Friday, November 18th

63.)

I didn't sleep. I didn't write Academy Works, in part because I couldn't stop thinking about seeing Blossom later today, and in part because I couldn't focus. I did, however, make a damn good croquembouche after sixteen hours of baking and an early-morning trip to the grocery store.

I was deliriously watching TV when Blossom texted me. I was on episode 3 of Season 2 of Stranger Things, and I didn't know anything that was going on. I couldn't keep up with a single conversation that lasted more than two minutes. All those kids felt like daydreams.

Blossom 🌸 >> Be there in 5

It would probably take me longer than five minutes to pack up my life and flee the country... so I resigned myself to nihilism. It didn't matter how this conversation went.

Blossom pulled up in her car shortly thereafter, and tooted her horn so that her arrival was well known and announced. She was dressed down today, in an oversized hoodie and some too-short shorts, and mostly in monochromatic colors. This was her "serious talk" ensemble.

Not that she expected Amy to know that.

I pulled on my coat to go outside. I don't think I brushed my hair. My glasses fogged up in the late November chill, but they cleared up by the time I got to her car. I climbed in the passenger seat and shut the door behind me. It was warm here.

"Hey," I said, faking a smile. I could barely look at her. I didn't want to do this in person... I just wanted to get it over with and go back to not living my life.

"Hi there, cupcake."

It was less easy to be objective and curt when in person, and that was another reason why Blossom insisted on doing it this way - she was mitigating her own cruelty.

"So..." I led, filling the unbearable silence, "what did you wanna talk about?" We both already knew. Last weekend was a disaster. I freaked out, ran into the fucking ocean, and got sick. She took care of me. She drove us to the store. She did everything. This partnership wasn't beneficial for her. I didn't have a good return on investment.

"I'm mad at you."

Four simple words that could end worlds. Blossom wasn't ignorant to that fact. She wasn't blind to the notion that she wielded the fate of her friendship with this girl, in her hands. That maybe she wielded the fate of Academy Works itself. But this was an uncomfortable thing that had to be done.

"Yeah, that's fair..." I sunk down in my seat. She had every right to be mad at me. "Sorry... I know I fucked up. I do that... it doesn't really get better..." I felt tears in my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but I was never good at emotions like this...

"Amanda."

Blossom still wasn't sure how she should approach this; gentle, like with a child? Direct, like with a friend? Stern, like with a cheer squad member who needed her ass kicked?

Blossom wasn't certain, but she would do her best.

"I don't think you and I are talking about the same fucking up here."

Great, I did even more things wrong. To think, I could obsess for a week over my mistakes and still not catch them all. I rubbed my thumb over the fingers on my other hand.

Blossom turned in the driver's seat so she was facing sidewards, and crossed her legs underneath her so she could more directly look at Amanda.

"I'm mad at you because when our weekend didn't turn out the way we expected it to, instead of celebrating the time we got to spend together, or that we had some great cuddles, or whatever, you basically didn't speak to me the whole way home and you've been avoiding me all week. And now you're trying to cancel on me. Listen, babes, if you don't wanna hang out, that's fine. But I've read enough of your writing, and I've spent enough of my time with you, to know that this is probably some bullshit 'oh it's my fault I got sick, I ruined the weekend, I should cut and run' thing and you'll notice there's like four I's there and no 'well what does Blossom think?'s in there. And that sucks."

I didn't know what to say. She was right. I was just selfish. I only thought about myself. I didn't even think about her. I didn't talk to her on the way home, and it upset her. I avoided her, and it upset her. I should have just told her not to see me anymore, but I didn't want to. I was scared. I've always been such a coward...

My head hurt. My chest hurt. Tears appeared on my cheeks but I wiped them away before it could really count as crying.

"Sorry..." I muttered, because I was. Because all I was good at was writing diaper porn and saying sorry.

"Listen, I know I'm not the world's best person. I know I made your life a living hell for years. I know that I only even met you because I'm a hedonistic pervert. I know I have my spheres of isolation. I know I'm not perfect, not even close. But I can know all those things and still see the value I have to give to people."

Had she been clear enough?

"You're not perfect either, Amy, and that's literally all you focus on. Every new reason you can take to hate yourself, to collect up in a mental binder like Pokémon cards that are guaranteed to give you a papercut every single time you handle them. And I don't want to be another reason you file away to hate yourself."

Deep breath.

"I want you to see the value you bring to me. The worth you have to others. The way you enrich people's lives. You can accept your flaws, god knows I accept mine, and still know how much you have to offer."

"I can write," I said. My words sounded lost and empty. I knew I had good things. Two good things: writing and apologizing. I knew my strengths. "I'll keep sending you Academy Works, even if we aren't friends." It was the least I could do for wasting her time.

"...even if we aren't..."

Blossom blinked with enough conviction for the sound of her eyelashes hitting each other to almost be audible, and then shook her head, dumbfounded.

"We are friends, and we're going to stay friends, unless or until you or I don't want to be. But don't you dare try to end a friendship with me because you think you're doing me a favor by doing so. Don't you dare think you get to have that agency over me, Amy."

I wasn't accustomed to being yelled at. My mom got quiet-angry. Lin didn't really get angry, though she could be loud sometimes. But Blossom actually yelled at me. I felt tears slip down my cheeks.

"Sorry... I'm sorry..." I wasn't trying to do the wrong thing, I really wasn't. I just didn't know what she wanted. I was apologizing! I knew I messed up and I wanted her to forgive me. But I knew I didn't deserve it. Why did I keep doing everything wrong?

Blossom was no stranger to making girls cry; she'd done it a lot out of malice in high school, and she'd also done it a lot out of necessity when she was on the squad, and now even more with the sorority. The thing was... Blossom didn't know how to make someone stop crying.

"I forgive you, cupcake. And that has to mean something, that has to mean you can forgive yourself too. You never have to forgive me or anyone else for a damn thing. But if I forgive you, you gotta forgive you."

I nodded my head. I wasn't sure that I fully understood or even that I really heard what she said, but I nodded because I didn't want to fight with her. Whatever she wanted... that was fine.

But I was crying so hard that I couldn't hide it. My tears were faster than my hands and my heart was pounding in my ears. I felt so stupid and so sick.

"I gotta go..." I mumbled, trying to think of an excuse. I didn't have one. My mom wasn't home yet. Lin didn't need me until tomorrow. But I was so tired and so nauseous and I couldn't stop crying. And I didn't want to be around Blossom because it might make me feel better.

I fumbled for the door handle of her car and stumbled out into the cold. I didn't want her to think I was mad at her, but I just couldn't stay. How was I supposed to say that? I couldn't say that. I could barely speak. So I gave a final two words that I hoped would convey everything I wanted them to convey.

"Thank you."

Then I shut the car door and hurried inside before the cold could catch up with me.

To be honest, Blossom didn't know where to go from there. She continued sitting - sideways, cross legged - in the driver's seat long after Amy went inside. She didn't know if she should follow her or if she should let this go to the natural course of time. She didn't know if she should send a text, or call, or if she should just go home.

In the end, with a deep sigh, she decided on the latter.

Had that helped at all?