This post feels really fourth-wall in explanations but I'm leaving it the way it is.

Did I mention one of the pros of this Collective is if you need some heavy furniture moved it can be done exceedingly quickly and without complaint? Such was most of yesterday afternoon as all of Sam's bedroom and den furniture made the trip down the driveway and most of Caleb's things came this way, save for his kitchen barstools and the huge white leather couch.

Now Sam's old rooms looks strangely modern and cool and the boathouse looks very cozy and rustic. It works perfectly. I even switched their bedroom window coverings, as Sam is up with the sun and sleeps early and doesn't like to cover the windows at all while Caleb loves his blackout curtains.

Caleb's only request was that we furnish this house with a Breville as he had one and left it for Sam to enjoy and August has one and really we should have one here as well. I shrugged and said as long as someone puts a lock on the thing so I can't make myself an afternoon espresso and be up all night it's fine so he made a call and one is on the way tomorrow.

Caleb even had a cleaning company come in and scrub the whole boathouse before the furniture was put into place. He wanted Sam to have the best of everything. He even said he may make use of Sam's repeated, ardent offers of a talk, if ever Caleb wanted to make use of Sam's services.

Maybe just now if I look up, instead of geese, pigs are flying again.

Henry is also weirdly thrilled to have Caleb in-house. They're still close and will always be so for him it's extra comfort. His face was pure joy as he helped carry records and boxes across with the boys. He's bigger than some of them so he does his share of the heavy lifting now and Caleb noted his enthusiasm and was deeply touched by it. When I came downstairs this morning they were having breakfast together. It wasn't early or late but I didn't hear Sam getting ready to leave for church so I missed waking up on time, since the alarm didn't chime as the door was opened as it usually does.

Which means only Sam went to church. I will go over and see him later but I suspect he will be here somewhere reading, still spending his solitary time close by. Frankly he can spend all his time here and only head across the drive to sleep, or even not, as far as I'm concerned but I will wait and let it play out without my influence.

(Or I'll try, anyway.)

Last night wasn't weird but I had a headache and Lochlan was exhausted. Ben was holed up back in his studio after emerging long enough to hoist a bedframe up the steps singlehandedly and so after struggling through the latest episode of American Horror Story: Apocalypse (honestly I can't tell if I love it or hate it yet) we gave up and went to bed and actually slept hard last night. Which was so needed, let me tell you.

So today is the first day of the rest of our lives, as it is every day, I suppose, and I can't wait to see if this works or if the whole thing finally implodes.

I have a feeling it's going to work perfectly and I didn't expect that.

"Sometimes the Devil is a gentleman."-Percy Bysshe Shelley.

When I woke up this morning, Lochlan had started without me, hands around my hips, head above my shoulder, mouth against my temple, driving against me hard enough to pull me straight from sound sleep to fear, albeit briefly and then I pulled my legs up so I could hold on properly and turned my face into his.

Good morning to you too. 

But he doesn't say anything. He's on a mission to make as much love as he can in this moment to back up our infinite stores. In case we need them. In case we lose some? I don't know but he's the only one unhappy this morning and if my body can fix it, well then he can have it.

Last night's family meeting was kind of fucked up in that instead of running hot, erupting into violence and ending with hurt feelings it flowed smooth like a river around and under us.

And it's done.

It's a three or six month trial (depending on who you ask). Caleb will be moving into Sam's suite here, on the top floor of the house, just down the hall from our rooms and down a few steps. It's a beautiful cozy suite of rooms. A den, ensuite bathroom, walk-in closet and large bedroom overlooking the woods. Most of the bedrooms in the house have a den and bathroom and big closet so it's not like he's losing a lot of space overall. He cooks here half the time anyway and loves the company of anyone who is around, mostly especially the kids.

Sam is moving again (I swear at this point he's lived in every room of this house sometimes), and is still ever grateful to be a part of this collective to the point where we could put him in a cage in the basement and he would thank us, pray for us but this gives him a little more room and as such he can hold his counseling meetings at the boathouse and have his men's groups there and bible study and he won't always have to be on the highway driving to church which isn't all that close to us, frankly. So he is thrilled. Absolutely thrilled.

The way things have been lately no one really objected. If we have a plan we make sure everyone is informed and baring any glaring issues we haven't addressed or maybe thought of, the best way to run a group of this size is to keep things open and transparent. And to be so mindful of everyone's feelings. So mindful.

No glaring issues, huh. Lochlan remains the lone dissenter.

It'll be easier for you to keep tabs on him here. 

You mean it'll be easier for me to keep tabs on you here. 

He says the only reason he's doing this is for Sam. You see what he means, right?

Sam will have more space to spread out his ministry-

And it removes Sam from our immediate vicinity. 

It doesn't though. 

Lochlan looks at me. It doesn't, does it?

Nope. 

Maybe Caleb finds it too isolating there. And it is perfect for Sam. 

I think Caleb is still capable of doing good. He's always had the best interests of the Collective at heart. 

What if you're wrong about that, Bridge? 

Then we won't have to go too far to ask him. 

He finally lets go of me this morning, finishing his silent onslaught against his own fears and lies beside me, pulling me tight against him. Sorry I woke you. 

Don't be, I'm not. 

I don't know if I want him here, Bridge. I don't know if I'm ready for this. 

We'll take it slow. 

But we're not. They're switching the bedroom furniture as soon as the rain lets up a little.

Contingency (Confession).

I think we need to make a sea change, and I've been considering the options for a while now. The Devil walks a slow circle around the night, pausing here and there to push back the shapes in the dark, the ones I can't see clearly, the ones that see me, clear as day.

What kind of change. I am still slow with sleep, thick with dreams and exhaustion, so unwilling to climb out of this bed and go home right this moment, instead ready to fall back asleep under the skylights and their canopy of rain-drenched hemlocks. Options for? 

I think Sam should take this space and I can take over his rooms. 

And be just down the hall. 

Yes. 

In the big house. 

Yes. Then I'm closer to you and the children and Sam gets the breathing room he needs to work plus it legitimizes his tenancy here in the eyes of the church. He could even entertain without questions. 

I'm awake now, his pejorative tone keeping me from dozing. What brought this on, besides the obvious? 

Time. We've talked about this. I'd like to be closer. For both your and my own benefit.

Your end game is the problem-

He sighs for what feels like an eternity. Talk to them. 

You should have called a family meeti-

They'll only consider it if it comes from you, Bridget. 

So I have to take this to them?

Depends. Do you want me in the house?

I freeze, a deer in the lights. He sits down, pulling me into his lap until we are eye to eye and he holds my head so I can't look away.

Neamhchiontach. Do you?

I'm willing to do a trial. But there's no privacy like there is here. 

There's enough. So will you take it to the house? If it comes from you it will work. They will understand. 

The sun comes up in tandem with his hopes and my throat goes dry as I wonder how in the hell I'm supposed to make this sound as if it was my idea all along.

But. Pajamas. Yeah. Those pajamas.

I woke up in my traditional, habitual position. Holding on to Lochlan for dear life, arms tight around his neck, foreheads pressed together, breathless from the lack of oxygen as he runs hot in perpetuity, such as he is, the fire eater, thrower, juggler, maker.

The moment I breathe weird he is awake, jolted out of his dream-filled sleep into whatever moment he thinks he needs to save.

Hey. Hey. It's okay. He's calming me down, I'm just trying to catch up on air here so I don't say much and then he decides I'm hyperventilating and we're sitting up now, waking up Ben, being overly concerned about nothing. It takes a few minutes, I've been sick, after all, and then I'm good.

You'd be gasping for air too if you had your face in someone's mouth all night. Ben doesn't like to be woken up by Lochlan's wolf cries. Ben has had probably two hours sleep.

I didn't-aw, for fucks sake. Lochlan doesn't argue. We've been told this before. We sleep like sea otters. Hamsters. Kittens. We curl up together as close as we can get and we don't move. At all. Ever. It comes from summers sleeping in the camper in the tiny cot, without heat, without any sort of comforts at all save for each other and the radio.

We head downstairs for breakfast, Loch in his old pajama pants that now border on indecent but also I can't look away, and me in yesterday's leggings and Ben's super-huge Goatwhore (heh) hoodie because it's roughly in the same condition of worn-ness as Lochlan's pants. Softer is better when it comes to clothes. And who doesn't like comfort?

Ah yes, here he comes now.

Caleb whisks into the kitchen, looking at us with mild disdain as though we're supposed to be ready or something. It's six in the morning. Why the hell is he up and bright? Did I forget something?

I just came to borrow some eggs until I can get out and replace them.

Just put them on the list-

And give you more to do? Speaking of which, we need to have a discussion.

Lochlan rolls his eyes. His voice is scratchy. Can I please have my coffee first?

It doesn't include you so sure, go ahead. Caleb has little patience for Lochlan's little patience. They'll forever be posturing greasers. He turns back to me. We need to talk about a little break for you.

I just got home and I don't want to go anywhere.

Yes and you also didn't have the rest and relaxation you desperately needed before and now you're so far overdue for it you've given up on it and I'm here to fix that.

Not going to hap-

SHUT UP LOCH. Caleb turns on him finally, going from annoyed to angry.

Loch puts his mug down and steps in front of me. Oh shit. She's staying put.

She decides.

She wants me to decide.

Caleb looks around Lochlan at me. You want him to decide you can suffer here for all eternity or do you want to get on a plane and go rest somewhere warm?

 I am warm. And I've had rest.

You're waking up holding your breath again. That's not the trait of someone who is relaxed. Bridget-

Not now, Diabhal. Please.

Good job, Dóiteáin. Make her suffer for your rules. Good job. Bridget, I want you at the boathouse at eight sharp tonight. If he isn't going to spoil you, I will look after it. 

He does! You just can't-

That's the point. I can.

I always loved my shadow (it was bigger than me).

Joel came over tonight. We fed him McDonalds (fries and Big Macs for everyone because Bridget is fucking tired, okay?) and then he and I settled in to watch the Leafs trounce the Sens 4-1. I don't care if it's preseason, I'm ready with my bets and I'm already winning along with my team.

After the game we took our tea outside in the back yard, settling into the big hammock, our feet in each other's faces, side by side but heads at opposite ends, tea mugs set on the stones below. The sun set a little while ago. Half the lights on the point are on. It's beautiful tonight. The calm before the storm.

Think they'll keep Nylander? Joel asks. I note the exhaustion in his voice.

Yes, I nod. I'm sure of it. He's a jewel in the NHL. The Leaf crown needs a full set this year and Ennis is a wildcard. 

(Wait. Do you even care what I think about hockey? Well, too bad.)

True. Joel settles back and tucks his hands under his arms, closing his eyes.

You should go. 

Talk a little first. 

About? 

You and your work situation. 

What about it?

It's great. 

Oh, is it? 

Yes. It wears you out, keeps your brain busy. You don't have to time to slide into a depressive episode-

You mean I don't have time to think about Jake and then later I'm too tired to think about him.

Yes. 

How healthy is it to not address my emotions? Or allow myself to feel these things? 

That's not what I- 

I know what you mean. Everyone's so happy now. It's been almost six months since I got the job and look how fucking functional.  It's a house of cards, Joely. 

What if it's not?

Explain it to me. But fast. It's time to go. We climb out of the hammock awkwardly but without embarrassment and pick up our teacups, bringing them in through the patio into the kitchen and then I walk Joel to the front hall to collect his things. I walk him out to his car. He turns after opening the door, bends in to kiss my temple like that's normal for him (Jesus, it's not) and then smiled in the dark.

What if it's a sea change of sorts? 

Oh it isn't. Jacob is larger than this life. He casts a shadow on the sun. 

How do you know it's his? 

What do you mean?

Did you ever stop to consider the fact that maybe you're seeing your shadow and not his? Maybe Bridget is larger than life. Maybe you're investing in the wrong central character here, of your story. Think about it. He smiles kindly, sweetly. The Joel I remember before things went to hell and he closes the door and drives away. I stand there for so long staring at the point where the driveway is swallowed by the woods thinking about his words that I don't notice PJ come out and when he speaks I jump out of my skin.

I thought you left with him. 

I turn and stare at him. Why would I do that?

You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. 

I did. It looked just like me. 

And I turn and head inside, leaving PJ wondering what I meant, looking up toward the woods curiously. 
 

One foot in the past, and one in the now.

What do you want to do today, Princess?

Drink hot chocolate. Build a fire. Maybe go for a long walk. Have a nap. 

I meant after I finish up my work. 

How much time we talkin', here, Jake?

Maybe enough for building the fire after dinner. 

If you have to work all day why did you ask me what I wanted to do?

I'm curious. 

But we can't make plans. 

Sure we can. I won't be all day. 

See, I think you will. 

Why?

You hole up in the study with your bible and your books and forget the time. 

Can you blame me? I'm just trying to come up with things that people-

-People haven't heard before. Sam and I repeat the same sentence as he explains why he won't be present for supper tonight.

I understand, I tell him. I'll leave a plate in the fridge for you. 

You're patient. 

I did this before. Knock them over with a feather on Sunday, Sam. 

I plan to try, anyway. 

If only kevlar were see-through, I'd be almost there.

I'm having a hard time keeping my chin up today but I'm doing it anyway. Lochlan always said I need to learn toughness, need to work harder to control my environment, not let things get to me and not let it show that it has, if it does anyway.

So I didn't cry at work today.

Though, I wanted to.

And I didn't cry at home (yet).

Though, I'd like to.

But we're making a chicken and potato casserole and running the washer endless and trying to keep up because it's Monday and that's what one does, right?

On the bright side (is there one today? On a Monday? Truly?), my paycheck seems to be straightening out, it isn't pouring rain and did I mention? There's a chicken and potato casserole in the oven right now which means no one can complain about being hungry for the next twelve hours or so.

Also? Be nice to the people who pour your coffee. Seriously. Motherfuckers.

Pink & Blue.

When you don't give me love (You gave me pale shelter)
You don't give me love (you give me cold hands)
And I can't operate on this failure
When all I want to be is
Completely in command

Lochlan looks at me quizzically. What's that you're singing?

A new Tears for Fears song that just came out on the radio.

Oh. Sounds sad.

Oh, it is!

Do you understand it? He asks me that a lot. As if a twelve year old can't grasp life, or the simple concept of an anti-love song.

Yes. I get it. It's an accusatory song about someone who doesn't support someone else enough for their liking.

I'll have to hear it.

You just did.

I mean the recording. On the radio.

Next time it comes on I'll point it out. It sounds different from when I was just singing it. More clashy... more guitars.

He laughs. Time to get ready.

For?

Dinner. Wash up and lets go. 

Over dinner Lochlan stares at me while I eat my fries with gravy on the side. The gravy is a special treat. It costs extra at thirty cents but he's gotten a raise just for coming back to the Midway for the second year. So I get gravy and he gets pickles and sauerkraut on his sandwich as we are celebrating. Usually we have just malt vinegar, just cheese. Those are free.

So it's a special night.

On the way home in the truck that song comes on the radio.

I asked for more and more
How can I be sure
I've been here before
There is no why, no need to try
I thought you had it all
I'm calling you, I'm calling you
I ask for more and more
How can I be sure

Lochlan looks at me. It's not accusatory. 

It's not?

No, he feels helpless watching his own relationship slip through his fingers. 

Oh it's even sadder than I thought. 

He nods. That's what radio is based on though. 

What do you mean? 

Songwriters are fueled by heartbreak. 

I wouldn't want to be one then. 

Bridget, heartbreak is a fact of life. 

I hope it never happens to me. 

It will. 

I just stare at him with wide eyes. Not by me. I mean if you don't get a job you want someday or your dog dies. 

My dog died last year. 

Right so that's heartbreak too. 

Oh, I thought you just meant romantic heartbreak. 

It comes in degrees, so romantic is the worst, most painful kind. 

That's the kind I hope I never have. 

Me, too. 

Well then if either one of us feels like the other has cold hands we have to speak up and stop it. 

I don't think it works like that. 

Well then how do we prevent it?

We stick together. Like we do now. I told you I wouldn't leave you behind and so you're on your second tour too now. Here's your raise. He pulls an envelope out of his pocket heavy with change.

Oh YES! 

What are you going to spend it on. 

Cotton candy every single day.

You already have that. 

Yes but now I can have it in both colors!

Also Pallbearer covered Run like Hell and Lochlan squealed when I played it for him. LOL

A checkup this morning (gotta love surprise house calls on a Saturday morning, thank you Caleb for setting that up) leaves me with the all-clear. My lungs sound good finally. My post-nasal drip is gone and the lingering shortness of breath is easily remedied for a few hours at a time with my inhaler.

So....yay me, I think. Progress is good. Healing is wonderful.

Not a plug or a sponsored anything, I hate that shit but I lay in bed this morning playing on the #selfcare app. It's soothing visually and audibly but in a weird way it distracts me from my emotions because it's glitchy. Like I end up picking up the clothes over and over again and have to restart multiple times and then stop touching the clothes for it to work but I like it.

And I'm not into apps as means to fix what ails my broken head and heart. I rely on talking, drugs and mindless repetitive forced rethinking. Joel had a name for it. Changing how I deal with things. I don't remember what it was called but I still do it because if I can grab something out of the ether I can do okay. When I stop moving and turn inward I fall in those holes. Life is a minefield already tripped and I twist my ankles as I go.

For my reward Caleb took me out for eggs Benedict and hash browns and then asked if he could stick around for the day. He worries something fierce but not as much as Lochlan, who collected me on the way back into the house and said no. We have plans. We're taking Ruth to finish getting her supplies and textbooks for her school year and then we're hopefully going to finish Ozark because I'm anxious to see how it ends before it gets spoiled for me somehow. We started American Horror Story: Apocalypse last night and it's SO GOOD. So I could happily spend the rest of this rainy Saturday watching TV and continuing to get better. I'll never finish picking up my laundry in #selfcare though. Please email me if you've tried it and tell me what I'm doing wrong.

(A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night.)

Good morning, Peanut.

He's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, wide-awake and ready to roll. Coffee is on a tray in front of him. Two cups. I smell Baileys. Also on the tray are two of the cinnamon rolls I made a couple of days ago. I thought they were all gone.

They are, I hid these ones beforehand.

You've been planning breakfast in bed?

I don't know. I've been doing something though. While you've been slinging mud, half-asleep.

I'm sorry, Locket.

If I don't give you something that helps you sleep you won't sleep at all and then it's like you're a tennis ball, bouncing all over the place, smacking into the hard walls all around you and you wind up bruised and demoralized and I'm just trying to stop that beforehard. Trying to get you better from this stupid infection that I practically gave you myself taking you to a place you never should have be-

Ping-pong ball.

How's that?

The description is always a ping-pong ball.

Right. Does it matter, Bridge?

No.

Eat. He points at my plate. You could use something decent.

My own baking?

Better than what PJ said you were eating yesterday while you were out in the yard.

I was just feeling lazy. He's making it into a big deal. 

You sitting in the dark barely interacting with life or even the basics is a big deal and you know it. 

I'm okay.

I'd like you to be more than that. He smiles.

Then move this tray. 

His smile went away and then came back bigger than ever as he understood what I meant.