Saturday, November 12th

57.)

When Blossom woke up, it was because sunlight was filling the room. It shined awkwardly across a far wall, like it didn't know which way to come in through the window. More importantly, Amanda wasn't in bed.

Blossom kicked off the blankets and got up, crinkling as she walked. She rubbed her eyes and checked the nightstand: her glasses were still there. Then Blossom poked her head in the bathroom, but there was no Amy. So she must have been baking.

With a sigh, Blossom followed the hall to the top of the stairs. The first thing she noticed, actually, was the temperature. It was cold. The second thing she noticed was the kitchen, which seemed spotless. The third thing she noticed was the girl on the couch, crumpled up and asleep with two blankets pulled over her from the back of the sofa.

Blossom thought that was all there was to notice, but as she made her way down the stairs, she realized that wasn't the case. The fourth thing she noticed was the doorwall onto the deck, which was half-opened. The fifth thing she noticed was the speckles of light on the kitchen floor, shimmering in ways it shouldn't. Blossom passed by those speckles and closed the doorwall. It was water. That was when she noticed the sixth thing: sand.

Blossom went over to Amanda with concern to find a few more things she didn't expect. The seventh: the couch was wet. That would have been a fun thing to tease Amanda about had it not been for the eighth thing she noticed: Amanda was wet too. Her hair was almost dry, but it was matted up in the worst way, and her pajamas were wrinkled and stiff with water. The ninth thing Blossom noticed were Amanda's fingers, which seemed red and raw at the tips.

But the tenth, and maybe most important thing Blossom noticed, was something she had noticed already. It was something she needed to remind herself in all the confusion. Amanda was asleep.

Blossom was quiet as she took care things; she closed the doorwall, then she used some paper towels to mop up the sand and the seawater. She had burning questions she wanted to ask, but certainly not at the risk of rousing the sleeping girl. She'd just have to be patient with her, and deal with things when the time came. And to be honest? Blossom was just pleased to see her sleeping.

The scene they had planned for today was predicated on going shopping, and there was no hurry for that. Blossom sat down silently on the floor by the sofa, and plucked her phone out to order breakfast.

In the meantime, she watched Amy sleep like the angel she was.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't sure where I was. I felt cold and hot and I kicked the blankets off so quickly that I almost kicked Blossom right in the head.

"Woah, watch it there," she teased.

"Sorry..." I muttered, sitting up in place and immediately regretting it. The room smelled like maple syrup and sugar. My stomach churned, with equal parts eagerness and displeasure.

"There's French toast in the fridge; I can heat it up for you," Blossom offered - she'd honestly only just put it away. Amy still looked disorientated, her eyes both wide with confusion, and slightly hooded with exhaustion.

"I didn't wanna leave you sleeping on the wet sofa, but I also didn't wanna wake you up. I hope I made the right choice, cupcake."

"Wet...?" I looked down at the sofa, like there was a punchline or something. I wet the sofa, so now I had to be put back into diapers. She couldn't trust me on her furniture without them, obviously. But I noticed my clothes first. They were lightly damp, just enough to be cold and uncomfortable. Then I remembered.

"Oh... ugh..." I rubbed my eyes with my palms and tried to forget again. How fucking stupid could I be?

"Not the kind of 'waking up wet' where your hot high school bully puts you back in diapers, sadly. I'm excited to hear about your midnight swim actually."

Blossom got to her feet. She rocked back once and sprung up like a wound up toy, rising with perfect balance.

"Nothing to say," I said, full of irritation. I was mad at myself, not at Blossom, but it sure didn't seem that way.

"Hey..." Blossom's tone shifted out of that playful energy she had in spades. "It's fine. I'm just worried."

I wanted to snap at her again, but she didn't do anything wrong. The worst thing I could do to myself at that moment was tell her the truth. If I put it all out there and she saw how stupid I was, then I would get what I deserved. So I took a deep breath.

"I couldn't sleep..."

"And if that's all you wanna tell me, cupcake, that's fine. You don't owe me anything, explanation or otherwise. I just..." Blossom found it difficult to be vulnerable, but decided it was worth the effort. "I worry about you."

I didn't want to talk about it. I think that was probably why I did. I wanted to do the thing I didn't want to do, because I deserved to be unhappy.

"I tried really hard... I did. And you were asleep, and I felt like... closed in, I guess? So I got up. You're kind of a heavy sleeper, thankfully."

"I get that a lot," Blossom laughed. "You aren't the first person to slip out of my room."

"I changed, because I think the diaper was making me more claustrophobic. It didn't help. So I came down here."

"To bake?" Blossom asked.

"Not really. Just to not wake you up. Actually, I was worried that if I started baking then I wouldn't stop. I'd be up all night, and I'd ruin our day, so... I didn't."

"That's good!" Blossom said, almost with pride in her voice.

That pride was what I was hoping for. I was hoping she would think I did a good thing, so when I proved that I didn't it would hurt that much more. So I shed the blanket off my shoulders and rolled my arms over so she could see the red, angry scratch marks on my skin. They weren't deep or bleeding, but they hurt like hell.

"Baking keeps my hands busy," I mumbled.

Blossom nodded solemnly, careful not to provide a hint of endorsement or condemnation. She'd had friends before that self-harmed when they were depressed or overwhelmed, and she learned a very powerful lesson in 10th grade about all of that.

Not that the lesson was of particular help at the moment.

"I'm sorry that I didn't wake up." Blossom sighed.

"I couldn't stop, so I just... I dunno what I was thinking." I rolled my eyes. Walking out into the ocean in the middle of the night wasn't the smartest thing to do any time of the year, but definitely not in November.

"It worked though," I said wearily. "And when I got back inside, I just..." Actually, I didn't remember getting back inside. I remembered making my way up the cold beach. I remembered shivering. That was about it. I must have fallen asleep the second I got in the door.

"Are you taking any medication, stuff I can help remind you to stay on top of? I take Xanax sometimes, when the school workload is too much or I'm otherwise feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes I get high instead, but weed can make anxiety worse."

"I did for a while," I sighed, picking at my fingers habitually and wincing at the pain. They were red and raw. "A bit in high school and again in college, but they made it too hard to concentrate. I was sleepy all the time, but I couldn't sleep any more than usual." Freshman year of college was a roller coaster.

"Have you tried anything else? There's a lot of different ones, and they all work differently and have different side-effects. I went through a few before I figured out Xanax was best for me, but you might need something different."

Blossom wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to stop Amy from picking at her hands, and in the end after a few seconds of internal discussion with herself, decided she wanted to try. So she took Amy's hands in hers.

"I dunno..." Blossom's hands felt warm, but in a nice way. I looked down at my chubby fingers in her gorgeous ones and felt a little dizzy. "I was gonna try a new one in the summer, but... I guess I just kept putting it off. I don't want to start something in the middle of the semester, you know? It's already really hard to keep up with everything."

"There's always going to be a reason why not; the tougher thing is finding a reason why. That's a chestnut from my Dad, so you can thank him for it one day. But it means like... you can always convince yourself not to do something, but convincing yourself to do something is harder. See your pretty hands, here? You write with them. What if something happened to them? Broken skin, an infection? Is that a reason that's good enough?"

"I usually have it under control," I sulked, trying to take my hands back from Blossom. She kept holding them anyway. "I usually just made some cinnamon buns or something."

"So why didn't you?" she asked.

"Because I would have kept going all night, and then I'd be sleepy today, and I'd ruin our plans." It sounded like a lot of "if"s, but they were mathed out in my head. If I'd started baking, I would have stayed up all night. If I'd stayed up all night, I would have been sleepy today. If I'd been sleepy today, I would have ruined our plans. It was a guarantee. Even though I felt stupid for taking a midnight swim in the ocean, at least I slept a decent amount.

"What about if you woke me up instead? Or maybe we put on some episodes of Bluey until you dozed off? There's a lot of ifs here, and you know that you can factor me into them, right cupcake?"

This was also out of the spectrum of comfort zone for Blossom, but she was willing to step into a circle of uncertainty for Amy.

"You were tired," I said flatly. It's not like I didn't suggest staying up and watching more Bluey. But if Blossom went to bed and I stayed up - as was always the inevitable - then the same thing would happen. I'd watch Bluey all night and never go to sleep. Then I'd be tired today. In a weird way, my swim actually worked. It did what it was supposed to do.

"That's true," Blossom admittedly, with a little guilty smile on her pretty face, "I just wish there was more that I could do for you. It feels like you've had to adapt to cope with this stuff all on your own, and maybe they work. Maybe they don't. But like... I'm here, for what that's worth."

"When it's convenient," I added, a little rudely. I immediately regretted it. She wasn't trying to make me feel bad for the way I did things, and I didn't want to make her feel bad either. So I quickly took it back.

"I'm sorry," I tried again. "I just mean... people are busy. My mom works a lot. You've got your spheres. Lin has Final Fantasy. I can't wrap my coping mechanisms around other people. But... I am happy you're here, when you're here. I really am. I don't mean to sound ungrateful."

Blossom was quiet for a moment before she pursed her lips and nodded her head, doing more active listening than she usually would have done. Amy's comment had stung more than Blossom would admit, but she probably deserved it.

"I'm not always available," Blossom said. "You're right. But if I can be available some of the time; that's time where your pretty hands don't risk getting hurt. And perfect is the enemy of good."

"I'm not great at relying on people," I admitted with a fake smile.

"I'm not great at being reliable," Blossom admitted with a fake smile.

"So..." So there wasn't much point in trying, I supposed?

"So we'll do our best," Blossom finished.

I don't know how a fake smile turns into a real one, because not much changes. But this smile seemed more real to me. I believed in her. Or maybe a part of me just wanted to believe in her.

"Sure. Why not."