Someone should have told me.

Oh my fucking God. The joy of growing up before the internet existed was that I have an idea of who sang what and a 'vision' from the play of what they look like (in costume) and then I continue on and forget to check and so just today I was scrolling through my favourite musicals because it's Friday and sometimes you have to have Broadway Fridays (blame Lochlan, he was humming something from Phantom of the Opera and I fell down a rabbit hole listening to All I ask of you and thought huhhhh her voice sounds just like Ellen from Miss Saigon. 

Well, my favourite Christine from Phantom is also my favourite Fantine from Les Miserables who also happens to play Ellen in the original cast recording (yes, my favourite) of Miss Saigon. All three are played masterfully by Claire Moore and it took me thirty whooping years to figure it out. 

If you need me I'll be in the library with my beloved vinyls because they are easier to manage than boys, hearts, ghosts and devils, that's for sure.

Permanent, water-soluble.

I got to do the completely messy and chaotic but much coveted monthly job of cleaning and refilling all of Caleb's fountain pens. I do my own at the same time. That's one of the few things we have in common, we both adore nice pens. Not too nice mind you, he keeps his mostly to the high three figures maximum price (okay there's a few over that) and my daily driver is literally a ten-dollar Chinese Lanbitou that is rose-gold coloured brass and weighs about three pounds. It's exhausting and I love it. It forces me to slow down and concentrate on my penmanship which is terrible at the best of times and I like to write every chance I get. It's rough because everything seems digital. Our shared Collective grocery list, delivery list and Google Calendar are all online but I maintain a traditional leatherbound planner that I love forever and ever. It's a calendar/to-do list/smashbook/doodle pad and reminder book all in one. It's full of paper clips, Oliclips, stickers, post-its and receipts. An old losing lottery ticket is a bookmark and it holds my leuchtterm planner for the year and then a moleskin as well. A5 because I need space. I have talked about it before. This year around Christmas I ordered a bespoke leather traveler's notebook system with all of the pockets and things I needed and it arrived in late January and it's so beautiful.

But anyway. I spread out on the kitchen island with a layer of newsprint underneath and a roll of paper towels and warm soapy water and fresh ink bottles and I took all of our pens apart and cleaned them and made sure they had working parts, that the nibs were smooth and the o-rings pliable and I soaked the grips and wiped down the barrels and the caps and I dried and refilled and tested all of them and everything is ready to go. It's a methodical, nitpicky thing that I enjoy doing and it keeps me busy for a couple of hours and it keeps my brain from seeing ghosts or flooding with too much anxiety at once and I'm always grateful for that, even if it seems like the most boring activity in the universe. 

It also serves as a visual reminder that yes I have enough pens, even though Caleb will spoil me rotten on a daily basis and keeps telling me to get some new ones if I'd like. 

I can only use one at a time. This is enough.

Measuring the joy of a moment against the depth of its history.

Jacob is surprised. I guess you can haunt someone and still be completely distracted, as always, failing to pick up the cues or catch the details as they go out into the world like fireflies in a field of wildflowers at night. 

And our baby's graduating next year? 

I nod. If I speak I will dissolve like ashes and blow off the end of the point, leaving the telescope covered in a light powdery film, and no one will ever know what happened to me. 

Jacob would have stayed if He had known Henry was his. Little Henry Jacob, here on the cusp of twenty years old, the enigma who looks and acts exactly like his late father right down to the ridiculous height and the deep voice. Even though now his official father is a passionate redhead who's angry at God for the rest of his life and bless his heart, only comes up to Henry's chin. 

And Ruth. Jesus, Bridge. You did such a good job with those two. 

I nod once more. Composure is the dust, coating everything for a thousand miles, I wish I could have kept it but there was no way to contain it. Until it turns to anger. 

I had so much help, since you didn't stick around. 

Maybe it's your anger that keeps us like this. 

GOOD. It's better than being sad. 

It's a Ferris wheel-

My favourite. 

I know, Peanut. I look up in surprise and Jacob is gone and Lochlan is there. 

He leaves when you show up-

I know, that's why I'm here. Maybe if I annoy the fuck out of him he'll go for good. 

What if I don't want that? Who do you think you are? 

He grabs my hand, pulling me up. I was your first love, and I'll be your last. And he'll never have anything close to what we have so the sooner he realizes that the sooner maybe he'll just leave so you can get on with the life you and I have rebuilt. 

Wait. 

He stops and steps in close, staring right into my eyes. Waiting and not saying a word.

Ask him to go for me, please. Just ask him to leave. 

Lochlan closes his eyes but he doesn't move. Doesn't jump at it. Doesn't take the only chance I've ever given him to fix this for good. 

I wait. 

When he opens his eyes they spill over almost immediately. His nose turns pink, eyes red. Hands shake, but just a little.

 I can't do that on your behalf, Peanut. You have to do it yourself. When you're ready.

*HEAD EXPLODES*

And with that I am the mother of a weeks-away-from-graduation (online? Or something) University graduate who is now finished classes forever, but also navigated the last year of her full-time studies while working full-time and holding a grand side-hustle too. Now Ruthie will get her bachelor degree in the next couple of weeks (?months?) and believe it or not Henry will follow in her footsteps, same program but a different major, and he's scheduled to finish in March of next year, having done an accelerated program that is headhunted also into a secure full-time career. Both kids have their drivers licenses and can take a vehicle out alone. Both kids save all of their money and don't spend foolishly. Both seem somehow leaps and bounds ahead of their peers in ambition and energy and I credit this house full of defacto parents for that. 

And I never have to make another tuition payment as long as I live. 

And Henry's classes are online so he's safe until Canada figures out these fucking vaccines. 

And I am the proudest mom alive right now, as ever, because I didn't finish university. And then Cole went and did on my dollar and time and then I got left in the dust and had to turn to other talents for money. 

At least I'm not shy. I learned that one quick. I'll thank Lochlan for the school of life diploma. I graduated with honours. 

Just like our daughter.

House-keeping.

I want to pinch the bridge of my nose and bemoan ever writing a word, some days, waking up to a dozen emails from people wondering why Christian felt the need to rat out Caleb's attitude and why Schuyler functions as the only actual adult around here sometimes. 

Schuyler asked Christian if he was heading over to the bonfire next door. They live in the same house. Every Sunday night weather-permitting we have a fire and sit around and talk. It's an open weekly invite. Everyone comes and goes. So a harmless question followed by a harmless response that no, because Caleb was acting like an asshole so Christian was going to skip it since he was hot (it was thirty degrees in the shade at this point) and tired and didn't feel like sparring or even dealing with anything tonight. Sometimes people get their feelings hurt. Lord knows we have enough of them around here.

Both people AND feelings, I mean.

So Schuyler came around to see if he and Daniel should run to the store for anything for the evening and Schuyler is a certified grownup, a peacemaker and also an alpha around here so he just made sure everything was good. They keep each other in check, my boys. If someone is acting out the others step in and help out and help fix it, help smooth things over and help protect anyone being marginalized or unduly targeted. There is no room for bullying here and we all know who the bullies are when they spool up so Schuyler just does a little crowd calming. August would have done it but he was making snacks and hadn't arrived yet. 

Does that help? Maybe I gloss over the wrong parts? I don't know. I just put down what I need to put down. Always assume the best, here, I guess is what I'm saying. We need to have people like Schuyler who can help keep a commune of this size running smoothly. We all work our butts off to keep it running smoothly but we're all also overly emotional, ridiculously immature and terribly passionate too. 

I would not have it either way. 

Schuyler also made me sit on the counter in the bathroom for fifteen minutes while he and Lochlan cleaned and bandaged my foot which again is funny only because I hate anyone touching my feet. Absolutely can't stand it. 

And first thing this morning a massive gift basket arrived from Ransom and Emmett and crew for the horrible oversight leading to injury and if I had to seek medical attention to let them know. They have liability insurance or something. It's really not that bad. It will heal eventually but I have to keep it clean and I never wear shoes. The bottoms of my feet are always black by lunchtime. 

Okay can we get back to business now? 

Schuyler-Jesus.

It's finished. The work is finished. They even had another group come in today and do the landscaping in order to not make me cry when I saw that it was all gone because it got trampled and trashed as not one but two complete glass houses were built. To his credit, Caleb had them do stamped concrete and concrete with inlays around stone benches and huge planters in order to have it all blend seamlessly with the outside for when we retract the roof but apparently it was not part of the original contract and only became an issue during the teardown of the original new structure which I hated, as it was claustrophobic, dark and terrible. 

This one is airy, light and very tall. Only one section retracts but that's just fine with me. 

Ben can swim in it starting May 1. Until then he will continue to accept Batman's hospitality and use his lap pool and that's fine too. 

I already stepped on a broken screw. I may have to have my leg removed but it's the same leg I sunburned gardening over the weekend so it's ruined anyway. Sam said it's karma for not listening to his podcast yet and Matt told him to hush about that. I only cried three times over the weekend and Christian wondered if we should actually reinstate Night & Seek after I foolishly brought it up but Caleb wearily reminded him that the only person who was ever any good at it was Cole and he obviously can't play since he is dead and so the rest of us would just hide forever and how much fun does that sound like? 

It was a rather cutting response to a fun idea and took the wind right out of our sails to the point where Schuyler came around just to make sure everyone was behaving as he heard from Chris that Caleb was being short and Schuyler doesn't believe that Caleb's attitude is always welcome or necessary. 

Schuyler kissed my forehead at one point and reminded me if I want I can come over there. 

I said I might and started another silent war as both Lochlan and Caleb glared briefly at Schuy but said nothing because Schuy does what he wants and no one will actually fuck with him. 

I'll take whatever I can get because at least Ransom is gone. I gave Emmett a tour via facetime and he only had one thing to point out and it's already fixed and we are good to go. Finally.

Duck.

But I just GOT here. I don't know where the best hiding places are. Also it's dark! What if I get lost? 

Out of politeness or maybe curiosity (I would later learn they just fold people into their pack as they come across them. It was only once I was part of it that they became selective, protective) the boys invited me to play Night & Seek. It's hide and seek but outside in the dark and when you're eight the only things more frightening are beets and spiders. 

Cole is It.

Come hide with me. Lochlan takes my hand, pulling me along with him. We run down the street into the woods at the dead end, heading up the path. Ten paces in he stops. 

Here, I'll piggyback you. We'll be faster that way. We're going all the way to the ball field. That's the boundary. 

I don't know if I'm allowed. 

It will take Cole about fifteen minutes to finish the game. No one will even know you're gone. He turns and gets down on one knee. Get on, quick! 

I throw my arms around his neck and my knees around his hips and he stands up, taking off in a flat run. I scream because he's so fast and he slows down, saying shhhhhhh. I press my face against the back of his shirt. He is thirteen-year-old sweaty summer chaos. His hair is in my eyes. It's springy and curly and long for a boy. I have never seen curls so big on a boy before. 

He tucks his hands behind my knees and we hide in the dugout. He remains vigilant, still holding me tight against his back even as we are both overheated and breathing heavily, trying to be quiet. 

Cole shouts in my ear  and I shriek in surprise as he yells GOT YOU. TWO FOR ONE. Loch, you've got a...a...barnacle! Somethings growing on your back! I think it's a girl!

Lochlan kneels back down and I step back, on solid ground again. My stomach churns wilfully. It feels weird. I want to be against him again. He is so nice. And so cute. 

That's a new one. Go and wait where we're hiding? That might be cheating.

It's not cheating. You're just mad you got caught. If you didn't decide to be Bridget's babysitter you would have won. 

He's not my babysitter! 

I didn't want her to get lost. 

Then you're her babysitter. 

Fuck you, man. 

No, fuck you. Wait, you sure you want to swear in front of the baby? 

I'm NOT a baby! 

If you can't play Night & Seek without a chaperone you're a baby, Bridget. Maybe you should find some grade three kids to play barbies with or something. 

Jesus, Cole, lighten up. She's fine. Caleb steps into the light from the outfield, striking a match and lights his cigarette. I take a step backwards out of the smoke. He notices and blows a ring directly at me. I am thoroughly impressed by his coolness, his seventeen-year-old independence. I step back and stick my hand through the ring and he blows another. I have forgotten what they're fighting about. All of the boys are back now as it ends when the first person is found.

Come on, Bridgie. I don't want to take you home smelling like smoke. 

Who says you have to take her home? I can take her, and since I'm an adult they won't think she was with you smoking. 

Lochlan's jaw clenches but he can't argue with the logic. He nods. Is that okay with you, Bridget? 

She's fine, Caleb growls. Lochlan is staring at me though. 

I nod. I don't want to get in trouble and I guess I might any other way.

Tomorrow I'll come get you and show you all the places that are good and what the boundaries are so you see them in daylight, okay? 

I nod. Promise?

Yeah sure. I'll come to your door at like nine. Be ready okay? 

Okay. I am excited suddenly. He's coming back and still wants to be my friend even as all the other boys think I'm a baby. 

Sweet dreams. He smiles and the others start chiming in and soon it's a chorus rising up into the night but I have already shifted gears. Caleb walks slowly so I can keep up and he lights another cigarette. 

You shouldn't smoke, you know. Did you see the commercial on television? It makes you breathe brown air. 

I'll give it up as soon as I find a better vice.

Like what? 

I have something in my sights. Probably won't be long.

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.