I hate parties and other non-revelations.

I somewhat reluctantly handed over my menu late last night to Caleb, who made some calls and today starting at eight this morning the house was seemingly full of strangers, albeit silver-service strangers, who began to set up the dining room in anticipation of tonight. The food will be brought in shortly before dinner, set up and served and whisked away at the end.

He had a team of house cleaners sent as well who had the entire point scrubbed and mirror-shining in a little under three hours (that's seven buildings, if you're counting) and he had groceries delivered too.

He delegated the dog walking/laundry-folding/time-machine emptying and he sent out msgs to everyone to see if there was any want for an on-site barber. He tried to have a person come who did massages and one who does nails but I asked him to ask the boys if they wanted that. At their house. No one touches me that doesn't love me unconditinally. That's the rule. That's why Daniel cuts my hair. Jesus. This hasn't changed in years.

He shook his head in disappointment at me because I won't let him spoil me.

I think I just did. 

This is not for your benefit, this is for theirs. I wanted something just for you. 

This is for me. My house is clean. I don't need to grocery shop and I don't need to cook tonight. 

Sigh. I hear it though he tries to cover it with a cough. He's being magnanimous benefactor today, benevolent, relaxed millionaire in jeans and a seriously overpriced long-sleeved t-shirt. He's being the way I always hope he'll be before he destroys all of my illusions eventually.

Thank you, Diabhal. 

No more of that. I have a name, he says and I'm surprised.

Then no more Neamhchiontach either. 

But you always will be. And it's written on your back. 

Ditto. And I turn and leave before he realizes I ruined the moment, before he recognizes that the chance he took failed spectaculary and before he talks me into being spoiled in a way that doesn't suit me at all and only serves to make me feel more like his property than anything else in the world. And that thought makes me cry and I don't want him to see that either.

I'll reappear when people start arriving. Maybe.
 

Who needs fine when I'm going for perfect?

Wait on me girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever
I simply love you
More than I love
Life itself

I would have been planning a forty-eighth birthday party for next week-

(Stop it, Bridget. That's destructive, unhelpful, damaging thinking. Let's reshape the thought and see what happens, okay? You're doing great, by the way.)

I'm planning an anniversary party for this weekend for Daniel and Schuyler. Their anniversary was earlier this week and we couldn't do it last weekend so this one upcoming is better for everyone. Especially Schuyler, who is working on a big project and is very busy and so we are babysitting Daniel, who has taken to chiming in with Lochlan's singing, and every song is now a theatrical duet, which is fine because Lochlan's always been incredibly theatrical and downright silly and because the two of them singing I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues while I try and concentrate on gathering ingredients from the menu for tomorrow's party is making me happy in spite of my efforts to sabotage every good thing in my life, as is tradition.

Like throwing pumpkins off the cliff. If you do it year after year after year and then suddenly you don't do it, not doing it feels weird so you should probably keep doing it, right?

(No, Bridget. That's wrong. That's only useful for positive behaviors.

What's the difference?

Positive behaviors are GOOD for you. Negative behaviors are ba-

I get it. Well, I mean I think I do. No, wait. No, I don't get it actually.)

My  knuckles are white. My nerves are exposed. My scalp is peeled back and they're poking in my brain. Some touches so familiar, some so foreign. I cover my head with my hands but it's useless and so I soldier on, exposed.

When the cacophony gets too loud Lochlan shuts it down. I'm sure Caleb has some numbers. We'll have it catered. Don't worry so much, Bridge. It's fine. 

I heard my name? Caleb comes downstairs. I wonder if I'll ever get used to him wandering around the house. He comes over and Lochlan asks him for some contacts for a dinner service.

He nods, putting an arm around me, pulling me in tight against his shirt as if he can see my brain, see the wires and the lightning and the carnage and the black burnt parts and he knows and he squeezes my whole body and Lochlan's shoulder at the same time.

I got this. Why didn't you ask me sooner?

Red lipstick, orange leaves and music to drown out the rain.

One time to heal, one time to hurt you
And now I can't even feel you
I had one time and now it's over one time
One chance is all, one time only
And if the sun doesn't call
I had one time
One

Okay, um, if there are no gay boys living in this house anymore maybe we could stop with the Corey Glover/Elton John/Sam Smith brokenhearted playlist and I dunno, maybe play the new SLIPKNOT?

I'm on board with that. PJ smiles very wide. He's finding my irritation hilarious. I'm drinking cappuccino at four-thirty in the afternoon, which will mean a certain emergency later when I can't fall asleep but I'm still pretending right along with the rest of the world to 'take a moment for myself' as if I know what self-care even means.

I don't. But I'm sitting here sipping from my favorite cup and Mr. Glover is winding his pipes out on a twenty-five year old heartbreak and I only hope it's healed by now.  I only hope I sound so good when I reach those numbers.

But Slipknot. Did you see the video? Terrifying. Well done, boys.

Oh, wait, who snuck Cigarettes and Coffee onto this playlist? Yes, Mr. Redding, you can stay too. PJ can wait a little longer. Like they all do when I get in a mood.

I got time. PJ's on board with anything. He always is.

Happy Halloween, it's been a pretty good day.

Okay. Halloween is almost over. Four fence/gate jumpers and doorbell-ringers this evening. All warned off private property and given full-size chocolate bars but only after they almost peed their pants from the fear of PJ, who pointed out boys of that age can surely read, and don't sneak onto property that isn't open and welcoming with lit pumpkins because far worse could happen to them besides being momentarily scared and then being given diabetes.

The rest of the chocolate bars were evenly dispatched, half into Henry and half into Benjamin.

Henry dressed up for school today. I dressed in my work uniform for...work and Lochlan wore his velvet top hat (not the good one, this one is the....uh...casual one) just for kicks and we tossed a few pumpkins after dinner (which was breakfast. Hash browns and fried egg sandwiches because I'm tired) and had a good strong drink (okay that last one was just me because it's my Friday) and went back inside, safe from the rain and the teenagers. Back inside where we started to plan the wedding.

Christian and Andrew have chosen a date and an officiant (snort) and they're going to distract me the same way Schuyler and Daniel did with wedding planning back in 2010. We're celebrating their anniversary this weekend with a big fancy dinner and will plan a lot more. All hands on deck. Bridget is no longer your singular executive assistant/event planner/life coordinator. I'm just too tired. 

(Did I already say that? Yes I did and I'm sorry but it's true.)

Also I think I may have sprained my life tossing that last pumpkin off the cliff. It weighed ten freaking pounds!

Now tomorrow I have to be rock-steady so wish me luck. It's All Saints Day, followed by All Souls Day on Friday. And the dark is coming and I hate it so I'm grateful for each and every wonderful distraction here tonight.

A Jeep, a torch, a death.

I sat in the garage, still in my work dress and non-slip shoes, in the weird momentary sunshine this afternoon when I got home right up until my legs got numb and fell asleep and I couldn't get up.

The Devil knew where I was almost by feel.

What brings you in here? He says, blocking the light from the door.

The door was up. I heard a noise. 

Probably the sound of PJ's Jeep giving up the ghost. I don't need to see Caleb's expression canker ever so slightly at the idiom he just tossed out without thinking first. We do that. We say stupid things about important subjects. We take it lightly. We're disrespectful and we forget. If you don't do those things you're not human. You can't cope either.

I look at the Jeep. It's nine years old. When did that happen? How did we get from this brave new world to nine years further down the road in a blink?

Because you move forward, Princess. Jake says it gently, standing there in the sun leaning up against the driver's door of the Jeep. I am between he and Caleb. I don't know if I want to acknowledge him in front of Caleb. I'll be crazy if I do, but I'll miss my chance if I don't.

I don't move anywhere. I stay still. 

What are you talking about? Listen, don't worry about the counseling. I tried. We'll try something else, okay? Don't worry- Caleb is background noise.

He keeps you still. Jacob repeats himself, in case I didn't understand.


He does. I agree.


Who? Lochlan? Does what? Listen- And then it dawns on Caleb suddenly, like the sun just before the rain comes back, darkening it back in the shadows to wait for another day. Bridget, you can't talk to him. He isn't real. 

Maybe you can give up the ghost but I'm not going to. 

This isn't a hole you're going to fall into on my watch, Neamhchiontach-

But Jake is staring at me. He does. And you moved him closer. Why'd you do that, Bridge? 

I wanted to answer but I got confused and I opened my mouth and screamed. It was frustration, not fear and it brought three more to within my reach as I stood up, Bambi on shaky legs, covered with oil, marked for grief like others must be marked for death. I blamed it all on Caleb because he deserves it for trying to lock the whole thing down the way he is.

I don't have to explain it to him. I don't have to explain it to Jake either, though.

Smells like a Freakshow.

Remember that time about a year ago when I got us tickets to In This Moment and as a bonus Of Mice and Men were opening? Oh and Hollywood Undead and a band named Avatar that I looked up and went, well, okay. I guess we'll see...

We saw them play again last night and they were so good we felt as if skipping Trivium and heading home on a metal high was a fine thing to do and it was.

Because damn. They're even better than I remember. And we got our same tables so we had a wonderful view and they just killed it. And Light the Torch were good (though their sound was a bit rough). I'm so happy I got the see the legendary Howard Jones of Killswitch Engage perform. He was incredibly humble, thankful even, and they were amazing.

But Avatar. Holy cow it gets no better than this! The vintage circus preshow tunes, the road crew in vests and poet shirts! The pomp and circumstance and then the synchronized headbanging just kind of did us all in. I could go watch them every night of the week and I daresay I'd never get bored.

Once they finished, we faced a half-hour wait for Trivium, and knowing Matt Healy isn't singing (though..Howard Jones IS, and that would have been amazing to see) and the fact that I'm still suffering from this stupid sickness and that it was pouring rain and if you read the news Vancouver almost drowned last night and we hightailed it out of the Commodore and back to the trucks, driving very slowly through the knee-deep water that had already claimed several cars, and we were home and tucked in our beds by midnight.

(The perfect evening, really, except that the rain puddles eating cars kind of freaked me out and I may have cried on the drive home but once we hit the bridge it was smooth sailing.)

I hope Avatar comes back before another year passes.

Rustic rainy.

Is it ever fall today. Our leaf-raking efforts have all been for naught, as the wind and rain turned every last green leaf red or vibrant yellow and there's very few left on their branches this morning. Trying to love it. Drinking french vanilla coffee mixed with regular black, having French-toasted Russian rye bread for breakfast. I have to iron Henry's halloween costume components and make a few lunches for tomorrow and then rest up because we're headed downtown tonight for the Light The Torch/Avatar/Trivium show. I'm excited but a bit trepidatious at the same time because I have to work early tomorrow morning but at the same time if you told me we were staying home I might be disappointed. Since the bulk of us are only in it for Avatar, we may leave a bit early. We shall see.

The last load of laundry is in the dryer and Sam is walking around nursing his hoarse voice with tea as he and I remain sick but almost-functional, but he can't orate sufficiently to conduct a church service and I can't go more than an hour or so without a coughing fit and so we stay home.

Caleb and Lochlan are talking about ordering some quiet leaf blowers for the yard. I don't know if they exist. Loud roaring things are banned because ironically they produce a high-pitched wine that bother my ears so, and yet the work in this yard with only rakes is backbreaking. But they're getting along and that's more important than leaf-removal methods so we shall see. I think Caleb is beginning to figure out that it's not me, it's him. Maybe he just had to be closer to realize.

Clocks go back next weekend. 

Give me strength. 

That's why I'm here, he says.

Sleepover.

Last night a bunch of us went out and got a stack of pizzas and garlic bread and then came home and rented The First Purge from Apple TV. It was so fun to just stretch out on Benjamin who was stretched out on the big sectional couch with everyone and just zone out on what turned out to be a very good movie. The dialogue was snappy, the masks always amazing and the violence quick and...well, violent.

The soundtrack was catchy as hell, too and I'm not really a hip-hop person, so there you have it.

When it was done I was still awake, even as Ben was warm and cozy and I was lying just right so I couldn't feel any pain and I wasn't coughing (which sometimes just never stops as this illness drags on and on) and I wanted to watch another horror movie because it's Halloween weekend and I used to love this holiday. I don't decorate anymore, I don't give out candy, I don't even buy candy, truth be told and so this is the way I celebrate now. A quiet evening with my boys and some good movies.

But it was so late and Lochlan was worn out and I wanted him to get some rest along with us and so we excused ourselves from the evening and came upstairs and were asleep in seconds. Maybe less than that.

When we woke up this morning, I had to laugh. All the movie boys were in our room sleeping. Four extras on the bed, around the three of us, two on the couch, one on the floor. All fully clothed. Did I mention I love my army? They've got me safe from my nightmares, asleep and awake.

I wonder if I can make them watch Sabrina tonight?!

That's what this is: A very long book entitled 'The Grief That Never Leaves'. I'll be the first to tell you that no, sometimes you don't get over it.

The second and last session was yesterday, which if you're a longtime reader you understand that yesterday also marked exactly eleven years since Jacob left. There was a lot of support going in to this plan but it seemed as if the Devil has set me up, as all of the concessions, all of the changes were being requested of me instead of the other way around and I...

Well, yeah, no.

I didn't figure it out for so long it's just about criminal but during the set up and information sessions I was politely asked if I would give up my romantic entanglements with August in order to work from a healthier place. Apparently they wanted to gloss over Caleb's monstrosities and head straight for whatever's supposedly wrong with me that totally isn't his fault and somehow should be blamed squarely on the ghosts. It is Halloween, after all.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not. And I laughed, so inappropriately.

Then I briefly flickered my gaze to Caleb's face just in time to see his expression fall from a smug high to profound disappointment. That was when I knew he set me up and I then picked up my handbag and my kleenex box and I thanked the counselors for their time and I told the boys I'd see them at home.

Which was a little dumb in hindsight as we drove there in two vehicles but I needed to make a coolly controlled exit before I lost my shit. All I wanted was some professionals to look Caleb in the eye and say Stop being a monster or don't push her so much. Don't demand things of her. Don't be the same way you've always been and if she started to lose her courage let go of her for a little while. 

That's what my dreams are made of. My reality doesn't keep up and so it became a quick exercise in detailing Bridget's Flaws.

Well, guess what? I don't have any.

I mean I do. I still sleep with August because I need him. Sorry. Take that away and I can't function at all because even a little bit of almost-Jake is far better than none.

I need affection like water. Maybe Lochlan looks the other way. Maybe he's stronger, hell, I know they all are but I wanted something different out of this fall. I wanted this one time to be a little easier and the distraction of finally moving past the past would have worked but Caleb had no intentions of trying to make this better. None at all. They're not even angry at Caleb. They're jaded and not surprised as he is predictable, heavyhanded and refuses to take responsibility.

So now the struggle resumes and the hard time begins now. It may get worse, and bear with me as you do if it does. It may get easier. Who knows? Lochlan's being wonderful. So is Ben, PJ, Duncan. Sam. Batman. Joel, if you can believe it. Dalton. Gage. John. Schuy. You wonder why I reward them so lavishly with my time, my attention and sometimes my very flesh? Well that's why.

Which holds more weight, Bridget? Death or madness? 

They weigh the same. 

What makes you say that? 

I'm holding them both behind my back and I've checked.

Hi-burn-ate.

Lochlan rolled over onto his back this morning and covered his eyes with one hand.

Headache? I ask. I lurched awake when the cold rushed in to wrap around me, from where his warm skin had been before. Such a good sleep with him wrapped around me. Window open so that the air is cold and we cocoon as deep as we can under the quilts, listening to the rain.

No, just tired. 

Didn't you sleep? I am disappointed at the thought of him being restless all night.

A little. Anyway. Gotta get moving.  As long as you got some sleep I'm fine.

Today is counselling day two. I don't have to work and so we go in early, emerging early in order to put all of our skills to use. In order to have the day to think over things we've said, elephants we've addressed and plans we've put into place.

The earrings will be going with me so that for once Caleb can hear from someone else why you can't smooth over massive rifts with money. That would be too easy and like I've said before, I signed up for the hard-way method in life. Sam says the rewards will be greater this way.

***

Last night while cleaning up from supper PJ remarked that it is stupidly dark for six in the afternoon.

Here comes winter, I frown at him. We both hate the time change, hate the long slow march toward spring, hate the dark, hate the cold, hate that we hate those things and then hate each other for enabling, for giving it a voice, for acknowledging the wait. Or the weight, if you will.

Honestly eight of these weeks and the days will begin to get longer again, Dalton says, unhelpfully after overhearing our grousing. Roll with it. Pretend it's not happening, he suggests.

Bah. It's too late for that, I tell him. Wake me up when the sun goes down at nine pm again.