Friday, March 3rd

200.)

At first, my birthday wasn't so bad. My mom woke me up with birthday pancakes before she went to work, which was just normal pancakes with sprinkles in them. But I love pancakes and I love sprinkles, so it worked out. After that, I watched TV in the living room. Not going to school on a Friday was a little weird, but I emailed my professors and told them I had a family thing. I never missed school, so they didn't care.

Since my mom was gone and I had the house to myself, I spent most of the morning brainstorming stuff for Academy M. I wrote a few paragraphs, but nothing substantial. Then I posted the chapters online that I'd finished at Blossom's the week before. My editor finally got back to me with some improvements.

Around noon, I was faltering. There was a buzz in the back of my head, distracting me from distracting myself. Just that nagging little voice: I'm an adult now. Ugh, I needed a drink...

Around noon, Blossom texted me.

Blossom🌸 >> Did you change your appointment time for therapy?

>> I did not.

>> That is okay. I did. 🙂

>> I will pick you up in an hour.

Ugh, she knew me too well...

An hour was plenty of time to ruminate on turning twenty-one. I didn't know what Blossom's game plan was with this whole baby thing, but I was feeling further away from littleness than I'd felt in a long time. Maybe since my Shame Days™️ when I thought I was a normal person with normal interests. Like, maybe I just wanted a pacifier because of maternal instincts or something. I had every intention of calling off this baby thing Blossom talked about before she even got it started.

When Blossom arrived at Amy's house, she was dressed the same as she always was: beautifully, but not particularly suited for any kind of chilly weather. One had to wonder if Blossom Brixley ever didn't look hot, because Amy had seen her straight out of bed plenty of times and she still looked good. Maybe it was a Mrs. Maisel situation: maybe she got up out of bed early, got herself all prettied up, and then got back into bed and pretended to be asleep so her partner would always see her at her best even when she was first "waking up".

Or maybe she was just Blossom Brixley.

Ordinarily, Blossom put the car in park in Amy's driveway and sent her a message, but today called for the quite-literal kid-gloves approach. So she turned off her car, got out, and came up to the house door to knock with a couple of cheerful sounding raps.

I answered the door to an early-afternoon high-energy Blossom. Which was just about the last kind of Blossom I wanted to deal with right now. All week, she had been trying to keep in touch and I kept dodging out of conversations. I always replied to her - which was hard enough - but I felt guilty that my replies were so short and unengaged. The least I could do - the literal least! - was to put on a fake smile and hope I didn't drag her down with me.

"Ready to go?" Blossom asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said, with one of those aforementioned fake smiles.

Ten minutes or so into our car ride, Blossom started talking about "our plans".

"I have some ideas for today, nothing too over the top."

"Maybe we just take it easy," I sighed. "I don't know if little space is really a possibility right now."

"Nuh uh, nope. It's like the lottery, cupcake; you can be a million percent sure you won't win, but you have an absolute zero chance of winning if you don't try at all. So we're going to try, and – just like the lottery – we're going to have realistic expectations that we probably won't win. But we're gonna try anyway."

Blossom was using a more "talking with Becky" tone of voice, which meant she was acting self-assured and hiding her vulnerable side. It actually felt a little weird talking about ageplay stuff.

"That is terrible advice," I said flatly. "You're just wasting your money if you keep buying lottery tickets." Just like how Blossom was wasting her time trying to play baby, today of all days. I didn't want her to be discouraged when it didn't work out.

"I have a good feeling about today's numbers," Blossom winked.

"I really don't think it's a good idea," I said again, but Blossom's confidence was overwhelming. Entirely unsupported by fact or precedence, but overwhelming all the same. And I didn't have the energy to win this argument.

"Listen babes, I'm an engineer: I know the probabilities and I know how math works. And I also know that 0.000000001% is never going to be 0%, so sometimes you just gotta have a bit of fun with it. Anyway, even if we don't get everything we want out of this weekend, I get to spend it with you. You're a sure thing, baby girl."

There was an endless well of confidence inside Blossom Brixley, sometimes deserved and undeserved, but it formed a sea that was vast and immeasurable. It was probably why so many people were attracted to her.

"I hope you're not wrong," I sulked. More than anything, more than my own happiness, I wanted Blossom not to regret spending time with me. I wanted to not cause too many problems for her. And this weekend felt like it was a recipe for disaster.