My mother returns eight weeks later, my father in tow, and we suffer through a very awkward talk around Blake’s kitchen table.  My parents seem determined to have me return to the Midwest with them.

“We understand that you’re having trouble,” my mom says, trying to sound reasonable.  “But it’s just better for you to be at home right now, where you have people to take care of you.”

“Excuse me,” Blake says, “But she has someone to look out for her here.”

“Not her family,” my mother counters. 

“Look, guys, I know everything seems great now.” My father has finally decided to enter the conversation.  “But you’re both young.  You don’t know how you’ll feel in a few weeks or months.”

“We don’t want you to stay here and make the situation worse in the end.”  My mother seems to think they’ve produced a solid argument.

I want to tell them that I can stay here, that everything will be fine, that Blake loves me, but I’m afraid of voicing something I’m only pretty sure is true.  I stare at the tabletop and feel the dread of returning home bubble up inside me.

Blake clears his throat.  “I know you’re concerned about your daughter, and that’s a good thing.  This situation is a little unusual.  But we’re not as young as you seem to think.”  He turns to smile at me.  “I love your daughter, and I’m going to take care of her.”

My breathing has stopped.  I hope someone notices or I’m going to pass out at the table.

“You’ve only known each other five months!” My mother is indignant.

“You and dad were engaged after knowing each other for a year!” I’ve found my voice again.

“And, actually, we’ve known each other longer than that.  Remember, I met you and your children at the Chicago aquarium in August 2009.”  Blake gives my mother an impish look.

“That doesn’t-” my mother starts, but my father cuts her off. 

“Why don’t I talk to Blake for a few minutes?  You and Maddie can step outside for a minute.  Better yet, go pick up some take out for us all.”  I can’t believe my father has actually been proactive in this situation.  He usually lets my mother control everything involving my life.  I stand up and walk out, hoping my mother follows me, and she does.

When we return to the apartment, take out in hand, Blake and my dad are flipping through Blake’s record collection.  I’m not sure what has transpired while we were away, but it doesn’t appear to have been a nuclear disaster. 

We’re almost halfway through dinner when my dad makes an announcement.  “I think we should let Maddie stay with Blake.”

“What?” My mother almost chokes on her food. 

“I know it wasn’t our plan initially, but… look around.  Things are good here.  Maddie’s doing good.”

My mom open and closes her mouth a few times, and then my dad gets up and leads her into the hall.  They talk for only a few minutes before returning to the table.  My mom now agrees with my dad.

“It’s not how I had hoped things would work out, but your father’s right… I think.”  She turns to stare at Blake.  “I am not afraid of committing manslaughter if something happens to my daughter.”

Blake meets her stare steadily and replies, “I’d help you.”  His reply pulls a smile out of my mother and I think Blake might have gained some brownie points in her eyes.

My parents leave the next day giving many hugs and promises to call out of me.  I feel a kind of sadness watching them go.  Illinois really isn’t close to California, but at the same time I know I’m where I belong.

It’s the summer again, the season of my west coast arrival.  I’m waiting in the airport, anxiously checking the arrivals board.  A very special someone is coming to visit me.

When I pulled my Houdini act a year ago I only kept in touch with a few of my friends.  The details I gave them were vague; I left it at having needed a change of pace and moving westward.  But a week ago I called a friend and convinced her to fly out as soon as possible.  Amazingly, after not seeing me for a year, she agreed.

People are flooding out of her gate now, and I stand up, waiting to see her wavy hair among the forest of business coats, and then she’s there, running toward me, and I’m running too, and then we’re jumping up and down like little girls.  There may or may not be squealing.

“I should have known you’d run to LA!” Liz exclaims.  I hadn’t told her where she was going, only said that she should pick up her ticket at the Delta customer service desk.  “You came to find Blake, didn’t you?”

I laugh a very nervous laugh.  I also haven’t filled Liz in on whom I’ve been living with for the past year, or why there is a slim silver band on my ring finger.  

“Come on,” I say.  “Let’s get your bags and get some coffee.”

We end up sitting in a coffee shop near Blake’s apartment.  We babble the chatter of friends who haven’t seen each other in far too long for a while, but when we reach a lull I realize it’s time I dished out some details.  And anyways, someone should be meeting us soon.

“So, ah, about coming to LA…” I start.  I’m not really sure how I’m going to continue.  Instead of forming words I just hold out my left hand.

Liz takes in the image of the ring on my finger.  I can tell that a reaction is building up inside her like steam in a kettle.  “Oh. My. God,” she says.  “You’re getting married?!” Her voice is a squeal again by the end of the sentence.

“Yeah,” I nod, suddenly sheepish. 

“Who is it?!” Liz is gazing at me very intently, leaning forward across the table as though she’s about to wring the answer from me.

Johnny starts singing from my cell phone, indicating that I have a text message.  “One second,” I say. “He’s actually here now.”

Liz immediately whips her head around to pan the coffee shop.

“He’s outside,” I laugh, albeit nervously.  “Come on.”

We walk outside, and Blake is standing there, hands in pocket, looking as sheepish as I feel.  I’ve told him about our fangirling in detail, and he has an expectation of what Liz’s reaction will be.

I can tell the exact moment when Liz realizes Blake Bashoff is standing outside the coffee shop, and I can also tell the exact moment she realizes that he’s the only man standing outside and that I’m engaged to him, because she turns to me and shoves me forcefully.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!”  I can hear about ten exclamation marks at the end of her sentence.  “Oh my god.”  She stands and stares as Blake walks a few steps closer and takes my hand.
“Hi Liz,” he says.  “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I’m glad she ended up with you.  You give nice hugs,” Liz says by way of reply, and I take this to mean that her brain has been loaded beyond capacity.

Liz gets over the initial revelation, eventually, and the three of us go back to Blake’s apartment.  Liz spends a lot of time staring around the living as though she’s trying to take in every detail imaginable.  We spend the evening doing nothing more complex than hanging out, and I’m glad the three of us are able to talk easily without the atmosphere being too awkward.  Liz really is taking this extremely well. 

Later, when Liz and I are sitting in the kitchen alone, Liz voices a question that I suspect she has been suppressing for some time.

“Have you met Johnny?” Her voice has a quiet, rushed tone.

“A few times,” I admit.  “Don’t worry, I’ve laid a good groundwork for you.”

Liz leans back in her chair and says, dazedly, “Best editor ever.”

“I know,” I laugh.  It feels really good to have Liz here, finally a realistic part of my fantastic life.  “I think Johnny’s going to be a groomsman, and I was hoping you’d be a bridesmaid…” I smile at the expression on Liz’s face.  “I think I can swing it so that you guys get paired together.”  Liz’s answering squeal is all I need to hear to know that things are finally, totally and completely right.