Bring Me Back

I take my own muffin and peel the wrapper off.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Ryder asks, already on his second bite of sandwich.

I shrug and sip at my tea to stall for time. I have no idea what to say.

“Blaire,” Ryder says in a stern tone, “you can talk to me.”

“I know, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Talking to you makes me feel better.”

He grins. “Good. I take it our talk the other day helped?” He raises a single dark brow and waits for my answer.

“It did.” I wrap my hands around my cup. “Yesterday, I was good … not great, but more normal than I have been since I lost … since I lost Ben.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. I hate saying his name out loud now, and I, in turn, hate myself for hating it. Ben was the love of my life and it feels like an injustice to his memory to not be able to say his name, which is why I’m forcing myself to use it. “But today,” I pause, searching for the best way to explain, “… today I woke up and as soon as I opened my eyes I knew it wasn’t going to be a good day. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and not do anything.”

Ryder is quiet and he seems to be mulling over what I said. “But you did get out of bed,” he comments, peering at me over the top of his glasses, “and you called me. Look, Blaire, you even went by the coffee shop and got drinks and food.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, my nose crinkling with my confusion.

“Everything.” He gives me a look like he can’t understand why I don’t see what he’s saying. “You didn’t let your grief conquer you, you conquered it. You saw where your day was going and you stopped it. You should be proud of

that, Blaire.”

“How can I be proud when all I want to do is scream?” I confess.

Ryder’s lips twitch. “Then scream if that’s what you want to do. Stand on the chair, lean your head back, and scream, Blaire.”

I pale. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” He stands up and scoots his chair back before standing on it. “Come on, Blaire,” he coaxes, “you want to scream? You scream. You want to cry? Then cry. And guess what? If you want to laugh, or smile, or be happy, you can do that too. Don’t hold yourself back from feeling whatever it is you need to feel.” He speaks with so much emotion, like he’s giving a speech to a room full of people and not me and a toddler. “Up,” he says, pointing at me. “I’ll stand here all day if I have to.” He sticks his hands on his hips and tips his head down at me.

After one more second of hesitation, I push my chair back and stand on it.

“Hey, Cole?” Ryder says, and the little boy angles his head up to his dad. “Wanna scream with us?”

“Yes!” The little boy smacks his fist against the highchair tray. “Scream!”

Ryder looks at me. “We’re ready when you are.”

“This is silly,” I say, still nervous.

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head. “It’ll make you feel better and there’s nothing silly about that.”

I nod. He’s right. It will make me feel better.

I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and scream.

And it’s the greatest feeling in the world, like I’m emptying all the sadness and anger out of me. I scream and scream and scream. I’m aware of Ryder and Cole screaming with me, but it suddenly doesn’t matter. I no longer feel silly for screaming. It’s what I needed to do. When I finally stop, I lower my head and I smile—no, I grin—at Ryder. He smiles back.

Since we’ve stopped screaming, Cole does too, and he looks disgruntled, like he wants to keep going.

“Feel better?” Ryder asks me.

I smile and bite my lip. “Much better.” I step down off the chair and so does he. We both take a seat once more and it’s like the previous moments never happened. Ryder resumes eating his sandwich, I take a sip of my tea, and Cole throws a piece of muffin at Ryder. The chunk of muffin lands in Ryder’s hair.

Ryder’s dark eyes flit to me and with a straight face he says, “I want to laugh so bad right now, but if I do it’ll only encourage the demon.”

“Demon?” I laugh.

He shrugs with a grin. “I mean that with the utmost of fondness.” He reaches over and ruffles Cole’s dark hair.