“Jail? Whatthe-”
He shrugged it off with a laugh. “That’s a story for another time, bud.”
I closed my eyes hard for a second. I wouldn’t do well in jail. It’d probably make my mom cry too. I hated when she cried. “Now I’m a little nervous, man,” I admitted to him.
He shook his head and cracked a smile. “You’re already in too deep to let it go easy, bud. I saw the way you look at her. You’resunk.”
“Why do we even talk to women? Risk being snakebitten?” I asked incredulously.
“Well, rookie, you think you could’ve stayed away from her? You think you’d be okay if some other dickhead had her?”
I felt my jaw tighten at the idea of seeing her with anyone else.
“Right there, bud. That’s your answer. Upside, when you have that home life security, you’ll be a ringer like me,” he laughed.
“Very funny, man,” I saiddryly.
“Just playin. When she comes for the opener, she can sit with Sav and the rest of the girls,” heoffered.
That’d be good. She just had to come. I was determined to show her a good time around Detroit because in the back of my mind, I was already trying to gauge how many weddings happened outside of the summer… and if she’d be interested in working from a small box of an apartment here in Detroit… with me.
32. Ellie
I’m not gonna lie, before TJ sent the game ticket, I was trying not to get my hopes up about him. There was a nagging fear in my brain that said he’d find some hot, tall, easy-to-love girl in Detroit as soon as he got there.
But the day I got the ticket, I couldn’t tamper down the excitement any longer, and I proudly displayed it on my fridge door. I put it there to remind myself of how much I wanted to see him.
I was setting myself up for success just like my anti-anxiety podcast had told me to do. I was showing myself that my desire to see him was stronger than my fear of driving downstate and spending time in the Metro-Detroit area- the place I grew up and had avoided for the past five years.
I worked overtime every day this week to make sure the wedding scheduled for the weekend I’d be missing would go off smoothly with Nikki in charge, and then I marked my calendar with vacation days until the next Wednesday so I could spend a little extra time with TJ.
On Saturday morning- TJ’s game day- I made myself some calming lavender tea, double checked that I had everything I needed packed in my bags, and then blasted some Taylor Swift as I pulled out of the driveway.
I tried to have a successful drive downstate. I really did. But here’s the thing about anxiety- sometimes you fully know that you’re working yourself up, but you still just can’t seem to stop it. It’s like a train plowing through with no breaks.
And because I knew what I was anxious about, I had turned into a mile count-downer with all my energy focused on that one stupidthing.
For some reason, driving over the stupid Zilwaukee bridge seemed about as possible as summiting Everest in my eyes.
I was anxious about driving over the bridge because I was afraid my anxiety would make me hyperventilate, and then I’d crash and hurt myself and others. And it’s not like I could remove my hands from the wheel to do a five-finger breathing technique where I traced my fingers to count out my breaths to make sure I didn’t hyperventilate. So, I was screwed.
I tried to envision how relieved I’d feel on the other side of it, and as I neared Saginaw, I pictured TJ’s face as extra motivation. His handsome five-o-clock shadow with a hat turned backwards over his swoopy hair, his ripped muscles, his easy smile. The spooning cuddles I’d get at night. I was pushing myself so I could see him. I really wanted to spend time with him, I truly did… but would I risk everything? Would I risk passing out while trying to drive over this atrociousbridge?
My knuckles were starting to turn white from gripping the wheel so hard. And when the bridge finally came into sight, my leg pushing the gas pedal seemed toquake.
Not. Today.
I took a shaky breath and quickly pulled over, trying to ignore the horns that people were blaring at me.
I fumbled with my phone to stop the dumb podcast and dial up TJ. I’d have to let him know that I wanted it, and I tried, but I failedmiserably.
This was just part of my baggage, and he had to know that.
“Babe! Hey! Almost here?” he answered happily.
I choked out asob.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” he demanded.
