I get a text from Blake a couple hours after he runs out of the office.

Blake: You got a minute? Need to talk.

Me: I want to talk to you too, but I’m really busy. Can I call you when I’m free?

Pause while he types.

Blake: I might be driving by then. It’s okay, I just wanna let you know, I’ll be busy with my cousin for a couple days.

Me: No problem. Hope he’s well?

Blake: He’s still wobbly but better, thanks. Tell you about it later. I’m taking the rest of the week off work, staying at his hotel with him for a few nights. But I was hoping maybe we can get together Saturday? Wanna take you out, treat you right.

I think about it for a second, smiling.

Me: Sounds good.

Blake: Okay sweetheart. Touch base with you soon.

The more I think about it, the more I like it. I already know I’ll be taking work home tonight and tomorrow, but I’m determined to get it done so I can take the weekend off.

I intend to be done with work and totally free by Friday night’s dinner with the girls at Brenda’s.

And a date with Blake on Saturday will be a great way to cap off the weekend.

I can’t wait.

* * *

That night at home, I only have time for a quick bite with Mom before going up to my room with an armload of work to get done.

We chat about how our work day went, and I mention that Blake’s cousin showed up out of the blue. She’s surprised to hear that.

“From what Blake said, he’s still too weak to be travelling by himself. I hope he’s not one of those stubborn guys who never follows doctor’s orders.”

“I dunno, Mom. Blake said he’d call you if he needs a home care worker. Hope you know someone who’s good with stubborn patients.”

“We’re all good. That’s what we’re trained for.” She smiles.

I’m happy to see that she still seems to be in a good mood.

Much later, when Blake calls, I reach for the phone but hesitate, thinking about Mom’s advice to refrain from making myself too available. Plus, I really am up to my eyeballs with work. My heart gives a little pang but I don’t answer it. When he texts me five minutes later, he’s saying goodnight.

I let a few minutes go by, then I apologize for missing his call, explain that I was busy and say goodnight.

The next day, Thursday, is busy and tough, but the newfound ease I feel with the demands of my job holds true, and I’m able to deal with complex situations without wanting to cry or kick something.

That afternoon, the garage calls. My car is ready to be picked up, good as new. The problem was just a worn valve that needed to be replaced, a cheap and easy repair. Thank God! After work, Flora drops me off at the garage. I pick up my car and I’m back on the road.

I’m glad that Blake was there to help me out, but also glad that it’s a cheap fix and that I could take care of it on my own. Maybe men have a need to do stuff for their women so they can be happy, but part of my need to be happy is always going to involve maintaining some level of independence.

Any man who wants to make me happy will just have to live with that.

When I get home, Mom’s out somewhere so I eat quickly and take my work up to my room.

Blake texts me around six thirty. He’s at a restaurant having dinner with his cousin, which means he can’t talk. But he wants to confirm our Saturday plans.

I don’t have time to talk either so I text him in shorthand that I’m working at home again. I tell him about girl’s night tomorrow night, say that I’m looking forward to our date Saturday, then I wish him a good night.

After a few minutes, he texts back: Nite, sweet girl.

Again, my heart pangs. But I push it aside and get on with my work.

But later, right before bed, he texts me again, asking if everything’s all right. I assure him that it is, keeping it light and short and signing off before he does.

I can’t tell him the truth, obviously. This Angel woman is a question mark in my mind and a thorn in my side. I mean, I feel better now that I’ve taken a more decisive stance about things, but I know in my heart that until Blake and I are official, I’m not going to feel one-hundred-percent comfortable.

I can’t think of anything else I can do about that. Maybe try dating someone else? As much as I don’t want to, I consider keeping my options open, just as he seems to be doing.

I’ll have to see how things go but in the meantime, I won’t rule that out.

Work-wise and home-wise, though? Things are still looking up. My comprehension of complex safety regulations, plus planning and procedures for upcoming jobs is clicking along, and my confidence is growing with every hour, it seems.

Working at home in my newly organized room feels so much better, too. Taking work home still sucks, but it sucks a lot less in an orderly environment.

Staying calm, focused and determined, I’m able to get ahead in my work by leaps and bounds. The feeling of being in deep water, over my head, is fast fading away.

Things are finally coming together for me. I know a lot of it has to do with growing into my job.

But, oddly, some of it has to do with Blake too, and that has some poignant complexity all of its own.

Finding out that I have competition for his affection has been both harrowing yet, strangely steadying, and even, motivating.

It hurts but it also, somehow, made me find strength. Maybe it was just the last straw after a long, tough stretch of years.

In any case, now…? I refuse to stay sad. I refuse to feel lost and defeated.

When quitting time on Friday rolls around, I’m completely caught up with work and ready to party with my friends.

* * *

In the car on the way home from work on Friday now. Hordes of released workers streaming from downtown Columbus towards the suburbs create the usual tedious traffic crawl on the freeway. Along the way, Brenda’s text notification, the sound of dogs barking, goes off repeatedly. I can’t reply to her but I read them, grinning, as they come in.

Brenda: MESSAGE TO MUH GIRLS!!!

REMINDER: MY PLACE. TONIGHT. GET YOUR BUTTS HERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

Pause.

MANDATORY ATTIRE: SWEATPANTS AND T-SHIRTS. ANYONE WEARING ANYTHING FANCIER WILL BE MOCKED AND GIVEN THE HOSE.

Next,

REMEMBER BRING YOURSELVES ONLY!! I AM PROVIDING ALL FOOD AND BEVERAGES.

Another few minutes go by:

ROB HAS BEEN DUCT-TAPED AND STASHED IN THE SHED. NO. BOYS. ALLOWED!

Then,

BUT DOGS ARE WELCOME!

Then,

ALSO, ANY CATS NAMED ‘DOG’ SHH WE WONT TELL

A few minutes after that,

DINNER WILL BE SERVED WHEN Y’ALL GET HERE AND HELP ME COOK IT, SHARP! :P

Then,

THIS MEANS YOU, AMANDA :)

I’m smiling and shaking my head at Brenda’s all-caps silliness, when more comes in:

PS HERE’S THE MENU:

LAMB, BEEF, CHICKEN AND JUMBO SHRIMP KEBABS; (NOT ALL ON THE SAME STICK, DUH)

‘I’LL CUT YOU FOR THESE POTATOES’ POTATOES;

CESAR AND GARDEN SALAD

TWO KINDS OF PIE PLUS ICE CREAM

ASSORTED SNACKS

VODKA AND CHERRY SLUSHIES (IF IT TURNS OUT OKAY IDFK)

I CAN’T WAIT IT’S BEEN SOOOO LONG!!!

And finally,

HAIRY UP Y’ALL, I’M STARVING!!!

I’m laughing but kinda glad she seems to be done. It was starting to sound like the dog pound in here.

I’m excited to have a chance to relax with friends tonight…and also to find out what the hell “I’ll Cut Your for These Potatoes” potatoes are.

I get home, run to my room to change. Just as I’m coming downstairs, my mom comes in the door with a few bags of groceries.

“Here, let me give you a hand,” I say, helping her take the groceries into the kitchen. Among the food items are two six-packs of beer.

“Mom? You, um, developing a taste for beer these days?”

“Ha ha! No, Jennifer. Blake might be bringing his cousin by, later. He texted me just as I was leaving my last call. I invited them over.”

“You invited them over? Did you forget I wasn’t going to be home?”

“No. Don’t look at me like that, dear. I’m not having a party with your boyfriend behind your back or anything.” She laughs. “Blake’s cousin is looking at accommodations. You probably know, he’s thinking of moving to town permanently.”

“He is? No, I didn’t know. I haven’t talked to Blake much, haven’t had time.”

“Oh? Well, Blake said it’s going to be permanent. I thought that was a good sign.” She smiles. “You know, that Blake will be sticking around, too.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” I say, thoughtfully. “He did say he had something to tell me. Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe,” Mom says. She pauses, looking at me carefully. “I thought maybe he could take a look at the spare room. See if it suits him. But I wanted to ask you first. Would you mind?”

I’m not sure if I mind or not. I know she wanted to rent the room out, but I didn’t think it’d be to someone we knew.

Moreover, someone Blake knows. That could be awkward if…if…yeah. But it’s really up to Mom.

She sees my hesitation. “It would only be temporary, but, never mind dear. It was just a thought.”

Outside, a car horn blasts twice, quickly followed by a text notification. It’s Marie, letting me know she’s here to pick me up.

“No…no. It’s okay, Mom. You go right ahead. Do what feels right. I gotta run. Say hi to Blake and his cousin for me.”

“Sure sweetie. Have fun!”

* * *

In the car, barely audible over the rumble of the engine, Marie has an ancient album playing, a greatest hits compilation by British rock band Led Zeppelin. She’s driving her prized possession: A vintage, restored 1970 Firebird in midnight blue, with matching bucket seats and interior. The motor purrs in that throaty way that only old-time muscle cars do.

She’s wearing a pair of ripped and faded track pants, a skin-tight, man’s muscle shirt and a pair of scuffed Keds Triples. Completing her retro look is a Rosie the Riveter-style bandanna over her short, dark hair and an old pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. Her sculpted arms sport delicate, filigree tattoos of birds, vines and cherry blossoms, Japanese style.

“You look like trouble as usual, ‘Ree,” I say, plopping into the passenger seat.

She turns the music down, lowers her sunglasses and makes a big show of checking out my Yoga pants, t-shirt and ballet flats ensemble. Her face and her big, brown eyes are clean of make-up, as is the custom for our girl’s night in. I happily scrubbed my own make-up off as soon as I got home.

She pushes the sunglasses back up her nose, flashes a megawatt grin and says, “And you look as bodacious as ever. How do you manage to look so fuckin’ good without makeup and wearing ratty-ass clothes anyway?” She puts the car in gear and backs down the driveway.

“Oh, please,” I say. “Look who’s talking. I need to drop a few pounds, but you look ripped as hell.”

“Drop a few pounds from where? Ya boobs? Ain’t got much to spare anywhere else, chickie!” She shakes her head as she peels away from my house, laying a little rubber as she goes.

“Shit, Marie,” I say, laughing. “This is why my neighbors don’t like you, remember?”

“What? They’re just jealous of my ride,” she says, cackling.

The drum intro to Led Zeppelin’s Rock and Roll thumps through the speakers. Marie screeches along with the opening verse, turning up the volume to ear-splitting.

The beat fills the car and I give myself over to it, letting the classic rock music push thoughts of Blake, work, my mom, and all things grown-up out of my mind. I imagine teenagers back in the seventies grooving to this music when it was new, maybe sitting in a car just like this one––or maybe, sitting in this very car, smoking some wacky-weed maybe, and dreaming of times to come.

A fresh wind blows through the open car windows as, music pumping and thumping, we push the speed limit all the way to Brenda’s, laughing and bopping in our seats.

* * *

When we pull up in front of Brenda and Rob’s place, Rob is standing in the driveway talking to a hunky guy.

“Hey ladies,” Rob calls out as we exit the car.

“Hey Roberto,” I call back. “Managed to escape the duct tape and break out of the shed, huh?”

“Huh?” he says. Marie and I look at each other and giggle. The guy standing with him grins uncertainly.

“Never mind,” Marie says, nodding at Rob and then turning her attention to the familiar-looking stranger. Up close, I see his icy-blue eyes, his resemblance to Rob, and of course, I remember who it is. “I’m Marie,” she says, holding her hand out to him. “I’m an old friend of Brenda’s.” She gestures towards me. “This is Jennifer, a frightfully ugly chick we hang out with to make us look better.”

We all laugh as the man shakes her hand. “Mark,” he says, grinning, his eyes alight. “Rob’s brother.”

“We met, briefly, at the engagement Adopt-A-Thon,” I say. “Nice to see you again.”

“Right! I remember you. Nice to see you, too,” he says, his gaze going straight back to Marie.

“Damn,” Marie says, smiling boldly up at Mark. “Now I’m even sorrier that I missed that event. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Well, it sure is nice to meet you, too,” Mark says, still grinning. “Is that your car?”

“Yessir,” she says, beaming. She likes nothing better than to be asked about her car.

“Formula 400? V8? Three hundred and thirty horses?” he asks.

“Yes! Yes and yes!” Marie answers, nearly swooning. “My dad got it for me for my sixteenth birthday. It took four years and a pile of money, but between my dad and my brothers, we restored it from scratch.”

“Great job!” Mark says. “It looks mint and sounds like…”

“Pure testosterone?” Marie says. They both laugh.

“Yes, and that’s an interesting choice of music you were playing. Having a retro moment, were you?”

“My whole life is a retro moment,” she says, eyes sparkling.

Rob and I watch, amused. “Well, we were just heading out,” Rob says. “I knew this was girl’s night, but…since I’m supposed to be duct-taped at the moment, I’m thinking, we better get the hell outta Dodge, while we still can.”

“Too bad,” Mark says, just as Marie is saying “What a shame!” Then they both laugh uproariously as if it’s the funniest thing ever.

Rob and I glance at each other and roll our eyes. “Ohhkay, Mark, let’s get going,” he says. “Mom’s got dinner waiting, I don’t want to eat it cold.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says, still smiling down at Marie. “We’re gonna watch the new Star Wars movie after that. You like Star Wars?”

“Love it,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back and looking up at him with goo-goo eyes.

“Ahem,” I say. Marie glances at me. “I’m going in. Brenda said we have to help her make dinner if we wanna eat. See you guys later!”

I start walking up the driveway to the house. The front door opens and Brenda sticks her head out. “Thank God you’re here!”

She comes further out, her voice going up in volume. “Hurry up and get in here, I need your help!”