'The joy of my heart is to study men.' (Yes, yes it is, Mr. Burns.)

Lochlan saved me from the certainty of having to hustle up a haggis from somewhere far from here because as a surprise he's making smoked haddock chowder instead and I've already had a taste and it's delicious. He's a very good cook, he just doesn't do it enough. I wouldn't either, honestly. It's daunting to cook for up to a dozen and the nights we dump two boxes of chicken nuggets (but shaped like dinosaurs) on baking sheets and add three bags of french fries are more common around here than you think.

Most people would say that everyone can make their own dinner and that happens here too but we also like to eat as a family so there's generally an early dinner shift and a late one and it's been working this way for a long time.

I've already had a small glass of whiskey and water, truth be told. Aberlour gives me a headache in my teeth, if that makes sense so I'll probably switch to water now. It's less painful overall. This stuff is harsh but it was also close at hand.

After dinner we'll read poems aloud and Ben will play us out on the bagpipes, same as he welcomed this morning by playing them in the driveway which brought the usual round of death threats from the neighbors via text message (lovely people).

I hope we can eat soon. I'm starving.

(None of this is important to anyone but me.)

I parked on the front lawn today. Right at the top of the stone steps. Got a good laugh from everyone who left the house today and had a blast driving up there. Who needs roads? indeed.

Got a charitable tax receipt from my credit card for my membership to the art gallery. I need to check on that before I blindly add it in. Seems..weird and unexpected.

Got some T4s too. Here we go. Ten days left before I can start work on taxes. I hate taxes. I have a job now though so there's that. I'm thankful for it, I think.

Got some timbits. May eat them all for dinner and not even share.

Got really really tired this afternoon and may have started crying while loading the cookie jar. Then I loaded the dishwasher and stopped crying. It comes and goes. It's not grief but hormones. Lovely.

Lochlan kissed me right between the eyes today and then used the code word that a few people know which means I don't have the strength to chuck you out the window but could you please leave? to August and August quickly and kindly decided he sleeps better in his low swinging bed and thanked us for the extended mini-vacation. When he left Lochlan grabbed me in a tight hug and didn't let go.

Feel better? He asked after a few minutes.

Definitely, because I live for those hugs but I don't know if he meant that or something else.

The dog had a wonderful day of playing and went on a long walk today with yours truly.

I got groceries. And batteries for the remote panic alarms scattered throughout the house. Remind me to stagger the replacements next time so they don't all start chirping at once.

I got tired. Did I mention that? Oh, I did.

I discovered that Doc Marten boots are the very best things in which to drive a Jeep with.

I found out Chef's Table Volume 6 is coming next month to Netflix, which is a damn sad replacement for the winter Olympics but it's an odd-numbered year so it's better than nothing.

And tomorrow is Robbie Burns Day and I didn't buy any groceries for that at all and now I have to do my usual annual supply run. Because panic-haggis is the best haggis.

Have a good night.

Don't look so scary.

Sunlight
Ain't it good to feel alright
Ain't it good to know that you're not alone
Yeah ain't it good to know

Cause I lived my whole life
Looking for the light with closed eyes
Ain't it funny how you fight what you need the most
Yeah, but I can finally feel my soul tonight

Have to break the fourth wall for a moment here because Dear Reader, your reading comprehension gets an F.

The Jeep wasn't the leap of faith. It's a truck. Get a grip.

The leap had to do with August, and putting my foot down and climbing out of a hole only to slide happily right down to the bottom of it again because who wants to ignore the blissful coldness of good grief and here on the point we have the very best. So Sam moved back to his Boathouse and August is having a little vacation here from the loft because..

Because I need him? Maybe I just want him. Maybe he needs me. Hell, maybe he just wants me. 

Did I ask? Nope. 

Does it matter? Nope.

Did I have to fight for it?

Of course I did. That's what I do.

The Retro Encabulator. That's what her name is.

I went in tonight with PJ for moral support and Lochlan for Big Life Events you don't forget and I smiled really big and the dealership didn't remember me for a few moments, or why I was there.

But then they did and it was fine, because I saw it when we pulled in.

My brand new Jeep.

It's a Rubicon. Tires up to my neck. 2018 tech I will never learn and side rails that are actually incredibly slippery when you try to climb into the thing, or fall out of it as I have done every single time so far, forgetting it's a fathom to the ground and I'm about as graceful as a kitten on ice around that thing.

And I love it. So much. I'm finally big on the highway but I can reach all the pedals. I can leave everything the way I want it. I got exactly what I wanted.

It has locking differentials, Bridge.

Ummm, yes! 

What are they for again?

Different compartments for locking up your belongings. Are you gatekeeping me? 

No, not at all. 

Good. Better not.

Battle cries.

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before

I've scared myself to pieces. I made a little leap. Not a big deal to most, huge to me. Everything's huge when you walk as me, five feet of blustery willfulness in a sea of people who tower over me, looking right over my head, able to see what's coming, able to see what's next. Able to keep their eyes on the horizon all the while my focus remains shirt buttons and metal logos on t-shirts. That's my view when I need a soul with kind eyes and open arms and so with sight gone (and hearing long before it, even) I'm left with touch.

The songs touch me. So do the boys and so I've gathered both in my arms and I'm trying to hold on as hard as I can but fear is bigger than everyone and it can definitely see me from here.

Sam said not to try to smother, to let it breathe, to let it fill me and learn to live with it and then I will be able to see a way a through it but that's easier said, like all things, than done.

The new routine is that Dare you to Move is followed by Wonderful Feeling, because it's like me, a clear, straight journey from desperate + hopeful to joyful + hopeful and that's a good place to step off from, right?

Overland.

Church was lit. Sam's back in full force. Matt was a blip on his radar, one that eventually moved away before dropping off the screen completely and we didn't realize we've been holding our collective (Collective? Ha) breath since Christmas, exhaling in such a huge rush it almost blew me off the point. 

I forget what the sermon was. I fell asleep sitting up and was finally scooped in close to Lochlan, his warm suited arm keeping me awake with random squeezing. We came home and the shit hit the fan and now it's suddenly nine at night and I haven't eaten or gotten anything at all accomplished and I'm fine with that. 

Tomorrow will be much of the same. But it's a good kind of shit, in a capable sort of fan and I'll tell you more tomorrow!

Or Wednesday. Tuesday? I dunno. We'll see. 

King tides + misguides.

The tension in the room reached a fever pitch as we turned and walked ten paces away from each other and then whirled around and fired. Everything we had.

August is off-limits. The list includes Ben and Sam too. They've had too much loss already to have to put up with you. They're absolutely protected by me and by everyone else here and you will never close a door in one of their faces again. You will never deny them comfort if they ask for it, whether it be on my behalf or your own.

I spit the words out rapid-fire. Automatic.

And then I got shot right through the heart.

I've had too much loss already too, Bridget. My brother died a violent, miserable death following his violent, miserable life and no one is allowed to supersede my presence. Not last night, not ever. Not when it comes to you.

My brain pokes me in the back, whispering in my ear. Well, he is on the list.

(Shush, you.)

He continues. When I woke up you were gone. I needed you and you were somewhere else-

You HAD me-

Not your full attention. Not all of you. 

This is juvenile and-

No, you know what's juvenile? Him using Jacob's death to elicit sympathy from and therefore time with you-

How is that different from me? 

You make an effort to deal with your grief-

Oh my God. Hardly. But my rules remain or this all falls apart. 

Let it. Then maybe he can move on. 

What about me? 

I'll continue to look after you. Maybe this whole Collective was a bad idea but it exists because of your rule in the first place. 

No, it was the only way you could think of to stay close to me. 

The end will always justify the means, Neamhchiontach. 

See, I don't think so.

Chasing after ghosts.

I was running on empty
I was feeling so low
When you made me a promise
To never let me go
I was falling to pieces
When you carried me home
When you told me you loved me
And my prodigal soul

The knock came softly. I barely heard it for the rain and the cracking fire. It came again and then I knew I had heard something. I go to the door and crack it slightly.

It's August.

Did you listen?

Yeah.

And?

He would have loved it, August.

Yeah.

I feel warmth against my back suddenly, breath against the top of my head. Caleb is behind me. What do you need, August?

Nothing you can provide, man. I miss my best friend.

He isn't here.

I'm aware.

Goodnight August. Caleb reaches over me and closes the door in August's face. The look on it as the door closed broke my heart. I am led back to bed, crushed under Caleb's weight as he uses our wakefulness in the dark for another round of trying to win me back the hard way, fighting through all of history, Stockholm and post-traumatic Bridget syndromes to arrive at this pre-dawn assault on my convictions about who I love, and in what order.

He finally lets go and falls asleep and I lie there. I can't sleep. August's pain of missing Jake is the bond that keeps us close and I know damn well if I feel like that, especially in the night, there isn't a single person who would turn me down or turn me out.

And it's a luxury I absolutely refuse to deny him.

I get up quietly, extricating myself from Caleb's arms, and Lochlan's grip on my hand, and I dress quickly, leaving the room silent like a mouse. I dart across the driveway in bare feet in the freezing rain, almost wiping out on the steps and knock on August's door. I wait, shivering but he never comes. I let myself in and walk into his loft and he's on his knees, head down in prayer, rocking back and forth, probably set back a million years like I was when I listened to the new record and knew Jake would have loved it so beyond anything else he had heard and I dropped to the floor, threw my arms around him and tried to keep him from shaking.

It's supposed to be easy now, Bridget. It's been so long and I can't get anywhere and I know how you feel. 

Yeah, you do. Better than anyone. I nod, tears dripping off my chin, as August turns to sit with his back against the wall, pulling me into his lap to hold. It's always a song, or a photograph. Or just a feeling like something's missing. Something big. Something blonde. Something so faithful he held the rest of us up our whole lives and we're only being to realize how efficient he must have been at doing it, as we can't seem to do it for ourselves.

Helpless/help more.

(Caleb is being Caleb and yet this is my issue to fix? Thanks guys.)

John is half-amused and half deadly serious.

I can't believe how bad this is. You used to grift for a living. 

No, I charmed. I can do that. I can lie until the sun goes down. But if you ask me directly I tell the truth. 

I'm just trying to figure out how Loch did that. Force integrity all the while teaching you how to rob people blind. 

He says both were necessities, at the time. 

John nods. He can control his mirth over this but he also thinks it's time someone had a little lesson in holding a poker face.

Hey, I'm discreet. I'm private. 

Not when it comes to Caleb. 

His presence unnerves me.

And that's weird. He should be just like everyone else. 

You remember that guy who came up to Ben at the Maiden show and knew everything about him? And I played Ben off as a huge fan who styled himself to look just like Ben and I called him Brent and we all had a good laugh afterward? I can do it. Just not with Cale. 

So let's fix that. 

It's too late. I need to find a new restaurant. Or maybe I'll work at a Starbucks. 

I don't think you're qualified. 

Ha. Oh my God, I think you're right. Oh well. I'll go back to writing. 

Oh great. See you in October. I hated the way you holed up to do that. 

It's par for the course. 

Anyway, concentrate, Bridget. We have some work to do. 

I can't wait to see how. 

Well, for starters, you can act like you don't know him. Like if someone says hey, who is that? You can just smile and say you don't know, but he's nice. 

Uh..I think it's too late to reverse history. 

It never is. 

Oh. Then I want to go back further and change some other things and then this won't even be an issue. 

Paper filters.

Caleb came in today. He sat at the chrome-trimmed formica counter top, at the end, tantalizingly close to the pie rack and nursed a coffee and a plate of sauerkraut and corned beef for lunch for so long the other staff began to watch him and talk.

Finally another server asked me, after watching us talk quietly as I refilled his coffee for what seemed like the fifth time, if he was my husband. They're used to my random boys sitting in the diner for hours. But since Caleb radiates intensity they could already see it's different than most of the others.

He's my boyfriend. My first thought is to correct a stranger from a painful assumption, and not to protect my privacy.

Oh. I thought you were married. 

I am! (Oh, shit. Here we go.)

But it gets busy and I am spared any questions and eventually Caleb can't entertain himself anymore reading yesterday's newspaper and he asks me if I can leave early, get a ride home with him, and someone can come get my car later.

I have to work until three. I tell him.

Or quit and then you won't have to work at all. I've put enough in your account to see you through the spring. 

See me what through the spring? 

Don't you check your accounts? 

Yes but it's been a week or two. 

Then you should look. He finishes his coffee, tucks a hundred-dollar-bill underneath the edge of his saucer and winks at me before putting his jacket on. He doesn't carry cash often anymore so that surprises me more than the amount.

Thanks! We tip-share now, for the new year. 

What does that mean? 

We pool the tips and divide them between the wait staff and the cooks. 

How many are working today? 

Six people, including me.

He takes his wallet out again and counts off five more hundred dollar bills.

There. Now everyone's happy. 

You don't have to-

I can't spoil you directly, so I'll have to do it the hard way. Check your account. Put this somewhere out of sight. He pushes the saucer toward me.

Everyone was a little surprised at their second holiday bonus and one person remarked that they would also have a boyfriend on the side if he was that rich. It would be worth the hassle. Everyone looked at me and I shrugged.

Money doesn't buy happiness. 

I'll take it then, said the cook. If you don't need it since you're already happy. 

He grinned, content in knowing absolutely nothing about me and went back to scraping the flat top. I left my hundred there to be redispersed among everyone else. I hate it when Caleb does this. Now I probably will have to quit, when the judgement comes out of the woodwork.