I groaned, rolled over, and reached for the button to stop the irritating noise of my alarm. Then I remembered the date, my birthday, and stopped rigidly. Most people would jump out of bed at this thought but I settled in as I remembered this day last year. My mother had gently shaken me awake delivering two presents wrapped in perfect bows and the awful news. I blinked quickly to stop the stinging behind my eyes and wrapped my comforter tighter, I was determined for this year to be better.
“Tess,” my mother called from the hallway, “you should turn off your alarm and get up… it’s your birthday.” She said that last part as a question like she wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. She wasn’t the only one wondering.
I rolled out of bed dragging the covers on to the floor and stretched, hitting the off button on my clock. I opened my closet doors searching for my beloved denim dress. I scanned all of the hangers but most of my clothes were missing, including what I was searching for. “Mom, where is my denim dress?”
“Probably in the laundry.” She answered after a moment’s hesitation, “How about wearing that new sweater your grandpa sent yesterday?”
I was looking forward to the familiar comfort of my favorite dress but this would be a great way to have my grandfather in my thoughts all day long. My mom had done the forbidden and let me open his package a day early, presumably to soften the blow of its reminder. While I was shrugging on the soft peach colored sweater my mother summoned me to the kitchen. I walked to the blue tiled room, not very far in our two bedroom Manhattan apartment, ready for my traditional birthday breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. I sat down at the round table in front of a plate of pancakes… that didn’t have chocolate chips.
“Mom…” I questioned.
“I know, I know, they are plain. But I used the rest of the chips last week when I baked cookies and I have been so distracted that I forgot to get more. Here just put on lots of syrup and butter,” my mom apologized as she came toward me with the said toppings in her hands, kind of like a peace offering.
I couldn’t think of what could be distracting my mom, she had just finished her last big case at work a few days ago and hadn’t mentioned receiving a new one, but I didn’t question. I never did. As I ate the pancakes, with no protest, my thoughts roamed to my dad who was sitting next to me reading the paper. Other than a mumbled happy birthday when I had entered the room he hadn’t said much. I gave him credit for getting out of bed though; a year ago he had lost his mother on this very day. I was just glad he was here because last year he had left a week before my birthday to travel upstate and see his mother in the hospital.
Immediately after I thought this my dad stood up saying, “I um have to go to work. I need extra hours because um I will be gone so much soon.”
This made absolutely no sense. We weren’t going on a vacation in the next month, we hadn’t even planned one for the summer yet. Once again I didn’t question. This place didn’t need any more tension.
As my dad grabbed his briefcase and fled the apartment like he was being chased my mother leaned over the back of my chair and hugged me. “The day will get better, I promise,” she said with that all knowing power that mother’s seemed to have. “Now, how about I braid your hair for the special day.” I flicked my long blonde curls over the back of the chair, focused on swallowing my breakfast, which tasted more like sand the longer it was in my mouth, and held onto that little piece of encouragement.
I stomped my brown ankle boots on the rough blue mat inside the school door. I should have known better in February and just sacrificed the outfit in order to wear snow boots. Oh well, nothing I could do about it now. As I continued towards my locker I slipped off my coat welcoming the warm embrace of the heated school building.
I leaned forward focusing on my lock as I slowly did the combination, trying to block out the commotion of the halls. Suddenly, two arms encircled me from behind pulling me into an awkward reverse hug.
When they let go I turned around to the always smiling face of Jacquie who had begun to sing “Happy birthday to you…”
I silenced her with a pleading look before anyone had the idea of joining in.
“Sorry,” she said with a mischievous smile “but if you choose not to have a birthday party I have to sing to you at some point.”
“Later, I promise,” I responded, already plotting ways to get out of it. She shot me a knowing look then turned on her heel and strode down the hall in the direction of her locker.
While I was crouching on the ground exchanging the books in my backpacks with the ones I needed in my locker, two hands covered my eyes followed by a “Guess who, birthday girl!”
“Hey Claire,” I said without even looking at the culprit.
“How do you always know?” she asked with fake frustration.
“As long as your hands are cold I will know,” I smiled up at her. “How’s it going?”
“It’s good. How’s the birthday?”
“Not great so far,” I admitted.
“Well I hope the rest is like heaven on Earth.” It took a moment for what she said to settle in on both of us. “No no no no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she tried to recover. “You know what? I think I am going to go to class before I make your birthday worse. See you at lunch; remember all six of us today.”
While she briskly walked away, I slowly closed my locker wishing my friends could have more of a filter for this one day. It wasn’t too much to ask on my birthday and the anniversary of my grandma’s passing. But maybe it was. Birthdays were a time for fun stuff and I probably would be angrier if my friends were treating me like an egg whose shell was already starting to crack.
Third period was art class. I always looked forward to this class for the projects and my classmate, Gracie. Sometimes Gracie and I talked but most days we spent focused on our projects because both of us had a lot of attention to detail. Today Gracie greeted me with a happy birthday, which was echoed by the rest of the class, and then we spent the remainder of time in silence aside from a few comments on our clay pots. A little while into class I found myself thinking back to the traditions of middle school birthdays. You would come to school to find your locker hastily covered with wrapping paper and streamers and pretend to be surprised. Inside was the best part, cards. The cards were always amazing, especially Gracie’s. They ranged from comic strips and rhyming poems to life lessons. I knew that nobody decorated lockers in high school but I think somewhere in the back of my mind I was expecting maybe a card or two. Nothing fancy, just a few pieces of paper, one signed “Blonde Babes, Sophie” and a poster signed “Forever & Always, Claire.”
Then I realized if I wanted cards I should have had a party. Instead I had responded with a firm no every time my mother brought up the subject. It was my own doing, no fault by my faithful friends.
Mr. Sorpresa always started biology class right on the bell but I managed to exchange a quiet hello to Sophie and Brenna. As I pulled out my binder I looked at the layers of Sophie’s outfit, so colorful yet put together, it made me wish for my denim dress. I began to think back to when I wore it last, a few weeks ago, and how it wouldn’t be in the wash. As I tried to find an explanation, Mr. Sopresa reminded us that we had our chapter eight outline due tomorrow, the thirteenth. Uh oh, I thought. I had saved the last three sections to distract me tonight. Now I regretted it as I added it to the pile of things ruining my birthday. The pile was starting to look like a mountain.
The mountain grew when I walked into lunch and found my five best friends leaning into the center of the table whispering. Claire saw me, tapped the others, and they all leaned back trying to look casual. I sat down greeted by some happy birthdays and then the awkward conversation commenced. We chatted about the snow, which was still falling fast, and where Brenna was going for February vacation. I found it odd how our fun, relaxed lunches suddenly turned serious on my birthday. I guess it was because last year I had silently cried through lunch. My mom sent me to school to see my friends so I didn’t sit home all day waiting for our two o’clock train. I had made it through the entire day without a breakdown but at lunch, as I passed around the perfectly frosted cupcakes my mother had baked and insisted I take, tears slid down my cheek. My friends had comforted me but I was in my own little world. This year wasn’t perfect either. I had had a storm cloud following me around all day. It wasn’t right on top of me but it was close enough to darken my mood whenever some ray of sunlight tried to shine through.
“Hi sweetie,” my mom greeted me as I trudged through the apartment door. “Do you have a lot of homework?”
“I have to outline a chapter for biology.”
“I’ll tell you what, you go on to your room and start it. Then in a few minutes I will bring you some popcorn,” she offered.
“Umm… I didn’t eat much lunch today so could I maybe have a frozen pizza instead,” I suggested leaning to open the freezer.
A look of panic flashed on my mother’s face before she grabbed my hands and counter offered with an apple. I shrugged, confused by my mother’s actions, and stalked off to my cozy room.
I sat at my desk for the rest of the afternoon snacking on popcorn and apples while putting all my focus on my extensive homework. When I finally wrote the last word of my outline and looked up I realized, from the lack of light, that I had spent the afternoon of my fifteenth birthday doing homework, by choice. I ventured out into the kitchen to see what my mom had spent the afternoon doing. Despite all the banging pots I had heard, the kitchen was as empty as when I came home from school. My mom was at the stove stirring something in a pot.
When she saw me she stopped, “Hi. I was about to come talk to you. Would you do me a favor?” When I nodded she continued, “I just talked to your dad and he’s going to be home soon. I really want dinner to be ready as a surprise to cheer him up so can you go pick up your cake?”
I let out a small laugh wondering why she would joke about that.
Then I realized she was serious because she handed me thirty dollars and a business card.
Out on the street, I pulled my gray coat tighter around me and my hat down below my ears. The eerie silence of the blustery street left me alone with my thoughts. From the minute I woke up this morning to when I left for school, my home was so tense that I was worried it might break. Then I got to school and my friends suddenly become all gossipy. I spent the afternoon doing homework, alone, in my room. Now I was doing the infamous task of buying my own birthday cake. All these facts raced at me like an avalanche, causing a tear to fall from my icy eyes. Then my barriers broke and I started sobbing right there on the corner West 73rd and Amsterdam. My grandmother died on my fourteenth birthday and now my fifteenth was becoming a major disaster. I’d spent the entire day trying to rationalize it as my own fault but I wouldn’t do it anymore. I was going to go confront my parents over the dinner my mom was making especially for my father and demand for them to improve my birthday. But not without my own birthday cake, I thought defiantly as I stomped down the street.
I burst into the apartment, angry words waiting on the tip of my tongue.
Before I could register the strange darkness of my apartment the lights flicked on accompanied with a chorus of “Surprise!
I nearly fell back into the hallway as I took in my mom and dad, my grandpa, my faithful friends, and so many others smiling at me underneath balloons and streamers.
Jacquie, laughing at my confusion and most likely the look on my face, came running towards me, arms out. She grabbed me in a hug, careful of the cake, and said “Welcome to your birthday party!”
Later, after the cake had been eaten along with all the food my mother had secretly prepared, I was sat down in front of a table of presents wrapped with fun colors and bows. My mom slid a giant rectangle towards me. I grabbed it ripping open a corner. The gray fabric that was revealed made my heart drop. As I carefully removed the rest of the paper my happiness, which had risen up to the clouds, quickly tumbled back to earth. The present was a suitcase. The one we used for everything, including traveling upstate to my grandma’s funeral.
“Open it, honey,” my mom whispered from behind me.
I did and found three plane tickets to Paris sitting on top of my perfectly folded denim dress, and about half my closet. My face burst into a smile that was so big it might have gotten stuck but in that moment I didn’t really care. I had spent the entire day making things seem better and now I know that that is the right thing to do, not blame my parents. In the end, my birthday had gone from total disaster to paradise… that is if Paris is your definition of paradise.