When you know they know, and you know they know you know.

When I came out of the boathouse this morning with Lochlan, the brothers D and PJ were coming up the path, wetsuits half down, grins crossing their faces like highways through fields.

Then they saw me and told me how PJ screamed like a woman on his first waverunner experience. He hit the throttle and just keened, apparently. They all got the hang of it quickly and loved it. They can be so much more relaxed than they were on the bikes.

Which makes it even more funny because PJ is the most hardcore of the bikers. His bike is still in the garage under a cover. He takes it out every chance he gets. He's big and strong and his beard has a mind of its own and if he was screaming like a little girl on a watercraft then I want to see it, dammit.

Then they point out how early we must have been up to eat and be over at Caleb's before they got organized. And boy, did they get up early for a Saturday. They wanted to be done their introductory runs before Joel needs help finishing his move.

Yeah, how about that? I ask. Lochlan looks away.

We didn't go home last night after being invited back for a nightcap, that's why.

Oiche mhaith agus codladh samh.

Loch is singing radio ballads while we begin dinner prep. It's Joel's last night on the point. We invited him and everyone to a big farewell dinner. We're going all-out with steak and lobster and cake, just so he'll know what he's going to miss. I'm sure he already knows but instead of being forced back into my life he should have just waited, eventually I might have found some sort of peace there but for today I'm relieved that he's going. He's got a really nice place a forty-minute drive from here, closer to everything relevant and I'm hoping he starts dating or maybe finds more secure work or even just stops trying to exist on his (plentiful) young charm.

Charm is great, but integrity is better.

I have a small, gracious speech prepared and we bought him some housewarming presents too. He wanted to be a monster but he didn't quite have the chops. He wanted to take over the world but he couldn't find enough purchase to hold on to it. He wanted to live a dream but unfortunately from all dreams we must wake up.

He's working at being a good human again and he's doing okay, I just can't have him here. We have our updates planned out for the next several months, however and I'm looking forward to my monthly ten-thousand-calorie breakfast lecture, actually. At the end of the day he's a familiar face and that's of more value to me than most people realize.

Caleb is subbing for Ben at dinner tonight, because now Ben is talking about coming home next Thursday. We'll eat outside because we still haven't gotten the dining table bolted to the floor and it's nice enough if the patio heaters are turned on. And tomorrow we clear out the rest of the things from the garage and lock it up for the next drama.

I mean tenant.

Or whatever.

So done with this.

I like lobster though.

:)

PJ called them 'Yamahahahas' because he thinks they're a bit over the top. Like everything the Devil does, they are.

I can't find the secret to survive
To grow old safe and sound
Life is sifting through like the sands in the hourglass
There's not a moment to relive my time and space
There's not a moment to undo anything

I think Ben is forcing my hand here. He keeps delaying his return to prove to me that I don't need him.

He would be wrong but he would have to be here to see how wrong he is, and since he isn't here that means he's in the dark. Though here is the dark sometimes and I need him more than he realizes. He's my anchor. He's my living human.

He's not a ghost, he's not a memory, he's not an obstacle either.

My secrets are being opened all around me while I stomp my feet and yell that they're private, that it's not fair, that I didn't ask for this. That I have a right to keep things to myself. And even as I fight to hold onto that right, Joel carries his belongings to the truck. He's been moving the past few days and will finish on Saturday. Every day he asks me if I need an out, if I want to say the word and keep him here. Let him stay and sort out the tangles my mind gets itself into, if I need an objective eye kept on the Devil while he steamrolls over those secrets, flattened, embedded in the road I didn't plan to walk down but found myself on after every other way was blocked.

I snort. Joel is not objective. Joel is in love with someone he thought he could save.

I've seen it before. In Jacob. In Caleb.

Loch doesn't look at me like that. Neither does Ben. Do you get it now? I mean, do you? Does it make any sense? I don't want to be saved (because no one can do that but me) but neither do I want to drown, or sit here in the road forever, chipping away at the secrets I wanted to take with me while the other ones can stay where they are.

Ben comes back Saturday. Maybe Sunday. He didn't think one set of hands would be missed with getting Joel moved (because we're not monsters. I even packed dishes) and can get some extra things done in New York and this might eliminate a trip later in the spring.

Which would be good not to dread-forward to, as I call it. Who looks forward? Not I. Too busy keeping the present sorted, thank you.

In happier news, Duncan and Dalton went to bat for me in the big Waverunner Access vs. Padraig case. They have promised to teach me how to use them properly. I will never be out by myself or outside of the cove and if I stunt drive, I lose my privileges. And yes I will always have on a lifejacket. No string bikini either, this will be a wetsuit activity.  (That has nothing to do with safety for me, but for everyone else because a wet bikini is distracting, apparently. Even though it's February and maybe a little too early for that.)

Fine by me. Not sure how the lessons will go. Neither brother admitted they've never been on one before until PJ had left, satisfied that I will be in good hands.

Snort.

(If you never hear from me again, I drowned. But not on purpose this time.)

Oh, and Ben won't be home until Friday.

Fuck.

Emergency brightside.

Never want my hand cut off
Never want a hacking cough
Never need a cliffside push
Never turn my brain to mush

Always give me what I lack
Always take the best parts back
Always recognize your fate
Always just a moment late

Left is where I always turn
Left is how I'm forced to learn
Left the route my walking takes
Left alone with my mistakes

Up against a person who
Up 'til now I never knew
Up from hell the answer blew
Up and down it's up to you

My brain is swimming through the Phish catalogue today, drowning, resurrecting, doing the backstroke when it feels tired. I'm forcing contentment at all costs. I'm counting my blessings. I'm practicing gratitude. I swear I'm not rolling my eyes at Sam's orders. Nope, not at all.

Sam is spoiled these days. Matt's an easy lover. Up for anything. Leaves at eight, home at five. Loves Sam to within an inch of his life or perhaps beyond. He's incredibly open, level-headed and seemingly baggage-free.

I point this out and ask Sam if he really knows this guy, that everyone has magnificent heavy baggage, especially at our ages and how the hell did Matt emerge unscathed?

He had the broken engagement, remember?

Child's play. I've had ten of those. 

And as many husbands. Some people don't leap, they wait for safe passage. 

What if he's a spy? Or in the Witness Protection Program?

How do you think I should go about finding out?

Check his shoes for mileage! 

Anything else?

Check his skin to see if he's sanded off any old tattoos. So he can't be identified, right?

Okay. Is that it?

Ask him? Maybe hiding in plain sight is how it's done now and you win a prize if you connect the dots. 

What would the prize be?

A husband! Gosh, you're not very good at this game, Sam! 

Powersaver mode (Call me Budget, for lawyers are expensive.)

Rain will fall
Wash all the pain
It shields the soul
You turn the page
To face another day
Let me know that you will wait
And I will pay for my mistakes
To feel the sun again

Can you hold on?

Meetings since seven this morning. Lawyers are vampires.

I ate in the car, a croissant wedged between my teeth while I steered through rush hour traffic downtown. Then I saw the mediator. Then the counselor that I don't actually talk to at all (he works with the mediator. He's cold.) and then the bank. Now I'm home and the sugar in my blood has dissolved, leaving me with a decided lack of resolve or energy, for that matter.

I faceplant into the big chair by the fireplace and Ben calls. He's away and I hate it.

So?

I have a ton of information to go over.

You don't sound thrilled.

I don't know if I am.

Nothing will change.

Everything will change. I can pull the plug right up until the end of March if I need to though.

You won't need to. Merry Christmas, Happy Saint Patrick's Day and Happy Birthday to you both.

This could be a curse and you act like it's a present. You've seen what happens when you give someone absolute power, haven't you?

Yes, she puts on a business suit and gets all sexy-professional. It's a huge turn-on.

I didn't mean me.

He'll be fine. Actually, I think it will make things a lot better for him.

I know, that's the problem.

Since it doesn't involve me, it's ultimately your decision but I think it's one you should make. 

Ben, this is a can of worms so big I don't think you want to open it. And it involves you so stop saying it doesn't.

Nothing will change, Bumblebee. I have to go. Home tonight. Wait up for me?

You're asking a narcoleptic to wait up? Hahahahah. 

Okay don't. I'll wake you the traditional way, Bee.

Okay, that I'm looking forward to. 

Good to know. See you soon. I love you. 

I love you too. So much that I might not go any further with this. 

Bridget, everything is going to be fine. 

I've come to believe that means precisely the opposite of what it should. Oh! And the jetski thingies were delivered today. 

Are they neat? 

No, they're HUGE! And PJ already said I can't drive on one by myself. 

He's such a grandma. 

I'm going to tell him you said that. 

Do it. Then let me know what he says, okay? 

PJ has come to the rescue anyway and takes the phone from me. He says you listen hear, Sonny Boy! Those things are dangerous! But he says it in a high falsetto-waver that makes me laugh and I have no idea how Ben responds and then he's gone again and the connection is broken but the smile remains on my face. It's a guarded one, though. I think in Ben's quest to be as generous as humanly possible he's going to discover that no one's rushing in to match his gesture, and he's going to be left surprised and deeply disappointed.

Teenage daydream.

He was bluffing. I knew when I walked away. I counted around eight steps and he jumped in front of me.

Let's go get you some new things. 

What's the point? You'll just burn those too. 

Not if you stay put. But if his hands are on things, they're going up in smoke. I don't want him putting things on you. I don't want him touching you. I'd burn you if I could, just to reduce you to ash and start you over again without him ever having touched you. 

Baptism by fire. 

If that's what it takes. 

When are you just going to accept that this is the way things are?

NEVER. 

Well, okay then. I really loved those jeans. 

They weren't like French or something designer, were they?

No. They were from Walmart. 

Oh okay then. Maybe I can buy you a couple pairs. 

Great idea. So I'll have a backup pair when you burn the next outfit I wear. 

I have a better idea, how about you just stay the fuck away from danger, like I told you when you were ten, Bridget! 

Do I look like I'm still ten, Lochlan? 

YES! YES YOU FUCKING DO! SO JUST LISTEN ALREADY!

Samwise, patron saint of unintentional junkies.

I should have a medal with his likeness stamped into it, and wear it around my neck, the noose of my conscience as I am reminded again and again that the devil doesn't change. And neither does the carny though the carny keeps trying to pin me up by my word and I didn't have my word to go on, I was incapacitated and now I only hang by my flesh and it's burned. It's burned so badly and I went to church this morning flanked by Matt and Daniel, both angrier than they have the right to be, and when my hands started shaking Daniel held them in his and it felt like Ben and I stopped trembling but continued to only nod or shake my head in conversation because when I open my mouth the words come out slurred, wrapped in cotton, confusion and regret.

People keep trying to talk to me and after a while Daniel would step out and cut them off politely and finally Sam was done preaching his sermon to me, channeled straight from God and we could go home again where Lochlan waited still, only this time staring out over the backyard to the sea standing in front of the fire pit where my pretty cardigan chars into a tiny black rag, unrecognizable and my favourite jeans meet a similar fate. Everything I wore gone because it makes Lochlan feel better to conjure his flames, setting his problems alight and finding the answers he needs in the sparks that write on the sky.

You straight yet? He asks me without looking.

I stare back without answering. He held me in the spray of an ice cold shower last night until I stopped screaming. I'm straight but for my words. They're always the last to come back. My stomach hurts and my head aches and underneath the burns I have hives but I'm straight and he knows this. This isn't what he's asking. I know what he's asking.

He looks at me, breeze blowing his curls straight back off his face and I shake my head.

You need to get straight. Then come see me. Until then you can stay with him. You're both too fucked up for words anyway. 

Less friction.

He took all of my secrets and looked them over, turning them inside out and back again. He polished some to a shine and let me keep them and others he crushed in his hands, declaring them to be not secrets but known markers in history, shameful ties that bind, just like the velvet ones still looped around the posts of his big bed, stretched to nearly double their length at some point during the darkness, just like the lies that my history has told and the secrets that line the path toward the future.

Sleep, he orders. And I did. Hard, drugged, dreamless sleep, facedown in the cool french sheets until precisely four, when I woke up with a start to find the Devil removing my sage woolen underthings once more. I asked him what he's been giving me since Thursday, since the bottled water, that I can't feel my skin but he just said that he could feel it and so that's all that matters. I asked him what he wanted and and he said he has it now, and that matters too. That I should close my eyes.

I asked if I could go home and he said not yet. And then he tied me back up again, not as hard, he has a heart after all, and he was sweet but tough and I asked for my secrets back and I asked for Lochlan to come here if I couldn't go home and he finally covered my mouth too and sang into my ear. I don't know what it was, but I told him not to give me any more of the drugs because it isn't fair and I don't like the way they make me feel. He said I would be glad for them later, as he bent my arms back and burned my skin with his face. I couldn't feel any of it now and so he was right.

I called him Cole and he didn't react like he usually does. I think he possesses. I think he's possessed.

Just before his time ran out he asked if it was better this way, if it's nicer not to feel so profoundly all the time, if it's easier to navigate the night in a friendly stupor, if it makes a difference at all. I pushed his hands away and said no. It's not better, or easier or nicer. It's not me and I have to be me so I'm not his.

And then I slept some more. When I woke up the velvet was gone, the Devil was gone and I was fully dressed in my jeans and a pretty cardigan over a tiny baseball shirt. He took my underpants. I called it a loss and left, head still fuzzy, brain clouded with all the things he said that didn't make any sense. I gathered up all of the secrets I could find, stuffing them into my pockets and carrying the rest and I got the hell out of there while I could. I stumbled into the house and ran up to my room, dropping secrets on the floor, secrets rolling down the stairs and I slammed the door and turned around, letting go of all of it and Lochlan was there sitting on the bed, not doing anything, just waiting and he pointed out it wasn't sanctioned time and it isn't right and what are we going to do with you and I was angry by then and coming down so fast it was like being on a elevator with the cables cut and I snapped at him that he could do whatever he wanted with me, just like everyone else.

Benzobabied again.

I'll tell you about the movie but not today. This afternoon I spent a good twenty minutes watching the waves and realized I wasn't fluttering much if at all. Wasn't hungry in the least, Ben sent me a message about a trip he has to take and I didn't panic or anything, I just thought oh, at least he has enough clean shirts because I am caught up on the laundry and then I realized...

That this means they're probably putting drugs in my food again. They try this two or three times a year when I spin off my axis a little too far and I'm usually aware by the half or second day when they kick in hard and I realize I care about nothing.

Which is why I don't take them in the first place.