Happy burn.

I need a vacation. I just braved the crowds at Metropolis for a little back-to-school shopping with the kids. Henry did not want to go, having bought a bunch of outfits already this summer for the upcoming fall. Ruth will always take shopping over just about any other activity, and happily lights into Forever 21 with an enthusiasm reserved for kids about to eat cake at a birthday party.

Speaking of parties, she went out with her friends tonight in her cute new jacket and gave us reprieve to complete preparations for her family party tomorrow. We blew up a million balloons, suspending them all over the main level of the house from the ceiling, brought out the pile of presents and finished decorating the cake I baked this morning. She'll be twenty on Tuesday, a double-happy day because August is supposed to come home in time for her actual day.

I kind of hope he comes home early but that's wishful thinking. Had I been able to stand it physically, they would have had to drag me kicking and screaming from Black Rock City. I know he has such good fun and he always downplays it when he comes back and that makes me sad. He shouldn't have to minimize such a life-changing, life-restoring experience but he will even as I press him for more details. More feelings! More photos!

It's all so exciting. I'm happy I'm keeping up today. So is everyone else though, as I threatened to get drunk and go sit in a tree yesterday and apparently that was exceedingly immature. I can be mature!

Tauruscopes.

It's raining here on the point under a super black moon morning. It's quiet and dim. It's my favorite time of day. I'm awake, alert and inspired. I drink my coffee alone when I can, headphones blocking out the world, my very own version of an apocalypse bunker complete with stores for years, if not longer. I can write and play with words and draw and music myself up until I'm ready to be released into the known world where we are hellbent on socializing, being together or whatever that thing is called where I must exhaustingly interact with other humans because that's what one is supposed to do.

Maybe it's me. I tolerate so few of them. Like the sun. I can handle it (if I must) while I'm gardening but if I'm at the beach I want this weather, always. Darkened skies and brackish teal. Muted foggy green and dampened lamp-black shores, holding their secrets closer as they wait for the light.

Today brings a new personal outrage as I need to bring my glasses to the beach. From far I can spot the sea glass pieces but once I pick them up I then need to put on my glasses to see if they're ready for saving or need more work. This is my true garden where I cultivate the legacy of how water smoothes the rough edges, softens the violence of a shard, mutes the screams of my victims-

(Okay maybe ignore that last part, for that is simply wishful thinking and nothing more.)

Little blind-and-deaf Bridget is watched closely, red eyes blinking out of the darkness by the edge of the steps. Always close enough to run. Always far enough to try and afford a graceful sort of mock-privacy. I set my coffee cup down on a large flat rock and he stirs in concern, pretending to shift his position sitting on the third step up, coffee cup nestled in capable hands.

I find a singular treasure and pull my glasses back down over my eyes to look more closely. The edges are smooth and cloudy, pitted and round. Perfect. It's hard to find the white and pale blue pieces. Mostly I find green and brown. Each color has a value and I'm suddenly rich. Each piece has a weight and I'm suddenly heavy. Each day has a number and suddenly this one means something.

You really want to know who the fuck I am.

(Don't panic. It's a song lyric.)

I still have a weird dent and a white mark on my fingernail where I slammed my finger in the fridge at work on one of my last days. I only miss my paycheques, nothing else and when I went in to drop off my dress I was struck by how disorganized and filthy everything was. And yet it was filled with customers. I think my next job will be bagging groceries. At least there all the food is sealed and I can't be embarrassed by the state of it all. When people ask what's good I would pick a different dish every day off the back of the menu because I don't know, I wouldn't eat it.

Caleb smooths his fingers across the dent and tells me it will grow out soon. He's anxious once again to get a good review, a favourable mention in my writing instead of a vent or a despairing question of why he's here. I don't know what he wants me to say. No one needs to hear that he woke me out of a sound sleep last night, brought me to heaven four times straight with his fingers and then with his mouth and then put his weight on me, bringing himself up to where I was before disappearing back to his own room in the dark. It wasn't midnight yet. I was so sleepy. Just the way he loves it. Then I feel asleep again and when I woke up it was daylight. I was curled against Ben with Lochlan wrapped around me. I had to see if it was a dream. I asked Lochlan why Caleb came back and he didn't answer, changing the subject instead.

When I come downstairs PJ is playing Slipknot's Orphan so loud I think the roof is going to rattle right off the house.

Right? He grins, giving me a couple of good headbangs for effect.

The guitar sounds like Van Halen. I frown at him and he laughs.

Okay, so I know it's not your favorite.

Ooh. I like this part though. I give him a single slow headbang in return and he claps for me.

God. So proud. You look like a mom trying to be there for her kid.

So I'll skip that part and just throw the horns instead?

Atta girl. Throw them HIGH.

It better not be as hot as it was yesterday all day or I swear I'm going to liquify and they'll have to keep me in a jar in the fridge, which sounds great right now frankly. I actually fit in the fridge. We checked and scared the fuck out of Duncan one morning as he blindly reached in for something and I grabbed his hand.

Keeping up appearances with acts of attrition
It doesn't matter 'cause I know you'll never listen
Before you knew it when you saw it, now you say you never knew it
It was all a big conspiracy
We came together when the hands of fate let go
Is there anybody left to fill this hole?

Heat madness.

Fear fun, fear love
Fresh out of fucks forever
Trying to be stronger for you
Ice cream, ice queen
I dream in jeans and leather
Life's dream I'm sweet for you

Lying on Daniel's giant pizza slice inflatable pool float today. It's big enough for four people. It's vegetarian. I am stretched out between a cartoon cross-section of a mushroom and what I think is a blob of green pepper. It's a horrible thing, this, with terrible graphics and worse colors, but it's also the only one big enough for me to step onto and stretch out on without getting wet.

As such I have my airpods with me, an item that is positively banned from poolside, a rule I break every chance I get.

If you ruin them I'm not replacing them and neither are you, Lochlan says. Then what will you do?

Listen to my music on the speakers. Then they all can be treated to Venice Bitch played on repeat for four hours straight and they'll know what my brain can be like.

Better than they do now, I mean.

Daniel's not going to rat me out. He made a big show of cramming his giant frame onto my floating chaise with attached...uh..leg holder. 

Ahem, it's called a footrest, Daniel says.

Then why does it end just under your knees? 

Because it's for kids, he reminds me.

(Everything they get for me is built for your average ten-year-old. You should see my tiny kayak. It's like a little curled blue leaf and it's about half the length of theirs.) and he's not saying a word, though I know his arse is soaked through already because it's almost submerged from his weight. He's so tanned. I could stare forever. He looks like Ben but friendly. Wet.

It's hard to get Ben into the pool some weeks. The days run together for him. He probably doesn't know it's Wednesday. He doesn't know there's a long weekend coming up. PJ and I already grocery shopped. The gardening is done. I made jam. The house is clean, beds are fresh, gifts are collected and wrapped for next week, a week that sees Ruth and Lochlan have birthdays (twenty and fifty-four, respectively, where is the time going holy shit) and we're ready. I'll bake cakes this weekend and finish up decorating.

And it's thirty-eight degrees in the sun right now. The music is melting into my brain. It's going to be stuck fast and we'll never get it off.

Bridget. What the fuck.

Oh shit. Lochlan's noticed the headphones. He charges into the pool and pushes the pizza to the edge where PJ stands with an equally disapproving glare. PJ leans down, one hand out and I begrudgingly give him my airpods.

Last warning or you don't get them back, Lochlan says.

For fucks sakes! I protest and I turn and roll off the float into the deep end.

The blog with the classiest, most introspective foursomes you'll ever read about with zero sex mentioned because I'm better than that, fuckers.

They mistook my kindness for weakness
I fucked up, I know that, but Jesus
Can't a girl just do the best she can?

August called me late last evening. It's as if I can conjure him and he's there. Kind of like Jake, I guess, only marginally less heartbreaking. Or maybe he's marginally more heartbreaking.

Grab your humidifier and get on a plane, baby. 

Oh my God I love you. 

I bet. He laughs. You okay?

Hmmm? Yes? It's not Halloween yet. 

Not what I meant. 

Where are you? 

On the road. 

Ah. 

We're not in yet. Gate news is decent. Got hung up in Lovelock seeing some old friends. Still here.

Oh. 

I love you, Bridget. Wish you were here. 

Yeah me too. Love you too. Be safe.

Will do. Catch you on the other side. 

He hung up and I tried to keep my shit together and failed.

***

Before I could get out of sight Caleb swoops in. He's an emotional vampire. He smells feelings and he's there, feasting on my affectivity, drinking up my despair, growing stronger from the elixir of my misery and then trying to fix it. Because if he can make me happy, bring me up so high he knows eventually I will fall from those heights and he'll be there to feed once more. We're a vicious cycle. We're a cyclone together. A tornado of history that flattens everything in it's path and in the waking light I really hate him right now. He can give me anything I want but I don't want any of it.

Love you, I say as he smooths my bangs back with his thumb, smiling at me gently.

We can go. 

I can't handle the conditions. 

We'll bring the doctor. You can run around with an IV pole. It'll be a look. 

Sounds like certain disaster. 

Okay, stay home and cry over your livestream instead. 

That isn't...why I was crying-

You need to learn to embrace what I can provide.

I'm no longer sure if he's talking about impulsive trips or well-planned, choreographed sex parties anymore.

I split the difference. I thought I was. 

Not even close. He laughs but there's an undercurrent of disapproval so strong I go under, fight to get back to shore and give up, preparing myself to die.

***

It was a one-off, Peanut. 

I was, you mean. A little bit of a stressful night as I couldn't relax enough to get anywhere except for with Ben and you don't think that shit tears at Lochlan just a little bit?

Should have had a little wine first. 

Should have had a lot of things. Maybe not Caleb. 

I'm just trying to make you happy. 

Then don't agree with me. 

What?

Nothing. 

Bridge-

Hey, Lochlan?

Yes?

Can we go to Burning Man? 

No, Bridget. It's bad for you. And by the time we got ready it'd be almost over. 

Okay. 

Wait, what? 

That's what I want. Is for you to be what I'm used to. 

The killjoy? Your dad?

The voice of reason. You're the only part of my brain that keeps me sane. 

He smiles a weird grateful smile, maybe getting the confirmation he needed that he doesn't have to try and make all of my wildest dreams come true, he just has to keep being himself and stay true to what he knows is right and what is wrong and not fuck with those things. Ever.

I'm really glad you said that, Peanut. I needed that.

I nod because I'm losing it. I'm also hung up in Love-Loch and I can't say anything to him in return.

Another opens.

I bought me a truck in the middle of the night
It'll buy me a year if I play my cards right
Photo free exits from baby's bedside
'Cause they don't yet know what car I drive
I'm just trying to keep my love alive

I take a deep breath. I shouldn't be here. I should be at Burning Man with August, who swears every single year that it was his last and then he goes off again the very next as if he's pulled to it unconsciously, can't help himself, can't stay away. Burning Man is the love of his life, a place that centres and builds him, a safe haven in which to recharge, something to celebrate and indulge in.

Meanwhile I'm on the other side of a bathroom door and I'm afraid to come out. Everyone always thinks I'm so full of shit, confident, egotistical even, boastful of my nights while downright greedy with the affection I seek during daylight besides. And I can be, truthfully. What you don't see is that I also have debilitating moments where I'm so self-conscious I freeze, my legs turning to stone, my hands shaking.

Out there they have plans.

I open the door and step out. My chin is quivering now but Lochlan is there, on his way in as I took too long to come out.

Hey. He kisses the palm of my hand. There are only a few lights still lit. Caleb stands by the fireplace, Ben by the window. I almost turn to go back into the bathroom to find another way out. Maybe if I open the door again there will be a different scenario here. It's a trick door, perhaps. I'll open it and there will be a field of flowers or a seashore, complete with seagulls on the other side. Maybe a busy rainy night metropolis or a tree-lined small-town street complete with pumpkins and plaid.

Ben comes over and kisses my forehead and goes on onto the balcony. He knows me. Knows I'm overwhelmed by this, every single time. I want to thank him but I'm still frozen. I want him to come back and Caleb to leave but it's not going to play out that way. They're trying to figure this out and it's still so much harder than it should be. I hate it. I hate being on display, hate being fought over. Hate anything save for one on one or for Ben with absolutely anyone else.

Turn the lights off. I say it abruptly, startling at the sound of my own voice. Please.

Caleb turns and complies. Better. Then I won't have to reflect this which I have become. I feel hands slide around my back, pulling me in close. I am stiff and unyielding.

Neamhchiontach. Lochlan says it so softly. Yes I know. He is afraid too. But that doesn't change how I feel right this minute. Outnumbered, overwhelmed. Afraid. He kisses my forehead almost exactly where Ben did and I return the favor just up underneath his chin. He relaxes ever so slightly, and I turn away in the dark testing the theory that Caleb will now be within reach as I can't hear him or see him.

I reach out and my hands touch his shirt. Yes. There he is. He reaches for me but I turn back to Lochlan. It's a warning right out of the gate. Fuck this up and you won't get another chance for a long while. Lochlan's grateful arms pull me back in. There's a moment where time stops and they remind me and each other of the safe word (forever gingerbread because why not? Something sweet. Something long and completely out of context, just so there's no mistake) and then we begin.

At some point Ben comes back. I feel his hands, smell him near me and I finally rest. At some point Caleb leaves. At some point I finally sleep, only to wake up when Lochlan talks in his dreams. At some point he wakes me up and tells me he loves me. Answering that is the only easy part of the night, but I didn't have to invoke any Christmas desserts or break up any fights either.

I do know this is not going to be my life going forward, and even with last year's fiasco I still wish I was at Burning Man instead.

Big time believer.

I'm the bolt, the lightning, the thunder
Kind of girl who's gonna make you wonder
Who you are and who you been

And who I've been is with you on these beaches
Your Venice bitch, your die-hard, your weakness
Maybe I could save you from your sins

So, kiss the sky and whisper to Jesus
My, my, my, you found this, you need this
Take a deep breath, baby, let me in

Sam came down the hall, thoughts burning through doors that opened with every step he took, determination making his mouth look just like that, that slight disapproving frown that I can't resist in the near-dark as it presents itself to me like a new song. It can whisper in my ears, put words in my mouth, send me to heaven and then drop me back into the quilts before I have time to look forward. He's a Bridget-whisperer, a light-heavyweight, an exorcist and this morning the memory of his hands on me soaks right through my Sunday due diligence, clouding the words on the page, making them unreadable, making the book heavy, and I leave the bible on the bench beside me. I don't need it. I know it by heart.

Headphones in church this morning. Watching Sam and that set of his mouth that hasn't changed as he must be so secretly gleeful that he's back in proximity, that he can figure out how to get along with the devil with a maturity I expected from neither of them, to the point that Lochlan and I stood with surprise and watched them banter lightly, affectionately this morning as we got ready for church.

Caleb, to my left, seems fairly secure about the whole thing. After all, he is next to me right now and the future is probably his, even though Saturday nights are for Sam. It's the extra push of faith that brings Sam straight to his favorite day of the week. He's pregaming, he's making sure to pour all of his sins on the page, letting them soak through to cloud His words before turning it to a fresh one to write the story he wants for himself, not the one he needs.

He is no match for the devil, though. One deep breath from the devil and I turn from the light and run, tripping, falling, crawling back to the dark where I belong.

And then Lochlan strikes a match and the dark disappears, taking Caleb with it, a memory of a dream I had but can barely recall now. The warmth rushes in, I hold on tight as I feel music swelling up, my heart breaking at the sight of his face, the sound of his voice as we go under again. He is an ocean, deep and reflective. I see myself in him. The drive to be better. The drive to put myself first so I don't drown. The only reason I don't chase them down. I let them come to me instead. I put myself up at the top of this pedestal, standing on their hearts, piled haphazardly around my feet, a mountain of carnage and adoration that I refuse to let them live on, instead starving them out until they're almost dead, then resurrecting them, bringing them back to life on my terms.

Life on my terms. A first. A sea change. An epiphany. I'm their faith. I'm the messiah. The five-foot-tall bedhead and green eyes, perpetually drowning in my own quiet sadness, using the ocean as a cover to mask my tears. Fuck you, Jesus. I'll write my own book here. Just get out of the way.

You got me good
Got me thinking
Got me pushing away your hands
Got me needing a break
Got me taking a breath

I walk through unscathed
into the teal night
water blurred into sky
faith smudged against a clean page of need
hands tied in distant death

we're blind
drunk on endless time
no start no finish
no middle no doubt
just me and you

caught in a net
pulled back to shore
a beautiful catch
can't throw her back
out here in the beautiful blue

Fog-sharpening.

Hey
How long

I woke up this morning to Lochlan gasping for air, fighting for breath because I had my arms wrapped tight around his neck, holding on to him for dear life trying to get away from a nightmare I have constantly but it played out longer this time. Hours. Days. Weeks. Years.

Which means they're giving me Ambien again. Nothing fuels a nightmare like that garbage. Instead of bringing me back around it only serves to paralyze me, helpless and uncaring while my brain tears me apart without interruption. Outwardly I look like I'm having a great sleep most of the time. This time I managed to fight it so hard I almost strangled him in the process.

A momentary shout of surprise, a gentle but firm effort to quell my panic and we got all the way through an icy cold breakfast out in the gazebo (twelve degrees and he refused to turn on the heat. There will be no elaborate comforts for you today, freak, I'm sure was his reasoning.)before he asked for an explanation.

Sleep paralysis, I lie. Fuck you, then, if you're going to take it personally. I'm trying to save our lives here.

What's the dream about?

Jacob comes back.

How?

He wasn't dead. He went to a monastery.

Sounds like a film.

Yup.

And?

He wants absolution, wants to pick up where we left off.

Isn't this your most fervent hope?

I smile tightly. God, you can be such an asshole. I woke up with my arms around you because I wanted to be with you and he was trying to pull me away.

That's not going to happen in a million years. You're seeing him everywhere. You conjure him in the clouds, in the water, in your dreams.

I'm afraid he's going to show up and ruin what we just got back.

Wow. And for the second time in less than a week I've driven a grown man to tears. Usually they're immune to my words, my thoughts. But I've got everything freshly sharpened for fall at last and it's cutting deeper than expected.

I'll never forget that you just said that. If nothing else, I know now that none of this was in vain.

Who said it was?

Caleb, among others.

Well, they're wrong. As much as I wish for Jacob to come back, it's so he can pay for what he did like a man instead of a coward, living in the fringes of my peripheral vision and my dreams.

User 34739, your battery is low.

We won't just fall away
We weren't just born to fade
Our stories are past the horizon
We're chasing the sun till we find them

I watch him sleep. God, he's trying so hard right now. I should be grateful. I should be thrilled. I should be less suspicious. The extreme stress of coming home, suddenly wondering if maybe it truly was a terrible idea to have Sam and Caleb living in the same house led to a mess yesterday and the only way out of it was the cold shock of the sea. I was perfectly safe. Caleb's a great swimmer. They can see it coming a mile away and I never throw myself in unless under heavy supervision. It's enough to reset my brain, or set it back, as it did yesterday, failing to do it's job, floating my ghosts to the surface, looming those monsters in closer than ever, thanks and I was relieved to be out.

They've been fine. If anything they are giving each other healthy space but also notes of curiosity float between them as they are the final relationship within the Collective to form,  Sam uninterested in forging a friendship with someone who flies in the face of his deep faith, Caleb loathe to extend the barest of acknowledgement to someone he considers a credible threat.

But yet here we are. They cooked dinner together last night, the electric snap of interest between them palpable and elastic. I didn't expect that. I mean, maybe it was a show but Sam rarely engages in effort for effort's sake and needs meaningful reasons for anything. Caleb is surprised to discover Sam is engaging, warm and concerned without being overbearing or intrusive. Sam is enigmatic and fascinating. He's a little like Lochlan save for the energetic intensity and quiet confidence. He's more than a little cute. And they can fall in love over the coming Autumn while I fall apart, I guess, and it will be fun to watch.

But he turned his attention back to me after dark, when Sam and the others drifted to their corners, new and familiar. He took my hands in his, kissed my palms and then held to his face so I would pay attention.

I meant what I said. 

I nod.

Will you help me fix this. I started it and I'm holding myself accountable. Will you help me to help you? 

I nod again. I'm trying not to cry. If I say a single word it's going to happen. He is already.

No more jumping in the sea?

I can't promise-

You have to, Bridget. No more of that. No more waiting until it's so bad you don't have a choice. I want you to come to me before it gets to that point. Do you understand?

I don't always have a warning, Cale-

Jesus Christ.