Regularly scheduled programming (5:44/8:47)

I'm back. Finished my coffee, my cheese toast and my singular chore of turning on the sprinklers out front, something I do every ten days for one hour because we're trying hard to do our part and conserve water. We're changing over as much grass as we can. What remains is just moss and it's mostly golden yellow of deep summer anyway. We are surrounded by people with lush green expanses of heavily daily-watered lawns because none of our neighbours up the road give a shit, as long as it looks perfect. 

Sigh. 

The sun isn't setting that much earlier, I point out unhelpfully to Lochlan, who has been pointing out the harbingers of autumn all week. Soon it won't be so hot all the time. Soon the rain will come back. The leaves are already falling from the trees that got damaged by the heat dome and I am as always amused by the fact that some American regions send their kids back to school like, this week. 

But it is, he smiles gently, softening the blow.

I don't miss the scramble for supplies, the clothes-shopping and lunch-treat shopping and endless homework, packing backpacks and watching the clock. Henry now enters the final six months of his program and he is pretty self-sufficient at twenty, showing up to have breakfast and then taking a late lunch, working on his school stuff from home, and then joining his friends on weekends, days off or online in the evenings to game or hang out. 

I will miss Ruth living at home, as she's turning twenty-two and moving out. This is going to be a fall of huge changes here and yet does anything actually change? I wanted my garden to grow like crazy and now that it is, I wish it was done instead of staring down the fall of canning and processing and freezing. I want fall to be here. I want to wear sweaters and drink flavoured coffee and nap while it rains. I want to watch scary movies and decorate with pumpkins (they are growing now. Four HUGE ones out there at the very end of the garden by the service road, which is finished and allows for deliveries to Schuyler's house, Batman's or landscaping/construction materials, of which there will be no more because I am so done with all of it. 

Matt has a different theory. You're just burnt out. 

I know this. I know he's right. I don't know what to do about it, though.

Jesus firesmoke.

Sam cancelled church today. He messaged me to see if I was going in the morning on Saturday night and I said only if everyone wore masks and he swore at me and then within thirty minutes he messaged the group chat and said he cancelled and was going to continue with zoom Jesusing because his elderly congregation is almost celebratory in their rush to get rid of masks. 

So we stayed in bed with Lochlan, Daniel, Ben and Schuyler.

Sam and I did, I mean. 

And Lochlan made up drunken limericks about vegetables and viruses, and Schuyler and Ben sang along with every Bollywood musical they could find (they've seen all of them, I believe, which is a huge accomplishment) and Daniel smiled sleepily and snuggled into the middle of a big crush and it was cool and peaceful and loving and warm. Lochlan and I put on a very early show on Friday night and we crushed it and the rest of them could hardly speak since. I love it.

And I don't want to leave, which is why I think Sam actually cancelled church. 

Anyway. I've cancelled Monday too, in preparation for the week. Because I can.

I hate the heat part 57385735833627294856542618.

Daniel strolled into the kitchen this morning with his half-full coffee cup in hand, languid smile all but melting off his face. I refilled his cup for him and he took a chair by the window. 

Near Caleb, who is in pajama pants and a clean t-shirt, having the most relaxing Friday of his life, I think. 

They exchange greetings, commiserate on the weather and the start of the long weekend being a challenge. No one here really likes the heat. You can't be in the water twenty-four hours a day and you can only take off so many items of clothing before you're just in a goddamned nudist colony instead of a commune, which is what we'll soon be, at this rate. 

Collective, alright. Collective penises. 

Until that glorious day appears on the horizon we settle for closing and opening different windows and doors at different times with a military precision, with plans to run ductless A/C to any remaining spaces that seem warm in the near future. It's a little frightening how warm it's becoming and I long for the days of keeping my towel around my sunburnt shoulders after a swim in the ocean because it would be freezing in my ears and under my hair against my skin. A hot shower at home to wash the sand away and a thick layer of Noxema on the sunburn (to cool it, now I'm thinking that was probably the worst thing to do but like the baby oil for tanning, it was a seventies tradition) and then dinner was always sandwiches and chips. Cold. Kind of like now only the oppressive heat comes inside and stays inside and we can't get away from it. Can't escape the forest fires, the smoke, the rocks falling off the grand wall of Big Chief, it's so fucking hot, can't store wine since it explodes. Can't let the dog go out without carrying him down the patio steps it's so fucking hot and I hate it. 

HATE it. 

So we're going to just disappear into the cool dimness of Schuyler and Daniel's room and watch Netflix and drink wine until it's over. 

Maybe we'll invite Caleb. Maybe we'll bring the dog too. Maybe we'll just have a huge pile in and everyone can nap until the winter comes back. 

This sucks. I was so looking forward to summer. Not this kind of summer though. Just the longer days and gardening season. This is completely uncalled for. 

(I know! First world problems! Except I'm going to throw up.)

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?