A barefoot winter.

In an effort to be more...uh, whimsical and spontaneous (since the complaints in this house are that I am still as uptight as ever), I put on a poufy party dress this morning (from a hundred billion years ago and it's too big now) and I went downstairs, cut a big slice of chocolate cake, microwaved it for a minute so it would be warm, and then I poured myself a glass of champagne (leftover from yesterday) and then I took my breakfast outside and ate it on the (uncovered) patio in the pouring rain.

None of the boys would come out, they wanted to stay inside where it was warm and dry.

Pussies.

My bare toes were numb and by the time I came inside I couldn't feel my fingers either. I asked for help through chattering teeth to open the closet door so I could get a blanket and PJ helped me and then pointed directly at Lochlan, over my head.

I blame you for these character defects of hers. It ain't right, brother. 

And Lochlan laughed.

Heavy metal birds (redux).

Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up.
               ~Chuck Close.

There's a snapshot of the day in here somewhere for all to see and pin to a wall in a cozy spare room in between the television schedule and that credit card bill you paid and forgot to put away.

There are two still-newlyweds-in-spite-of-the-calendar cooking a turkey together next door in the house where they spend their love. Schuyler's got this, I think. He loves Daniel so much he'd cook a brontosaurus if Daniel asked him to.

 Daniel and Ben are American and so Thanksgiving to them is Christmas The Second and it's ridiculous. Only Ben never showed up, because Ben took the rest of that cognac and went downstairs to work days ago and I never saw him again.

Not a good thing. Just a thing that I'm supposed to believe is not my fault nor my concern and instead of accepting that I thrash against it like a rabid fox. I don't buy it for a second and I want to be there but he always removes himself from me when he gets scary like that.

Lochlan has likewise retreated to the camper to stay out of the line of fire. He hasn't said much. When I came in from a long walk alone with the dog, he followed me into the kitchen, blew on my hands to warm them up, gave me a silent hug, ever the affectionate one, and left again.

I turned around and realized I really do hate being alone and so I wandered across the driveway and found another obstacle, Caleb asleep again in front of the wall of ocean that is his decadent view, the lights on low in the kitchen but nowhere else. He sleeps a lot now. He's exhausted from just about everything but really I think it's escape. Depression. A weird form of established hopelessness that appears when you become mired in wanting things you'll simply never have.

Henry also wears him the fuck out, frankly. This whole week has been a Halo marathon. It's fun. Lochlan and Ruth play too. It's the only time Loch and Caleb get along, when they are forced together by the children, who are still inseparable, even though Ruth is firmly entrenched in art and self-expression at thirteen and Henry is all war games and strategy at eleven (just like their fathers, huh).

 I watch the Devil sleep. I don't touch him in case he's only pretending, I just sit nearby and watch the sun go down at a ridiculously early hour of the day and then I venture to touch his face before I leave. He doesn't move and so I know he is really asleep. When I leave I lock the door behind me.

At the main house there are three messages on my phone from Daniel, who is too busy cooking and playing host to come looking for us. I reply and tell him we're not feeling well and will find him tomorrow if he wants to keep a little aside for us. This reply is not so much to decline his invitation, he knew we wouldn't be there but to let him know I/we am/are safe.

I make some tea and put two cups and the pot on a tray to bring downstairs. When I get to the bottom the door is open. Ben is fussing with his acoustic at the board, the bottle of cognac nowhere to be seen. He is unshaven and focused and unreadable. I go in and set the tray down on the coffee table. He turns and smiles.

Hey. 

Hey, you. 

How much shit am I in? 

I don't think anyone has noticed. They're busy eating dinner. Your brother went all out. 

I don't mean with them. I mean how much shit am I in with you?

Oh, you know, the usual amount. Ben, where's the bottle?

Duncan has it. 

My relief wants to escape via my eyes. How much did you have? 

I had a taste, Bridget. It wasn't very good. Not as good as I remember it. 

Did you, I mean, was it because of me? 

No, Jesus, Bridget, never. I get caught up in cycles of self-loathing. You know this. You're the one good thing that counteracts all the rest. 

I'm not a good thing. 

Sure you are. And the kids, and Lochlan but I'm always sabotaging him so that I can stay ahead. Eat or be eaten, as it were. 

He can handle you. 

Yeah. Surprisingly. 

Not really. He has a high tolerance for freaks. 

So I've heard. Ben laughs, winking at me and then reaches down and pulls me right up into his lap, his arms tight around me. I'm surprised you're not hanging out with Caleb since everyone is occupied, speaking of freaks.

I was, for a bit but he's sleeping. 

Ben nods. He's very serious, suddenly. I see. Hey, is that tea for me?

Yes. 

Good, I'm starved.

It's tea, Ben, not turkey. It won't substitute for dinner. 

It will if I eat the mug too. 

You aren't allowed. That's it. New rule. 

Oh, you're going to make new rules are you? Do I get to make one too?

Of course. 

Okay, he pretends to think. The rule is, never ever ever ever not come find me if you are lonely, or if you think I'm in trouble or if I seem to be checking out on you. Okay?

A double negative. Wait, I have to figure ou-

Another way then. Always, always come to me. You look like a lost kitten. I'm here. I'm a total introverted wreck of an asshole but I promised to be here for you and here is where I will always be, okay? 

Okay. I nod and the relief sees a chance and escapes down my cheeks. Okay. I promise I'll come find you.

He reaches up with his big thumbs and smooths the tears away from below my eyes. You know what we need, Bumblebee? We need some FUCKING TURKEY NOW!!!!! YEAHHHHHHHHHHH! 

I throw up the horns. Which either signifies that we should Rock On or that turkeys now come with antlers.

Swell.

(In between spates of horrific drama, we're just like you.)

I can see you but you can't see me
I could touch you and you wouldn't even feel me
Wait a second and you'll settle down
I'm just waiting, 'til you really let your guard down
You're relaxed, you're sublime, you're amazing
You don't even know the danger you're facing
If I'm quiet, I'll slide up behind you
And if you hear me I'll enjoy trying to find you

Through the early 2000s I really tried hard to turn Lochlan on to slightly (okay not only slightly) heavier music. I figured he would enjoy it, he always seemed the type somehow.

He does not.

He does, however, know a lot of the words to a few particular albums and sings along in his very best Eddie-Izzard-as-Mr. Kite imitation to just about any song I play. It's positively fucking glorious when his voice drops down into the smarmier parts. He's got quite a flair from his midway/circus/busker days. You wouldn't expect it but it's there.

Sadly today PJ and I are ignoring his performance while we eat leftover pasta for breakfast (God knows why I'm eating breakfast so late, let's just say I wasn't feeling so hot earlier and wasn't hungry besides) and peruse the Christmas catalogs that came to the mailbox. They all have Caleb's name on them but I always steal his mail because it's that much more exciting than mine.

Who would like a Sharp high-density plasmacluster ion generator for their car this year? I don't know what it is but I'm guessing it makes your car jump to your end location just like in Battlestar Galactica. Maybe I should buy that for Caleb for Christmas and send him to a new galaxy.

But then how would I get the Neiman Marcus Christmas book to dream through? He's maybe the only person I know who could actually afford this.

Sigh. Dream indeed. That's amazing.

Chemistry (set).

A sort-of nice reprieve for most of Sunday and all day yesterday as I get one more shot at leaving my mark on the planet, AKA forgettable role in a music video. The Girl. I figure pretty soon I'll be too old to play The Girl and I've never seen any roles for The Woman so I may as well milk it while I can.

And I must say, the makeup artists are always super-sweet and I usually learn something new, which is tough when you're always surrounded by men. The only discussions I ever have with anyone about cosmetics are the ones in which I ask Ben not to lick the wand on my new Dior lip gloss.

So makeup, hair extensions (clip-in ones, MY LIFE WILL BE DIFFERENT FROM NOW ON) and adult conversation that isn't about me as long as I can follow instructions (boy, did they ever pick the wrong Girl) and wrap up my shots in under a day (ish).

I can do that. This will be the fifth or sixth video for Corey's band and they don't exactly ask for much. Misogynistic, frightening bunch, actually. They just sort of wander around and hardly pay attention until I get to shoot the really degrading parts. And I get to hear around a third of the song seven hundred times in one afternoon, which is good, since now I know the words and can sing along. Such good songs, they all are. This one is no exception.

(And I only screwed up once, if you're counting. I started singing along with the chorus and I forgot we were rolling. Whoops.)

On the way home Corey thanked me for helping out (if it's a favor no one has to pay me, right?) and said he was sorry for being an ass but the environment in the houses is one of total and utter Bridget-worship and he doesn't want to get sucked into that religion again.

Again? 

You know what I mean. 

I dropped it because if we can part on good terms then it's a banner day, because Corey and I don't get along so well a lot of the time. We're told we are a lot alike but I don't believe it because he doesn't like being candid, something I apparently demand without realizing it. He's not demonstrative. He's not affectionate. He's moody and mercurial and a big mean robot most of the time and I have no use for that. I believe he tolerates me on behalf of the others but otherwise I'm not sure how we managed to wind up with so much animosity between us over the past decade.

At least it doesn't translate well to film.

Infinity blade.

The jeans are possibly eight or nine years old, the t-shirt is fairly new. Daniel got it online. It says Self-Rescuing Princess on it and that sort of confuses me. It's either untrue, impossible or congratulatory, either way I'm not sure the shoe fits but like all things Daniel buys for me, the t-shirt itself fits like a glove.

I woke the angel up and told him he was to replace all others in that designation now and he'd better not let me down. He swore and said I should promise him the same. He inspected me for marks and chose to go after Ben first, for caving in to a whim he can satisfy closer to home, even though we know that's a bald-faced lie. Ben apparently refused to engage him past apologizing and Loch called him out on his unintentional fracturing of what is supposed to be a family, out of fear. By choosing Caleb over Lochlan, Ben can try and somehow keep Lochlan from being too close.

Ben comes up with all kinds of impulsive plans, you see.

Lochlan went after Caleb next (God love him, he's just all good ideas and absolutely no planning, just like Ben) and apparently Caleb's been going to the gym, learning how to kick-box, which explains the new musculature and also the lovely swollen cheek that Lochlan returned with. He refused to say anything at all about that exchange. I gave him to August to be babysat for the rest of the day because I don't need him fighting my battles for me.

I went back to see Caleb (alone, because I learned from the masters about good ideas and planning, you see) and he pretended to ignore me as I stood inside the door watching him make notes on his phone.

I finally stomped my feet and he burst out laughing. God, you both are so immature sometimes.

Why did you engage Lochlan at all?

His lack of respect for Ben.

Ben can fight his own battles.

Ben won't and you know it and you exploit the fuck out of that, Bridget.

Ben also brought me over here because you asked him to! You prey on his fears about Lochlan and he feeds right into it. Jesus, who's exploiting who now?!

Nice shirt.

DON'T YOU CHANGE THE SUBJECT.

What would you have me do, then?

Don't touch Lochlan. Ever. If you do, you'll never touch me again.

That's why I make every moment count with you now. I never know when it will be the last time.

Oh, so suddenly you're done with the notes, and done feeding Ben's fetishes and done with me?

You seem to have lots of men at your disposal.

Right. So I don't need you.

But you want me. 

Sometimes, yes. 

That's all I need to hear, that you're still fucked in the head sufficiently to give me what I crave.

That's exploitation too, Diabhal. 

Look around you, Bridget. Do you think any of this is for YOUR benefit? Stop being so innocent and open your eyes for once. 

I did and I didn't like what I saw. 

Then don't be surprised if nothing ever changes, love.

Answered.

(I feel sorry for him, that's all. 

Why? 

Because he's completely unable to put a stop to the aspects of this arrangement that he doesn't like and that would drive a man to certain ruin when it comes to someone like you.)

Late. It's dark. I am taken by the hand and put into my coat, and then led outside. Across the drive in the biting rain to the boathouse. So sleepy. Quiet greetings are exchanged and the look on his face is triumph. I'm irritated by that but soothed by the full glass of cognac placed in my hand. I am led to the low couch where he has a fire crackling. One small light on in the corner. The draperies open to the dark sea, to the weather. Five star view in a room with rates by the hour, paid for with pieces of my very soul.

The folded up remains of our plans are placed on the table, a torn dark grey envelope with a single page inside that would be marked with a time. That time matches my watch, which was just removed, along with my rings, my pendant and my earrings. My other things will join them in time but for now I watch my pretty, sparkling things disappear into the small wooden box for safekeeping and I refuse to meet his eyes until he says my name. Twice, because I hesitate just a heartbeat too long.

I am told to try the drink. They watch as I listen. I am obedient and ready for the courage in that glass. I know next they're going to give me two words to say if I need them. The first word is supposed to function. The second word is if something fails and they don't hear the first one. The words don't change. The gamble is whether or not they will follow their own rules. I bet nothing. I know better and so I won't risk any more money on a sure thing. I don't have it to lose.

The cognac burns going down but I hold the line, spellbound. I repeat the words back, carefully, clearly. I am told to relax and enjoy the fire and the midnight ocean for a while.

An hour goes by, or so I think. The warmth of the fire and the alcohol start to work and I feel my eyes getting heavy again. An arm slides down around me and I put my head down against hard muscle. I feel a heartbeat. My drink is taken out of my hands as I am lifted up once more, hardly standing for the arms around me are mostly holding me up. A kiss forces my head back easily. I repeat back the safe words again and laugh in spite of myself. I am held tightly while my dress is unfastened, while my hair is unpinned. While my world is ripped apart once again and I'll let it happen. More cognac is poured into my mouth and I let that happen too, until my judgement is wasted along with my limbs and I stop fighting altogether, letting my eyes close around the moonrise, my arms close around the broadest shoulders I know of and my mind closes in around itself, bursting into old habits coupled with new shame.

Sunrise sets the skylights ablaze, the morning sky overcast and tinged with regret. My cognac is still on the coffee table, half-full, the tiny wooden box neatly beside it as if he knows I will collect what belongs to me and run. I replace all my jewellery and go back down the hall for Ben, who won't get up and I resort to pulling one arm out of the bed and trying to drag him to the floor. He sits up, covering his face briefly, wiping the night from his expression and he asks if I'm okay.

Okay is such a loaded concept, and so instead I parrot back both my safe words, still sealed and unused for next time, even though I practiced them inside my head for much of the night while the Dark Lords found new ways to impress each other with their creative violations. Everyone leaves a satisfied customer! Fucking carnival barkers, get out of my head.

Can we go home now? Please? 

He frowns, nodding and stands up, pulling his clothes on quickly. We walk quietly down the hall and out into the kitchen. Caleb is nowhere to be seen, but I don't go looking either. He is probably still sleeping in the other room. We link hands and head back across the driveway without saying goodbye. When we get home the entire household is still sleeping. Sleeping hard. Lochlan is spreadeagled, flat on his back across the big bed upstairs, naked except for the sheet tangled around his hips, the concern on his face, and his curls, flattened by the dark. The reluctant sleeper, losing consciousness in spite of his efforts to hold on to it forever.

He looks like an angel.

I could use one.

Saints and hypocrites.

Well I've known you forever, we complete each other's thoughts
Ain't like we never got in trouble, it's just we've never gotten caught
And if you've got a secret, it's in me you can confide
And if we ever get split up, I'll always be on your side

Lochlan is sitting at the island having toast when Caleb walks in through the side door. Both of them freeze, deers in headlights and I drop my dishtowel on the floor, recovering just as fast. I tell Caleb Good Morning and he smiles and says it back, with a nod to Lochlan who goes back to eating his toast without a word. I frown in Lochlan's direction and he mutters a greeting reluctantly. Caleb acknowledges it and speaks to him directly.

She was this close, Pyro. Bet that makes you feel great.

Want to eat your own teeth for breakfast this morning? Lochlan takes another bite of his toast and chews noisily.

Where is Ben? 

Downstairs. Working. My voice comes out flat.

He doesn't care that you'll never go against Loch's wishes?

They've made their peace. Are you just here to start something this morning?

No, my apologies. I came to see if you wanted to go out for some breakfast so I don't get another little deposit into my account. A working breakfast. 

Have you looked in your account? Lochlan smiles as he chews. She put the whole thing back. Just like I told her to do. 

This is none of your business, Loch. 

She's mine, 'brother'. Lochlan practically spits the word at him. She doesn't want your money.

Bridget isn't a child anymore, she can look after her own affairs. Caleb grins suddenly as if he has just told a joke.

She defers to me. You know this. Don't come looking for trouble today. 

Caleb pauses to consider this. I stand and wait, watching his face, watching him weigh his options to push and be right and possibly wind up on my kitchen floor versus keep his dignity and gracefully ducking out. I don't want to cause you any upset, Bridget. I just thought breakfast might be possible. If it isn't maybe Monday or Tuesday? Let me know, okay? 

Do you have food?

He turns back. Pardon?

Are you hungry. It isn't even a question. I am defeated and defiant and Lochlan practically throws his dishes in the sink. He kisses the top of my head and storms out without a word.

Yeah..well, getting there anyway. 

Then let me make you something. I'm not going to have you guys at each other again though.

He is protecting you from me. Who can blame him? Caleb takes Lochlan's seat at the island.

Okay, that's the second time in as many days that you've said something in favor of Loch. What gives?

Oh well, I now understand certain things all of them have in common aside from romantic streaks ten miles wide and extreme focus. And unruly cowlicks, dark eyes, devastating smiles and beautiful hands. They all like hot dogs with Russian mustard. And ginger-ale cut with cranberry juice.

And hugs.

But anyway, when I arrived this morning (day one of a hundred days to earn what's sitting in my bank account), I find Caleb lying on the floor. I didn't panic, for his eyes were open and he said hello when I walked in. But there he is, in the middle of the living room floor between the coffee table and the window.

What are you doing?

Wishing I had kept you there one more fucking day and then I never would have let you leave.

Ah. I said ask, not kidnap.

Same thing.

Actually it isn't.

Sure it is. You love me anyway even though I've physically kept you with me.

Stockholm syndrome.

Soulmate syndrome.

Munchausen syndrome.

Ouch. Why are you here, Bridget?

To work.

I have nothing for you today.

Then for every day I don't work between now and your birthday I will put that day's percentage back in your account.

Oh, Bridget, just keep the fucking money. I suddenly don't care about it.

Why not?

I do believe you've ruined me. Finally. The day fucking Pyro has been waiting for has arrived. How you could possibly admit to setting out to ruin me and in the next breath you say you would have left my brother for me is just beyond my capacity to understand, at present.

I never would have done it, Caleb.

Why in the hell not?

I wouldn't have destroyed the bond between two brothers, fucked as it was, and I would never have defied Lochlan.

But you said you didn't trust him.

That was then, this is now.

Oh God, listen, Miss Hinton, could you crawl out of your teenage self for two minutes and tell me what I'm supposed to do now?

Nothing.

I've bested my lifelong rival and you want me to do nothing.

Right. Because you clearly didn't best Lochlan.

YOU JUST TOLD ME I DID.

I said I didn't trust him then because he had a history of forsaking me when things got tough. He doesn't do that anymore. Therefore, I married him. Sort of.  So stop shouting and get up already.

He will forsake you again. Lions don't change their spots.

What?

I don't know. I feel lobotomized.

Maybe you need some cheese.

You did not just say that, Bridget.

I fucking well did. That's one of your tricks, isn't it? Deflect important conversations with offers of dairy products?

I suddenly understand why Lochlan is perpetually frustrated, more and more each day.

Wow. And boys still suck. THIRTY YEARS LATER.

Little autopilot.

Feed me lies
There's nothing left to see
No room left to breathe
So pick me up
And give me back my belief
Live to die

Three glasses of wine over lunch and I'm quickly learning I'm only comfortable here when I'm half-lit on the endless alcohol that flows through this city like water under a bridge. Caleb made a phone call and while we were out for lunch the hotel moved our things upstairs to a bigger suite with an office so he can extend his trip but still get some work done. I have to leave though. I'm being sent home on his plane because he's getting nothing done with me here.

I'm going to miss this amazing view, he says and I'll call that a miss because I thought he was looking out the window like I am. Las Vegas is flat and dusty, seedy and sick. I've been spending my days getting drunk and sizing everyone up. I can tell which women are actually men and which men are actually Very Bad People. Caleb says I'm not only an excellent judge of character but he suspects I am an empath. I don't exactly know what that means but it's tiring and I'd like to shut it off sometimes.

He is in the desk chair, which is on wheels but big enough that it's more like a club chair. I climb up onto his lap, facing him, doing everything I can to distract him while he makes calls and writes notes, probably something involving a list of ways to limit my alcohol intake or how to triple his net worth again even though I think he has enough now. He's doing really well. He just leased a plane and we've been here all week celebrating the latest financial milestones, under the guise of Cole needing to punish me for something so he sent me along to be tortured by his brother.

So drunk. Pretty dress. I think Cole's punishing himself. He said he hopes I learn my lesson and maybe this can be the last time he has to send me away or hurt me like this. That he wants to try to be better together but he just needs me to be away for a little while and then everything will be okay. He doesn't realize I've been double-crossing him all along and Caleb is respite instead pf punishment.

But I don't care about Cole right now, because I'm buzzing and because my baby pink satin dress with the black lace overlay is hitched up taut across my thighs and my knees have disappeared down into the sides of the chair. My behind is resting on Caleb's knees and he has his left hand around it so that I don't slide off. His right hand is alternately holding a pen, typing something rather slowly on the keyboard or holding the phone up to his ear. I get busy working out the Windsor knot on his tie. Unbuttoning his vest. Stealing things from his pockets and kissing his other ear, the free one.

And the look on his face is one of the best I've ever seen. It delights me. It's worth the price of admission to hell as the flames lick against my heels.

I hear him say he has to go, that his afternoon is very busy. There's the wink and then abruptly he puts the phone down and slides the laptop hard into the corner of the desk. He lifts me up and lays me out on the desk crushed against him. He finishes removing the tie and uses it to blindfold me. I don't want it so I push him away. He ties it over my eyes anyway and I struggle to remove it. He pins my hands with a warning, whispering in my ear.

Bridget's brain hears a challenge. I try and yank my hands away and am rewarded with full on restraint, my wrists clasped tightly in one of his big hands while the other reaches up my thigh and finds my underwear, pulling them down to my knees and then right off. I buck my hips in protest and he smiles as he holds me down. It's effortless. He outweighs me by seventy-five pounds. A long kiss is followed by him pressing his jaw against my forehead as he yanks me closer to the edge of the desk. Back toward him. He lets go of my hands briefly while he unfastens his belt.

His phone rings. I hear it hit the floor and then Caleb frees himself and pulls me in tightly to him, the fleeting pain forcing me to jerk my hands up suddenly. His hand comes up against my cheek, squeezing my face. Shhhh, he says. Relax.

No, I cry. He keeps to a crawl. He's still stroking my hair with one hand, the other has my torso pressed up off the desk against his muscular frame. Razor burn stings my chin and cheekbones. I turn my head. He pulls me back in close, turning my face back, kissing the end of my nose as he begins to pick up speed. His head disappears somewhere above me and my forehead bumps against his shoulder as he begins to pound me against the desk. I get where I'm going first. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight, forcing him to work for every stroke, bracing my knees to fight his moves.

He cries out my name as he reaches heaven in second place, leaving teeth marks in my skull, falling straight back through without purchase, back to earth as I watch from above,  dropping through the floor to a place no one will ever want to see, for all his money, for everything in the world. Back to hell with you. You belong there, Diabhal. Using your little brother's flaws against him so that you can touch his wife.

He pulls me back up to sitting in his lap on the chair, pulling the tie away, smoothing my hair back away from my ears. He points right at my face.

This is what I want. You.

I wink at him, climbing off, hitching my dress back down over my thighs, smoothing my own hair. He stands up and tries to pull himself back together. I surprise him by reaching up again and kissing him hard. So hard he staggers back and grabs me for support. He is so hopeful. So anticipatory. So handsome with his fucked up shirt collar and half his clothes on the floor.

Revenge is harder than it looks. I am sent straight to the Devil, of whom I remain marginally more afraid unless I am flat on my back. Caleb shares the same intensity that Cole exudes effortlessly but he has twice the power and he's older, bigger and more dangerous. Over the years the brothers have taught me that my submissiveness could be cultivated, a power onto itself. It's a game I have grown to enjoy. I do as I'm told and I want for nothing but affection now. They think it's punishment. It isn't.

No, we need a break. A long one. I want to make things work with Cole. We're trying so hard to be a family and this doesn't help at all.

His face is impassive suddenly. Damn him. Demonstrative emotion is so fleeting with him but I feel him and he's surprised and saddened and will subsequently throw himself into his work. I hold his gaze as I wipe the lipgloss off the sides of my face from where his fingers smeared it.

It's a loss for both of us but I understand.

Such a bad man. You're always taking things that don't belong to you. I frown at him. It's a dig. I get them in wherever I can while he atones forever for fucking up my perfect future. I can't have Lochlan, things will never be the same between us and so I'm going to take it out on Caleb because it's his fault and because Lochlan asked me to punish him any way I can. I'll ruin all of us, myself included. No survivors. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. But I know I can trust Caleb and I can't trust anyone else. Even Loch. If Caleb asked me point-blank to leave Cole I would have but he doesn't know this and so he doesn't ask.

I'm not bad, Bridget, just weak when it comes to you.

That's not what I saw a few moments ago.

Wish I knew it was the last time, I would have made it last all night.

Good luck, Diabhal.

Be safe, Neamhchiontach.

No such thing as safe now. He frowns but he thinks I'm being figurative.  He knows things are difficult with Cole but he has no idea how difficult or he wouldn't let me go back. I thread his tie under his collar, kissing him on the cheek one last time. I collect my coat and my bag that is still sitting on the table and head for the door. I have a plane to catch.

So what am I supposed to do now, Bridget? Pretend that none of this matters?

Yeah. Just pretend we hardly know each other until I tell you differently. 

Oh, Bridget. 

Or just go back to being mean. Either way it's the same to me.

Tempest (dig that hole, Princess).

Take out the stories
They've put into your mind
And brace for the glory
As you stare into the sky
The sky beneath
I know you can't be tired
Lay there, stare at the ceiling
And switch back to your time just go ahead now try and taste it
I know it should be ripe
(thrust ahead)

Turning in circles
Been caught in a stasis
The ancient arrival
cut to the end
I'd like to be taken apart from the inside
Then spit through the cycle right to the end
I wonder just how you shaped it To get back to your prize
(thrust ahead)

My lips are dry, my cheeks cold when I arrive. He is on the phone but he winks at me and leans over the island, pushing an envelope toward me. It's pink. Palest baby pearl pink. I frown and he holds up three fingers and that means he's going to wrap up his conversation in under three minutes. I abandon the pretty envelope and go throw myself in one of his leather club chairs.

I smile when I see the coffee table. Henry has been here, an Escher puzzle is maybe 2/3 of the way completed on it and a can of Diet Coke is on a coaster right in the middle. Caleb lets Henry drink pop. I do not. I let Henry stay up late. Caleb does not. We even out. If Henry feels like having something he isn't allowed, he just wanders over to the other parent and gets express permission to have it anyway.

 Caleb is finished with the phone and he swears to the disconnected call and then sweeps the envelope into his hand on the way into the living room. He gets down on his knees beside my chair and presents the envelope to me without a word.

It's pink. I look at it but I don't take it.

Open it. It won't bite you. Oh and by the way, I wish you'd watch what you write down.

It's common knowledge you have odaxelagnic tendencies. And tell me what this is, because I don't like surprises. I wish I brought a lipgloss in my pocket. My lips are burning. 

Open it, Bridget. It's your Christmas bonus. 

I've worked a whole four days for you this fall. This is hilarious. Also, it's barely the middle of November, aren't you early?

OPEN. IT. He runs out of good graces and switches to the rotten, bad kind. 

There is a small card with a handwritten paragraph, which I don't read and a cheque. I slide it back into the pretty pink envelope and lean forward to place it on the puzzle. 

Is that why you invited me over? To give me money that I have not earned?

Would you prefer to earn this money, Bridget? Oh, there he goes, falling into his own black holes so I go for audacity instead of sense. 

Yes, I would. His eyes light up. I snap him out of it. I should WORK at least a hundred days to get a bonus. Isn't that more fair than just giving me money?

He recovers into the monster I know and love. You know what I miss? I miss the innocence of you in Vegas. Vegas impressed you. You didn't know how to hold a glass of champagne, how to keep your mouth shut at the tables or how to defer to me when spoken to directly by the wrong people. I even taught you how to withstand my brother without getting hurt. I taught you everything on those trips when I had you to myself. I turned you into a lady from the amusement park orphan you used to be. The subsequent trips were such a joy. You behaved. You listened. It was a respite for both of us.

I withstood, you mean. I get up and turn to leave but he comes after me, spinning me back around. He presses his forehead down against mine. We've had some good times, Bridget. Haven't we?

I needed you to help me be away from Cole. I had nowhere else to go.

But I've been here, every time you've asked for me. I'd never leave you alone the way they do constantly. You'd never have to miss me, we wouldn't have to be apart. Even during the day. Things could be so good. You'd be safe. You could teach me things. Like patience. How to comfort you in a way that works. How to give you what you need, Bridget.

I can't teach you those things, Diabhal.  

You taught him. 

HE TAUGHT ME!

You think that's how it was? Think again, sweetheart. He wasn't fit to look after himself, let alone you and you changed him. I think you could change me too. 

What if I can't?

We'll never know until we try, Bridget.

I'm not up to that. 

Not today, no. Today maybe we can just have some cheese?

Leaving now. This is how dysfunctional we are. Soul-shattering topics to dairy products in under a minute. 

It just proves we were meant to be together.

Fuck off. Eat your cheese by yourself. 

Nice seeing you too. I'll put the money in your account since you're going to be recalcitrant.

How you like me best, isn't it?

Indeed.