Five days lead time? I can do this.

They tried to side me blind but I've been waiting for it all along. What I didn't expect was their delivery. No, I didn't expect that at all.

Someone brought my favourite gin to the table. I was the only one drinking it in the boathouse as the rain poured down on the skylights so hard that I briefly wondered, as I always do, if the glass will hold against the water. Then I wondered if the gin would hold against the night.

And then we went to bed.

(Spoiler alert. The glass held. The gin? It held too. Until it didn't but by then who needs alcohol escape when I can have figments instead?)

When I woke up Sam and Matt very gently told me they are getting married again. Victoria Day weekend. That it won't be big (first one wasn't) but they waited an entire holiday past what they set for themselves as a marker and they figured out how to navigate me (bring her over, touch her for a while and never say a fucking word about it again, every couple of...months or so) and here we go, boys. Time for another wedding.

Night birds and early owls.

I won't let it go
I'll stick to the plan
Deep in the throes

I won't let it go
I'll fight til' the end
And then you will know

When I took my coffee outside this morning, headphones, ipad and plans for half an hour of privacy in the pouring rain under protection of the glass-covered pergola, I was surprised to find Schuyler already there. He's ready for his day and waiting for me, clearly.

Where's Lochlan?

Sleeping. If you need him I can get-

No, I'll talk to him after.

Want coffee?

Oh, I want to talk to you as well.

With...coffee or without?

May as well stay here. Knowing you if I send you in for more coffee you'll go straight out the front door with your car keys because somehow over the past twenty years I have been 'scary'.

Not scary, just...foreboding? Maybe? I don't know.

All those pages and suddenly you don't have words?

Schuyblue-

No nicknames today, Bridget. We can't operate a Collective like this by force. We've learned that. So if I have some sort of vibe that's off I need to fix that.

Schuyler, I don't think I need anyone else trying to fix anything here.

You forget who you're talking to, Bridg-

THAT. That's what happens. Who am I talking to? Why do you stalk Jacob and know absolutely every single thing that's going on? I know you and Caleb somehow work together to keep an eye on everyone but at the same time you are far less but far more frightening for it.

We're all just trying to be strong for you. That's it. You know how it goes. We check each other now. So nothing goes too far.

So nothing goes too far.

Bridget-

I get it. Just far enough but not too far so that you can't live with yourselves.

He stares at me. It's six in the morning. It's too early for this and we're doing it anyway.

I am one with the wind and sky (if it's hot sing Frozen. At the top of one's lungs because they don't like it).

Schuyler and Daniel showed up very late last night with reminders that there are four strong men living next door, and they don't seem to have the mood swings of the ones in my house. I pointed out those four strong men don't have to live with me and Daniel laughed a little too hard and pointed out if I lived with them there would be nothing left of me and I half-expected Lochlan to go right through him at that point but Lochlan isn't going to fuck with Daniel because no one fucks with Daniel and besides, not like I went over there. They came to me. They brought an ice-cold bottle of wine and decided if I got just a little drunk I'd probably sleep and feel better.

What do you know? They were right. I was sent up after three glasses. Lochlan had already put on ceiling fans and opened all the windows and I was out like a light.

This morning the feelings aren't so sharp, the sunburn isn't very raw and he smiled at me when I woke up, instead of frowning. We've already got the laundry caught up, tackled the wasp nest on the porch and planted radishes. I need to water everything and hit the post office to send my parents masks and pick up some things at the drugstore and then the rest of the day will be slow-moving and cool-ish, as we don't attempt herculean outdoor chores on the hottest fucking weekend of the year.

Christ.

Lochlan still thinks he's sixteen or even twenty and can stay out all day in the sun, busting his ass and being clipped with everyone. He has a long history of yelling at me as I burn and whine and then feeling bad later. I HATE the heat. It makes me physically ill. I don't like the cold much either, but in-between is just fine. Rain is fine. Fog and wind is the BEST, but anything over about twenty-two degrees and I am NOT having it.

Sorry, Peanut.

It worked out. I'm still a little mad.

But not much.

Schuyler might be a better counsellor than anyone.

Only because we're all afraid of him.

True.

I picked a fight in my own defence and am ending this Mother's Day with broken fingernails (from helping to lift things like hard tops, lawn mowers and rocks), a terrible sunburn from the top of my head right through to the tops of my feet, a heathen attitude towards Jesus and a stomach ache that won't quit. I think I have heatstroke. I think I might be losing my mind. If you find it, don't even tell me, just kick it off a cliff into the sea and let it sink to the bottom like a stone.

Ben wants me to try harder. Lochlan keeps telling me to never be normal. Caleb just wants selfish hour after selfish hour and everyone else wants to watch.

Throw my brain overhand, please. Make it go far in hopes it will never be found.

Sunburned.

Kayak this morning, then gardening. We finished with the four-ish yards that remained. Ben came out and delegated the work and it was finished by one.

Good. In time so you don't burn. He smiles at me, pale and tired. Working in his studio he doesn't see the sun so this is good. Or at least he won't get rickets.

I'm already burning, I point out.

So I hear, he laughs. Rough night?

Who were you gossiping with?

Lochlan.

And?

He doesn't get it but he's trying to roll with it.

He's not trying and he doesn't have to like it. It's only like once a year or whatever now.

It's a cumulative problem, Bee.

Is it?

Maybe.

I don't think it is. I haven't gone anywhere except to Caleb's in a long time.

Lochlan's getting old.

Don't you think we all are?

I think he thought after a couple of years you might settle down.

Then how come he won't say that to my face. He flat-out encourages me, Benjamin-

He's trying so hard, Bumblebee.

To what?

To be everything you want. To bite his tongue. To be hands-off when you need him to be. If it helps he lets it slide. He'd do anything for you. I think it's time for you to return that favor.

I would die for him, Benny.

I don't know if he knows that, Bridge. Maybe he tells himself you would but when he goes to sleep, half the time you're not there.

At least he remembered my favorite flower without having to check his notes first.

Batman bites his top lip as he watches me take a sip. He's become the good-whiskey guy, always with the sparest inch in the bottom of my favorite stoneware cup, ice cube taking up the whole space, because he wouldn't want there to be any question as to whether or not I could think for myself if I stay later than allowed. He always makes sure we have a snack too, moreso because he thinks if he can circle my wrist with his finger and thumb that I must not eat and so he has a plate on the small table nearby with olives, crackers and cheese. He is in his favorite chair and I don't get a chair, because he pulled me into his lap the moment I was close enough and I didn't mind because a good pair of arms for a hug or a hold is better than oxygen to me.

How are the lilacs?

I pressed my face right into them. No smell yet. I frown and finish my glass. He sets it on the table far away and then sets down his too. Twenty bucks says it's still full. For a good-whiskey guy he hardly drinks. I've seen him tipsy twice in my life. He looked so happy, for a moment.

He pulls my face into his. Stay. Have a belated birthday visit. I have a gift for you. His eyes are bright.

I need to be back by sunrise.

I will have you back, he swears.

I let him kiss me and I return it. Do you need Lochlan here? He is gently rubbing at a bruise on my upper arm, suddenly all concern and consent.

It's from kayaking. And Lochlan knows I'm here.

He can join us-

It's fine. I return his kiss twofold just so he'll stop negotiating and figure it out. Dawn isn't all that far off. He's not into frenzied moments, he prefers to savour absolutely everything. That's why I'm still in his lap an hour into my visit.

Come up with me. He leaves the glasses but brings the bottle, taking my hand, leading me down the hall, through the kitchen and then up the main stairs. Down two more halls of a big empty, untouched house to his master suite. I prefer the garden guest bedroom for the big black iron and glass doors that look out onto a beautiful English garden path.

This way we won't see the sun coming.

I say his name and he looks dismayed. Just- Just let me pretend for the next few hours.

That's a hole of one's own.

Who says our demons are all named Jake?

I almost leave right then. I don't need to take on his pain too but I understand I'm the personification of it and I never minded giving him what he wants, as long as it doesn't make things too hard. Sometimes it does and then we have a long time apart, like now.

Let's just have this night, Bridget and in the morning we can go back to who we are.

I don't change for you. I stare at him while he avoids my eyes.

I'm grateful for that. He finally meets them and pulls my hand toward his, leaving a small box in my fingers, putting his hands in his pockets. Open it. A belated birthday present for my favorite person.

I open the box and inside is a fine gold bracelet. A thin chain with a tiny golden four-leaf clover attached on each side to the chain.

Tiffany? I asked.

He shakes his head. No. I had it made for you by a goldsmith.

It's beautiful.

Will you wear it for luck?

I nod as he puts it on me and I leave it on even when everything else is off. For luck, I remind him as he reacquaints himself with everything we've forgotten and will forget again. I arch my back against the dark as he pulls my hair back just hard enough to send a thrill up my backbone and press my teeth against his shoulder bones as he holds me close again. I can't even breathe by the time the night begins to fade and he pours us a drink to share finally, halfway full, no ice. I burn a swallow all the way down, maintaining my thirst and he finishes the whiskey without offering any more and then I get one final kiss as he moves to put his shirt back on.

Pumpkin-time, he says.

Would you like me to keep the bracelet here to wear?

If you do that you'll never get to enjoy it. Take it with you. It is yours. Thank you for staying, Bridget.

I nod. Thanks for having me. I laugh in spite of his sad expression. Under the circumstances it's a weird thing to say.

By the time I get back to the house before the sun blooms fully in the sky there's a transfer waiting for me to accept to my bank account with a note that says Like old times. I type in my password to accept it and then call him.

You can stop doing that. My life is different now.

You never would have given me the time of day without it, Bridget.

You don't know that.

I do know it. The girl I met was so desperate for Cole's focus she had to be coerced to go with dollar signs.

That was between you and Cole. Money or not, I never got a say.

It was between you and I. I asked you, remember? I wouldn't have touched you otherwise. I still won't.

May I send it back?

No, you may not. It isn't an insult either. Or a payment. It's just my way of making sure you always have a way out. I wanted you to feel like if you had to leave him you would have the means but you never went.

I loved him.

I know you did. But you should have left him long before you did and I wish I had stepped in sooner.

(He didn't step in at all.)

Perdition Island.

I made an effort today, forgoing the usual dance leggings and a big t-shirt in favor of a pretty sundress from Anthropologie, perfume, a braid and lip gloss. Diamond studs and my diamond rings. Surprise. I'm a girl, not a small lycra fairy.

And it works. Everyone's doing double-takes and once-overs as I attempt to charm them all into finishing the gardening for me instead of merely watching me do it. This works great on Ben, but then again I haven't seen Ben today and he hasn't seen me. Maybe if the world opens back up on time he'll work less instead of more so there's something to look forward to.

We'll get the onions and avocados in the ground at least. Maybe beans and tomatoes too. Maybe not though but maybe.

Everything else over the course of the next week definitely. We have the better part of four yards of dirt to move from the driveway into the garden and while heavy machinery would have been nice (one of my dreams is to learn to operate a bulldozer) the power of a dozen men is just as good. It just takes way longer. The power of one hundred-pound woman saw three wheelbarrow loads in an afternoon so at that rate I *might* be done by Christmas or at least one year from today.

Premier Horgan surprised me yesterday and said everything's coming back, sooner than I expected. Malls by Victoria Day, theatres by Canada Day. Groups, but small. Dentist appointments and elective surgeries. No one needs nightclubs so those can wait. But the normalcy I suddenly missed is on the horizon at last.

I asked around after most of the boys to see if they were interested in rejoining life before the pandemic, or in re-celebrating my birthday as it had to take place during the pandemic and they did not. They kind of like this, this not leaving. This everyone being here. This changed life, somewhat quieter than before. This different speed, this unusual moment in time. 

I asked Lochlan what he thought and after being quiet for a moment he said he thought he might take a match later, light it and burn away the link to the mainland, that we could maybe push off at high tide and drift our point out to sea and never return again. Henry can work for Schuyler or Batman, we can have groceries and supplies helicoptered in or drop-shipped or get things by boat and it will be the best life ever.

I could point out it already is but maybe he knows.

A laundry list.

Oh, great. Blogger's made changes and I don't have time to fuck with this today as I have to take Henry to work and I want to make a drugstore run. PJ offered to do it but I like to be the one to take the kids to their jobs, though only Henry works outside the home at this point and I hate it. I want to keep him home and safe but he's six-two and handsome and fine with going, fine with danger pay, fine with the pandemic as he said he hardly notices except for not being able to spend time with his friends.

Soon, I tell him.

I know, he replies.

When I get home the dryer will be finished so there will be clothes to fold and while I do that PJ will probably make us strange noodles for lunch and clean the kitchen. I'm plotting a second do-nothing day save for picking Henry up again and then cooking dinner tonight, since my headache won't budge even though I've had coffee and another five-kilometre run (this time in the wind and rain SO MUCH BETTER) and a decent sleep.

Today they're going to make the opening announcement for our province but I'm already scared we're going to get left behind, stuck like this forever. I need my eyes checked, my teeth cleaned. I want to go to the shops without getting dirty looks and I want a doctor's appointment without having to resort to the Russians and I want to go to Golden Ears instead of Cypress. Cypress is a joke played on the rich people. It's not a park, it's a gravel pit on the side of a mountain.

I want OUT.

But I can wait.

And I won't even complain.

PJ nods and says it wouldn't do any good anyway and I know he's right.

Who needs a post title? I have a magician.

When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
Heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take

I walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two, a movie queen
To play the scene of bringing all the good things out in me
But for now love lets be real

Two years in a row, two birthdays running, I point out to him gently in the early morning light as he struggles to wake up. Lochlan is out like a light, zonked on my other side but Caleb is half-alert, tense as he fights his dreams on the way back to the surface.

Happy Birthday, Neamhchiontach. Thank you for letting me be here for the first early hours of it. 

I nod, as if we get along, as the only time he's the absolute best is under strict supervision. As if it wasn't a little bit overwhelming last night though they didn't need to fight over me at all. As if he has ownership now. I need to make sure he's aware that he doesn't, even as I gleefully followed every instruction he gave me not to doubt him as he pinned me to the dark last night and kept me there for hours while Lochlan burned us alive and then when Caleb finally handed me back he blew out all of the flames on us until the dark roared back with a vengeance and I. need. sleep.

It may not be every year-

I'd prefer not to think about that right now and just enjoy this. He puts his arm out, pulling me back down. I can still smell a hint of his Tom Ford cologne and soap even and I close my eyes for another minute.When I wake up again he's gone and Lochan is awake.

Come here, my birthday girl. His toothy grin, wild hair and sleepy eyes make me burst out laughing.

You look crazy. 

I am. For you. He lights his fingers and puts them out against my lips, meeting my eyes steadily. Getting telepathic confirmation that even though the Devil was here and gone in the night he left my heart, left my soul intact and Lochlan doesn't have to fear a kidnapping or a defection. And confirmation that even though my ghosts shroud me in protection, in the past, the earliest memory of love still shines in the sunlight.

What would you like for your birthday? He says suddenly, a question I don't think he's ever asked me before but somehow I have the answer ready. Easily.

You. 

He doesn't break his gaze, even as his eyes fill up and spill over. 

But I won't let this build up inside of me

Caleb used his good graces last night to pick the lock on my bedroom door, squeezing himself through the opening left by Ben when he went back down to his studio to work, busier than ever thanks to everyone's need to create their magnum opus while in quarantine and then be able to burst out of the gates with a tour the minute they can. He may as well be with them, as with few exceptions Ben rarely shows his face, even as every single time he does come to bed with me or appear suddenly for a meal or a gardening afternoon he promises to spend more time and then promptly forgets. He makes it too easy for me to be angry at him but I can't be. Working keeps him busy and busy Ben is sober Ben and that's more important than anything, ever.

Caleb wedged himself inside the door and then inside the light, blooming just a hint of darkness within reach for me until I could step in and pull it right up over my head. I have demons of my own but instead of being bottled they are skinned in forms I recognize, comforting ones from my childhood, shapes that fit into a wagon you can pull along behind you, click-clack-click down the quiet hallway into the night.