Running on Empty

by L. B. Simmons

  I slowly open the door. Both girls’ heads whip around to look at me and they stop mid-jump on the bed. I raise my eyebrows giving them my “you know better” look. They both fall immediately on their bottoms.

  “What are you guys up to in here, besides the obvious jumping on the bed that you know you’re not supposed to be doing?” I sit down on the bed with them.

  “Talking about Blake, Mama,” Kyndall says with a smile.

  “What about Blake, baby?”

  “Well, I was telling Nycole how much I like him. He was really fun and he made us laugh! I can’t wait ‘til he comes back over!”

  I nod my head at her and turn to look at Nycole who’s watching me closely. I have a feeling she knows where this conversation is headed.

  “What about you, Nycole? How do you feel about Blake?” I reach out and pat her leg, encouraging her to speak.

  “Well…he was fun. He was really nice to us. He read us each a story last night. And he didn’t even mind reading Rylie’s book. I like him,” she says hesitantly.

  I move closer to the girls, making sure each one is on either side of my body. Putting my arms around both of their shoulders, I begin the ‘Blake’ discussion.

  “Well, I like him too. You know, we’ve been friends since we were very, very little. I have known him a very long time, and I’m glad that you like him as much as I do. But I need to talk to you about my relationship with him. We’re friends and that’s all. I am not in love with him like I was with your dad. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to replace him with Blake. It’s really important that you understand that. Your daddy will always be your daddy, okay. No one can take his place in your heart. Do you understand?”

  They both nod at the same time so I continue. “So, you’re okay with us being friends then?” Smiles from both. “And you understand that we are only friends.” Still smiling. Good. “I also gather that you’re alright with him coming over sometimes?” I ask this with my own smile because they’re now nodding their heads so hard I’m worried they might fall off. “And I say sometimes because he’s not going to be able to come over every time you guys want him to. He just spent the weekend with us and I think he deserves a break so we’re not asking him to come over for a while, okay? ”

  “Yes ma’am!” I grin at both of them as they simultaneously shout their response.

  “Alright – well, listen girls, if there’s anything you want to discuss with me about Blake, now or ever, I want you to come and talk to me. You know we don’t keep things from each other in this family. So I want you to always be open and honest with me, okay?”

  “Okay,” they both respond as I bring them in close to my body, squeezing them tightly.

  “Mom, can I say something?” Nycole asks, suddenly looking very serious.

  “Of course, honey.” I release them from my embrace, but leave my arms draped over shoulders.

  “I just want to tell you that another reason I really like Blake is because, well…,”she hesitates.

  I let go of Kyndall and turn my body to face Nycole. Urging her on, I place my hand on top of hers. “Go on baby, its fine. Tell me.”

  “Well, it’s just that you were different when he was here. You smiled and laughed a lot more. And you didn’t seem so sad, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you happy like that. Blake makes you happy and that’s why I like him.” She makes her statement while focusing only on our joined hands. She then looks up at my face and shrugs her shoulders. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

  I squeeze her hand. Wow. I guess I’m not hiding things as well as I thought from them. Harlow’s right. My sadness is affecting them. I never knew.

  “Thank you for telling me that, Nycole,” is all I can manage to say. I can feel the moisture beginning to form in the corners of my eyes.

  I wrap my arms around her and give her a hug. “I love you, Nycole. Thank you for being honest,” I say, quickly swiping a tear from my cheek.

  “You’re welcome, Mom. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she whispers in my ear.

  I release her and look her in the eyes. “It’s not you, baby. I promise. I always want you to be honest with me, okay?”

  She nods at me and I give her shoulders a quick squeeze. Turning to Kyndall, I ask, “Is there anything else you would like to say?”

  “Um…you’re the best mommy ever? Oh, and Rylie’s really annoying. That’s about it.”

  I can’t help but break out in laughter. “Kyndall…I don’t know what I would do without you!” I say, giving her a hug too. She giggles and squeezes me back tightly.

  “Mama?” she asks while still in my arms.

  “Yes?”

  “Is it too early to ask Blake to come over tomorrow for breakfast?”

  “Kyndall Meyer!” I shout in astonishment. I let go of her and give her my well practiced look of disapproval. She giggles and runs out of the room.

  Surprising me more than her request is the fact that I actually consider it for a second. I mean, I know I won’t, but the fact that it even crosses my mind rattles me a little.

  Great…It’s official.

  We’re all Blake-fiends.

  Harlow and I quickly fall back into our routine over the next week. She stays over every night, helping me with baths, fixing the girls hair, making dinners and lunches, and of course, driving them to school in the mornings. But by the end of the week, my hand feels a lot better and my fingers start to work normally so I don’t really need help anymore. As much as I enjoy her company, I decide I can be declared officially “Harlow free” by Friday. Plus, that leaves her the weekend to spend as she wishes…aka Trace O’Donnell.

  So waking up Saturday morning, with no company for the first time in a week, I was already feeling a little restless. But since Nancy came by to pick up the girls, leaving me completely alone, I’m beginning to feel absolutely stir crazy. While sitting at my kitchen table and drumming my fingers, trying to enjoy “mommy time” as Nancy put it, I’m actually relieved when my phone rings. I pick it up expecting the girls, but when I look at the screen I’m pleasantly surprised.

  “What’s up, Blake?” I say with an obvious smile in my voice.

  “Not much. I was just calling to see how my favorite girls are holding up. I understand Harlow’s services are no longer needed. I assume your hand is better?” Blake asks in a sexy tone. Man, I’ve missed his voice.

  God, I’m such a fiend.

  I purposely didn’t call him this week even though I fought the temptation every night. I wanted him to call. I didn’t want to bother him; I figured he would call when he had time. So, hearing his voice on the other line, I can’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction knowing I wasn’t the first to cave in the calling department.

  “Yeah, it’s healing. It still aches a little sometimes, but it’s much better. Thanks for asking.” My heart is racing for some reason. I’ve known this man for an eternity; I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous to talk to him. “Hey,” I hesitate before I continue. “Let’s do something. I’m going out of my mind. The girls are with Nancy for the day and I can’t stay in this house any longer. Please, Blake!”

  I can hear his sexy chuckle over the phone and my heart flip flops in my chest. Man, I must really be going crazy from the fifteen minutes of no social interaction.

  “Actually, Alex,” he starts off. “That’s why I was calling. I was hoping to do something with all the Meyer girls today. But I guess you’ll do.” He finishes with that damn sexy chuckle again and my stomach feels like a thousand butterflies have suddenly taken flight inside it.

  “Ha. Ha. Ha. Get over here and entertain me, damn it.”

  “Will do. I’ll be there in ten. Wear something comfortable,” he adds mysteriously and hangs up.

  Jeez – if this were a real live date I’d be pissed. No wonder he doesn’t date anyone. Ten minutes to get ready. Seriously?

  I jump up out of my seat, catching it before it falls backwards on
to the kitchen floor, and make a mad dash to the bedroom. I throw on my yoga pants, the ones that make my ass look good, not that it matters, my favorite homemade purple tank top which reads “National Sarcasm Society: Like We Need Your Support”, and my black blinged out flip flops, because every woman needs a little bling now and then. I brush out my hair and put it in a pony tail, ahh...how I’ve missed you ponytail, and throw on my NY Yankees baseball hat. I add a bit of mascara and some lip gloss to my face and poof…I’m done. Giving myself a last appraisal in mirror, I’m satisfied with the outcome of my appearance.

  Ha! Take that Blake Morgan with your ten minute ready requirement.

  Walking into the living room, I hear the rumble of his motorcycle coming up my driveway. I open the door and watch him get off his bike. He removes his sunglasses and shakes out his windblown hair, which of course looks sexy as hell. The ends of his hair turn up around his ears and fall to the collar of his very well fitting v-neck black t-shirt. His blue jeans, frayed at the bottom, just barely drag the ground over his black boots.

  Mmmmm-mmmmm.

  He turns around to take the keys out of his ignition and my breath hitches as I drop my glance and note (privately of course) that his bottom looks very nice in those jeans. Very nice indeed. Turning around to face me, he gives me a sexy lop-sided grin while he tucks the sunglasses into the front of his shirt so they hang from the “V” and runs his hand through his hair.

  I try to swallow, but my throat is really dry…probably because I have been watching him with my mouth wide open. I immediately start to cough.

  “You okay, Alex?” he asks with a knowing smile.

  “Yeah,” I say, trying to breathe through my coughing attack. “I think I swallowed a gnat. Gross. I’m gonna go get some water. Come on in.” I whip around and head into the house as fast as I can so he won’t be able to see that my face has turned a new shade of red. So embarrassing.

  I hear him laugh as he enters the house, which makes me walk even faster, trying to increase the distance between us. I’m actually breathing hard by the time I get to the kitchen. I should really start working out more.

  I quickly grab a glass of ice water and take a swig, hoping it will help with my face. Not really sure how that will work…

  I set the glass down and turn to see Blake walking into the kitchen. “You sure you’re okay?” he inquires.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  I pop myself up on the counter by the sink and take a seat with my legs dangling over the dishwasher. “What’s the plan, Stan?” I ask him. I really have no idea what we’re doing.

  Blake walks right over to me and reaches to grab the water that I just placed on the counter. Really? Can the man not get his own freakin’ glass of water?

  My body responds to his closeness when he brushes my leg with his. I feel a shock race throughout my entire body and I unintentionally jump. He looks over at me with a hint of a smile. God his eyes really are amazing.

  “Well…I was hoping we could take the boat out. Like old times. But if we do, we’re gonna have to use your truck to pull it. I hope you don’t mind. Mom and Dad are still out of town and I can’t pull it with my bike, obviously. Or, we can just find something else to do. Up to you.” He places the glass back down beside me. Another electrical pulse radiates through me when his arm grazes mine. I scoot over a centimeter. He chuckles again under his breath and I hop off the counter.

  Jeez…What’s going on with me today?

  “Fishing sounds great!” I respond. I’m not really sure why I sound so excited.

  I really need to get out of here. Maybe I’ll be normal again with a little fresh air. “We can take the truck, that’s fine! Let’s get going then!” Okay, I seriously need to tone down the over enthusiasm a bit.

  I grab the keys off the counter and speed walk towards the door. I have to get out of this house because, honestly, I’m extremely freaked out. I haven’t felt anything like this since Derek. I don’t know what’s going on but it has to stop; I’m friends with Blake and I intend for it to stay that way. Friendship is comfortable – crushing on Blake, not-so-much.

  Jumping in the truck and starting the ignition, I wait for Blake to exit the house. I watch as he closes the door behind him and holds his hand above his eyes, looking across the driveway.

  “You have sunglasses, dummy!” I shout from the safety of my Suburban.

  “I know!” he shouts back. “I was just making sure you weren’t taking one last speed walking around the block before we head out.” Sarcasm. Noted.

  One major internal eye roll and a deep sigh later, I motion for him to get his ass to the truck. “Are we fishing or are we just going to stand around today?” Looking like a freakin’ Diesel Jeans ad. Dumb.

  He takes his sunglasses off of his shirt and slides them over his eyes. “We’re fishing,” he says, walking to the Suburban. He slides into the passenger seat and flashes me his trademark smile. I jokingly roll my eyes at him and lightly punch his arm. “Don’t pull that sexy smile on me, Blake Morgan. Sarcasm is only acceptable when I use it.” I point to my shirt. “I don’t see your ‘National Sarcasm Society’ shirt. Therefore, I’m the only one with free reign to use it. You can just keep yours to yourself.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. Still in the t-shirt making business I see. I’m in the need of a new one, in case you get bored. Poor G.I. Joe didn’t make it, I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” He gives me a fake frown and a quick wink.

  “Aww, that’s too bad. I loved that shirt. I’m sure I can put something together for you.” I give him a quick wink back. “Hmm…G.I. Joe replacement. That’s gonna take some work. Gimme some time.”

  Blake turns to look me dead straight in the eye. “Take all the time you need, Alex. I’m not going anywhere.” The seriousness of his statement makes my heart flutter like crazy. I immediately feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I let out a quick breath.

  “Um, okay. You ready?” We really need to get out of here, like now.

  I can tell Blake’s trying to hide his evil little smile. He enjoys making me blush and he seems to have caught on to my random physiological responses. Jerk. Maybe that’s what his shirt should say. “J-E-R-K”. Or “I live to make Alex Meyer Uncomfortable”.

  “Yep. Let’s get going.” He moves his eyes from mine to the front of the truck, letting his smile finally reveal itself.

  I shake my head and start the engine. After a short ride, a lot of arguing, and even more hand slapping over radio stations, I really, really hate country music, we round the corner of his street and his house comes into view.

  Pulling into the driveway, Blake directs me to the side of the house. “The boat’s around back. Go ahead and pull up here. I’ll take care of hitching it to the truck. I have some drinks and snacks in the fridge and a cooler on the kitchen counter. You can load it up while I take care of the boat. Meet me back here in about ten minutes.”

  I raise my eyebrows in question. “You must have been pretty convinced I’d say yes, considering all your preparations. What if I would’ve said no?”

  “Well, I guess I’d have a lot of sports drinks and ham and cheese sandwiches. No big deal.” He opens his door and jumps out of the truck.

  No big deal? I’m not really sure what to think about that statement. I lean against the door and watch him walk around the front of my vehicle while I’m still trying to decipher his cryptic code. What does he mean by “no big deal”? Am I not a big deal? Is fishing not a big deal? Is having pre-made ham and cheese sandwiches not a big deal?

  The next thing I know, while I’m lost in deep thought, the door flies open. I tumble sideways out my truck and have no choice but to grab the inside handle to prevent falling on my ass as my feet land on the ground. “Damn it, Blake!” I press all my weight onto the handle and straighten my body, making sure my feet are firmly planted before letting go.

  “What?” he asks innocently.

  “You know what! I was leaning against the door,
trash hole! You totally did that on purpose!” I silently laugh to myself at my insult. Blake and I used that word all the time growing up. I really don’t know why it hasn’t caught on yet.

  He coughs, I suspect in effort to cover up a laugh. “Alex, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just opening the door for you. It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”

  “Shut up, Blake.” I really need a quick escape plan…this is just embarrassing.

  “My keys are in the ignition. I’ll go grab the snacks from the kitchen. Don’t mess up my truck.” I turn hastily to make my grand exit and start walking to his porch.

  “Watch that door!” he shouts from behind me. “It can do some real damage I hear!”

  “Shut. Up. Blake! I think I’m safe as long as you aren’t behind it!” I yell back. Even though I try to sound mad, I can’t help but laugh as I walk onto the porch. Yeah, I definitely missed Blake.

  Approaching the front door, I catch my reflection in the window. I straighten my cap that must have been knocked to the side during the truck door debacle and then open the door. I feel the rush of cool air and taking in a deep breath, I’m surprised by the familiarity of the smells in this house. I must not have noticed it last time I was here, with my fingers falling off and all, but now I do. Mrs. Morgan’s house always smelled of apples and cinnamon. I remember how, when I was younger, I would come over and immediately run into the kitchen to see if she was making her award winning apple pie. Most of the time she was, and she would always give us both a fresh slice with an ice cold glass of milk. I smile at the memory.

  Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are out of town, I’m not really sure how the house still smells like her pies. Maybe she has some scent oils around the house or something. I walk through their living room, slowing down to look at all the pictures she has placed throughout the room.