A voice fuelled by anguish/Infrared light.

(Yet another bright light burns out and everyone goes through the motions instead of making change. We made changes to deal with these kind of lights and we fight for each other while we fight for ourselves. I can't imagine what life is truly like outside of my bubble, but that's okay because I don't want to know.)

Bring me home in a blinding dream
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again

It's a sort of fragility you can only see if you have it too. A sad secret society. An unwanted pass into a club you didn't want any part of and it sucks. I can see it. I don't want to see it. I can predict it and I hate that.

It sucks.

I've got both arms around Ben and I don't want to let go. He has to go, though. He's got a meeting and then a brunch and then a different sort of meeting and then a conference call and then facetime and then maybe, if he ever finishes his day he'll come back and fall asleep with me but for the next fifteen or eighteen hours I won't see him and today that's an emergency.

Postpone it. 

What? 

All of it. I wave my hand dismissively. Do it next week. 

He turns and sits in front of me. That's the thing, Bumblebee. Life keeps going. Just with different faces, different plans. It never stops. You know this. 

And I hate it. 

I know but it's still going. It doesn't care how you feel about it. 

How do I make it stop?

It's better if you don't. 

I can't breathe. 

Yes you can. There are books, there's running, there are hugs, there are talks, there is so much to help with the hard parts. 

I put my head down between my knees and scream.

His eyes water. Don't make me doubt myself, Bridge. There's been enough of that lately. Come with me. 

I'm not fit-

I don't care. Come along and listen to music in the truck. Bring your sketchbook. Take a video of your day and put it up so people can see that you're safe. So you can see you're alive.

I don't answer him. I keep flexing my fingers into fists so I don't cry. It's not working it's not working it's not working. FUCK.

Are you coming with me? I really need you with me. 

I am. 

Good, I could use your face in my day. I don't know the others. I feel like screaming too. 

#poly.

I woke up like this. Hair suddenly past my shoulders in big loopy waves. Longer than Lochlan's hair. Perfect for space buns or a braid even, though I mostly looked like I rolled out of bed at any given moment. Not a lie most of the time but still, I'm somewhat relieved that the pixie cut days are two years past me now and by Christmas or next spring at the latest my mermaid hair will be back in force. 

I only mention it because Caleb mentioned it this morning when I woke up. I think your hair grew overnight. 

He's not pleased or disappointed, he's well-reputed in liking my hair chin length or shorter and so I promptly said Good, I can't wait until I can sit on it again and then I got the expected grim set of his beautiful mouth as he doesn't choose to have a poker face sometimes either. 

He lobbied hard for a brief escape for me yesterday out of the blue and won, exchanging a date later in the month for last evening and so we watched horror movies and sipped Lagavulin until our eyes were heavy and our hands useless. Then I slept. A full eight hours without a single interruption before he woke me at six thirty, pinning me beneath him, one hand around my neck, one eye on the clock as he had a meeting downtown. I was walked across the driveway when he was dressed afterward in a full suit of regret, as he said there is nothing more awful then leaving me in his bed if he can't be home and so I had to go and I pouted just for him, as he quickly found out I wasn't doing bunny ears at all the other day on the beach. 

He kissed my bottom lip and said he loves that too and that maybe he'll be over for dinner tonight, that he'll let me know how the day goes. He left me in Sam's hands and I feel as if I'm being passed around a lot lately when Lochlan's overly busy with things with Batman (whom he still claims not to work for anymore) and I'm not sure if it's just a coincidence or a direct result of Jay coming back. I just know that my dance card is full and so is my bed lately and I'm not sure I mind, exactly. I got my hand slapped for flirting with him on the beach and maybe it's shame or embarrassment that makes my hair grow faster. I'm sure I'll find out which soon enough.

I'm just now realizing how much of their influence made me who I am today.

My whole life they've called me a reverse-vampire, loving the light, up with the sun, disappearing when the sun went to bed. Don't get me wrong, I adore the late-night lights and noise of the midway but I'm also holding my eyelids open with my fingers to take it all in.

I think that's all changed now. I still wake up at the crack of ridiculous, swim in the coffee pot until I think I can open my mouth to speak without a hundred different voices all screaming the same indignation coming out but I can't even be in the sun for a minute anymore. I'm instantly headachey, over-heated, under-hydrated and overwhelmingly miserable.

I didn't swim today. The minute I opened my face to complain about the heat Duncan threw me off the cliff. There I remained, floating on my back, trying to teach him a lesson without getting too nervous doing it. It's difficult to turn your back on Bridget's Undersea Imaginary Creature Keepers.

Why's she so scared?

There's a Buick at the bottom. (GET IT? Cole made the acronym, I provided the fearful tears. There was actually an old car at the bottom of the lake when we were growing up. Well, there was until the early eighties when it was towed out, empty. It turns out it was only a frame with a couple of body panels bolted to it that a homeowner put in to practice his scuba diving and then moved away and left it.)

Really? 

Yeah. We told her it was full of people who are still there to this day, waiting for helpless souls to come close so they can grab them by the legs and possess their bodies to live again. 

That was fucking dumb. She's going to drown, trying to swim and scream at the same time. 

We'll save her. 

In a minute. 

They laugh, or so I imagine they did and I never swam without a buddy ever again. I still don't, honestly and that's why I have to wait here for Duncan to jump in after me. The creatures can't have my soul since I don't have one but right now I'd auction his off to the lowest bidder. Name your price.

And then Ben hits the water right beside me and I almost drown anyway, getting pushed under by the huge wave of displacement when he hits.

He brings us both up at once. I'm sure when he opens his eyes my face must have been a nightmare, an angry, bratty, waterlogged scowl of a nightmare when he'd rather see a smile.

How long would you have waited? Loch said something about a Pontiac. I had no idea what he was going on about. 

Buick. 

I don't understand. You're afraid of Buicks? 

Yes. No. It's a long story. 

It's a long swim back, Bee. Tell me. 

Terribly good.

I walked on the beach this morning with Jay (Jacob/New-Jake, you know who he is). We took our sweaters, our mugs full of coffee and Caleb with us. No harm, no foul seems to be the rule of the day. They all want Jay here. They worked out their issues, somehow sure we're not doomed to repeat history and he's asked for Jay's help in keeping me 'safe'. 

The only thing she has to fear here is us. 

You. 

And a number of others. 

Right. 

Then what do you want me to do?

Not fuck this up.

Jay throws his hands up. If you're asking me if I can keep my hands to myself I can but if she instigates-

She won't. 

I bite my tongue and close my eyes so hard I see black spots and waver magnificently. Caleb puts out one hand and steadies me without even looking. 

If she does-

Then we'll deal with her. 

I've seen the way you deal with her and I think you're all fucked in the head and she's the sanest one here. 

I love you. I gaze at Jay and smile. His whole face breaks into a reciprocal smile and I forgot how cute he can be. 

She doesn't mean that the way you think, Caleb tells him.

I'm aware. I don't know if you've noticed but we've known each other five years now. 

That's the equivalent of an hour compared to the rest of us. 

What's your point, Caleb? 

I think you fit in here. I think you can hold your own. And yet you seem to been almost gleefully exploiting her weaknesses when we're trying to build her up. I guess I don't understand what you're doing. 

We get alone really great. She's a like-minded individual. We mesh. Hell, she's been great to me. I fucked up and touched her. I thought it was okay. I didn't realize only certain guys can. I won't do that again. I'd like to stay though. It's a good place to be. I understand the repercussions mean I leave forever so I don't want to have that happen. I learned my lesson.

But you're a time bomb. 

Medically, yes. But otherwise if I make you a promise I'll keep it. 

I frown and stick out my lower lip because I have zero chill and no poker face and Jacob sees me and laughs out loud. By the time Caleb turns to look at me I've fixed it and I'm frowning at him. 

What did you do?

Bunny ears. 

Ah. Glad you're taking your own future seriously, Bridget.

Jesus chores.

Worn out. Long day. I was handed a big glass of whiskey with ice and I took it. The ice is long melted but I'm still sipping. Three days away wasn't enough. I need a week or two to unwind but it's been hectic since March around here with precious few stretches of total calm.

Sam reminds me it's life. You handle what you can and leave the rest to Him. 

When he says this I startle as he assumes so easily that I know who he means and I fumble for a name. Maybe Lochlan. Ben? Caleb. Jacob the ghost. Batman. Uh. Oh. God.

Right. He's not going to pick up my slack and get the car maintenance done, buy new socks for the boys or get groceries while I'm busy tackling other things on the list, but if he is willing, tell him to text me and let me know which things I can delegate.

Albatross.

When I woke up I had them both in a head lock and my shoulders were screaming. I think that's what woke me up, the sound of my whole body protesting, having fallen asleep in a painful position that took several minutes to change. I had one arm around Ben's neck and one around Lochlan's and yet I was lying on my stomach so my arms were pulled back up and hard. They seemed content on their sides, arms crossed over my back, touching each other to make sure no one left in our sleep. And no one did, I made sure of it.

I had just stopped sleeping with my sling on for protection from my elbow that got pulled out again. This morning is now Vicodin laced with coffee for me and there are elves in the trees and rainbows shooting from my eyes but at least nothing hurts now. I mean I can't actually feel my arms or my legs or my teeth and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to bake Henry's birthday cake like this but I think I'll have a lot of help.

Daniel is coming over to help me this morning. The boys are going golfing. Danny doesn't golf. He and I have fucked-up shoulders, elbows and legs and actually I lie. It's boring as fuck and I hate it even though I'm really good at it. I scored a 97 on my last game of nine holes. I'm a natural, clearly.

Lochlan has promised not to throw any clubs. Caleb hasn't. Should I be worried? Ben said he wouldn't eat or bend any clubs and no one believed him. Then he winked and assured me he will keep Lochlan in line, though I think Lochlan will last about five holes before his own arm issues put him on the sidelines. That will piss him off too though, so I'm glad I'm not going.

After baking and decorating if there's any time left we're going to work on my outfits and gifts for Burning Man. SO excited.

All I have.

It was only after Ben moved off me, stretching out to sleep in the dark that he spoke, and I didn't even know he was there. I jumped right out of my skin. It was cold, sure, but at least it didn't have the sting of Ben's razor burn all over.

Of course my bones all fell to the floor in a heap. Teeth too, and my brain rolled away under the bed and so I couldn't think of anything good to say and even if I could have, I wouldn't have been able to say it.

You didn't wait for me. 

Lochlan's voice has a jealous tinge, a beautiful kelly-green shade that turns it thick, luminous-rich.

My finger bones team up, find my brain, pull out some words and run them through my teeth until sound comes out.

Sorry. 

Not her fault, Ben says from his dreams. I don't think he's noticed he's still holding my skin from where I leapt from it. I think he finds it to be a security blanket. It won't cover him though, if you stretch it out square I think I'm the size of a king pillowcase.

Good enough, Ben says. He covers one side of his torso with it and goes back to sleep. Sorry, he says again and my brain flexes in a cringe. Once Ben's out, he's out like the dark. He sleeps like the dead. It scares me but right now I have more important things to do, like stand here to juggle these hearts because God help us all if they roll away somewhere out of reach.

I was here waiting for you. More luminous slime pours from Lochlan and my bones rattle faintly as they shake.

You didn't say anything when we came in. My brain is doing a masterful job of finding words that fit together. It's a puzzle. One for ages 8+. One I probably couldn't finish if I tried.

My bones float to the surface of his ire, still jangling faintly against each other and he swallows me whole, chewing on my brain because it's tough and bigger than it looks. He chokes it back and swallows.

Now my teeth have nothing to read.

Sleep, Bridgie. We'll talk about it tomorrow. 

I close my eyes with the finger I can reach. It's like when someone dies and you reach out and press their eyelids down over their pupils because they're never going to see you again. I did that for Cole so he couldn't find me anymore. It worked too well. Sometimes I miss him too and then I'm swimming in Lochlan's green pool, while monsters from the depths of his soul reach for my legs to pull me under. I scream at the thought and his jealousy floods down my throat into my toes, filling up my skin, leaving Ben exposed, at risk of losing everything.

I piece together one whole hand to leave resting on Ben's heart. He'll be safe that way while I sacrifice myself. That's how it's done around here, or so I've been told.

Best listened to very loud with headphones on the edge of a cliff, I swear to you, but sadly my piano is inside.

This doesn't seem to be anywhere on the Internet so I'm putting it up for others. I'm working out the piano for it and I need to sing at the top of my lungs to do that, but the words were nowhere to be found. I managed to transcribe it myself, in spite of being deaf, so some of it could be misheard.

Behold, the lyrics for I Remember, by Les Friction featuring Emily Valentine. Well done. It's beautiful!

Some lies can live on their own
No need to assist
Some lies will circle around til love pulls it down
I’ve set a course for losing you
I’ve no remorse for what I do

We say nothing, holding it in
How did we travel this far
Knowing that our light will fade
Remember nothing, Let it all go
We’ll live our destiny alone

The truth is in a whisper, your life is in a kiss
Hands can’t be held when they’re clenched into a fist
Your eyes are a crime frozen in time
This prison is yours

Feel me Heal me
Feel me Heal me

I don’t want to remember
I’m moving to newer frontiers
I will build my own empire and banish myself from me there
I don’t to want remember the life I chose
I will burn our destiny
Because you and I will always be alone

Feel me Heal me
Feel me Heal me
Feel me Heal me
Feel me Heal me

I remember the reason I built myself
You and I can tear it all down and let the past begin to melt
I remember eternity, love I don’t
I will fight for our destiny
because you and I will never be alone

You've missed everything.

(Just a footnote from your friendly neighborhood masochist Princess: The beginning of this post features a decade-old memory as detailed here.)

He leaned his head against mine where I sat trying to read in fading light. Princess. Put your book away. 

I want to finish it tonight. 

Do that tomorrow. He takes the book, carefully marking my page, and places it on the side table. Then he pulls me to my feet. His pale blue eyes crinkle up into a soft smile. Tomorrow's a big day. 

No more training wheels. 

No more training wheels. 

Henry's going to try riding without them. And yet instead of a bribe Jacob got down on his knees and asked Henry to consider something that might make him feel even more excited than if he got a new toy as a reward for trying something difficult.

Like what? Henry is rapt.

What if you had all kinds of good feelings burst forth from deep inside, the kind that remind you that you're doing your very best? 

Those are good but I'm presently collecting Hot Wheels. Henry is as stubborn as his mother.

Jacob laughs out loud. Maybe we can arrange for both Hot Wheels and good feelings? 

Deal, Henry is firm. They shake on it. It's official now, can't go back.

He's ready, I tell Jake, who seems concerned suddenly.

You're right. Why are you so calm and sure with them and so unsure about so many other things?

No one's bribing me with Hot Wheels. I laugh and he purposefully flips open my book and moves the bookmark to a random page.

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST DID THAT. 

WELL I DID. 

He pulls me in close and I get a kiss. His beard is rough. His hands, rougher as they slide up my ribcage under my shirt. I'm almost off the ground trying to reach his face and I lean into him hard-

BRIDGET. 

I open my eyes. My memory thief is looking at me over his shoulder as he opens up his briefcase and then starts pulling drawers out, dumping them in whole. The briefcase is bottomless, and my memories disappear into the black hole.

Looks like I forgot a few. Sorry about that. 

What about the letters you wanted me to read? 

Those are instructions and reminders, not walks down memory lane. They can't hurt you. 

Neither can he. You are, though. 

No, I'm helping. 

This isn't helping. Leave me be, Sam. Please. 

He finishes the whole filing cabinet and instead of opening the next one he comes over to me. I make a note of which one is left. O though T. Got it. Bridget, we love you and we don't want to see you suffer. 

I roll over, pull the quilts in tightly around my frame and close my eyes. If I can drop back into this dream, I'll be able to breathe next time I wake up. Or at least I hope I can.

Bumblebees.

No sooner does the dust settle from school ending (forever ending for Ruth, who's going to University in the fall, having navigated graduation ceremonies and dry-grad dinner/dance with ease, having achieved a medal for excellence, a merit scholarship and honour roll on her way out the door, but Henry turns sixteen this coming weekend and I feel like the record of my life has suddenly spun up to 78 rpm and I'm clinging to it with my teeth.

This Monday I'll take him in to write for his learner's permit, and then the boys will begin to teach him how to drive. He swears he knows already, having played GTA, promptly failed the online practice test, and realized he has to actually read the book. Once he is reasonably competent I'll spend the next year letting him chauffeur me around town while I yell out the last-minute instructions he will be expected to remember (and utilize) for a lifetime.

Yeesh. Ruth just got her Novice license in February. It feels like yesterday. It was yesterday. Jesus. This is what happens when you have children less than two years apart in age. It's easier than spreading it out but also far more pressure all at once.

I'm busy as a bee today though, finalizing birthday plans, plotting surprises, wrapping like mad and like I said, just trying to hang on. It feels sometimes as if there's a birthday just about every weekend, and that's because there almost is. The balloon people know me by name, I buy wrapping paper in bulk, and my cake pans hardly ever make it to the pan-drawer, as everyone likes my homemade cakes the best.

No pressure at all.