Decker went back to being nothing. I was starting to feel like that phrase was getting redundant. Even though we lived under the same roof, ate the same food, and participated in the same damn classroom, we only shared broken sentences and remorse between us. Even when Lance went to New Mexico for a weekend, we kept to ourselves, leaving the room if the other entered and disappearing into our seclusion for the sake of avoiding the awkward tension still simmering between us.
I still hadn’t met Sean. I wasn’t sure if it was because something happened during the funeral to make Lance wary or if he was embarrassed by me. Either way, Lance made an excellent effort to spend time with me, but every other night, he would disappear and not show up until the next morning. He planned nights with Sean around my work schedule, but I still felt lonely all the same. I wasn’t upset with him, and I probably wouldn’t even care if it weren’t for the awkwardness between Decker and me.
And today I didn’t want to feel lonely.
I slammed my locker door shut just as Maximillian walked up to stand beside me. “Hey, Bae,” he said in a cheeky tone. He’d started calling me that a week ago, and it made me cringe every time. We hadn’t been on a date or even hung out outside of school, but he was persistently flirtatious. “How are you?” I wasn’t sure what to make of him. Sometimes, I caught myself staring; other times, I wished he would tone it down some. Feelings were fickle like that.
“I’m feeling anxious,” I replied. One of the great things about Maximillian was that I could be frank with him and he didn’t take me seriously. It was like leaving breadcrumbs, but geese kept snapping them up off the floor.
Maximillian ran his porn-worthy veiny hand through his blond hair. (What? I have a thing for hands.) “Anxious, eh? How come?”
“Today is what would have been Mama’s birthday. I feel like I’m supposed to be counting pennies for a cake or planning a surprise party she pretends not to know about.”
Mama was big on birthdays—specifically hers. She would celebrate the entire month, blow our money on cakes and presents. It felt odd to be doing nothing today. I didn’t want to be celebrating her. I had a lifetime of bending over backwards to make her birthday seem special, which was always odd because she never did that for me.
I guess in many ways, it was a routine—cell memory. My soul expected to be stretched thin for the whims of a self-indulgent woman, and I didn’t know how to handle the nothingness that came after her death.
Maximillian’s face dipped into a sad expression that looked like pity and disappointment. Pity probably because he felt bad for me, and disappointment because it was hard to casually flirt with girls that were supposed to be grieving their dead mother.
“Do you want to do anything?” he asked on a stutter.
I pondered his question for a moment. Did I want to do anything?
Yes. Yes, I did.
I wanted today to be about me.
“I want to skip class. Maybe drink some beer. Dance on a table or some shit.” It was precisely the sort of thing Mama would have done. I guess, in some ways, I could pay homage to her while stealing some selfishness for myself.
Maximillian’s mouth dropped open in shock, but he quickly mastered his expression before leaning against my locker. “I’ve invited you out countless times, but now you want to get wild? On a Wednesday?” he clarified.
It was true. He’d invited me to a few parties on the weekend and dates during the week. I always had excuses or pretended to be too depressed to leave the house. I enjoyed Maximillian’s company, and I didn’t want to blur our dynamic with his hopes and my realities.
I’d make an exception just this once. “If you’re not game, no problem. I can have a good time by myself,” I replied with a shrug before shoving my messenger bag into my locker and slamming it shut. I wouldn’t need it today.
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m going with you. I’ve got just the place in mind, too,” he replied before putting his arm over my shoulders and hugging me close. “I’ll drive, okay?”
We walked down the hall, with Maximillian’s arm still wrapped around my shoulders and a wild grin on my face. I was looking forward to the day. When I had first woken up, Mama’s birthday had haunted me. It made me sick. Maybe it was wrong to spend the day getting drunk in her memory, but I wasn’t willing to sit around and mope.
The bell rang, and we continued to walk, and as we passed Decker’s classroom, I glanced inside. I was met with the dark, steel eyes. It was a brief flash, a slight moment in time that seemed to last forever but couldn’t have been more than three seconds. His eyes lingered on how Maximillian held me, and I saw the confusion in his expression. We should’ve been in class by then.
I watched his mouth open and close in indecision for a flash, but we were out of eyesight long before he could make up his mind. Decker probably knew we were up to something, but it would go against our promise to be nothing if he stopped and asked me about it. So instead, we made our way to the parking lot, leaving thoughts of our broody teacher behind.
Maximillian drove a Honda Accord. He was pretty popular around this place, so I was surprised to see that he drove such a mundane car. I liked it. It almost normalized him. “Where we going?” I asked while sinking into the seats, which smelled like AXE Body Spray. He adjusted the rearview mirror before flipping through the radio channels, pausing on a country-western station that blared music Mama would’ve enjoyed through the speakers.
“It’s a surprise. Just leave it to me, okay?” he said with a grin.
It felt nice to have someone take the reins for once, and I was okay with letting him make the decisions. “Okay,” I replied while biting the inside of my cheek. I sunk further into my seat and fought the first real smile I’d felt in weeks from breaching my face.
This would be interesting.
“You can’t be serious,” I said while staring down at the chocolate cake in front of me. We were at a bakery, and Maximillian was sitting across from me with his phone out, prepared to record the embarrassment.
“It’s a smash cake, Blakely. Eat it.” His order was full of mirth, and I stared longingly at the silverware he had tucked in his shirt pocket.
“It’s not even my birthday,” I replied with a chuckle before dipping my index finger into the moist cake and picking up a dollop of icing. “I don’t understand why I have to do this.”
There wasn’t anyone at the bakery with us, so it wasn’t too bad. Max had been doing a stellar job of distracting me thus far. I thought I wanted a wild night, but everything so far had been wholesome. He drove me to the aquarium, to lunch at his favorite fast-food restaurant, and now to this bakery, for me to do this smash cake. He was making today all about me, and it was healing in a way.
“It’ll be fun. I promise not to show the video to anyone else, but maybe it’ll help you get some of your frustration out. There’s nothing like stuffing your face with something yummy to help cool off,” Max said with a chuckle.
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a handful of cake and shoved it in my mouth, making sure to smear the chocolate icing along my chin and lips in the process. Damn. That was a good cake. Maximillian was laughing as I dove in for another bite, this time forgoing my hands and just using my face. When I sat back up, I could feel bits of icing and cake stuck to my cheeks.