Here not here.

I can't actually see and my head is splitting. I had an eye exam for the first time since spring of 2019 and they put drops in my eyes and I *almost* called PJ to bring someone and come drive me and my little Jeep home but then I said fuck it and just drove. It was only marginally blurry and impossible by then but I made it safe and sound. My new cute glasses will be ready in a couple of weeks and hopefully this time the prescription is solid gold and doesn't make my head hurt. Even the health insurance jumped on board and paid for $7 of it so I'm extra-thrilled. 

I can almost see now but the headache is crushing and it's thirty degrees and honestly I'm just going to tap out of this upcoming long weekend/heatwave now, I think.

The only time I see him excited anymore.

(I knew this was coming. If I make dates with the fairy boys Caleb always gets riled.)

I worked my ass off this morning one-handing my chores. Not because they put my name back into the rotation but because I am stubborn and I felt like I should just do my part even though if anyone else has a broken anything I will wait on them, spoil them, sign them off on anything more troubling than breathing until they are healed with a rehabilitation window and then ease them back in. If it's me than I will slide a big ziploc bag over my whole hand and just do whatever I would have been doing, had this not happened. 

And I am getting annoyed. My skin crawls. It's hot. Casts are horrible. I feel like it's melting. It never dries inside. It smells very bad. It looks ragged and hilarious. Apparently if it gets bad enough condition-wise it will be replaced and so after dinner I'm going to get them to run over it with trucks. 

But first? Ice cream. 

Caleb blocked the whole hallway and asked if I wanted to do an ice cream run. Is the sky blue? Hell yes I want to do an ice cream run. I've never said no. Actually, I have quite a few times but a perfectly warm sunny day with no plans and all my chores done just screams ice cream to me. 

Caleb got peach and I got coffee. Sugar cones. Extra sprinkles. They were melting before we could eat them and it was so good. I love those spontaneous lunches somewhere out of the way. 

It comes with a price, like all nice things. 

Is Schuyler a checkmate?

No. Not at all.

Is Daniel? 

Of course not. 

They're taking all of your free time as of late. You're back to avoiding me. 

Yes, as soon as I finish having ice cream with you I can get right back to ignoring you. 

And so I'm going to make an offer and I'd like it if you just take it with you and consider it. Don't tell me yes or no for a week and then you can decide after you take your time. Is that fair?

Yes, but if it's too outlandish don't expect a yes, Diabh-

Humour me. 

Of course. 

Seven days. 

I turn around looking for a girl climbing out of a well. Sorry? Seven days what?

I'd like to book a week's holiday with you. 

Where? 

Maybe just Whistler. Maybe the Gwaii. We'll figure that out shortly but it will be a private week for two. All pampering. All luxury. Just you and me. As much sleep and swimming as you want. Whatever you want to eat. Just time we can spend together. I'd like to make it an annual thing. 

Okay.

So let me know next Thursday or even Friday and we can decide where or you can tell me if that's too long or-

Diabhal. 

Mmm?

I said okay. 

You did. 

I did. 

Damn. I need to make some calls. Any dealbreakers?

No helicopter rides, no shellfish-only menus. 

That's so easy, Bridge. 

No heat. 

I got you. 

For a week anyway. Wait, when? 

Mid-September? How does that sound?

Perfect. I have no plans other than spending time with you. 

I get a gentle, almost-timid kiss and he is off the ground, flying along a million feet up. You made my day, Neamhchiontach. 

Thank you for the ice cream. 

Thank you for the company. 

There is ice cream on the cast now. Sigh.

Positive, generous love.

Daniel pulled me down into his lap the moment I came around to his side of the patio table. He is in the shade. His hair has gotten long, he's got on a white button down and khaki shorts, plain brown leather slides and he's pushed his tortoiseshell sunglasses up on top of his head. He looks like Ben if Ben were lighter in colouring and far more preppy. He looks freshly-showered and content and not at all like he spend the past three nights in the woods. I gave him time to see Schuyler and to clean up and get a good nights sleep in a real bed and now I'm here to atone for my sins. 

I am guessing you're here to own up to trying to steal my man. He plants a fat kiss on my mouth.

Wasn't! 

I know that. Thank you for keeping him company. And I thanked him for keeping you company. Another kiss. 

So you're good with it? It was only Saturday night. Not all three. 

Bridget, it's fine. Besides..it gives us fodder. 

Excuse ME? It what? Explain.

Schuyler finds you exotic.  

If you're going to imagine me as entertainment I'd rather just be there.

Then come visit us this weekend. I can get caught up. 

You keep score?

No, I was trying to play it cool. 

Can I bring my Lochlan?

Of course. 

He's far more exotic anyway. I'm just the runt. 

That isn't the way a single other living soul sees you, Bridget. 

You just made my day. 

Well you made ours, by agreeing to come back. 

Somehow it makes it less weird if I can cancel it out by bringing Loch with me. 

Why is it weird? Being alone with Schuy is a gift. I know it better than anyone.

Yup. You're right, Daniel. He's amazing. 

Then stop worrying. The next kiss hits my forehead. Now go rest up. No one's going easy on you this week. 

Jesus. 

Not even him! Love you. 

Love you too.

So apparently as naive as I am, I am worldly too (Part II)

I found a place where the past was forgiven
Where my mistakes met a grace I couldn’t earn
And so I piled up my excuses and defenses in the night
Then I lit a match, stepped back and watched them burn

There was no Jesus in my Sunday this week. Schuyler covering my mouth with his hand seemed to be the theme of the night, as at one point it was covering my nose too and I had my eyes squeezed shut, fingers cutting into my palm through the sheets, other broken hand held tight against my chest, head tucked down against his onslaught, his breath hot and ragged against my skull, his skin warm and hardly marked against my graphic novel of a body. We watched a movie (don't remember), devoured each other and then he took me out for breakfast. Always eggs Benedict and lots of fresh coffee and an amused smile over an-almost awkward (but not quite) breakfast. I spent the night pressed hard into his bed and he's making small talk over bacon. He fought himself so hard for control (Daniel is six-two, a hundred and sixty pounds and strong like a maniac) and maybe he's celebrating the victory. Maybe he regrets every minute. I don't know. 

I had fun though. Not going to lie. And I'm not going to lie that I love the attention. I love having him all to myself. I love the way he looks at me, as if I am such a delicate creature that fascinates him. That's my kryptonite, always. 

Lochlan came back with the first group. Dropped his gear in the driveway, came right to me. He had cell service before they hit the end of the forest road, on foot, and after making sure he hadn't got eaten by a bear on the trip I told him everything. He said we'd talk about it at home. That everything was okay, just sit tight and he would be home in four hours or so and here he is now, pulling me roughly up into his arms, holding me tight, his hand around the back of my head. A kiss and he looks into my eyes and I suddenly feel all the shame rushing in to block the sun but he shakes his head. 

We'll talk about it. It's okay, Peanut. 

I can tell from his voice that he's trying to talk himself into it but I'm also comforted by his lack of removal, his lack of anger. I don't do it to make him angry or to push him away. I do it because not I can't help it but because he told me I could.

I help him bring his stuff in. I can't take my eyes off him. Four days without Lochlan isn't fixed by one night with Schuyler, and I missed him so badly I was easily swayed into total destruction but he needs the strength of the army to soldier on and he needs to know he is not the bad guy or weak for letting me do the things I do.  The other guys build him up, assuage the guilt and keep him moving forward. They remind him of what has been tried and what works and doesn't work and he keeps a perfect balance. I don't need to explain it. They will. 

(To you, I mean. Dear reader you'll never understand the depth of most of this. Half the time I don't either. It's okay though, we're all okay.)

He's about to come back in for another long hug when we see we're not alone. Schuyler's in the door. He looks serious and grim and businesslike. He looks friendly, like the big brother Lochlan always thought he had in Caleb but never did. He crosses the room to welcome Lochlan back with a long embrace and he says it was him or Jake and he's not going to let Jake touch me if he can help it. That I'm safe. That Schuyler won't pass up some excitement but also isn't going to try and muscle in on what we have so he's not a threat. That he definitely prefers men because they are a lot stronger and he felt like he was holding a wounded bird the entire time.

You were. Lochlan gestures to my cast. But then he changes the subject and I leave as all the air is being sucked out of the room. I'm more than a lot annoyed that Schuyler's turning the whole thing into a sacrifice that he made for the greater good, as if he was put out by it or did it only as a favour when in reality at least I had the courage to explain myself without excuses. Makes me wonder if he lies to me or to Lochlan. Maybe I should ask but he's already vanished and Lochlan looks a million times more at peace with the whole discussion so I leave it. I'll kick it under the rug and the next time Schuyler comes over I'll trip him with it before pointing out that if given a choice I would pick Schuy over New Jake any day and if Schuy told me to stay put I fucking would so this whole excuse is bullshit.

It's ironic that the most dramatic boy on the point is also the least dramatic.

So as worldly as I am, apparently I am naive too (an obvious part I).

The way it was told to me was the Schuyler ended up being too tired and didn't go on the camping trip. The way it was told to them was that he was too busy with work, having gotten muscled in on finishing a project and wanting to consider the favour paid, so to speak. 

In reality, he knew New Jake would be around and no one else would be and that couldn't happen. 

Even Lochlan isn't worried. Lochlan can be disapproving later. Lochlan can frown all he likes and eventually he'll get over it. These are not the same as Schuy's concerns. Schuy doesn't trust Jake. Doesn't want to get to know him, doesn't believe a word he says when it comes to me and wouldn't leave us alone for a million dollars. 

This is almost exactly the same way Schuyler feels about Sam at any given moment but Sam is open and honest and so if something goes sideways Sam would probably tell us. Jake would sneak away. 

To that end, Schuyler snuck up on me while I was sitting on the patio steps shelling peas. A big bowl in my lap, basket to my left and mini compost drum to my right. He bent down behind me and covered my mouth with one hand, kissed the back of my head with the other and then said it's okay and let go, coming around to face me. 

He signed It's okay and you're safe as he said it but I didn't really believe him because he should have just called out as he walked. I tell him this. 

I did. Three separate times. You look lost in thought and I didn't want to startle you and have you scream and then-

New Jake would come see what was up. 

You know me well. 

Don't think I do, after that. 

He then deployed his practiced lie and it was transparent and sticky and when I pointed that out he just changed the subject, saying since he was home and I was home and we had time we should spend it together. Just for fun. Movie sleepover. Pajamas and popcorn.

He made a half-assed sign again for safe as he reminded me he was the safest choice here. I'm glad he is practicing, but I think he's wrong. I've been asking them all to start learning ASL with one eye toward the future, pointing out that forty years into this Collective would not be the time to struggle with communication. Someone said that was forty years from now and I reminded them we are mostly already close to that number, if not past it. A sobering realization on both counts and all that effort got me was a mountain of sympathy I don't want or need. 

And yet someone of the boys are exceedingly sensitive and heartbroken over my defects. A lack of hearing is some cause to unapologetically baby me, I guess and Schuyler somehow turned out to be most affected and has therefore put in the most effort. 

Compounding his efforts and the irony that this isn't safe is my open, unabashed and absolutely lethal crush on him. And so he is wrong, and I'm not safe with him. 

What time? I ask. 

Six? We'll have an early start. Before you fall asleep. 

If I fall asleep then there's no one to fight with you about what to watch. So that's a good thing. 

You are right. But six is good. 

Okay. 

Pajamas, don't forget. He signs it too.

I smile. This is great. 

He thinks I mean the movie night plans. Yeah, well, may as well take advantage while we can, right? 

Oh. Right. See you at six.

The psychology of men.

One of the most fascinating points of living in a commune with so many strong souls is that several times a year the boys have all-male events that don't include me. Sometimes it's as simple as a bonfire that runs late into the night, no girls allowed. Sometimes it's an event like paintball or a going to watch a soccer or hockey game. Sometimes they build things like arbours or dig garden beds. It's mostly net-level bonding and it's encouraged all the way around. It's good for them and I get some alone time too which is good for me. Though they are taking Asher this time so maybe that's a lot of alone time and it's a little surprising to me that this would be perfectly acceptable for three nights when last night life was all but child-proofed. 

Since Burning Man is another no-go this year they opted for mountain backcountry camping, and left yesterday mid-afternoon. So instead of worrying about food that's laced or errant people being bad they only have to worry about getting lost or meeting grizzlies. 

Sounds like a fun trade-off. I think I would take Burning Man and its drugs over meeting a giant hungry bear in the middle of nowhere. 

That's why you're not invited. Ben kisses the top of my head. Because you would just get cranky at the bear and make things worse. We will become one with the bear and invite him in for a drink. 

Oh, like in Midsommar?

No, definitely not like in Midsommar. 

I laugh anyway. (Do you feel held by him? Still the greatest question ever posed on celluloid.)

Ruth and Henry are both home and Batman, New Jake and John are also around but I have plans to make a lot of smoothies and read in the hammock and not lift a finger until Monday when they come back. Besides, Henry and I went and had our second vaccines yesterday and I feel a lot under the weather today anyway. By the time they come back, grunting and beating their chests I will be recovered mostly and I'll be able to redomesticate the lot. 

(Kidding! Jesus. I'm the feral one. Remember?)

An attempt was made at safety.

You couldn't save me but you can't let me go
I can crave you but you don't need to know

Did I take it too far?
Now I know what you are
You hit me so hard
I saw stars
Think I took it too far
When I sold you my heart
How'd it get so dark?
I saw stars
Stars 

I woke up breathless in the dark this morning. Mostly same as every day this past week except this time it was Lochlan and Ben's arms around me that kept me in a human cage and I was overheated, claustrophobic and unable to breathe but only once I realized where I was and what was happening. It was calculated and unconscious. It was planned and spontaneous. They both somehow decided to hold me all night so I wouldn't leave. I had no plans to leave. They had no cause for concern. It's not as if I sneak out at night or break the rules all the time and yet I grew up sleeping in a tiny trailer on a single cot with Lochlan who, if he wasn't holding me would have at least one hand wrapped around my elbow, knee or thigh. Subconscious childproofing? Subliminal (or maybe just liminal) fears? 

Either way I am touched. I am floored, actually at the sweetness of it. Maybe moreso from Ben because he is following late learned behaviour. Lochlan can parent from a coma, I think. Either way once I could breathe, once I could sit up and once I realized how little room I take up in our big bed and how close they can sleep together I cried because they try so hard and I'm a jerk to be running off testing tethers and teething on Batman and hesitating far too long on the way home in case New Jake was around to talk to. 

To talk to, I said and I mean that.

And when I got to my own house, the door swung open silently and I looked up to see Ben holding it open over my head and Lochlan doing his half-relief, half-glower face that I adore so much and I did a spin so he would see I was fine and I pointed out I was early and then I reminded him of the amount that allowed me to sleep at night for so many years straight and he just nodded and changed the subject to wondering when fairs were going to come back 'for real' and not just as distanced, low-attendance facsimiles of their former gloried selves. 

And I am so glad to be home suddenly and for that reason alone they didn't need to worry but sometimes I forget to say the right things out loud and so how would they even know?

Pluto energy (back when Pluto was a player and not relegated to the farm team).

The night slides over me, a languid ink that colors my pupils in full dark and serves to highlight the gold and silver on my head and on my fingers. It leaves me gracefully as the sun rises low in the sky to my left, to the East, thankfully, as I don't have to look at him to my right, watching me from the bed, openly staring from where there's no dark left to hide behind. 

Maybe I should have left in that cover, hours ago, but instead I slept easily in good sheets and climate control, in the arms of a man who wasn't going to hurt me so that he could feel good and all I can think at this age of twenty is how I can leave Cole so I can have this. This man doesn't hate me. He is lonely and he wants someone to take care of and somehow in sponsoring Cole's photography equipment and trips he has become my quiet saviour. He puts money in my personal account every month whether I see him or not without fail.

Come back. I'll take you home later. We'll have some breakfast and then you'll be home before you're missed, Batman says with a smile. Really lonely. Probably more than I originally thought.

I turn to look at him. Where's your wife?

London. 

Oh. 

Bridget. We're not together. We just haven't bothered getting divorced yet. You know this.

Every man says that. Did you know? 

He chuckles. This isn't a fling, Bridget. You're important to me. 

I swallow a lump. I wonder if he knows every man says that to me too. I turn, letting the full sun hit my naked skin. If there's one place I have power, it's right here. Can we have eggs benedict? I change the subject. And champagne? 

We can have whatever your heart desires.

(Can you save me from the brothers Grimm?) And fruit! Kiwis maybe. I never get those. 

I'll make a call and have it sent. 

From where?

A restaurant that can do that this early. 

Restaurants deliver breakfast?

No, my assistant will deliver it. Jasper. Remember?

Yes. But I had forgotten. I met him once and I wasn't sure exactly who he was but he brought papers in to be signed and we were half-drunk already and headed out dancing and Jasper seemed annoyed. I assumed he was a colleague or a coworker. That means he can't be annoyed by me, as he serves Batman. That means now I have to see him again.

You forgot. 

It wasn't a proper introduction so I was a bit iffy on who he was. 

My apologies. But he's my conscience. 

Is he now. 

That's a challenge to my statement. Why? I get that Batman is both patient and looking for an equal that I can never be. I'm young and despite my years in unsavoury yet worldly environments I'll never be jaded nor sophisticated enough to spar with him verbally but I'm going to give it my best shot nonetheless.

Is he your confidant though? 

No. But maybe he sees things and wonders. 

Wonders what?

If you're old enough to be here. Who you belong to. 

Oh. 

What should I tell him?

Lochlan's face flashes through my mind like a reflection on water that suddenly forms a wake. Tell him it's none of his business. You're his boss. I say suddenly, annoyed. I've already decided that if Jasper is going to judge me, or Batman, for that matter, then I will judge them right back. When you can bring the world to its knees in such a weirdly powerful way at such a tender age you end up with nothing but false bravado and misplaced ego, and I suddenly have so much of both I can't hold it up anymore and I collapse on the bed beside him. He leans up on one elbow and kisses me. 

You are right and I would be wise to remember that. It's hard when I'm here in this city. I don't know anyone except for you and Cole. 

You should meet Cole's brother. 

Is he an artist as well?

No. He's a rich lawyer (and he's going to want to kill you (and me) when I tell him about you).

Maybe I know him already then. 

He lives in Toronto. 

What's his name? 

Name me the lawyers you know and I'll tell you if you're right. 

You don't trust me. He is amused suddenly. I would think this is a respite from Cole and from his brother. If you don't trust me, are you telling me you trust them? Bridget, you've had twelve years to believe them when they show you who you are and maybe I want to exist as a respite to all that?

Who told you this?

I can find things out easily enough and I don't think your army is functioning the way you hoped it would. 

My brain explodes and I don't say any more. It's been twelve years? It's been half that since Lochlan bailed on me due to pressure from Caleb and ten years since Caleb started touching me and I didn't think anyone knew about it and I don't know how Batman knows about it or if he knew before and he's trying to save me or found out recently and is just trying to save me after the fact. Maybe he just wants a piece of the action. Maybe he's pretending to be a good guy in a bad world and maybe this is just a test from Caleb, just like everything else and I've already failed and he probably is going to kill me. 

Actually, save breakfast for another time. I should go. Cole's going to be worried about me. 

If he was worried about you he never would have let you come to me. 

There's my confirmation. I can trust Batman. He doesn't know Cole (or Caleb) after all or he would know they really get off on this. 

I watch Batman sleep thirty years later. Long-divorced. Jasper is long gone too. The head games are gone, and Batman doesn't even try to pretend he isn't lonely but he also won't make any moves ever again to change that. He and New Jake watch movies together and cook elaborate meals a few nights a week and every few months (or years) I show up and he's marginally less lonely but somehow serves as a huge memory cache for me now as I can put every interaction we have ever had down as a puzzle piece and the big picture is suddenly so clear. He's not an agent of Caleb, an outlier or a whim. He's my true guardian angel and I didn't know it until now.

Drive-by Millionaires.

What are you doing, Neamhchiontach? Caleb kisses the top of my head. The boys are putting all the camping gear back into place in the garage. We did inventory this morning. We are officially out of space, both for storage for all of the out of season clothes, snowboards, sleeping bags, car parts and hair products the boys keep on hand plus boys themselves, as there is no longer any switching up as Dalton and Gage no longer travel and with Asher becoming permanent (did I tell you? We're keeping him) there is not even a spare bed here. Next door there is, as only five of them live at Schuyler's and at Batman's house there is only two so he has loads of space. 

There is no space here. 

(Also Caleb doesn't camp. Hahahahaha.)

I found a place. Seven bedrooms and thirteen bathrooms. It isn't finished yet and so maybe they could throw in three or four more bedrooms. Probably an extra level on top. I don't know. Figure it out. 

Do you want to move?

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed. 

Where would we go?

Home. 

That isn't home anymore. Besides, you're the one who always reminds us home is where we're all together. 

Yes but when I'm homesick I feel differently. 

I feel like the pain is talking for you, today.

Maybe. It hurts a lot. 

It isn't feeling better?

Nope. 

Hmmm. Did you want me to try and get better pills for you? Another kiss on the head but he pauses, lips on my hair. Waiting for my response which comes in the form of a shrug. 

Maybe just enough so I don't want to run. 

Bridget, we have the means to do whatever your heart desires. 

I know. I choke it out. A whisper. I'm so ridiculously aware of his means, and his ability to keep score that I'll just hold tight. 

He sits down next to me, lounging in the chair so gracefully, considering my face as if he's never seen it before. I believe we could add on? A second level for the stables for a guest suite? That would buy you the room you'd like. Or maybe we could expand off the guest wing here. 

I don't want to build to the property line. Maybe the stables would work. 

Well, we can't build vertically so our options are limited. That or you could have Asher live at Batman's. 

He did, remember? It wasn't really working. 

Batman has a lot of space. 

I nod. I could lean on him to house boys in a pinch but he's militant about his privacy. 

There is also more space above the garage we could convert so that there is a second self-contained loft. 

I nod. But it's more work. More construction. More noise and upheaval. 

How about this? When you decide what you'd like to do, come and tell me and I will make it happen.

I nod again dutifully.  

The sky is the limit, he reminds me. 

One final nod from me to show I get it and he stands up, checks his watch and is gone with a final kiss to my cheek. Going for a massage. Do you want to join me? 

I shake my head. I won't let strangers touch me. He always says I am missing out. I always point out that I'm not.

My inspiration for picking up my violin just went to heaven and I don't know what to do.

https://www.nbcnews.com/pop-culture/pop-culture-news/robby-steinhardt-violinist-vocalist-kansas-dies-71-n1274433

I am so sad.