Overcast achillean paradises and stars that won't light up the whole way.

 PJ took the entire beer cooler to his wing, Duncan and Dalton helped bring the food back to the house and we left the blankets in the pool house to bring back out tonight, as last night the only thing I saw was muddied shooting clouds, I guess and after a fifteen-minute insistence on me adjusting my eyes properly to the dark after pulling the switch on all of the exterior lights, Lochlan very gently suggested we try tomorrow. 

But wouldn't you know, I'm stubborn and I made him wait a further thirty minutes just in case, you know, it cleared up or something.

I double-checked this morning and yes, it's supposed to be clear tonight and yes, PJ is punch-drunk this morning, having worked his way through a bunch of beers (there weren't that many in there, I just call it a cooler full of beers because it's easier to describe than saying 'an assorted galvanized tub full of ice and assorted beverages' or something. Most of the point doesn't drink or is in recovery. We're technically happier dry but then I like to get shitfaced and...be cute and PJ likes to drown his loneliness and Caleb measures his worth by how much his whiskey costs but THAT isn't even in the bucket and Lochlan isn't even picky if you hand him whatever and then there is ginger-ale for Benjamin and canned pellegrino with orange for Dalton who is a lot snootier than one might suspect. I don't even aspire to the sparkling water and I'm the queen of your very best dry champagne) and you should probably too now, after reading that huge parentheses section, I bet.

What was I going to say? Oh yeah! The meteor shower that never was. I planned my whole week around being gobsmacked by it and I've yet to lay eyes on a single star. 

Lochlan thinks I am funny and yet it's also his fault. 

(The legendary story of how he made me fall in love with him (he didn't, I already had) by showing me a path straight from the sky to his heart, stopping at all of the constellations along the way. GOSH. Such a romantic to my little elementary-school heart, I never had a chance, I don't think and this is why today my glaring lack of maturity causes so many problems. He promised me a fairytale but he didn't know there would be such a price to pay to get it and we're just now debt-free and realizing this gift after years of hard work, years of adversity and miles between us, both literally and figuratively.)

He is the north star, and anyone who says different can fuck off.

How many beers have you had today, Bumblebutt?

Two. No, three. I don't know. Maybe three. I have to pee, did you need something?

And the moon brought her the stars and she gave one to each of them.

Lochlan laughed at me when I struggled past him dragging a lawn chair. Where you going, Peanut?

I'm setting up for the Perseids, I remind him. 

Duncan jogs past. Hey Bee, what's for dinner?

Pop-tarts, I call back and he stops in his tracks.

Seriously?

The meteor shower is tonight!

So why didn't you trade nights? (my turn to cook)

I tried and no one would trade. Can one of you help me with these?

Sure, why didn't you ask?

I've been asking for a week now. 

They look suitably chagrined. Guilty. But it's true. And now I'm left with five hours to spare having to do it all myself. 

Here, Bee. Give it over.

Got it. 

Grab that end? 

I watch them whip into action to set up a viewing station that will see us through a twelve-degree night with wind but clear as a bell and the telescope is ready, the pile of blankets is folded and sitting on the rock wall and my plan is to bring the firepit down but put it back behind us so those who want to can have have hot dogs and s'smores but those who want to watch for shooting stars won't be bothered by the light. There's a cooler full of beer and one of the heaters down there too. I'm kind of ready. Surprise. 

It works and they get excited. 

Got the good buns? 

I'll go bring out the mustard and chips. 

 Is this enough blankets?

We can be pirates.

It's Monday. Always a fresh start. August went back across the drive early this morning, after waking up and pulling me in against him for the slowest, hottest fuck I've had so far this week. He kissed Lochlan's cheek and got up, getting dressed in the dark, telling us he'll see us later, and then he closed the door so quietly on the way out I fell asleep waiting for the sound. 

When I woke again it was late, Lochlan had scooped me in against his chest and I woke up in a cage of his arms, his breath on my eyebrows, his curls in my mouth as I tried to hold him right back, only he's bigger than me and his arms were blocking mine.

The fresh start is reacquainting ourselves with each other as individuals. It's learning to live in the fire again. It's getting so wound up with each other that we forget to breathe at all, forget that others have feelings or needs, forget that we need things like vitamins, vegetables or virtue. 

I'm trying to do all this while still embracing summer's offerings, while learning boundaries with Caleb, while learning how to navigate my crippling grief and crushing immaturity, my wild fear, while learning how to let my children go and at the same time being there for them, while going through early menopause and trying to lose myself in the dirt of the garden or the sand of the beach every chance I get. My two favorite non-human places are in the sun, which is ironic, as I can't be. 

 I'm trying to heal my skin from Caleb's teeth marks after covering almost every square inch with tattoos to protect myself from the outside world after he taught me singlehandedly how dangerous it was. How I keep the devil close to my heart, how I opened my door to him, learning that my own needs were far more dangerous than living on the road with the shows, than strangers all around me, than my own thoughts in the dark, discounted for how they were formed. I get credibility for nothing in life because of this man and yet I love him so and some nights it feels as if all of Lochlan's work is for nothing. All of his efforts to shape me into a good person destroyed in that first night and for the rest of my life. 

But it's Monday and like I said, it's a fresh start.

Peak star.

My favorite part of summer is this week. The Perseids paint the sky in streaks of white, the nights are slightly colder and autumn begins peeking around the corner flashing us glimpses of russet and pumpkin, ochre and smoky blue. Fall is always my favorite season by far, you wouldn't think it, but I always loved it when the tourists and vacationers went home and I had the beach all to myself again. 

At night I can turn off all of the exterior lights on the property and lay down blankets on the grass or on the sand, though the grass on the lawn is closer to the sky and so that's what I usually choose. I put on a sweater and grab another blanket to cover my legs and inveriably someone (usually Lochlan or sometimes John) will bring me out a cup of blueberry tea. Boys come and go, kids come and go, not interested in the long wait for such a brief, stunning reward, but I'll spend hours shivering out on the lawn wishing on stars, worried that if I miss even one my luck could get worse. 

Lochlan calls it quaint and thinks it's sweet, a throwback to our early years, soaked in more nostalgia than I can actually handle. Ben says it's too long and will only stay out for ten minutes, tops, once a year. Caleb calls it an unhealthy compulsion and won't come out at all. 

But I'll be there. Tuesday night at ten pm. And I'll stay there far into Wednesday, too because it's not just a one and done. The stars give me more perspective than any words could ever and I need them like you need air.

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.