195.)

Blossom was not the most astute of people when it came to the feelings of others, like the situation with Becky. But when it came to Amy, even Blossom could tell something had been up. And when she'd talked to Becky about it, Becky had told her "well, that's classic Pisces behavior, so it's probably her birthday soon and she's bummed out."

Blossom didn't really subscribe to a lot of that stuff, although she did have ample clothing items with her own zodiac symbol as a motif, but that was just fashion. Either way, whatever the reason was, Blossom was going to do her damnedest to fix it. Or at least try. So when Amy came out of Stephanie's office, Blossom asked:

"So how was therapy?"

"Fine," I said, looking down at my feet. The sun had set, but the sky was still a warm inky blue. Spring was coming. Even the snow had started to melt.

"I'm glad. And how are you feeling?"

Usually, Blossom hated questions like that; they were too open-ended and it felt like a lot of the time the people asking didn't really care. But Blossom cared.

"Um... fine..."

I wasn't feeling fine, but I didn't know how to bring it up. Every time I tried, I felt like my throat was going to close up. I picked at my fingers for the rest of the drive to the beach house, and conversation didn't get much better.

Once we were inside, we didn't even need to get the blanket off Blossom's bed. It wasn't warm, but warm enough to stay in our coats while we waited for the heat to do its job. Or, my coat I guess. Blossom didn't have a coat.

"Did you have anything in mind for the weekend, cupcake? I've got some movie ideas, or some shows we could watch?"

Bless her heart, Blossom was trying to make things feel normal.

"Although... I do notice that something is the matter. It's cool if you don't want to talk about it, but I'd love to be looped in."

I didn't answer her. Because I wanted to answer her. If I didn't want to, I would have said "I'm fine" again. I just... couldn't get the words out. I didn't know how to talk about this. And every time I started to think that maybe I could, I wondered why I was so upset in the first place. Why this even mattered. It didn't. And if it didn't, there wasn't anything to talk about.

The right answer, objectively, was to get over it. Birthdays happen. They don't mean anything. So just stop being upset. Just be happy. Just be normal!

"So I have noticed that you haven't told me that you're fine, or that there's nothing wrong," Blossom deduced. "And I know that's a reflex for you sometimes, so I want to say that I'm proud of you."

Great, now she was congratulating me for fucking up in a better way than I usually fucked up. Talk about a participation trophy. I sat down on the couch and stared at the TV, which was off.

Just. Be. Normal. Why is that so damn hard?

"Okayyy."

Blossom was feeling a little discouraged, but she was still doing her best. Even if her best sucked. So Blossom sat down on the sofa next to Amy and she kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you."

It took me an hour. An actual hour. An hour of sitting there and yelling at myself and thinking and trying to find a different way out of things. An hour of exhausting catastrophizing and self-critique. An hour of trying to solve all the mistakes I'd ever made and be someone who is better than me. A version of me in a different universe who isn't the absolute worst. Who isn't scared to talk to her girlfriend, or who isn't upset about something as stupid as a birthday. It took me an hour.

But hey, only an hour.

"I'm sorry," I said. Blossom had been sitting next to me on the sofa for the better part of an hour, playing on her phone. I couldn't even look up at her. I didn't want to cry.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I laughed, one single laugh, because I felt so pathetic that all I could do was laugh at myself.

"You don't need to have all the answers, cupcake," Blossom said calmly. "We can figure out anything. So what's wrong with you? Let's figure it out. Becky thinks you're a Pisces and it's birthday grumpiness, but you know how Becky is, always thinking she has everything figured out."

Oh, the serendipity. Or, whatever the shitty version of serendipity is. But at least I had an out. At least I didn't have to say it.

"I don't like getting older," I sulked, holding my head in my hands. "But it's... particularly bad this time. Because... because it's a bad year for it. And because... I have you. And I care what you think..."

Blossom was surprised that Becky had been right. Maybe she shouldn't have been so caught off guard – her best friend was pretty insightful – but really, what were the chances? Blossom quickly pivoted into problem-solving mode.

"Well, based on context clues, I'm assuming this is your 21st birthday, and you're kind of freaking about that?"

"I guess," I sulked. I couldn't look up from my feet. I was still wearing my coat and my winter shoes and I was hot and uncomfortable. But I felt like I deserved to be hot and uncomfortable. Why? Because I was upset? No, because I was upset for something stupid and let it interfere with my relationship and caused Blossom a lot of pain. Because I couldn't talk to her like I promised I would.

"Well, you know I'm twenty-one, right? Would I look any different to you if I was twenty instead?"

"Yeah, yeah... I went through all this with Stephanie already." I knew it was stupid. Half the reason I was so upset was because of how stupid it was! And how upset something so stupid was making me! I knew Blossom wasn't going to see me any differently, but... I still felt awful.

"And what did you figure out with Stephanie? She's pretty clever, from what I hear." Blossom was trying not to retread the same territory.

"I know it doesn't make any sense... I know you aren't going to think about me differently... and I'm still so upset about it. Like, I shouldn't be this upset. It's so fucking stupid." I picked at the bandages on my fingers and my eyes glossed over with tears. I didn't want to cry. That was half the reason I was so angry at myself, because if I stopped being angry I'd cry instead.

"You know that feelings and logic are opposite ends of the spectrum, right? Like we have so many fricking proverbs and adages and nonsense about feelings not having to make sense. And in case you need the reminder: feelings don't have to make sense, cupcake. Like you know the background behind my circles - does that make sense? Should I be upset over it?"

Ironically, it was through logic that Blossom was trying to break down this feeling.

"I know you're right," I sulked. That just made it worse. I knew all the right answers, and none of it helped. I even knew that knowing didn't mean helping, and that emotions sometimes just had to be felt, but I still hated it. Rather than allow myself any grace, I wanted to just be in a world where my rationalizations could mute my emotions. I wanted to will that world into existence, and because I couldn't, that was just another thing I failed at. What a fucked up cycle.

"My being right doesn't make you feel any better," Blossom said, "and I'd rather you feel better than me be right."

Blossom hoped the balance of that statement would be insightful, but it didn't seem to help at all. All Blossom wanted to do was help.

"What can I do, cupcake? I can just refer to you as being twenty from now on?"

"Ha... I don't think that would help." It would just be a reminder that I wasn't actually twenty. I wiped my eyes before I started crying and let out a deep sigh. "I don't think there's anything you can do to help. I think this is just something I have to get through."

"Well then I'll stay with you, and we can binge some shows together. By the time your birthday is over, you'll be exhausted, but you can go to bed with me and that'll be that."

"I guess." It was the best idea I had. That was another reason I didn't want to tell Blossom: she couldn't actually help. It would just make her life harder. It would make her worry more. Did I make a mistake?

Blossom wished she could do more, but even if she had the emotional acumen of someone like Stephanie, she still didn't think she could just plain solve the issue. After all, it didn't seem that Stephanie had, either.

"Sooo... is it today?"

"Next week," I mumbled. "Friday." Which I hope explained why I had been so skittish around her; that was one of the days we usually spent together. Or, the evening I guess.

"Well, that's brilliant. We will be together at the beach house, and we can just do whatever it takes to get your mind off the topic." Always the optimist.

"I don't think it's going to be that easy," I said. But at least Blossom was trying. And all I was doing was making it harder on her. So I faked a smile and shrugged.

"But we can try, I guess." It was the best I could offer.

Despite Blossom's optimism, I wasn't feeling any better. But at least the static between Blossom and I seemed to have cleared. Just knowing what was wrong, knowing it wasn't her fault, brought Blossom a lot of comfort. And that meant she could just be normal and act like herself, which made it easier to pretend like I was okay.

We watched more of The Good Place. We didn't even talk about baby stuff. Then, when it was time to go to bed, we both went up to the guest room together. Sleeping in the same bed was expected now. Ordinary. On nights like this, when I wanted to be alone, it was a little irritating. But on nights like this, when I probably shouldn't be alone, it was a blessing.

Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep. I stayed in bed for as long as I could, but eventually I ran out of patience. I went downstairs and scrolled through websites on my phone to find something to bake. Something easy. Something I didn't have to pay attention to. I didn't want to practice mindfulness; I wanted everything around me to just go away. I wanted to stop existing for a while.

So I made biscuits.