Page 25 of Because of Blake

I nod and walk away, focusing on the snow crunching under my feet instead of my pounding heart. I’m not sure what’s going on. I should be relieved we got through an entire interaction without him trying to ask me out, but I’m not. My chest is tight, and my legs feel so heavy it’s like they’re pulling me deeper into the snow with each step. I think I’m actually disappointed he didn’t say anything, and that scares the shit out of me.

Chapter nine

“Bye.Thankyouagainfor all your help,” I say to my handyman as I see him out the door. This makes the fourth trip from him in the last three weeks. I’m beginning to think my house is a lemon.

With each call to him comes a pit of guilt in my stomach as I remember Blake’s offer to help with repairs. He even repeated it at Joanna’s party. I made myself clear on why I wouldn’t ask him, and I’m sticking to it.

It’s not just the guilt of not accepting his offer of handy work, it’s also the bizarre disappointment I felt when he didn’t ask me out in February. Ever since that day, the few quick interactions we’ve had are rife with tension. All from me. He’s always so cool and calm while I’m reeling inside over my decision to reject him. I’m worried it’ll get the best of me, and I’ll say yes if he asks again, so I avoid Blake.

The weather helps in my efforts.

Spring in Colorado is a fickle thing. It seems like our springtime yields more snow than our winters, but it’s mixed with wind and rain and temperatures yo-yoing unpredictably. In some respect, it’s nice because it offers the opportunity to get out of the house without having to bundle up completely, but some days can be so miserable, they leave you wishing it was still January.

But as the middle of March approaches, the warming weather coaxes me outside, which increases my chances of running into Blake. As a result, I opt to read on the back deck instead of the front porch, and only check my mail when I’m coming home from work so I can pull up to the mailbox and make a quick getaway. I even limit pruning my flowerbeds to mid-day Tuesdays and Fridays so I don’t chance Blake walking Oscar in the afternoon.

It’s exhausting.

The kids’ spring break comes in the middle of March, and we kick it off by having dinner with Michelle for my birthday. Of course, it’s at Michelle’s and my favorite Mexican restaurant, though today I skip the margaritas.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” Michelle lifts her margarita to her lips, moaning in delight as she takes a sip.

“I’m sure.” I glance at my kids sitting in the booth with us. Dylan next to me and Sydney across from me with Michelle. “Besides, I’ve spent one too many birthdays regretting my decisions.”

Michelle laughs. “I guess that’s what happens when you share your birthday with St. Patrick!”

Bile creeps up my throat as I recall the taste of beer mixed with green food coloring. “He can have it.”

“Hey, kids. Are you guys done with your food?” Michelle asks, picking up her purse. They nod and she hands each of them a five-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go hit up the arcade games while we finish and pay?”

My children’s eyes light up as they take her money. Though my heart thumps in my chest, I nod in permission for them to go. I can see the arcade room from our booth and it’s nowhere near the front door. “Syd, keep an eye on Dylan!” I call out at the last second before settling back into the booth.

“So, Mags. How’s it going?”

I lift my gaze to meet Michelle’s, seeing the curious concern in her eyes. “I’m fine, Michelle.”

“Okay, but… And don’t be mad I’m saying this, but you always say you’re fine. April is almost here.”

I sigh at the heaviness in her tone. April is one of the harder months of the year. Particularly, the 24th.

Charlie’s birthday is April 24th, and it’s heartbreakingnotcelebrating it. My therapist told me to do something small like have Charlie’s favorite dinner, or dessert, or watch his favorite movie,School of Rock,but those things made me feel guilty he wasn’t here to enjoy them, so I stopped.

The lead up to Charlie’s birthday creates this swirling tempest of emotions, which ruins my ability to function around people, so I cut myself off. Aside from my children and the occasional call from Michelle, I’m a hermit. I even work from home.

This year has been different, though. I haven’t felt the crushing weight of anxiety building. “No, I mean it. I’m fine. Things are different now, with the new house and working part-time. I think I’m going to be okay.”

“You think? What does your therapist say?”

I purse my lips, flicking my gaze away from Michelle’s. “I actually haven’t seen her since before we moved.”

“What!? Why?”

“Things happened. I was so busy with the move and getting the kids settled into school that it slipped my mind. I’ve thought about it a couple times, but haven’t felt the need to see her. I’ve been doing better.”

Michelle stares at me, disbelief saturating her features.

“What? Iamdoing better.”

Her eyes flick between the two of mine while she reads me. If there’s one person who knows me better than I know myself, it’s Michelle. She huffs a breath and throws her hands up. “Okay, if you say so.” She leans over the table, taking my hands in hers. “But please call me if something goes south. You know I’ll never judge you.”