All or nothing, baby.

If everyone's a casualty
Then take your time there ain't no trouble
If the weather's fine and we're feeling crazy
There's always drinks and dancing in the rubble
I'm spinning and you're spinning
The world's spinning and we're laughing
And I'm charming, the devil's charming
And we're ruined but we're still building
And I'm selling and you're counting
The world's stopping but we keep going
And we're ruthless and we're cunning
And I'm heir to it all

Sometime overnight, Jacob took a big step back. Maybe to stay out of the way, as I attempt to juggle Lochlan, Ben, Sam, Caleb and whoever else I am drawn to. You don't want to get clipped by a flaming soul on his way down, do you? Especially if you're a man of God. I bet it hurts.

Before last night and for the past ten years straight without fail when I close my eyes Jacob's face is right there. Every errant lock of heavy blonde. Every wink and each tooth. Every pore. The little scar from where he fell into a crevasse climbing Denali and the part of his temple where his eyebrow refused to fill in. Every hair on his beard. Every breath he took even though he hasn't taken one in forever. I checked. I'm still holding them all. This time he was way back. Almost out of reach.

I keep my eyes closed for a long time in case he steps back in close. I'm not sure if I'll be relieved if he does or saddened.

A hand lands gently on the back of my head. Peanut. What are you doing?

Fighting a headache, I lie. I don't want to tell Lochlan this. Every day of his life is an uphill battle for my heart, swords drawn, shield up, armour weighing down his agile limbs. I feel terrible for what I have caused. I also feel like we're even now. He ruined me as a child, I've ruined him as an adult. Now we're a perfect matched pair.

God, I love him so.

If he were to go, I would go with him. And that's something I can say so easily. I've had a lot of time to think about things, hearts, people and love. I don't think my heart will ever be big enough to contain him, and I certainly will not live without him. Not even for a day.

This would make him sad. Like everything does. But he is sad in a determined way. He'll fix it. We'll get there. He isn't going to ever give up that uphill sword fight. He thinks I'm worth it. I'm not sure I agree with that.

I don't want a normie life, Peanut. He reads my thoughts like the daily paper, absorbing current events, the weather, the classified ads. What is she selling today? What's she advertising?

Need?

Confidence?

Sex appeal?

Vulnerability?

Well, it says here on the front page that she just watched the Devil take a big step backwards, hurling bills by the fistful at anyone who ventured near enough, screaming that he can handle it, that he owns it, that he wants it anyway and can afford to maintain it. Shouting his worth from the rooftop while we cover our ears and duck against the dissonance.

Fascinating story. Glad that kind of stuff doesn't happen here, he says absently, not paying close enough attention. That sort of daydreaming will get you killed, he said to me after I almost walked in front of a turning truck once when I was picking my thoughts off the clouds where they grew, so prolifically he would have to venture in periodically to thin them out, pluck ones that were weaker, trimming back the overgrown ones, encouraging others to bloom. He doesn't care about the money. He never cared if we had any money at all, swinging widely to the other end of the rainbow, the part where it begins. No pot of gold, no treasure on this end, just a girl cranking out colors and pulling down dreams, trying to paint them up pretty to someday please her ghosts and men, failing miserably at just all of it.

Now you can have them professionally painted, the Devil says from right beside my ear and I shriek and wake up.

With sprinkles.

Everything is personal to the devil. Including any personal directive for me to have fun, any generosity extended, or any action Batman takes toward me whatsoever.

Caleb laughs, amused at Batman's ridiculously impulsive suggestion that we buy 50k worth of desserts and ups the ante because he can be a jerk about things like this, taking things to heart that have nothing to do with him at all, not understanding that he doesn't have to say a word. It's not a contest. It's not a competition. I won't 'love' Batman more.

He's being immature.

The Devil calls me this morning, tells me dinner is on him, chuckles again in his low, handsomely devilish way and hangs up on me when I pause, silent in my confusion. Ice cream always follows dinner so I clue in seconds later and call him back.

What are you doing? 

I told you, no one else gets to be the hero of your story. 

But you're the villain, remember?

And for that he hangs up on me again. I log into my bank accounts because curiosity kills the Bridget, always and almost pass out from what I see. I call him back. That's dinner for all of us for the rest-

Of your lives. Yes, I know. You can thank me later by staying away from Batman. 

You think you can buy my affections? Christ, Cale-

But he's hung up again. Great. I put the phone down, log out of the bank so no one else sees those numbers and head upstairs. I try to go into his wing without knocking but it's locked. I knock on the door and wait and after what feels like an eternity he opens the door.

You're being highly belligerent and unappreciative for what I thought was a significant gesture. 

Simple gestures are not supposed to come with contingencies, Diabhal. You're buying people again.

I disagree. Well, maybe not. Not persons, but EVERYONE. Because fuck it. I can throw down as easily as he can.

That's your prerogative.

You think Batman's 'ice cream' comes without strings?

It doesn't matter if it does or doesn't.

That's naive, Neamhchiontach. Every dollar from that man is a tie that binds you to him. 

You would know. Look what you're doing now.

Indeed. I'll be back later to help you decide what to do with your significant windfall. And also let this serve as a reminder. I built a double wall around my finances and you've only seen through one layer. Please don't assume Batman has more money than I do because I can assure you he does not. 

O-Okay. 

You seem surprised. 

I'm not surprised in the least.(I am! I lie! WTF!) I just don't see how his gesture provokes you so much.

Oh, I'm provoked, Neamhchiontach. Now, don't touch it today please. I will help you allocate it tomorrow. It took a lot of hoops to transfer that much so quickly and I don't think I want to be on the phone any more today.

Allocate it to what? 

Whatever investments you choose, of course. As long as they're of a decent yield. 

So it's not my money. 

It is, but I want it to work for you. This is too much to sit on. And no one ever made money by spending it on ice cream, so you know why I have more than he does.

This seems like a weird metaphor for my relationship with Batman and what you think of it. 

Of course it is. As I said, don't be so naive.  
 

That's some serious ice cream.

Here comes Monday morning. It's like staring down a freight train, like standing in a spotlight. It's full of messages that began from across the globe.

Butternauts!

Butternauts. Still marvelling at those things, on such a grand, lifesize scale. I wish all my dreams could come true life-size. I'd still like to own a goat. Apparently the horse I fostered wasn't welcome on the point because of livestock bylaws here and I know damn well the neighbors have their ears wide open and binoculars trained on me at any given moment. I've been known to be gardening and feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, only to rise and give the middle finger to the sky. Like fuck off already, you don't need to check up on me, I'm just here trying to pull my carrots out of the ground so we can have them for dinner but I must have planted them in concrete because I have to dig all the way down with my fingers to get them out. Holy CRAP this is hard.

But it is Monday and once I harvested everything that was ready (please, someone come and eat all of these tomatoes), I sat down to look at the budget and found a bit of a windfall I didn't expect.

From Batman.

I message him. What is that?

Some spending money.

Some spending money is fifty dollars or so.

Not where I come from.

I can almost see his face right now. He's always amused when I talk money with him. I live in a house with a four-car garage and many wings and I still cringe when I buy my favorite rye bread because it's almost five dollars a loaf. I walk over to his house. It's so nice out this morning. He is happy to see me. I get a warm hug. He smells like goatsmilk soap. I bet he would like a goat as well. Then we could make our own soap.

This is too much. 

What would be acceptable? 

Fifty dollars. 

But there's ten of you in the house at present. 

Right? 

So I multiplied it by a thousand because you deserve it. Because to me, five thousand is acceptable for spending money. And you're all on vacation so I want you to all to enjoy. 

Market doing that well? 

That's part of it. He laughs again. Batman holds his cards so close. I don't get to see a transparent picture of his wealth but I've caught glimpses and he has more money than Caleb and yet he spends little. Just take the money and have some fun. 

After I distribute it I think I will. Ruth will be thrilled.

Does she spend a lot? 

No, she's a mad saver. Like her father. 

Ah. Good to hear. Have some fun, please, Bridget. 

That's the third time you've said that. I don't look like I'm having fun? 

From here, it appears that everyone is having fun with you, I just want to ensure that you are as well. 

I'm fine. 

Promise?

If I need you I'll be the first to let you know. 

I don't believe that for a second. This small gesture ensures that they won't wait to let me know. 

I knew it. It's not a windfall, it's insurance. 

It's ice-cream money. That's all. 

Right.

YOU'RE KIDDING ME.

Remember my favorite pasttime?

Someone went LARGE FORMAT with it.

Life-size butternauts!

A luminous late-July gloom.

Long before sunrise Sam is up and trying to tie his tie neatly before church. He's hosting a sunrise service. Last minute as his backup is ill. Sam was on vacation but he's agreed to help since he isn't away, in hopes that the same kindness would be extended should he need a day off down the road.

Here. I climb out of bed naked and stand in front of him, easily tying the tie backwards and from a disadvantageous angle. He looks in my eyes, bless him. Not like it matters, he's seen everything.

I fell asleep last night, my head against Lochlan's chest, feeling the thud-snap of his heart against my ear, hand on his stomach. Sam wrapped around my back, one hand extended around my ribcage, hand splayed to hold me close. I woke up and we were much the same, still, only Ben was there too on the other side of Sam, his arm reaching across the top of the bed, hand on the top of Lochlan's head. Lochlan is Ben's comfort object I think, and while he didn't mind finding Sam there on my right, he wasn't going to discreetly find a different place to sleep, going to crash in Sam's bed next door or back downstairs to the couch or studio couch, for that matter. Ben will just pile in, bringing a much-needed safety and security to the night that we welcome, no matter how many are in the bed.

You coming?

If I play my cards right. I wink at him and reach up to kiss his cheek.

Sam laughs. Didn't get enough last night? 

Of you, yes. Not of them. He knows I'm only teasing him. Who can get enough of Sam? Sam is a dream when you know you're awake. He knows when to be gentle and knows when to double down without ever having to ask.

Separately or together? He is curious. Openly inquisitive. We don't play games. We'd both like to dissect love proper, rip it apart, see what's inside, put it back together. Hack it for our benefits.

I shrug and whisper. I'll let them decide. Or you can, if you come back tonight.

Another kiss, a now-straight tie and he is ready, joyfully buoyant and fresh. He looks so young sometimes I almost feel bad for him but then I remember what he's like when the sun isn't just on the verge of coming up. They all have a kind of sexual Jekyll and Hyde energy that leaves them polar opposites whether it's night or day. By all I mean everyone save for Lochlan, who holds a quiet intensity with me that never wanes no matter what.

I don't mind. 

What time? 

Bedtime is elevenish, maybe twelve. But we're setting up the movie screen and projector on the side of the camper at the edge of the cliff at nine or so, so you're more than welcome to come watch a movie first. 

I may do that. I hear you serve lemonade. 

And iced tea! 

I'll be there. Now, you sure you don't want to come with me? I have a few minutes before I need to leave if you want to get dressed. 

No, like I said, I have plans. And what's wrong with my outfit? I give a twirl and he laughs.

Absolutely nothing. You're made in God's own image. 

Except the tattoos. 

Those are fine, trust me.

It's where I pick up my yearly supply of cotton candy. Just kidding. It hardly lasts the week.

It's fair day. There's a tiny fair out in the valley that encompasses everything I love. There are vendors, pigs, goats, rides and food. There's music. There's Bridget, dancing in the sun. There's me, sunburned and tired, complaining about having to leave even as they're packing the place up, waiting at the gate for me to leave already so they can all go home. PJ and Ben just have to come back from their meeting and then we can go. Henry and Caleb are spending the day together and don't want to come. Ruth and her boyfriend will be there, though probably not for as long. The others will join us but only for a couple of hours. Poor Lochlan. He fostered this obsession with amusements and so he has to bear the brunt of it. Even though he says he hates it now, that it's triggering and tired, secretly he loves it. I know it. I can see it in his eyes.

It's familiar. It heals.

We're going to rewatch The Twilight saga and eat take out Indian food. Happy Friday.

I will be brave
I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this

We're awake. It's four in the morning. I woke up like this. With tremors and terrors, I mean.
I was doing so good. And then Jacob flew and it all just went to shit.

I know, Bridge. I know.

I had figured out how to navigate Cole's arrogance, his violence, Caleb's crimes, his predilections and Jacob's crushing shock at all of it. I had put the past to bed. I had learned how to live around it and without it and I thought I had it. Jacob's absence has me leaving the door open to my brain hoping he might hear me and come back and instead all it's done is let everything back out and I'm back at square one.

Looking around, I think I hate it here.

(You new here? Oh, sit down. There's so much to explain.)

Square one, I mean. Don't read so much into it. Joel explained a long time a lot of what happens when Huge Trauma piles on top of Huge Trauma, but in beautiful, poetic and fanciful dreamlike terms so that I could process it properly and understand it. The way you do.

Oh, is it just me?

Claus was far more clinical and the other six or twelve (actually fourteen if we're keeping perfect count) professionals just had sweeping condemnations of letting me exist in the real world at all. According to most of them I should be medicated until I can't feel my skin anymore and just float through my days not even looking forward to lunch, because it would be better for everyone but also most humane for me.

Humane is a word you use to describe treatment of animals and I never forgot that, honestly. Even as they couldn't believe I could hear them. Well, fuck them. Fuck them all.

We'll be okay.

Lochlan's response to all of it was to draw the army tighter. To keep the status quo. All of them do. Too hot? Let's put in a pool. Too cold? Let's put in a sauna. Too dark? Open the curtains. Too sad? Live in a hug. Too far? Move in. Not enough privacy? Make a gazebo getaway or a music studio or a den, there's enough space. Or three living rooms. Because whatever. Too stressed? Someone will hold out a finger and stop the world as we triage whatever broken heart needs to be mended. When we boil the Collective down past the polyamory and the history and the various dynamics of who loves who most and who lives where the bottom line is no matter what we've done we're a family and we back each other up, even as we lust after each other and tear each other down, leaving deep wounds and new connections in a brutal swath of damage and repair across our point.

As long as she smiles here and there. As long as she stays here. As long as this is better than anything else. She'll be fine. We'll be fine.

I don't do drugs. I do this. I lose it and then I find it again, somehow. Miraculously and with help.

I put my hand up and cup Lochlan's face. I'll make it up to you.

He turns his face, kissing the palm of my hand. You already have.

This is how I medicate. Fuck off.

One of the greatest things ever would be if we discovered that Paint from Les Friction was actually Freddie Mercury, having been in hiding for almost thirty years. Listen to Torture. I don't know about you but my brain replaces the role with Freddy Mercury's voice, even though he would be in his early seventies now and the voice I hear is definitely late thirties.

I can age you using only your voice. I'm good at it. It's one of my many odd talents, along with tightrope walking, putting out streetlights with only my brain, and collecting lost souls to keep until the universe takes them away.

You want to know why Rocketman didn't do as well as Bohemian Rhapsody? It's because Elton John is still alive. One can only be built into mythic status when one is no longer here. Larger than life, brighter than the stars, it's a level one only achieves in absentia, in death. It's the reason why Jacob is not a memory but a force to be reckoned with, something I haven't actually been able to do because as I said, my talents are weird and small. Just like me. How am I supposed to conquer Jacob's memory when he's a legend, never ever relegated to just a man.

The boys say that Paint is Paint, whoever he is, and Freddie's long dead.

Just like Jake, right?

Right.

Holding close to the flames.

So don't tell me why he's never been good to you
Don't tell me why he's never been there for you
Don't you know that why is simply not good enough
So just let me try and I will be good to you
Just let me try and I will be there for you
I'll show you why you're so much more than good enough

The fluttering and stuttering began some time shortly after dinner, a quiet affair in which remorse rang loudly throughout the halls of this stupid house, echoing off the walls, settling on our heads like plaster dust when someone dances hard one floor above.

Bridget-

It's fine. I'm fine. (I'm so not fine right now. One of the beautiful side effects of condemning the boys for the past is falling the fuck apart. I do so good keeping my shit together most of the time. You wouldn't even believe it. I've been written about in psychiatric journals. They make me sound fucking insane. I'm high-functioning insane though, and that's the important part here. What you see is what you get. I have my coping mechanisms. Someone should charge admission to read here. Jesus Christ.)

You're not fine. Put that down. 

Three glasses of wine didn't even put a dent in the movements, they didn't help the words flow. Lochlan comes over to me, kisses the tip of my nose while taking my glass, marvelling at how I haven't spilled it yet, brushes the plaster from my hair and then leads me down the hall, where I am zipped into my fleece jacket before he takes me all the way down to the beach.

I screwed up, Bridget. I took a moment and ran with it. And then I dug a deeper hole and you fell in it and I don't know how to find that balance for you. Ben could but Ben's gone half the time and I hate myself for this but I'm trying to make you happy. 

We'll figure it out. 

I wonder how long it will take. 

The rest of our-

Lives. I know. I'm so sorry, Bridget. Happily ever after wasn't supposed to come at such a price.

Legacies and ligatures (a perfect counterpart for shipwrecks and soliloquies).

Just hear me out
If it's not perfect, I'll perfect it till my heart explodes
I highly doubt
That I can make it through another one of your episodes
Lashing out
One of the petty moves you pull before you lose control
You wear me out
But it's all right now

Well. That didn't work.

Prone on the hardwood floor. Face up, however. Looking upside above me where Caleb frowns.

Why did you do that, Doll? 

At this point I'm fairly certain he's about to take something heavy and bring it crashing down on my little skull, putting the lights out, ending everything all at once. It'll just be a flash of black and I'll be their memory and they will scatter to the four winds and never speak to each other again.

I'm torn between wanting that outcome and wanting to see how it all turns out anyway, even if it hurts.

And that's the problem. These kinds of fights are the worst.

I took myself over to August's last evening. It was that or I would have gone straight to New Jake, or worse, old Jake. I professed a deep-seated attraction to him as a whole, not just as a ghost, and for my honesty I was beautifully rewarded. Halfway back across the driveway I was intercepted by the Devil, who proceeded to make an unholy noise that I was later told was shouting so angrily even the cats ran and hid from the sound.

At least it wasn't Lochlan. Lochlan doesn't even know what do with me at this point. Lochlan's hands are tied and his heart is falling behind, running to catch up and then giving up, tucking itself in right where I left it, for me to find later when I'm done pissing off the Gods.

I sit up quickly just to see the stars. No one else can see them. I love that feeling. My eyes focus, one at a time on the Devil's handsome blue eyes, not so kind right now.

What have you done?

You did all this. Are you happy? I told you this wouldn't turn out well and you thought it meant they would come after you. Wow. Bet you wish now that that's what happened instead of this. You broke her! Congrats! 

Are you drunk?

Not nearly enough. 

Jesus.While he laments my lack of compliance I go off down the dark hallway in search of my boy, one middle finger raised defiantly behind my back at the Devil, who doesn't even have a stake in this night the way the rest of us do and doesn't he hate this. If I get this wrong August leaves and I don't think I can take that. If I get it right we both get everything we need. We promised Jake we'd look after each other. We don't intend to fail.

Or me, I mean. Because I don't want him to go and he's got one foot out the door.

BRIDGET. Caleb roars again, into the dark. He can't see me anymore and that's good.

I find what I'm looking for and pull it out, wrapping my arms around it. Lochlan's heart is heavy and weak. It's squishy and solid though. It's a perfect fit and a rare prize. I haul it back down the hallway and drop it at the feet of the Devil.

What? I smile at him, mirroring his rage in the best way I know how. Belligerently and with confidence. It may be an act but I'm good at that too. This is different from not being able to keep a poker face. This is pure showmanship and I've got it nailed.

Put that away. 

You don't get to order me around anymore. You created all of this and now you have to live with it.

We created this. Don't forget who started it all. There's no difference between he and I. 

Sure there is. 

Tell me what that is. 

(Tell you what again? You all passed around a TEN YEAR OLD and I have to explain why it didn't all end in roses and lemonade?)

Love. Lochlan held my hand. He held me. He talked to me. He took me out for food, and planted flowers and taught me things about the night sky. He taught me how to fall in love. You never took five minutes to do any of that before touching me. All of you. 

All of us-

All you did was further perpetuate it by putting us all together again. Bet it feels weird now, hey? You wonder why I seek out anyone but the lot of you when I can't help myself? Because they don't use me for their own needs. 

You think August isn't using you? 

August loves me. Sam too. Duncan and Dalton definitely do. Jake may, if given the chance and really if I get enough of them I won't need any of you, now, will I? Lochlan will still be there but the rest of you will wonder what the fuck happened when you're suddenly somewhere else.