More than I love life itself.

You know when you twist up the dial so loud you can feel it in your chest, and Elton John pontificates melodically about how this must be why they call it the blues, because it's one of your favourites, and you see Lochlan and Caleb out on the patio, and Caleb steps in, grabs the back of Lochlan's neck, and they're both nodding and finally Caleb gives just enough of a shake and waits, and slowly enough Lochlan raises his head to look into Caleb's eyes and nods again, this time with an understanding that is iron-clad. Then they have a long hug, and continue talking the whole time and the tension dissipates but you don't know why?

The music is so loud I have no idea what they said and no one else is around to ask?

Right. This is my life. All the time.

***

And? My eyebrows go up. Lochlan is sitting by the fire, hypnotized by the flames. They are orange with a hint of green. Magic fire. Always. 

Yes?

What did he say to you? 

I didn't think you were even home. 

You always know exactly where I am. 

Sadly, that's a lie, Peanut. I only tell myself I do. Makes it easier. 

What did he say, Locket?

You ask him?

I'm asking you. 

He only reminded me that he's put away all his weapons. His guns. His walls. His teeth. His threats and his power and he comes to us, he said us specifically, isn't that great, empty-handed and only willing to keep you above ground. He said that too, so many fucked up choices of words going on in that one conversation. He told me he loves me. And that if I say the word he'll step back again like I have control. He's practically a hostage negotiator. I didn't even know what the fuck I was supposed to say to any of that but sometimes this is fucking hard, you know? Like he knows how to play me. It's so fucking hard sometimes.

Then come with me. 

I can't do that, Peanut. 

You did for a while. 

Too hard to see that. It's worse than what I picture. 

Then he steps back. We'll give him up.

Like you said yester-

Who cares what I said? 

It never works and then you're back. I'd rather have you complacent and routine with him then always indulging in reunions. 

I swallow whatever I was going to say next. He's right. 

I love you, Bridgie. Always have, always will. I just wish I was the only one who did. Would have made my life so much easier. 

I'm sorry, Locket. 

Don't be sorry, just say it's not forever and eventually when you're stronger maybe you'll only need me.

Gentle true spirit.

Helplessly Hoping comes through the stereo as Lochlan grabs my hands, pulling me away from the dishes for a dance around the kitchen. The light is on over the sink and the fixture over the long table but otherwise the kitchen has darkened, but here the sun persists, pulling little Pluto into his orbit for a spin, a reconnection to make sure they are on the same orbit. 

Look, it's my theme song. 

You're not helpless. 

He makes the briefest doubtful face and I know I was wrong. About more than just that snap observation. 

I'm fine. 

Are you though? This goes beyond physical, Peanut. That's why Everett was here. You see Jake and you go running off to Caleb for comfort. 

Not comfort-

Then WHAT IS IT? He shouts suddenly. I startle and step back. The collateral damage from Jacob is not going to be Lochlan, in the end, even as he wonders if it is.

Jake won't come around if Caleb-

Is there? Are you fucking kidding me? He's shouting again. This IS fucking crazy. 

I close my eyes. I don't want to be here right now if he's going to dismiss me as insane. Unfixable. Ruined. He did that already, once before. That was Caleb's doing too but this time the evil protects me from the good, which is somehow more frightening that I ever expected it would be. 

You said-

I KNOW WHAT I SAID. The problem here is living with it. I made a promise and I didn't know it would be so hard to keep. 

I'm sorry. 

That's the hardest part. It's better for you if he's in the picture. Things work better. It's just so hard to watch. My heart rips out every time and it comes back smaller and smaller. 

How do we make it big again? Panic is rising. 

We stay right here. He puts his head against mine. We don't get further apart than this. 

That isn't rational. We've tried. 

Maybe we should try harder. 

I nod into his shoulder. Maybe we are hopeless. I'm not sure he can try harder than he already does, every single day of his life. Looks like he has a monster too. It's me.

The Devil in the (waning) daylight.

He reached into the glass, taking out an ice cube between two fingers, leaving the glass on the table beside us. He pulls me into his lap. I'm dressed in his unbuttoned shirt and tie with a poorly-tied single Windsor knot at this point, nothing else. He is still in suit pants. Belt. Bare feet. Nothing else. He gathers me in close in one arm, pulling the ice cube up to my lips, running it across my bottom lip and down over my chin. I lean my head back and close my eyes as I feel the cold ice melting, running in rivers down my chest, soaking his shirt, pooling in my belly button, sending shivers up my back. 

He gives me the cube and I press it against his mouth but don't let him keep it, returning the favour, running it down his throat, over his Adam's apple and down the line to his belt and then I lose my grip and it falls. He kicks it out of the way and it skids across the wooden floor as he stands up, picking me up in the process. My legs are wrapped around his hips. No effort. One arm looped lazily around his neck and he bends forward, and staggers against the doorframe, catching us against it with his free arm and then I get my kiss. Oh God. Don't keep me up here please please please and somehow he hears me and keeps going. 

He drops us both down into his bed. I look toward the window. So bright still. The sun persists, fighting the moon for glory the same exact way he fights everyone else for time. He removes his tie from my neck, considers throwing it somewhere and then smiles in that old familiar way. I am turned over roughly, hands pulled behind my back, held down while he loops the tie around my wrist, tying it tightly but not too tightly.

In front, please. If it's in back and you turn me over I can't put weight on my arm-

Shit. A pause in his plans and he unties me quickly, gingerly turning me back to face him. I hold my hands up together. Willing, but cautious. He frowns and then pauses, bending down for another kiss. 

Trust me, he says, as if I don't. The tie covers my eyes, tied around the back of my head. I put my fingers up to lift it and he pulls my hands away. 

Trust me, he repeats, as if I do. 

Then he leaves. I hear him taking off the rest of his things. Then I feel him wrap his fingers around my ankles and he violently yanks me down. I yell out in surprise and then I feel his breath against my knees. I reach for his head and try and push him away but he holds my hands down, against the sheets. When he tastes me I lose my mind, twisting up towards him, turning myself inside out, fighting to be set free so I can fully enjoy this but he keeps me pinned, the girl in the Riker frame. The same way they all do because otherwise I would fly away. 

I am worked into a frenzy and I let out a shuddering cry. He finally gives me a break, letting go of my hands. I am now slick with sweat, cathartic tears leaking from of the corners of my eyes, sliding into my hair as I lie there. He is up over me now. He doesn't turn me away, doesn't pull me up, doesn't try and impale me against the wall, instead he works gently but remains harsh at the same time, finding a rhythm within me, pulling my knees up, pulling my arms around his neck once again, pressing his head down against the top of mine. 

He rises higher and higher until we are no longer embracing and he is sitting up on his knees, pulling me up into his hips, focused and driving before he roughly leans back down, rips off my blindfold and we both come together, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes. I wonder if I will burst into flames and then Caleb kisses me again and lies down beside me, one hand wrapped around my thigh. 

Ownership. It's a myth and the spell is broken and the sun sets, losing to the moon on this night, as it has on every single night of my life.

Short. Lived (Hold every memory as you go).

Walked outside and went to go down and turn the telescope back towards the sea where we turned it to look at the birds nest in the tree behind the garage and the space was already occupied. 

He's back. Blue poplin shirttails flapping gently in the wind, hair long and ruffled. I turn to save myself the unbearable pain and his voice in my mind stops me.

Princess. Please.

Aw fuck. I turn back toward the ocean, step forward and drop into the rabbit hole. They just keep popping up everywhere. No sooner can I find a shovel and fill the holes with memories high enough that you walk on them without tripping then the memories get packed down, folded neatly, flattened lower and lower to make room for more and then I'm falling again.

He reaches down and lifts me back out, only we're down beyond the telescope now right by the endless fence. The one I can't see over. The one designed to keep me from following him wherever he goes.

I look up at him and he smiles. My heart cracks and throbs miserably and he frowns suddenly at something behind me. I look back and Lochlan is headed toward me at his usual clickingly rapid gait. 

Peanut. Wait. 

Hmmm?

He reaches me. Tell me something. 

Uh ummmmm did you know that by the age of forty, fifty percent of men have trouble maintaining an erection-

Tell me where he is. 

I turn away toward Jake but he is gone. I turn back. 

Heaven? 

Is he here? Are you following rabbits again?

If I said yes would you be mad? I whisper it to the wind. 

No. I would just be sad. 

Then no. No rabbits. No Jake. I thought he would be here in heaven but I don't see him anywhere. 

6:30am to 8:00pm (barometer but more of a general one).

You made it, Poem. Another winter. 

It was my Golden Jubilee of winters, Poet. 

He bursts out laughing. Was it now? 

Perhaps. I am noncommital. I steal a piece of honeydew from the bowl of fruit he has in one hand. 

Sleep?

No. You? 

Yeah. All the fresh air yesterday. 

We organized the backyard in preparation for a work week this coming weekend, where we can rehang one of the gates, after the concrete is set (thanks again guys for using real concrete), deploy the three cubic yards of soil into the gardens and then the only thing after that is planting/weeding/mowing/watering for the rest of the summer. This is the big job but it's not too hard and then if I help I too, will sleep well, if only for a night or two. Patio cushions are out on the chairs under the glass-topped pergola and my plant pots are beginning to make appearances as I line them up for planting. I have a whole heaping pile of rosemary rooting right now on every window sill in the kitchen and great room and I'm going to make a fence of them along one side of the property. No one believes me but I only need a two or three year commitment to the case and they will be surprised. 

In any case, we've definitely tipped the balance now and it's spring/almost summer. I see the end of the construction-yardwork in sight before something else begins. And over the weekend we got new stools for the island. Plain wood. Simple and sturdy, getting rid of the weird articulating black padded leather scoop seats that hurt unless you sat on them just right and always seemed too low or two high. Besides, two of them were broken anyway. Last week I got new white semi-sheer curtains for the living room and great room and we did away with the heavy cast-iron childproof fireplace screen in the living room and put in an antique decorative enamel one that can be simply folded to the side if we have a fire in there. 

So nice. Small changes, huge effect. And when the pool enclosure is finished we'll truly have the outside in here even though it is not connected to any other buildings. The little pool house where I keep towels and floating things and chemicals is outside of it. The sauna and the outdoor kitchen are now connected though, by a series of interconnected brick paths that tie in with the driveway and ahhhhhhhhhh. It's looking good.

They really are down to just finishing bits and bobs. Trims and cleaning up. I feel hopeful, this morning. 

You look happy, Duncan says suddenly. You're smiling. On a Monday. That's new.

You keep me believing.

Doing White Dress but in a contralto this morning, semi-talking, squealing here and there, working on control. 

As if. 

Ever.

I hit the button on the keurig this morning and walked away. Came back to coffee all over the place because I forgot to put my mug underneath it and had to spend fifteen minutes scrubbing and now I'm sad that my ego rose up a little yesterday and this morning my heart snapped back. Never get too invested in the smallest successes, it said. Remember who you are, it chided, gently. Some days my  heart is my singular refuge. Some days it is enemy number one. 

And no, it's not my brain talking.You only wish you could hear what's going on in there. It's a whole separate monologue that never shuts off but some times I can tune it right out. Sometimes the volume knob gets bumped and it just turns into a feedback whine. Sometimes it's pink noise. 

And sometimes I chuck it all out and replace it with a piano or headphones and someone else's words. 

I was so proud. I cleaned and refilled and rehung all of the bird feeders. We only put them out in daylight, here. The first hummingbird of our season came by yesterday to say hi but his feed was stale and so he didn't stay, even as I promised to fix it. We had the work-guys come on a rare Saturday to do some things we wanted done and Ransom wouldn't let us touch. We lifted Henry's spirits and played with the dog a lot. 

It was sunny. 

After dinner I cut down my paintbrushes and sanded them round again. I don't have any use for brushes that are two feet long. I bump into them as I paint. I knock them over. It's not as if they are balanced or I need the length to reach or I like long graceful instruments. I just want things that fit me. So I was feeling pretty proud when Lochlan came out to the studio. I've been saying I was going to do it for years and years. So many stabby bruises. So many knocked-into palettes and spilled cups of brushes. Fuck it. I'm fixing all the things before the second act. It's going to be great. 

***

Sam says I should be singing Tulsa Jesus Freak today. All my sensitive boys love Lana and have actually been listening, while I get distracted and then just end up defaulting to Tool or Demon Hunter half the time anyway. 

I let him preach directly to me this morning over my second, successful coffee this time. He loves the audience I give him. If it's engaging I am rapt. If it's not I am absent. Then he'll tweak his words for effect from the feedback. I point out an audience of one with a specific fetish for bottomless emotion could possibly be the worst audience and instead he should be kissing the hand that feeds him. He just stared at me in his patient, peaceful way and said he planned to live an authentic life and he's not looking back. 

What an inspiration.

One more week, Geoff Crayon.

True to form the pool enclosure isn't finished and needs until next Saturday afternoon. Concrete is fun. Concrete is life. The glass is lovely though. The vision comes together and Ransom told me at least it's cold as hell right now so it's not like I'm losing a week of pool use or anything. He has no use for my first world problems. If I need to swim I can go to Batman's. If I need to swim in a big space I can buy a resort in Mexico. 

Firstly, I remind you I was poor once. So poor I skipped meals and watched my children eat theirs so this is fairly recent, truth be told. Also Batman will just stare so that's not an option. Thirdly I don't do Mexico. Maybe the Maldives. Maybe the Canaries or Fiji but never Mexico. 

Fourthly, hell isn't cold. That's a myth. 

***

Now off to try to enjoy the weekend. I'd like to watch a horror movie and eat some cake.See if any of that happens. We don't have cake and I don't feel like baking. I feel like playing Rip Van Winkle. Or Ezra. Or Oisin. Or something where the protagonist (clearly me. The plot has changed! I was once the heroine!) wakes up from a long gap in history and everything is different and they continue on. I always thought it was a Roald Dahl story (off by two hundred years!) and am always surprised when reminded it is by Irving, the same man who wrote my beloved The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

I'll pour one out later for the Duke.

I am not getting out of bed. Prince Philip died. The Queen is a widow now too. And Ransom has precisely twelve hours left to finish the work with his team. Not sure if he's going to do it. He and I had a lovely professional exchange by text last night. He is assured that there are no problems. I over-anticipate and fret every last possibility. It's my specialty.

BEST NEWS EVER.

 I know Canada is a laughing stock with our inability to vaccinate, the whole seventh-wave fun of living in BC or whatever the hell it is that we're doing here but I'll have you know Ticketmaster just sent me the rescheduled dates for the Roger Waters concert that was supposed to take place last fall and I am SO EXCITED. It's eighteen months away but WHO CARES? We have plans!!!!! Also that means pub dinner because we always grab food on the way to a show. It's tradition. It's been a long fucking pandemic. I am THRILLED TO SEE THIS. I GET TO DRESS UP AND GO OUT. 

WHAT THE FUCK. 

*cries*

Had you in my coat pocket.

 Sippin' on straight chlorine, let the vibe slide over me

This beat is a chemical, beat is a chemical
When I leave don't save my seat, I'll be back when it's all complete
The moment is medical, moment is medical
Sippin' on straight chlorine

 

The best part of singing this with the piano is that Lochlan will burst in and do a wonderful theatrical first bridge for me, and then supply the harmony on the final verse. It's just magical. There's an acoustic version you can hit up to get the idea here, though the original is orchard-danceable in a way I didn't notice until today.

(Everyone likes the music I bring so I share the links when I remember to. The soundtrack for the movie of my life now stands at fourteen thousand hours or something. Anyway Twenty One pilots dropped a new single yesterday and the new album comes in May. Ruthie is losing it. She's seen them twice and can't get enough and sent me an ALL CAPS message yesterday from work after the band's email went out. I could hear the squeals from here.)

Lochlan is trying to distract me from now camping the pool build from the side window of our room. I can hardly see a thing from there except for the one corner but it was enough until I got caught. 

Want to go for a walk?

Sure I tell him. I leave the keys and grab my airpods (BEST. INVENTION. EVER) and the song barely misses a beat.