Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Blakely
“I’m really happy to hear that, Blakely,” Dr. Mann said with a tilt of his lips. He glanced down at his watch, and I checked the clock over his shoulder.
My hour was up already, but it felt like I’d just sat down. For the first time in forever, the words flowed freely. And I’d attributed the change to our night at Murphy’s two weeks before. Reconnecting with my friends was exactly what I’d needed. I’d been talking to Amanda frequently, and even Reed texted me, offering me the option to work out at his gym whenever I wanted.
I’d finally felt like time hadn’t stagnated. And Dr. Mann took notice. He was impressed by my optimism and newfound outlook. He said my progress was admirable.
We both stood, and Dr. Mann led me to the door as he always did.
“Call me if you need anything,” he said, and I nodded. “And make sure you confirm your next few appointments with Megan as well.”
“I will. Thank you. I’ll see you next week.”
I did as he asked and stopped by Megan’s desk to confirm my next few weeks of appointments.
The parking lot of the business complex was crowded early in the evening on a Thursday, and when I slipped into my car, I texted Shelly.
Me: I’m heading to your house now. Are you sure I don’t need to bring anything?
It had taken a while, but we’d finally rescheduled our previous dinner. And she’d promised that she wouldn’t try to bamboozle me for a second time. Her words, not mine.
My phone vibrated a minute later.
Shelly: Yes! And don’t bring a damn thing.
I chuckled and turned on my favorite playlist for the drive over to her house.
When I pulled up twenty minutes later, I got a better look at it. It was dark the other night, and it was hard to decipher any of the details. But I liked it. Actually, I loved it.
It was a one-story, ranch-style home with a large, well-kept lawn. The exterior was brick that was painted a dark gray that was almost black. I parked at the curb and walked the walkway that was made up of large concrete slabs.
I stepped up onto the small porch and rang the bell. The dark wood front door swung open almost immediately, and Shelly’s smiling face greeted me.
“My girl!” she exclaimed and ushered me inside. She quickly closed the door behind me and squeezed my arm. “I’m so happy you’re here! And I promise, no bamboozling today.”
“Much appreciated,” I said, trying to match the excitement in her smile.
“Okay, let’s not stand in the entryway. I’ve already started prepping everything.” She waved me further into the house, and without the distraction of Devon, I had an opportunity to glance around the room.
The quaint entryway opened into the cozy living room. There was a light gray couch in the middle of the room facing a large TV on the opposite wall, and there were framed photos on every flat surface.
We turned right and continued past the living room into the kitchen. The tiled floors were dark and were a stark contrast to the lighter wood cabinets. Sunlight filtered in through the windows above the sink and around the small eating area to the left. I dropped my bag on one of the kitchen chairs.
“I planned on making veggie lasagna,” she said, stepping up to the counter and straightening the thick wood cutting board. “I’m guessing you’re still vegetarian?”
“You guessed right,” I confirmed. “What can I help with?”
She popped a mushroom in her mouth and shook her head. “Absolutely nothing…yet. I may have you assemble, but until then, take a seat. There’s a barstool right there. Do you want anything to drink?”
I found the stool behind me and scooted it closer to the counter. “No, thanks.”
“So, I want to hear about everything,” she said, and I stiffened. If Shelly wanted to know everything that happened, I would tell her, but rehashing those memories and that trauma would undoubtedly sour my mood for the rest of the day.
Amanda had also mentioned that Devon hadn’t told his mom about the part she unknowingly played. I respected his decision and didn’t want to step on his toes. I also really didn’t want to witness her reaction.
“Everything since you returned to Texas, honey. Devon filled me in on the rest,” she quickly clarified.
I nodded and relaxed a little.
“Where are you living now?” she asked.
“About fifteen minutes from here. I rented a little duplex townhome. It’s nothing special, but it’s starting to feel like home. I rescued a dog. His name is Tato.”
She chopped the rest of the zucchini and dumped it in a bowl sitting in front of her. “That’s good. And you’re working?”
I told her about my small yet growing web and graphic design business and about going to therapy twice a week. She eagerly asked question after question, and we covered all the topics I expected.
Then she hit me with, “Have you spoken to your parents since you left?” She gave me a side-long glance as I tried and miserably failed not to tense on the barstool. “I’m going to take that as a no?”
Shelly knew my relationship with my parents. After not going back to see them for several holidays and instead bouncing between my friends’ houses, she got the idea. She always welcomed me into their home, but not first without an explanation.
“No,” I finally said, spinning back and forth on the barstool. “They haven’t reached out, and neither have I.”
Shelly gave me that look only a mother could give. The one that said they were concerned with your decisions or your actions, but they weren’t going to outright voice it.
And the pressure of the look worked as it was supposed to. I offered up more information than I planned to. “They weren’t exactly happy with my decision to move back, so I didn’t expect them to check in.”
“Why weren’t they happy with it?”
She set the zucchini aside and got to work peeling and chopping the onion.
“In my mother’s words, it’s because ‘if you have another breakdown, we won’t be close enough to make sure it stays under the radar.’” I pitched my voice and did my best impression of my high-strung, conceited, and self-centered mother.
I choked down an unamused huff along with the hurt that undoubtedly creeped to the surface when I talked about them. To say my relationship with my parents was strained would be putting it lightly. A more apt description would be hostile and uncaring.
Shelly shook her head, and I could see all the words she was barely holding back written on her face. But I didn’t want to talk about my parents. They spoiled everything, and I wasn’t going to let even the thought of them spoil this.
“How long have you lived here, in this house?” I asked before Shelly could decide to ask any follow-up questions.
“Well,” she said, spinning to retrieve a handful of fresh herbs from the fridge. “Devon bought this place when I was still in Houston. He moved me out of my old house and into here. Then, when I was done with treatment, I moved in.”
“Wait, Devon bought you a house?”
She laughed and rinsed the herbs under the sink faucet. “Oh, no. Devon lives here, too. Technically, it’s his house.”
Two years ago, Devon had said something about the possibility of selling their childhood home, which was far too big and in need of too many improvements to be feasible any longer. It was a good idea for him, his mom, and his sister, but I still couldn’t believe he’d gone through with it.
“When I moved in, we argued so much about it,” Shelly added. Waving the knife at me, she continued. “That’s something the two of you have in common: you’re more stubborn than a damn bull.”
I tilted my head and shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.
“I didn’t want to move in. I thought getting a small place for myself was a better option. He’s in his thirties now, and he doesn’t need his mama hanging around. But he wouldn’t hear it. He gave me the main bedroom and everything.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said under my breath but not quiet enough to escape Shelly’s ears.
“Not at all,” she agreed with a deep breath. “Anyway, he lives above the garage now. He’s made quite a cozy little space for himself out there, too. ”
She again used the knife to motion to the backyard, and I gave her a wide-eyed, cautious look before I looked behind me. Through the blinds, I could see the garage that looked as I would expect any suburban garage to look. But on the side closest to the yard, there was a slim yet sturdy staircase that led to the second-floor apartment.
“So, I guess he still has his own space if he needs it,” I said, turning back to Shelly.
“He does, and…” Her words trailed off, and I sat quietly as emotion plagued her features. When she spoke again, her voice was thick. “After me being sick for years, I think it makes him feel better knowing I’m close. In case anything was to happen again…”
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I was so grateful things hadn’t gone the other way while I was gone. I waited for a moment to gauge her mood. She quickly cleared her throat and shook her head like that would dislodge the emotion.
Knowing she wanted to move past the heavier topics, I smiled. “I don’t know. Looks like you’re about ready to run a marathon, in my opinion.”
She tossed her head back and laughed toward the ceiling before she shot a grateful look in my direction. “I’m not sure about that, but for now, I’m just glad that my hair’s growing back and my stamina is improving.”
“That’s really great to hear. Really ,” I said.
Shelly washed her hands and wiped them dry on the front of her jeans.
“Yes, now, it’s your turn to assemble.”