His Adam’s apple bobbed “Why aren’t you home?” he asked again, his voice raspy
I frowned, bewildered. What business was it of his? Seeing my silence, his expression fell. “Your parents really miss you….”
“If you don’t have anything else to say, you can leave,” I cut him off, making no effort to hide my annoyance. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Tve missed you, too”
His voice was quiet, but the words hit me like a physical blow. He had to be insane.
I let him: in, poured him a glass of water and stared at him, my mind reeling “Do you have any idea what you just said?”
He nodded slowly. “Your dad said that when you came home this year, he was going to try and set us up. But you didn’t come home. So I came to find you”
I was silent for a long moment. “I’m not going on a date with you,” I finally said. “You should go.”
“Why?” He looked genuinely confused “You’ve hated me since we were kids, but I’ve never done anything to hurt you.”
“You don’t need a reason to hate someone,” I said, my face a mask of indifference. “Leave. Don’t make me throw you out.”
“Just be reasonable..”
“I am being reasonable. And I’m perfectly lucid.” I looked him straight in the eye, my voice dangerously low. “I hate you. I really, truly hate you. I don’t care how famous or successful you are, Gervase. Get out of my apartment. I never want to see you again.”
The truth is, I always knew he liked me. You just know these things. In elementary school, he’d help me with my homework, tapping my forehead in exasperation at my slowness and murmuring. “You’re such a dork.” In middle school, when his teachers suggested he skip a grade, he sought me out, his eyes full of hope in the biting wind “Do you want me to?” he’d asked Before I could answer, he’d pulled me into a quick, tight hug and then let go, smiling. “Even if I skip, we’ll still be best friends.”
Then came high school and the rumors skipping class, getting into fights, dating the prettiest girl in school. I heard it all, but I didn’t care. Not until he showed up on my walk home one day, his face bruised and swo llen, his eyes red–rimmed and miserable “Stella,” he’d pleaded, his voice thick. “Why didn’t you even ask me what happened? Don’t you care about me? It hurts…”
The memory dissolved Gervase was gone, and from the look on his face, my words had hit their mark. The water in the glass was cold. I washed it, sank onto the sofa, and switched on the projector. Predictably, my phone was already blowing up with messages from my parents. They called me ungrateful. “How dare you reject someone as wonderful as Gervase? Who do you think you are?” “It’s an honor he even wants you! You worthless, shameless girl! Staying out there like a tramp instead of coming home! We raised you for nothing!” “I wish I’d never given birth to you!”
A bitter smile touched my lips. Sometimes, I wished I’d never been born, either
The day after New Year’s is my birthday. Growing up, my mother always said, “Kids with bad grades don’t deserve birthdays. Only when you’re as smart as Gervase will you deserve a cake bought with our money. before I turned eighteen, I never had a birthday cake.
by
So.
painful mouthful, even when the cream turned my stomach and I had to lean over
the trash can, gagging I forced myself to finish every last crumb, as if I could somehow reclaim all those lost years of joy.
That morning, as I went through my routine, these memories surfaced, a familiar mix of tragic and absurd. I looked at my reflection in the mirror “It’s all in the past,” I told myself
I picked up the cake I’d ordered. The baker had followed the photo I’d sent, shaping it into a cute cartoon character. “You’re a kid at heart,” she’d teased. I just smiled.
When I got home, my heart sank. There he was again, the last person on earth I wanted to see. Gervase.
“You again?” I sighed
He pursed his lips and pulled a small, elegant box from his pocket, holding it out to me “A birthday gift.”
How did you know it was my birthday?”
“your parents told me,” he said. “They told me to spend the day with you, that you love celebrating your birthday.”
cargo at the box in his hand, a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside me So they knew. They knew I wanted to celebrate. They knew I wanted a coke. They knew about all the hurt they had caused, and they simply
kesin Y cared.
“It seems they’d rather have you as their child than me.” My voice was flat. “They’d even lie about me liking my birthday just to get you to come here.*
He winced, as if he finally understood. Tm sorry,” he said softly. “Your mother said you two just had a small fight. I thought… I thought you’d want to patch things up. “He paused. “I won’t make that mistake again.
He didn’t retract the box “This gift is from me. I made this charm myself. I wanted to give it to you. Happy birthday.”
I didn’t take it. “I don’t want it. Please leave.”
I said it again, my voice firm. “Gervase, I hate you. I really, truly do. Please, don’t ever bother me again.”
That birthday passed in a blur of quiet melancholy. I had planned to light six candles, but after the third, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I looked around the empty apartment. Even with the warm, orange- toned decor I’d chosen, the loneliness was palpable.
What was the point?
I blew out the three tiny flames, scraped them into the trash, and forked a dollop of frosting into my mouth. The rich, velvety sweetness offered a fleeting moment of comfort. I cut a small slice, cracked open a Coke, and curled up on the sofa to watch a replay of the New Year’s Eve special. The comedy sketches were terrible. I was about to switch to a movie when my phone rang–an unknown number.
It was Gervase’s mother.
