Rabbit rabbit (run).

I don't feel foggy, fuzzy or dull this morning. I feel alive. Ready to fight back. Ready to push the darkness off the cliff, Lochlan beside me, Ben behind me for leverage, as I can lean against him and he won't move so I won't slide backwards.

Is that a euphemism? I doubt it. He physically does this and he mentally does this and somehow it's always been slightly easier to lose my shit on Ben's watch because there was never as much at stake, and only half the same amount of history to fight through.

Henry will be nineteen years old this week and I figured out that's why Jake is suddenly breathing down my neck, unable to hide himself or step back into the night, or hang out around the edge of the hole. He can't disappear away to heaven or mire himself in purgatory right now. It seems I'm not the only one who fights curiosity so hard I get myself in all sorts of messes when I ultimately give in.

And maybe that's what Jake wants to see. He wants to see this tall (six-two and still going, by the measure of his work pants which no longer come to the tops of his shoes) blonde handsome man, who has a steady job and is starting university in the fall after taking a year to do a few extra courses to prepare for the program he wants. He has close friends, easy humour and is ridiculously kind, sensitive and logical.

He sounds like Lochlan when he talks. The pragmatism shines. Nurture over nature, every time. And he really doesn't look like Jake except in colouring and stature. I'm grateful for that. He looks more like me and a lot like himself. He is an amazing man and I thank my lucky stars every day that my children are both well-adjusted, empathetic, smart people. Good humans, as I always say. Raising them I put values over rewards and honesty over laziness. I never took the easy way out. I demanded consistency and kindness because there were some major upheavals in their lives and I didn't want to ruin them.

And it's not over. My job isn't done. I'm still teaching Henry things like how to distract himself when he feels down or overwhelmed, even as I battle for a way to accomplish that myself. I'm still teaching him how expensive life is and how he has to save far more than he spends and how a plan and a trajectory is a good thing because there will be detours and fallbacks and huge strides forward along the way. I'm teaching him that he is a gift and that every time something bad happens, that's when you learn the most and a good day is there to keep you looking forward. That life is also a gift. That mental health is a precious thing and that we will all be okay, even when days seem dark or when things get really hard.

And that he will always and forever have the entire Collective to back him up and help him out. No matter what. For the rest of his life.

He's one of them now. One of the boys. He's been moving toward this and now they just include him when they're working on projects or going out. He has made it to this time and I am a proud mom. He only has one more work shift this week and we're celebrating after that. For days.

Requiem for the easily-startled.

I just feel dull today, as if someone has taken the point of my knife and ground it all along the pavement all the way out of my neighborhood, and when I hold it up to the light to see the damage it's now an icing spreader, just a rounded flat tin safe now even in the smallest of hands.

Church was ineffective. I slid into a bench between Lochlan and Caleb. Lochlan had gone through a drive-through for coffee for us on the way and once in he handed me my coffee and then took it away again just as fast while he watched Sam's sermon float right through one ear and out the other. Sam finally came over during collection and told me I should just go home and nap in the sun. That he will bring me some God later if I want. I laughed because I took it the wrong way but continued to doze standing up, eyelashes and hands fluttering, slack-jawed staring at the sky.

Jake just keeps watching me from the corner of every room. I know what it is. I brought him in. I brought him here and I keep him here and years and years have passed and I still don't understand how I fell so hard. How I mowed right over my boys for this incredible interloper who had no stake in us, no stake in the collective and no way of knowing how hard he would fall in return before he let it all slip through his hands.

You can't bring God over later. God isn't welcome here. Jacob moved right into my heart, fixed it up and redecorated and now I can't get him to leave.

I watch Lochlan as Sam mumbles. I can't even make out the words for Lochlan's curls spilling over his shoulders in lazy loops. The brilliant piercing red of early summer, before they fade to strawberry blonde, the sheer circumference of each single pop-can curl that has riddled me with jealousy my entire life, even as I can wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares and ghosts that won't leave and Lochlan doesn't complain one bit as he lets me wrap those curls around my fists, falling back asleep right in his face, not letting go for hours. He does it right back, save for the screams, and it's been a thing for so long, long before Jake and now long after him.

Go away, I mouth at the man in the corner, in his rumpled invisible linen and bare feet. Leave us alone now. You've done enough.

I close my eyes and rest my head on Lochlan's shoulder and he squeezes my hands tightly in his.

This took a fucking hour and it's a story about an apple slice. Jesus Josiah Crackerbarrel.

Watching Lochlan cut up an apple for me and he asked me something but I am watching for the next slice to come off his knife and in my waiting, I forget. It's like being ten again and he wouldn't let me use our kitchen knife at all. He still cringes when I pick one up on a good day but on a stoned day I don't even have to approach the kitchen. I am seated at the table so he can keep an eye on me.

(Watch me, not wait on me, I remind him.)

Wait. What?

Would you like a hot chocolate? We'll take them in to the couch and watch the rain.

I would but can we go to the front porch?

Sounds good. Do you want to go and put the blanket out and maybe light the lanterns?

(They are solar but have always-on buttons too.)

Yes.

I head out and Ben follows me, in case I walk straight into a bear's mouth or something. It's not a stupor, but a big pause. It's harder to focus, hard to worry. Hard to take the time to point out Jacob standing in the corner of each room I pass through, a midnight albatross rendered in blonde, an elephant in the room who is the biggest fan of Jesus. Death, maybe coming for me, maybe purely unresolved.

Ben-

I'll just be a shadow, fragile miss Bee. He walks right through Jake, opening the door wide. I was sure they could see him before. Now, not so much.

Lochlan comes out with a tray and three mugs, plus the plate of fruit. Ben is grateful. I am not even allowed to hold my mug until it cools. Forever ten years old, or maybe I was just high right through those wonderful terrible years.

Hey, I tell Lochlan as I watch him burn his lips on his own mug.

Hmm? He is attentive to a fault. Finally. The only thing I ever want in life is for him not to be forever half out of a conversation, distracted or distressed.

Thank you. For looking out for me with Joel and for being here now. Thank you, Locket.

Where else would I be? He winks and passes me my mug, carefully. When I have it he rocks a kiss against my forehead and a little hot chocolate sloshes over the rim of the cup.

He takes it back and puts it on the tray. It's hot, Peanut. Give it a few. He squeezes my hand. I see it but I hardly feel it. I'm happy he's here. And Ben too. We can be the three musketeers again, forever, except one hardly carries her own weight at all.

And he shall be a good man.

Ben critiqued my piano rendition of Candle In The Wind this morning by pointing out some of my notes are off. I play by ear. If I can make the chords I'm fucking thrilled. If I can't, I chip away at it until I can.

He puts his big over-the-ear headphones on me and tells me to have a listen with those. He is 'helping' me. He hates the fact (they all do, I know) that I can't hear things.

Oh. Wow.

Right?

There's guitar?

Jesus. His face falls. It's the only way I can teach them it's merely hurtful to keep rubbing it in and that unless I live in these headphones and have all sound filtered through them this isn't going to do anything but continue to highlight a flaw I can't ever fix.

Hearing aids are awful. I've tried a dozen different ones at price points ranging from five hundred to twelve thousand dollars, trust me. I hate the way they feel. I hate the way things sound. I'm better off missing the noise if that's how I'm going to be presented with it. A rusted tin radio with terrible reception and almost-drained batteries.

Ben is still hopeful. Maybe an ear transplant.

I shrug. Maybe, turning my attention back to my keys and he plants a kiss on the back of my neck, headed downstairs to his own music.

I change the song to Levon and change all the lyrics to be about Ben. He comes back and leaves a second kiss.

***

Had a day off from my brain yesterday. It got a lot worse, Jake came into the house and they called Joel.

Joel is like Caleb but with more connections and now I'm strung the fuck out on ghosts and benzos and no one cares if I can play the piano or if I'm drooling down the side of my cheek because at least I'm not screaming. At least now I'm quiet and not fighting and not losing whatever's left of my fucking mind.

At least I stuck around to do the hard parts. Jake just comes back to make this harder.

***

Lochlan didn't want Joel here.

I got her. I got this! Get BACK. He insisted. I heard him pleading. Heard his voice break as he struggled to be heard over me yelling. Heard him pointing out over and over again that this is his fight. That he's in charge. That he can fix this if they just leave us alone.

But they won't. Too risky. They just want it fixed before the kids see me. Before it gets any worse and they can't deal with it at home. Before they're no longer able to send the ghosts away with a good nights sleep and a perfect high.

Before it's too late for anything at all.  If I could feel anything right now it would be sympathy for him.

Why didn't you tell me, Peanut?

I didn't want to hurt you too.

His face falls. Just like Ben's did later on the same morning over the music. It's just another flaw I can never fix and I wonder what the dealbreaker point is now for him.

There isn't one. He kisses my face. Oh. There are tears. I can't even feel them but I guess my body is sad (perhaps from memory) while my mind doesn't care about a damn thing right now.

Then I am crying for you, I guess, I tell him.

Barometric pressure.

What's on my mind today?

-A bit of amusement over many readers (not just a handful, a whole bunch) reading in the paper about the Rainbow Family gathering in BC going on right now and asking me if that's what our Collective is part of.

We are not a part of any other group. We're self-contained. Not a branch/division/offshoot in any way, sorry. We're not part of a polyandrous movement nor are we political or public. You can't show up and we'll welcome you or anything like that. We're just us. No name/banner/heading or defined movement. Stop searching, holy Lord.

-A wonderous moment listening to Jenny Gear and the Whiskey Kittens this morning on the stereo and wishing she would do a duet with Ed Sheeran.

I've been listening to Jenny's single album since the children were babies. It makes me sad she hasn't put anything else out.

-I'm on the hunt for a copy of Hoffman's The Museum of Extraordinary Gifts, a book that seems intriguing, and relevant to my life and I can't find any copies locally and I'm NOT buying it online. Mail has slowed to a crawl here and nothing's coming in that isn't weeks or months late. I can wait.

-What to make for supper. I took a huge tray of chicken out of the freezer this morning. I think it will become fajitas. Maybe with rice.

-Corey. He came out to return some things after isolating for a couple weeks after his trip and was mad that he didn't know Mark was here doing some tattooing. You know, while Corey was overseas for work. Was I supposed to keep Mark here? I don't know. It's been so long I'm already swimming again so not like it just happened. Corey and I don't get along. I try. He is aggressive and adversarial with me as ever. He said it's just our personalities clashing. I would say it's bitterness and humiliation over a business deal gone wrong. Because I'm right and I know that's why. He came right out of the gate and said I could sleep with him if I would be in his music videos. I asked for a cheque instead. He's never forgiven me. I've now been in a BUNCH of videos of his in twenty years. Every cheque he gives me I donate to an animal shelter.

-I'm wondering if Patagonia clothes will fit. I spent high school in an XL light jacket that came down to my knees because who needed fashion when there were boyfriend jackets to steal? But they have really cute skorts now. I don't know if they have petite sizes or maybe kid sizes will work but again, I'd be waiting three months for the package and by then summer is over.

-Jacob's been waiting by the swing for me for two days and I don't know how to tell the right people. He said I should follow him. I mean, I probably could just to see what's up but for some reason I'm afraid of him and that makes me feel ashamed. I know he wants to discuss the thing with Gage and probably the easy forgiveness of the Devil but if I don't have to answer to the living then I don't have to answer to the dead.  It makes me sad though. He still wants to advocate for me from heaven or purgatory or where ever it is that he rests and what does he get instead? Me ranging wildly between fajitas and the justifications for my ridiculous sex life. This is why he left. One hundred percent. They say he was profoundly depressed and I was a last chance for him to find happiness and look at what he found instead.

That's what's on my fucking rotten little mind. Be sorry you asked.

Fun fact: I still can't pee in the woods.

Skills week is drawing on and what have we learned? To be flexible, resourceful and cheerful even in the face of adversity. To not run or panic but stay put and problem-solve. To fix things with what we have at hand or can easily (steal) acquire.

I just stare at Lochlan as he talks. I think he's lost it. We've always been good at those things. We worked on the midway racket and then in the circus for fifteen fucking years. If I'm not inventive and fluid then I'm nothing today. Granted, the midway was far more difficult. In the circus we were just exploited and poor. So this is like the midway. Fix your shit, suck it up, get going, and whatever you do, don't cry where they might see you.

(This is where Lochlan did virtually all of his growing up and why he's a bit of a loose cannon temperament-wise but also the person you want beside you when everything goes wrong.)

(Unless it's death. He really isn't good with death AT ALL though he said he feared many times we would be killed on the road by a jealous boss or an angry farmer.)

My only actual skill was being cute on either circuit. I wonder if that will work here?

It won't, he barks and I go back to trying to help. Trying to be handy and useful but staying out of his way. I feel like I'm eleven years old again, desperately hungry and tired and the back waistband of my shorts is a little wet and uncomfortable from where I squatted behind the trees off the highway to pee and couldn't not make a mess of myself and I think he's angry at me for it but he's actually angry at himself for putting us in this position but the radiator leaks and he forgot to get more water at the last gas station.

He didn't want to admit he got distracted because I refused to use the disgusting bathroom there and so he lets me take the blame. It would be later that night after a soothing bath in the lake and hanging up our now-clean clothes to dry that he would admit anything at all.

(Gosh, we were so romantic.)

*Rolls eyes*

Fuck this. I throw the socket wrench that he is refusing to take from me and walk out of the garage into the bright sun.

He can put it back together himself. I'm going to go fire up Youtube and start a self-directed orienteering course, though as I've said before, he won't let out of sight, not like I'll ever be lost on a mountain. I don't mind being kept very close, but I do mind if you take all of your frustrations out on me.

That's MY department.

HEY. He comes bursting out of the garage into the light.

You know what this reminds me of?

That time you peed all over your shorts and I got mad at you?

Yes. AS A MATTER OF FACT IT DOES.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bridget. I took my frustration out on you because you're a safe place to fall. I shouldn't have.

And what are you doing now?

The same...thing. I'm sorry, Peanut. I wanted this to be the most perfect, exciting summer with all of the things you loved about being on the road with none of the hardships and some moments, I swear it's as if the hardships just never stop.

Sure they do.

How so?

Now you just order everything online and you don't look at the prices, even.

He laughs. True. And I think that's enough work for one day.

Really? When do you think we'll be back in the camper?

A few days. In the meantime, I have a surprise.

What kind of surprise?

Let me show you.

He takes me upstairs, stopping at the sink first in the kitchen to scrub up and then takes my hand and pulls me up to our room and I'm like oooooh, "lunch" but when I open the door the room has been transformed. There are tiny lights everywhere. The furniture is gone and in it's place is the little tent that I bought ages ago to use as a shade for the kids at the beach when they were younger. It's set up with foam pads and a large double sleeping bag right by the fireplace. There is a cooler nearby.

And a Ben. Who is waiting patiently for camping to start because at least he fits in this room.

Where's my bed? I ask and they both burst out laughing.

I told him you would want to know that first.

Where is it?

On the balcony. Don't worry. We wrapped it all well so if it rains it's safe.

Okay.

Is it? Lochlan is suddenly concerned because he might be difficult when frustrated or scared but he also lives and breathes by making me happy.

Are there s'mores?

Right here. Ben holds up a picnic basket.

Just for a couple of nights until everything is ready.

I love it.

Do you?

The room is so huge! It echoes. Weird (weird) (weird)! This is perfect!

Wait a second. He closes the blinds and the blackout curtains and turns on a tiny projector. Now the room is a planetarium. Stars everywhere. Now it's perfect, Bridgie.

Sweeties.

I still have a blistering headache but I have engaged in a self-care day because summer camp appears to be on hold while Lochlan finds problem after problem with the camper he thought was ready to go and now he's questioning some of his materials and contacting some people he's reworked campers for in case they're having problems too.

So far they aren't, thank heavens so it appears I am the sole distraction that led him to mess up this one quite royally. It will be fixed by the end of the week though and watertight and dry and cozy. Also the heater will work because it's still really cold at night.

Not during the days though. It's twenty-seven in the sun right now so bikinis for the win. I can live in mine and I tend to because to me my tattoos are a suit of (relatively-squishy) armor and I forget the clothes part more than you would believe. But it's a pool day, so grab a bikini and nothing else, right?

My 'self-care' included lying on the top step of the shallow end of the pool eating honeycomb and reading while Daniel lifted up my elbow or leg periodically to spray me down with sunblock. Honey is running down my fingers and Schuyler points it out several, very annoyed times until I crawl out of the pool and give him a dirty look. I leave an oil slick in the pool from the sunscreen so he can fight with Daniel about that. I didn't get any honey in the pool. I'm not an animal.

They are jealous because I can enjoy my time outside, sticky-sweet but untouched by mosquitoes, while they get eaten alive.

Muhahahahah.

Jesus fucking headaches.

Church on the water this morning as Sam came down and saw us off on an early kayaking adventure, saying a little prayer for us as we are heathens and had no plans to go to church if it's finally sunny outside. I have my beautiful sunhat on and my gigantic life jacket, complete with a whistle and a light. Lochlan won't let me trade for something easier to paddle in like one of those low-profile vests that he wears, because I will never be a strong enough swimmer, and I'm horribly curious and adventurous, going way too far out and way too far away for his comfort, but there are things I want to see, or sea lions. Or whales. Or boys way out on the horizon because they can cover three times the distance I can in the same amount of time and I'm always and forever running to catch up.

Sam understands my need to be on/in/around the water better than most. Plus I get bonus points because I slept in really late (for me anyway) and I stood my ground about needing some rest and relaxation instead of being shepherded around doing chores or finding chores to do, which is a curse I bear far too easily.

I have a blistering headache that won't quit and I'm moving slow as it is. It got warm enough that I didn't want to be outside anymore and called for reinforcements to help me disembark and not to leave Loch with all the work. I probably already bit off more than I should, and plan to spend the rest of the day in pajamas in the shade or inside under the big slow-rotating fans in the great room being still. Maybe I'll go back up and sleep for a bit. Who knows.

Measures (not for you, for me).

Lochlan obliged. For that night and then for last night, too. He always does, if offered. It's a way to keep an eye on me, a way to keep an eye on Caleb's teeth. What was going to be a chasm of a summer is now a bridge (literally, thank you) and as I duck out to get another bottle of champagne, I don't even wonder if they'll argue while I'm absent or embrace. At this point they will talk about me, and my ears will burn.

It's okay, I need the light from them anyway. I'm venturing back downstairs in the dark for a drink and suddenly, out of the blue, I'm afraid.

But it's okay. By the time I close the outer door to Caleb's rooms I am swept off my feet into Ben's arms.

It's late, Bumblebee. Where's Lochlan?

I point to the door. I'm just getting champagne.

Alone?

I have to go or I'll never leave my room, you know?

I'll come with you. My relief swings away from the tower and lets go, landing softly on Ben. Never was there a bigger champion of my brain or heart, which is funny, as he used to cause some of the biggest heartache of my young life. Always leaving. Always fighting. Always staying on the outside. Always tough and silent and difficult. Always inebriated and looking for someone else to hurt so he wouldn't be alone.

We get the champagne (just one bottle, it's late and I already have had enough) and go back upstairs. There was no one up. Ben stops at the door and tells me he's going to bed, maybe I can come and snooze in the morning for a bit.

Come with me.

You've got your hands full, Bee-

I can manage. You know this. Please, Ben.

Seems that word is magic and the night shifts again, only Caleb does not have room for Ben as well in spite of an easy welcome and so we move the festivities back to our room and Ben takes over easily, wrapping his hand around the back of my head, pulling my bones up out of the night into his world, the only time his skin is ever warm. He takes what he didn't think he would be offered tonight and I am left a shuddering, drunken, overtouched mess by sunrise, definitely not needing that second bottle but glad to see it not go to waste as Lochlan passes it to Caleb and they toast the morning.

What a view.

What a moment.

What a life, I think and I start to giggle but then everything hurts and I fall asleep clutching Ben's hands, Lochlan's arms around me, Caleb disappearing back to his own room, taking the champagne with him.

If I climb into his lap and use my knees for leverage I can bite his bottom lip, driving him just a little bit crazy as his hands close around my back, sliding up to hold my head in his hands. A kiss. Slow and deep. Hurtful and dangerous. Wonderful.

Neamhchiontach. Stay here tonight.

Only if you put a fire on. 

We don't need a fire to get warm, he says, kissing my forehead, holding his breath there, then letting go as his hands slide back down around my hips. He picks me up and puts me down gently on the bed, pushing up the hem of my dress, kissing up my knees, up my legs, smoothing his hands up over the goosebumps as I shiver with delight.

He yanks me back down and kisses me hard on the mouth. Go find your joker, he breathes.

He's in the library.

Go find him before I keep you, he whispers.

Keep me, I plead.

Goddammit, Bridget. He puts his head down against my chest. He sighs, a long audible sound ending in a groan as he lets go of me. He looks rattled, hot and bothered and annoyed. He picks up his phone, hits a button and holds it to his ear.

Tonight. Yes. I know. It's fine. Everything's good. I just want to...keep her. Thanks, man. Yes. Check in in the morning, okay? Thanks.

He puts his phone on the desk and turns back to me. I don't know if he deserves you.

He does not. He deserves anyone better than me.

He loves you to the point of this.

I know.

Go home, Bridget.

Hmm?

Go to Lochlan. He's a better man.

How is the guilt stronger than the need, Diabhal?

He needs you more than I want you, Neamhchiontach.

You're going through a phase.

So leave while you can.

Caleb-

Bridget! Just GO!

I'm going to get him and bring him back with me.

You're going to be the death of all of us, Bridget. It's a flip comment and it burns.

I hope not.