A Newfie, a Scotsman and a princess walk into a-

 I'm pretending to be confident, steady on my feet, courageous. Self-assured to a tee. I found all of these qualities in a spanking shiny fresh bottle of armagnac and I'm not about to pass them up so I marinated in them and now I'm ten feet tall and words bounce off like rubber bullets. 

Except for the ones August speaks. Those ones are sharpened barbs and I'm porcupine-confident now, covered in quills and backed into a corner. My defense is to pull out the barbs, snap off their sharp, cutting points and throw them at his feet, looking up at him in tears, tears that are at least 53% proof, maybe more. 

Bridge, did you ever think maybe if you were sober more often you would have a better handle on your emotions?

 I don't carry those, Augie. They're too heavy for me so I think...um...Ben probably is holding the handle so who better than that? I wouldn't have a better hold on the handle-

I think I'll take you over. 

 Sounds good. I don't think they can manage-

 I mean across the driveway, home. 

 Oh, I thought you meant you'll take over looking after me. 

 Is that what you want?

I don't want you to avoid me. 

Bridget, you're breaking my heart.

You're the one who tells me to get out every time I'm here. 

Because after I let go of you I'm reminded that I'm trying to stand in to make the widow of my best friend happy and I'm a poor substitute. You feel bad, I feel bad. Everyone feels bad and yet I can't stop. You come over here and stand in front of me and blink back those huge tears and I can't deny you or myself. 

I think that's the most words you've said in years, Augie. 

Maybe. I don't tell you to leave because I want you to leave. 

 So then come over and stay with us. Have a sleepover. 

 I thought Caleb had taken up residence in your bed. 

That was days ago. 

He laughs. Things going good with your devil, then? I don't want to fuck that up. 

Fed the beast. Beast went home. You aren't responsible for his jealousy or my arrangements. 

Let me speak to Loch. 

I'll wait. I lean back against the counter while he picks up his phone and hits a button. His arm snakes around my neck, pulling me in to his chest, planting a kiss on the top of my head. 

Hey, I hear him say. Bridge is here. We're coming back over. Okay with you?...Good. See you in a minute, Brother. He puts the phone down.  

He knew I was here, Augie-

I don't think he likes it when you come over alone. 

Then I'll bring him every time. 

If that's what you want. He bends his head down and gives me a long kiss. That isn't something that happens often. He uses his thumb to wipe my tears, ending with running it along my bottom lip. I don't know if he knows what that does, but it was his best friend's signature move, and it makes me fall in love in the space of a single heartbeat. Some of the boys do it for effect, or perhaps feigning ignorance but August isn't one for dirty tricks. 

Let's go. Got everything?

Yes, I whisper. It's going to be a long night, and I can't wait.

The girl with the doubled heart.

You're thinking it over
But you just can't sort it out
Do you want someone to tell you
What they think it's all about
Are you the one and only
Who's sad and lonely
You're reaching for the top
Well, the music keeps you going
And it's never gonna stop
It's never gonna stop

 I sent the devil back into the night and brought the thief of hearts with me down to the water this morning to start fresh, to start over. To baptize ourselves in the rain and the sea as blessed, precious beings and not dark evil creatures unable to meet your eyes. I refuse to be that, for him or for anyone. 

I put on eighties power ballads and brought us back around, leaving the devil in our dreams. That isn't us. It isn't anything like us. It isn't what we wanted or who we are. 

 But in the dark things change. 

 This isn't the dark anymore, I tell the tides, stretching my body out over the surf, balancing on my arms, up to the bracelets as always, as far as I'm allowed to go on mornings where it's too cold to go in all the way. 

Sure is, she giggles, turning away, trying to pull me out with her as she retreats from my assertions of innocence, my demand for all eyes to look away. She'll be right back. Jake leans forward and picks me up by the elbows, standing me back on drier sand, asking me in my head why I tempt fate, as if fate is a thing, so much softer and more compelling than evil, so much warmer and cozier. 

 Because he's there and you're gone now, I tell him, just to keep his heart broken so he knows what I feel like. 

Jacob's expression collapses and I can't look so I look at Lochlan, who's never more than ten feet away down here. He's crouched down picking up tiny treasures for me from the shore. Frosted glass teardrops, frozen in time from Jacob's eyes. He brings me a handful and I put them in my pocket for safekeeping. If I collect them all then I can control Jacob's regret. Eventually I can get in front of it and head off the future by changing the past. 

No, you can't, Lochlan reminds me confidently and I know he's right. The sea rushes in to grab me by the knees as if to pound home his point and Jacob dissolves in the saltwater like he always does, leaving only the red of my favourite fire behind. Lochlan grabs my hand to keep me on shore and his skin is so warm. So warm he melts the glass in my pocket into one solid chunk. Just like my heart.

Crafty.

For anyone who said they tried a waterfall incense burner and it didn't work, you need to use cones with a hole in the bottom or buy what's called backflow incense. Lochlan drilled out my incense cones with a dremel. Not all the way through, just 2/3 of the way up from the bottom, then they work well. So try that and thank me later.

And never assume that the only people who burn incense are weed smokers? I don't know where that came from but it isn't true. Some of us love the smell of nag champa because it reminds me of the fortune teller's booth (camper/room/tent, depending on venue) on the circuit.

***

It's raining!

I feel like I want to celebrate even though it's damn COLD and super-heavy but it's so nice after such a long break from it. My plants are happy. My tomatoes probably pretty happy. My vehicles are happy. I think even the dog was happy and Henry was happy to walk him up the road (only to the mailbox. My dog is twelve years old now and can't walk for shit but he loves his walkies anyway so we try). I was going to have a quick swim this morning but Ben talked me out of it (No, Bee. I'm not going out in that so you'll have to try and talk someone else into it) and then Caleb was still sleeping and Lochlan was too so that was it for my chances before the day got busy and now I'm sewing more cloth masks because I spend more time hunting them down as they disappear from the basket by the front door and I think if I had more on hand this wouldn't be a problem.

So that's my day.

Very exciting, I know.

The incense matches are actually cool and very portable. Unlike my burner which is a tiny fairytale castle that burns the smoke in reverse, down a waterfall in front which is also some sort of magic of a different kind.

I'm out in the gazebo this morning. The tiny lights and gossamer sheets are still draped everywhere, hems filthly from billowing out over the grass in ribbons and back. I stole Ben's giant headphones and I'm bouncing back and forth between The Folklore Album (they said they knew I'd be a fan of Taylor Swift eventually and they were right) and new Gojira. It's a quiet-jar, a juxtaposition and I like it. I've got a book of incense matches, a hot fresh cup of coffee and a rosemary rocksalt bagel (my absolute favorite and I make a stupid number of trips up to Commercial drive to get them) and I'm drawing, mostly.

I'm feeling the exquisite burn of the light bite marks all up and down my legs, covered with a halter maxidress to prove he didn't because my shoulders are clean, no marks. The dress drags behind me on the ground like a train. Its hard to find them in petite sizing (impossible, I mean) and so I buy them regular and just lift up my skirts when I'm going up and down the stairs like a princess would, if I were one, which I'm not. I turn and confirm that with the line of dirt along the hem, just like these billowing sheets on the gazebo.

It's a beautiful day. It's supposed to rain tomorrow. It's not supposed to be so hot today. I already had a swim in the shivery-cold water with Lochlan, and now he's having a shower while I get half an hour to myself. It's all I am allowed, on his watch. We left the Devil in our bed to sleep late. He likes to do that on Wednesdays. Hang out in our bed, I mean. Not sleep late. They were generous and patient last night and mischievous too. They were a team, somehow, in a serendipitous moment under a full moon that stretched right through until the blue hour of the morning.

And I'm tired.

But happy.

I can't see past the end of my nose. I can't tell the future (though I could fake it pretty good, I've been taught by the greatest in the world), I don't know what lunchtime is going to bring, let alone five years from now. Maybe it's time to live in the moment, instead of the past. Maybe we don't have to worry about the future. We did a lot of work to make it that way and now maybe I can finally enjoy this.

Big Feels.

Caleb settles back on the chaise and holds out my drink.

Thank you.

Happy, Neamhchiontach?

Yes. Thank you, I repeat. He could have (he actually did, at first) put up a fight against my changes but in the end I usually get my way as long as there's no glaring reason I shouldn't.

Cheers, then. That's everything I want, and it obviously could not be bought.

I told you that.

Yes, you did. He raised you well. He clinks his glass against mine as I nod.

I tried. Don't know if I spent enough time on the part about not talking to strangers but I'll work on that. Lochlan is in the doorway, glass of his own in hand. Are we celebrating finally?

Still.

He walks over and clinks both of our glasses before sitting on the edge of the chaise. I slide over to make room and he leans back against the cushions. A different dynamic of musketeers, this. A dangerous dynamic but holding for the moment or I would see flames everywhere and all there is now is the dim afterlight of a long hot day.

Happy, Peanut?

I nod. Very. Everyone keeps asking me.

You've been working hard.

We all do. Are you happy?

He nods. I thought he would hesitate but he didn't. Now we just need to keep this peace.

Caleb leans forward and clinks his glass again. To new beginnings for old familiars.

Sláinte. Lochlan returns it. Here's to everyone holding their own and everyone else's too.

Yes, even Caleb.

You have questions. That's fine. Doesn't mean I'll answer them. Well, not all of them.

No, this has nothing to do with sex.

No, Gage is not part of our commune. Well, he is but for now he continues to rent a room in the house and continues to be my tenant though he transfers the money directly to Lochlan and Lochlan uses it to supplement the grocery bill, as ever and so in and out and I don't see it. Gage will forever be the fairweather guy who stays for a while and then takes off so a lot less permanent than the others.

Of course August is part of this, as are Matt and Sam. I wanted everyone permanent, legally protected. I wanted us to feel like a family. While I trust everyone implicitly I still don't fuck with money and have no risk tolerance and that's why we are using a team of trustees to oversee the entire project.

It works. I've addressed absolutely every contingency. Have you met me? I don't move fast. Too busy being thorough. Caleb even said he couldn't think of any other holes in my plan and he's a goddamned finance attorney so if he can't no one can. It's very detailed and incredibly complicated and everyone seems happy. Two years ago I gave them all a year to think about my final plan to see if it was workable. We've added things and taken away others and everyone is satisfied, I hope. I let it go way over so that everyone had tons of time to sort through it. We held a thousand family meetings and it went into place yesterday, at last.

Or so I thought. Until this morning  PJ texted me after leaving the house and asked if it was okay if he bought a coffee.

Sigh.

When he came home he said he was kidding. He said the happy face on his text proved it.

Right.

We're official. No going back now.

Duncan is in fine form this morning. He did about five backflips off the cliff while I watched and sipped my coffee, venturing close to the edge every time to make sure he made it back to the surface (as did Dalton. And PJ. And Loch). Each time he came up we had a routine to enact and he finally got tired. He's sometimes like a toddler on sugar in that you need to wear him out and then he'll finally stop.

And promptly take a nap on you.

You finished?

I don't think so, not yet, Bridgie.

I would stick my tongue out at him, he would wink and then take a run at the cliff again.

This is enough adrenaline for them all. Somehow it works and now suddenly ten years have gone by here and the commune that was a strange experiment in the beginning is now a well-established system and we have made some rather significant changes to herald that milestone.

It's time to celebrate.

These aren't sudden changes, mind you, they have been things we have been working towards all along. Ten years is a very long time and these boys have worked hard and asked for absolutely nothing. They pitch in, they soothe each other, they help with everything and they've gone all-in. They've proved themselves a thousand times over and it's finally time they get their due.

We did away with a few major obstacles to the true success of this collective. We did away with the implied hierarchy, in that a core group were responsible for making all of the decisions. Now it's by a group vote.The children also have a vote as they are no longer children but full-fledged adults.

We did away with the financial system we used thus far. No one's not going to pull their weight, there is no class divide. We don't lend and borrow, we give freely and take if necessary. This was a long time in the making because legally I want everyone to be protected and I also wanted a system whereby we could live off interest and not need to touch principal but also allow for capital purchases without needing to apply to a committee, or defend whims or even second-guess each other but still protect the interests and worth of the group proper. And allow for change, if necessary. What if someone wants to leave? What is someone wants to join? After years of working through everything, from the little details to the big we've finally got it all sorted out.

(Note: At this time Batman and (new) Jake are not included and most likely never will be. Not for any reason other than it isn't necessary and Batman is a ridiculous loner over there at his Wayne mansion with his manservant Alfred (I mean Jake). This is not a bad thing, it's just the way it is and that's fine.)

Caleb even approved of the work I've done. He knows all the lawyers but we used an impartial group. We have no leaders here anymore. We're all equal. I am no longer the landlady or the center of atten-

Well, I am still the centre of attention. No amount of legislation within the Collective will ever change that.

Dinner tonight will be individual apple pies with cinnamon and nutmeg, made from apples from our own tiny orchard, that we've somehow brought back to life over the past ten years here, and this is the first year it bears fruit for us to eat. They're early apples only because I'm afraid they'll become bitter if I wait too long to use them which goes against everything I know as a gardener but I'm also completely unwilling to see the apples stolen by the raccoon family that visits us every night seeing what's ready to take and what they should wait for.

Dessert and iced tea only because the heat wave continues and no one wants to eat, we just want to float in the pool until we fall asleep, which turned out to be a surprisingly bad idea for me and today I am pinkish and sore from the sun. I had fifty sunblock on but it wasn't enough so Lochlan said if I'm going to float I'll be doing it in my wetsuit from now on.

It's also pink. I know! Surprise! You thought it would be black, didn't you?

Just going to blow up the top of the driveway and I'm all set.

When I was younger I thought that the dog days of summer meant the very end, what we called 'Indian Summer' when the last few days of the season were languid, scorching, bleached-out days in which we could hardly think for the waves of heat broiling down upon our heads, that somehow it was a last burst, if you will.

Now that I'm older and have internet I see it's from July 3-Aug 11 and it means hot days, mad dogs and bad luck, thunderstorms and drought. Fire.

I think I liked my interpretation better, although now Indian Summer is something we no longer say because it's not politically correct and also because the internet says it's in October, a false summer, so to speak so I guess I'm off on all counts but that's okay. Summer still contains so much promise, though of what I don't know anymore. Everything is closed. I stand on circles everywhere I go. I ran out today for an old-Bridget singular adventure (sober, given one hundred minutes exactly). I went to the store to pick up eggs and lettuce, I got gas for my Jeep since the price gets higher and higher until the long weekend is a memory, and I went to see my favorite hairstylist (the one I only see every two or three years because Daniel loves to play stylist and who am I to deny him?) who cut ten inches off my hair. I have a hella cute pixie bob now which makes me look shorter and smaller than ever but I also don't have to worry about it taking four hours for my hair to dry nor do I have to gather it up and drape it over people's arms so they don't pull on so much. I can skip conditioner if I want and I also have much better baby bangs now, because I cut them myself after Daniel didn't do them short enough and egads, bad idea. She fixed them. I don't know how but they're longer now.

 I feel a little better. I wore my mask the whole time. I saw a lot that didn't. Most people seem content to skip the mask, the arrows, the circles, the instructions. There is no 'greater good' for them. They are the permanent misery of this summer, the mad dogs, ready to bite. I saw a man get in an altercation outside of a restaurant because he wasn't wearing a mask and got too close to another and it ended after a few minutes of shouting. I saw people driving like fools. I saw everyone trying to feel better but in this heat with everything that's going on there's no chance of that.

I came home with my prizes and my new look and everyone loved it. It's me. It's better like this. They took the groceries out of my arms and gave me hugs as I told them about how I *almost* came home but then finished what I set out to do (bravery is hard to come by for me) and am more relaxed for it.

I'm not leaving again until actual Indian Summer though. Mid-  to late September, we were always told but probably into October too, if that's what the official record says, to be certain.

Cabin in Candlelight version.

It feels like a Friday morning even though it's only Thursday, hot and dusty, dry and burning-bright. A day for long drives down familiar roads only to jump out and explore abandoned barns with glass bottles of orange crush, gulped down like water while I shake out polaroids and step on Lochlan's shoelaces, not paying attention, getting too close but never close enough.

God, I miss those days. But today is even better.

It's a day for bacon and eggs in the big skillet, fresh hot coffee and black rye bread with last summer's grape jelly. A day for very short dog walks (down the driveway and back, his legs are five inches tall, it's enough, trust me), and patio umbrellas and water-misters attached to the hose. Not-hot chocolate (thanks to Matt, who pulled out this surprise recipe which is a weird mousse-ice cream hybrid but he calls it frozen hot chocolate) to chill us from the inside out and mackerel and salad, picked from the garden being prepared for tonight's dinner.

I am blessed. Everyone is healthy, employed and safe. Everyone is happy. Everyone is navigating this strange time with grace and aplomb and I now try to take my cues from them in order to learn and to grow.

When the photos develop every one is of us, slightly out of focus, not quite ready but smiling even as we wait to get a cue like say cheese but selfies don't work like that. The pictures he'll stick on the dashboard of the truck where they will fade in the sun, melting in the heat into an unrecognizable but precious memory all the same.