only if we have a private RV. He said he transferred some money to me for the children's school needs, since school starts in a week. I told him he didn't have to do that and he said he likes to, that it's important to him to have a hand in taking care of us. Then he said he should be taking care of me and when he comes home from the desert he's going to do just that.

Gage called and said I should be there too. That it's perfect for me.

Keith called and said Gage is full of shit and that I am too good for the whole of Black Rock City.

New Jake called and asked if I really was worried about him.

I always worry about you, Jake. But the k is silent. My mouth won't finish his name out loud. Mostly his name seems to be 'Jay' now.

Bridget, I'm a grown man.

You're a diabetic in a shitty environment for staying healthy.

I'm not doing drugs. And I'm testing. And I'm fine. If you're that worried I'll go get on a plane.

What? Why would you do that?

To give you the peace of mind no one ever affords you.

No one can afford me, I tell myself. The cost is far too high.

What was that, Bridget? I don't think the connection is very good. I can barely hear you.

Nothing, I say at a normal voice and his voice smiles. Ah. You're back.

I never left, I tell him. Have fun, okay?

It is, actually. August and I are talking a lot. It's nice to have brothers. They're all good guys.

Yeah, they are.

It's like a deeper bonding experience but with less distractions. Not like at home.

What do you mean?

You're not here. You're the punctuation. You're the focus of the point, you know? Worshipped and watched over. The sun rises and sets by you in a way that totally supersedes any random girls walking around here. There's zero energy in any of them. They throw themselves at us and no one bites.

Oh, Jesus.

Yeah, I'm not sure if that's really really bad or very very good. We were trying to figure it out.

And?

There's just no one like you, Bridget, and we wouldn't trade you for the world.

He broke my heart via phone. They all did.

Glitter cannons. Yes. I'm getting some for the house.

Last night I grooved in the same room as Nile Rodgers and Chic played Get Lucky, We are Family and Good Times. Then I proceeded to cry through most of Duran Duran's set so whatever but at least I could dance while I cried. Lochlan cheered and said maybe I finally learned to multitask but maybe I was just sad that my metal plating wore off thanks to my caustic tears, revealing the beautiful truth underneath that from the age of 10 through 12 I lived and breathed for Duran Duran. I still know all the words. To all the songs. At least the ones up until the mid-nineties

Lochlan assured me that I still have all my cred. That as long as I'm a music lover genres don't matter.

What about country?

Okay, maybe that would matter. 

(Fun fact: In the very early nineties I would sing along to Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood because DAMN. The boys HATED that stage of me until they saw me in a cowboy hat and braids.)

Lochlan danced too and Lochlan doesn't dance. We got very sweaty. All my pictures and video are ridiculously blurry and terrible but that's okay, I didn't put any effort into looking at my phone anyway. It was an in-the-moment moment. We had a blast. Everyone in the arena did, by the looks of things. No one, not a single person that I could see even used their chairs.

Fire extinguishers + church ties.

Why didn't you go with them? I ask Duncan this morning over breakfast. He's ready for church. I'm not. I've got bedhead, I'm in pajamas still and there are toast crumbs on my cheek. Maybe I am ready. Sam and Jake both always said God doesn't care if you're presentable. He just cares if you're present. 

Duncan grins and pulls at the neck of his shirt. The action is here. This is where all the cool people are at. I mean, look at this. The epitome of cool right here. He turns and gestures at PJ, who shambles into the kitchen in pajama pants and the beard from hell. He looks like I feel. Why didn't you go to Black Rock City? Duncan asks PJ, still with that wide sweet smile.

I hate camping, PJ reminds us with no shortage of irritation. He really does. He hates anything less than total luxury. He won't even tolerate his beer warming up as he drinks it. He's amazed someone would go to all that trouble to breath dust into their lungs and live like savages for a solid week in the name of 'feeding ones soul' or doing drugs or whatever it is they get up to. I'm not sure if he's just getting old or if he's trying to disparage the image of it so I don't want to go so badly. Either way I love him to pieces for it.

Lochlan comes down and reminds me it's getting late and I should go change.

I think I'm going to go like this, I tell him as he reaches out and wipes the crumbs off my face with a smile. The smile spreads. It's contagious. I stand there grinning like a fool at him and he turns and says Thank you to PJ before turning back to smile at me some more.

For what? PJ grumbles with a mouthful of toast.

I thought she was going to be a brat about Burning Man for the whole week, he says as he stares into my eyes. You seem to have put some common sense into her. 

Funny, normally Lochlan would slay any man who attempts to inject reality into my fantasy world. He's gone out of his way to keep things magical and hates it when someone paves over his endless fields.

Wasn't me, PJ laughs and heads off to clean up. We're already late for church. God may still love you when you're messy but not when you're tardy. No sir.

Next year I think I'll charter a plane, an RV and a staff. Idgaf.

Caleb, August, Gage, Keith, New Jake and Batman have gone to Burning Man.

I stood inside the door after they left and let out a solid scream for at least a minute, maybe longer. It smacks of unfairness. It boggles my mind that no one will fulfill this bucket list of mine.

They're afraid.

Afraid that my self-reliance will be so apparently absent that even I will figure it out and get scared.

Afraid that I won't be able to rough it.

Afraid that I might be popular and make new friends and like them better.

Afraid that I'll have fun and maybe become someone different or better.

Instead I can stay home, depend heavily on the boys for damn near everything, beside the pool in the shade because a rough life isn't for me or something like that, and remain hobbled mentally and socially. While I'm doing that I'll worry a lot about New Jake's insulin pump. August and Batman tell me he'll be fine. Keith will help keep him in good condition but I have my doubts. He's impulsive and intense.

And besides. You can't go to Burning Man sober. Can you?

August says of course you can. He does it all the time. He's only going as a guide though, because there are so many virgins going this year. Can they even all get along for the entire trip? I can't wait to see pictures and hear their playa names. I can't wait to see the video of the man burn a week from now. I can't wait to go myself and experience this and I don't even know why.

I so, so want to be one of them.

I cooked and did laundry and shopping again and helped them organize their things. I hung off every moment of planning and prep and then like a good sport (good girl) I waved and smiled as they left and now I'm just...

Just argh. 

Really disappointed there was no eleventh hour change of heart. They're selling the extra tickets last minute, in Reno. Those tickets that should have been ours. I think Loch and Ben would really enjoy it with me. I still have the costume I made. They don't even need costumes. They can just wear their kilts and top hats.

And I don't understand why I can't go. I doubt I ever will.