“Listen, I just wanted to come by to say I’m really sorry about last night, Blake. Things have been a little stressful over the last couple of days and I’m dealing with a lot right now. And seeing you the other day…well, it just threw me. Then you helped me and… honestly, it’s been a long time since someone has helped me like that. Except Harlow of course, but that’s kind of her main job right now.” I laugh softly at my joke. Blake does not. So I keep going.
“Blake, you have to understand that it’s hard for me to accept help sometimes. It isn’t easy for me to admit that I need help, but I needed help that day. So, not only were you incredibly blessed with having the opportunity to help me that morning, I’m sure ruining whatever plans you had for the day, but you were also the victim of my misdirected anger last night simply because of the help you provided.”
How many times did I just say help? One hundred?
“I guess you can say that I have issues with help in general,” I joke to him. I decide to just stop talking. I know I’m completely rambling; I do that when I’m nervous.
I make sure I look him directly in the eyes during my explanation. Unfortunately, there is absolutely, positively, no response that I can read on his face.
Um, I guess my apologies need upgrading too? I decide to give it one more try.
“I’m sorry Blake. Do you think we can just start over? Forget the last couple of days?”
I continue to watch his expression. He lets out a deep sigh.
“Listen, Alex. You need to know something. I didn’t come here for you. I didn’t come back to help you, or save you, or take care of you. I feel that I need to say that. I didn’t come here to be your hero or to carry you away on a white horse. I came here solely to help my family.”
Sarcasm duly noted.
“My father’s retiring and I need to decide what I’m going to do with his business. I might take it over, I might sell it, I haven’t decided yet. Regardless, my coming back had nothing to do with you. ”
Jeez– Alright already.
“Okay, Blake, I get it!”
Using the only working hand I’ve got left, I immediately push myself up to get off the stool, because for some reason, those words take all of the air out of my lungs. When I start to stand, he holds me in place and forces me to look at him. His face softens.
“No, you don’t get it, Alex. I need you to know that so you can get over whatever dumb ass, anger projecting issues you have going on regarding being helped, saved, or taken care of in any way. I don’t plan on doing any of that for you.” He smiles and continues. “So that means we should be able to be friends, right? If I promise not to help you?”
Choking back a laugh he adds, “But you do realize how backwards that actually is, don’t you?”
It’s impossible to describe, but the relief I feel at that moment is like one thousand pounds have been removed from my shoulders. I don’t know if it has to do with no longer feeling the pressure of any possible expectations from Blake, or if it’s the fact that I know that with that one smile, he’s forgiving me for my treatment of him all these years. But whatever the reason, I can physically feel the release of pressure from my body.
Friends. Yeah, I can do friends I think.
Friends would be really nice actually.
Giving him a gigantic smile, I reach out and hug him, throwing my good hand behind his neck. “I would really like that, Blake.”
He grins back at me while releasing me from our embrace. Then he looks directly at my hand.
“Yeah, well, don’t come running to me when you figure out your fingers won’t be working right for the next couple of weeks.” He chuckles underneath his breath before continuing. “Oh, and by the way…It’s gonna be a bitch driving yourself to the emergency room to see if they’re broken. I would help you but…”
Blake shrugs his shoulder and throws a piece of ice in his mouth as he saunters out of the kitchen.
Well…
Shit.
“Stop laughing, Blake. It’s not funny,” I whine. “My hand hurts and your gloating is not helping.”
I glance over at Blake. I can tell he’s trying to keep from smiling and can’t seem to control it any longer. He starts laughing…again.
“Blake, seriously. Stop it. You’re starting to make me really mad. I’m in a lot of pain.” I huff and roll my eyes. “God, you’re ridiculous.”
Blake starts gasping for air. Ridiculous.
“I can’t help it Alex. That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re so stubborn. You should’ve seen your face…it was hilarious.” He stops to catch his breath. “It was all scrunched up in determination, like the little engine that could.” The mental picture must have sealed the deal because now he’s practically doubled over, grabbing his stomach and trying to catch his breath through the laughter.
“Oh my God, did you just snort? How freakin’ old are you?”
I did attempt to drive, but it was pretty much impossible. I didn’t feel that shifting with my wrist was in the best interests of the driving community…I have to be the only person in the world who has a Suburban with a manual transmission. (Great idea, Derek) So, I had to break down and ask Blake to drive me. In my car. After my huge anti-help speech. Typical.
Now, as I watch Blake in his fit of laughter, I’m seriously regretting my decision. I should have just walked my ass to the hospital.
“I’m glad that you find it so hilarious that your overreaction to me, wanting to have a simple conversation with you, ended up with my broken fingers. I find nothing funny about it; my hand is throbbing right now!” I reposition the ice pack on my hand.
I guess my comment strikes a nerve, because his outburst comes to an abrupt halt.
He looks at me with apologetic eyes. “Alex, I said I was sorry. I feel really bad. I would never hurt you on purpose; I hope that you know that.”
Damn those eyes.
“Yeah, well stop laughing or I’ll get out and walk. Seriously.” He once again focuses on the road.
I eye him for a couple of seconds. Once I’m sure he’s finished his juvenile antics, I pull out my phone to make the necessary calls. First, I call Nancy to let her know that I hurt my hand and that I’m currently on my way to the ER, with one Blake Morgan. She wisely chooses to make no comment.
She’s due to go out of town with John to a realty conference, so my next call is to Harlow. I ask if she can pick up the girls from Nancy’s for me since they need to get on the road. I have a feeling I’ll get an earful later. I think the possibility of having a broken hand trumps her sarcasm at the moment.
She in turn lets me know that she’s going to have to bring the girls to the hospital because she’s going out of town with Trace to help him move some more of his stuff back to Waco. At this point, I choose to leave any of my sarcastic commentary out of the conversation as well, knowing that she will definitely be getting an earful later.
So no Harlow or Nancy to help this weekend. Great, of all the weekends…
We finally get to the hospital, the rest of the trip laughter free. After getting all the paperwork from the registration desk, I quickly find out that writing with my left hand is almost as impossible as trying to drive my car. I scowl at Blake. He’s still trying not to laugh, but this time it’s at my illegible handwriting.
“Alex, give me the paperwork. I can fill it out for you. Just tell me what to write.”