It’s been three days since I saw Ryder, and in those three days I have not been able to stop thinking about how he made me smile. Sure, I’ve forced a few now and then since Ben died, but never has one come so readily to my lips in the last few weeks. My frozen cheeks damn near cracked from the pressure of it.
I park outside the school gym, and unlike last week, I don’t linger in the car. I head inside the building and find that I’m early. Only four other people are here, including Ryder.
He smiles and waves when I enter.
I lift my hand and wave back before grabbing a bottle of water from the table and a cupcake. These people like their sweets, but I guess when you’re grieving, you usually do.
I take a seat and drop my purse at my feet.
Ryder excuses himself from his conversation with Bill, another member of Group, and sits down beside me. He’s dressed casually today in a pair of dark wash jeans and white t-shirt and an open navy cardigan. His glasses are perched on his nose again, completing the nerd-chic look.
“Hey, Blaire.” He smiles. “How are you?”
I ponder over his words. Normally I would answer with an ambiguous fine, but the fact of the matter is I’m not fine. I see no point in lying to him or anyone else here for that matter. We wouldn’t be here if we were okay. We’re here to work on our demons.
“It’s been a rough few days,” I answer honestly.
His lips turn down in a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that, but thanks for being honest. We’ll talk more about it once everyone’s here.” He taps my knee lightly with his fingers before standing. He moves his attention on to the next member to arrive at Group. I admire the way Ryder goes out of his way to make us all feel comfortable.
When everyone’s arrived and grabbed a cupcake and drink, we begin.
Ryder takes his time addressing each and every person—asking them about children, parents, their dog, and job, basically anything not related to death.
When he gets to me, he says, “Blaire, you said you’d had a rough few days, tell us about it.” He crosses his foot over his knee and waits for me to speak.
With all the eyes suddenly pinned to me, I find myself closing up. These people, they’re nice, but I don’t really know them. I look around, from one face to the next. My heart begins to pump faster, like a runner about to cross the finish line, and sweat beads on my upper lip.
Suddenly, I find myself standing and running from the room. There’s a bathroom across from the gym and I burst inside. I grip the white porcelain sink in my hands and breathe in and out through my mouth. My head is lowered, staring into the depths of the sink because I’m too scared to look up and see my frazzled reflection in the mirror.
The door opens behind me, and I swing my head in that direction, expecting to find Ryder, but instead it’s Amy. The woman who got the extra chair for me last week. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her eyes look tired, much like mine. She’s dressed in a black pencil skirt, pink blouse, and black heels like she came from work to here.
“Hey.” She approaches me slowly like I’m a wounded animal that might rear-back and pounce on her if she gets too close. “Ryder asked me to check on you.”
I turn away from the sink completely and face her. “I’m …” I don’t know what I am.
“Please come back, Blaire,” she pleads. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Sometimes listening to other people helps distract your mind. At least, it works for me.” She shrugs and her heels clack against the tile as she comes a bit closer.
I don’t realize it until she grabs both my hands and forces me to loosen them that I was digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. She releases me and tilts her head, studying me.
“I was you, once. Still am, I suppose. Every little thing made me jumpy. I would overthink everything instead of allowing myself to be in the moment. This group … it’s really helped me—all of us. Trust me, you’ll feel better if you go back in there and stick it out.”
I nod. “I don’t even know why I freaked out,” I tell her, my lower lip trembling with the threat of tears.
“Overthinking,” she repeats, and taps her index finger against the side of her head. “We’ve all done it.”
“Even Ryder?” I find myself asking. He’s so calm, cool, and collected that I find it hard to see him ever losing it like me.
She raises a brow. “Especially Ryder. He might be the head of Group now, but he still has his moments where it gets to be too much.”
“Just give me another minute,” I tell her. “Please?” I add when she doesn’t move.
“I’ll be waiting outside the door,” she says. I hear her warning loud and clear—she’s not going to let me sneak out of the building. I wasn’t planning to anyway.
Once she leaves, I turn back to the sink and twist the knob for the cold water. I splash some on my face and pat the back of my neck. I turn the water off and grab a paper towel to dry my hands.