Page 3 of Follow Your Bliss

“Fergalicious” blared from my phone in my back pocket. I dropped the shovel and fumbled my phone out, dropping it into the mud. Ripping off one of my gloves, I shut off the sound. My heart pounded so fast and hard I could barely read the preview. It was Heather, texting me again to try and get me to move back in with her and our friend Abby. I put a muddy hand to my chest.

My fellow Dream House Girls, so-called for the wreck of a rental we shared in college, were the sweetest friends a woman could ask for. But I couldn’t accept more of their help. They sent me off in style when I left to “make it big” in New York. How could I go back admitting such defeat, especially when I’d been shit about keeping in touch?

I wiped the sweat from my face with the inside edge of my tank top and shoved my phone back in my pocket. My racing heart felt like an anxiety attack, and I didn’t need another one of those right now. I deepened my breathing and started a mental list. First, the capsule, then the necklace, then shove it all back down in the ground. Find a cheap apartment; finish Becca’s dresses; keep trying to get hired by an established brand, while launching a whole dress business with no idea where to start; then pay bills.

Damnit. Listing out my mess wasnothelping my anxiety.

Jason

Big Dick Tools.

I reread the email to be sure I wasn’t dreaming. Big Dick Tools wanted to meet with me at their Florida headquarters to talk about a sponsorship. I laughed out loud alone to myself, hefting a full laundry basket on my hip.

I scanned down the email on my way to the couch. This could be the big break I’d been waiting for to finish my renovations, and they approachedme. Sure, I made a point across all my social media channels to talk about how much I loved their tools, and I’d started tagging them to get their attention. But this proved that all my hard work building my goofy-ass brand had been worth it. Every splinter, every late night building bookcases or editing videos.

But my sense of accomplishment faded quickly. I had no one to tell about this. If I was still with Kasey, I’d be working that godawful bank job to support her through med school. That door was so firmly shut, it’d disappeared over the eighteen months I’d been back. I was still too chicken shit to reconnect with my friends. My siblings would tease me mercilessly, like they already did anytime my work came up. Mom already hated everything about—

Her number took over my phone’s screen. God, was she psychic?

No. No way was I willfully submitting to another one of her insomnia-fueled reviews of my life, no matter how well-intentioned. I tried to go back to the email, but I bungled the hamper and my phone, accidentally answering her call.

Shit.

“Hey Ma, can’t sleep?”

“You know me so well, Jason. How are you doing tonight, baby? I missed you at dinner.”

“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t come by. I had to baby the finish on a four-poster bed I’m building for a client. Did y’all have fun?”

“It was lovely, but I was so happy to get back home. I finally got a chance to catch up on your videos for the week.”

I set the laundry basket down and rolled my neck, knowing full well where this was going from the disappointed tone of her voice, pretty much the only tone I heard anymore. “It’s just marketing, Ma. That’s all it is.”

“But the furniture you make is beautiful enough to be the star of the show.Youare beautiful enough. You don’t have to pimp yourself out with those shirtless videos.”

“Pimp myself out?” I chuckled. “How much wine did you have at dinner tonight, ma’am? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.” Maybe my gentle teasing would bring out her more playful side.

She chuckled too, but it didn’t stop her from pushing. “You know what I mean. You’re never going to find yourself a respectable young woman if you don’t respect yourself.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I respect myself just fine. Having my shirt off is part of the schtick of my account. My followers love it.” Fuck it all, I was going for it. “And listen to this: I just got an email from a national line of tools. They want to talk to me about a lucrative sponsorship.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice. “They’re talking about paying me to feature tools I already use on my accounts, maybe even star in some of their ads.”

“Wow! Really? That’s amazing!” Her impressed tone was such a relief. This was maybe the most excited she’d ever been about my social media ventures. Sure, she shared every non-shirtless post and seemed to pull people out of the woodwork to buy custom furniture from me, but she would sleep better if I had a “real job.”

“What tool company?” she asked. “Craftsman? Black & Decker?”

I cringed, all pride punctured. “Big Dick Tools,” I rushed out.

“Jason, you’re not going to work withthosepeople, are you? If your account was more respectable, maybe you could get more respectable sponsorships. Bob Vila never had to take off his shirt.”

“Ma, I’m twenty-eight. If I want to post pictures of myself without a shirt on social media, I can do that.” I paced, wrapping the drawstring of my shorts around my fingers.

She sighed. Heavily. “Of course, you’re all grown up and don’t have to listen to anything your mama says. But most respectable people don’t get paid for making half-naked videos. When Rebecca saw your account, she said it was sinful how you were sharing your body with the world. She had to block it. She was too embarrassed to even look at it.”

“Mom, Mrs. Rebecca also says that when church music distracts you from praying, it’s the devil.”

“Okay, I admit that’s a little much. But she said it in front of her daughter. And Misty might start thinking you’re not very serious about her or the church, that you’re trying to catch a bunch of other women.”

I’d been thinking that I might be ready to date again, but it was unreal and unfair how my family equated my finally taking pride in my health and appearance again as me planning to sleep around as much as possible. The truth was that I hadn’t been with anyone since I left Kasey, and I planned to stay celibate until I found a woman I could see myself settling down with. I was even halfway through an eight-week attempt to not take matters into my own hands, thanks to a church group I got suckered into joining. Not that I’d tell my Momthat.

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