So it goes [Breakable Heaven #1]

15. Make a wish

Two years ago Jean asked me what my perfect birthday would look like. I told her it was going to be with someone I loved - namely, Lilian, back then - visiting some amazing place in the world. I said I wanted there to be a triple chocolate cheesecake, some good Belgian sour beer, and a lot of good music.

I honestly thought she would have forgotten by now, but when she finally stops the car we've been in for the past two and a half hours and I see the Alhambra of Granada, which in my opinion is one of the most beautiful and magical places in the world, in front of me, I realize she has been planning for god knows how long to make this first birthday without the person I love the best birthday I could possibly have given the circumstances.

It's Saturday, the day before my thirty-third birthday, and we're about to take the night visit at the Generalife, something I have been talking about doing for months.

"Oh my god!" I gasp, too stunned to say anything else.

"Happy?" she asks me and I throw my arms around her neck to hug her tight.

"Thanks," I murmur, my voice broken in deep emotion. "You're the best."

They let us in, at eight sharp, and I'm so thrilled to be there I almost end up acting like a five-year-old, bouncing on my spot in anticipation. I've been here twice before, once with Jean a couple of months after I moved here, and the second one with Lilian, but never at night, and seeing the Arabian-style gardens and palace with this lighting is a completely different experience that takes my breath away.

Once again the thought that comes to my mind is that I cannot regret moving here and the reasons why I made that decision: California surely is amazing, and maybe one day I'll go back there, but there is an entire world that I hadn't had the chance to explore, to experience. I'm a curious person, thirsty for knowledge, I couldn't just spend my whole life stuck there, no matter how happy being with Lilian used to make me. Eventually, that wouldn't have been enough.

However, that doesn't mean that I don't miss her more than I've ever missed anything in my life, especially here in Granada, a place that we visited together no later than a year ago and where we had some very illegal, very hot sex. I might be doing way better than when I got back from the US in September, I might be dreaming of Lilian only a couple of nights a week now, I might be feeling attraction toward another person, but the memories haven't stopped haunting me; Lilian is still there, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to make her go away. Everything I do, everything I think about, somehow always circles back to her, to something that we did together or something she said, an inside joke, anything. How can I move on if she still holds such a huge place inside of me?

People probably don't realize just how much I am still thinking about her, because I'm quite a good actress and I've learnt since young age that "fake it till you make it" is the way of life. Everyone thinks that I am healing, but I'm not. Jean told me just the other day that she's surprised at how well I'm reacting to what happened. She doesn't know that I still dream of Lilian coming back that often. She doesn't know that sometimes I stare at my phone for hours, hoping to get a text from her. She doesn't know that I woke up this morning praying that Lilian would reach out at least to wish me a happy birthday. She doesn't know that I'm still waiting for that, even though I am perfectly aware that it is never going to happen.

"Hey S?" Jean's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Where did you go?"

I shake my head. "Nowhere, I was just taking it all in. This is the best birthday present ever, J!"

"I knew you were going to like it," she smirks. "I've been planning it for a while. And it's not over yet, but you'll see when we finish the visit."

I manage to stay away from thinking about Lilian for the rest of the evening. The Alhambra is so magical it doesn't need much to completely capture my attention.

Jean tells me stories of her childhood, when she used to travel around Spain with her parents over the summer, and specifically, she recounts the first time she went to the Alhambra, at five years old.

"I threw the mother of all tantrums when it was time to leave because I didn't want to go," she tells me. "I sat down on the ground of the parking lot, crying and screaming that I wanted to live here. Everybody was staring at me, and my parents at some point were so fed up with me that they pretended they were leaving without me. That, obviously, made me stop crying and it scared me so much that I don't think I've ever had another tantrum that bad ever since."

I laugh, picturing a mini-Jean with pigtails crying and screaming in the parking lot.

We continue the visit exchanging memories from our childhood and teenage years. As usual, I can't help but thinking that Jean and I would have been great friends even back then, if we had met before. Our upbringings are definitely different, but our personalities have always matched, and I think that, somehow, we have always been destined to become friends. Yet another reason not to regret moving to Spain.

At nine-thirty they inform us that the visit is over and that we have to exit. I wish I could have stayed longer - all night, actually - but I am really glad we got to do this in the first place. When we get back to the car, Jean makes us wait until most of the crowd dissipates, then opens all the doors and starts blasting some very loud rock music from the radio. She takes a cooler out of the trunk and reveals a triple chocolate cheesecake with the number 33 written on it in dark chocolate icing and two bottles of Timmermans Oude Gueuze.

"Happy birthday, darling!"

She sticks a candle in the cake and lights it. I blow on it and open the bottle of beer, then we toast and comment that this, in America, wouldn't have been possible, given the strict laws about alcohol consumption in public places.

I would have never thought that eating cake and drinking beer in a parking lot could be the best way to celebrate my first birthday as a single woman in the past eight years, but it really is. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Ok, the last surprise for the day," Jean announces, waving a pack of sparklers. I love sparklers, they remind me of the only great foster home I've ever had, which is something I told my friend once a long time ago. I am surprised that she has remembered that. "You know, my mom used to tell me that I had to make a wish while lighting a sparkle, because it looks like a shooting star. I think you should try, since it's your birthday and everyone knows birthday wishes are stronger than any other wish."

I close my eyes and do as she says. I've never really believed in wishing upon a star, but all this situation feels so magical that I am willing to give it a shot.

"I just want to heal and learn to be happy again," I repeat in my head until the sparkle goes off. It's a very generic and maybe stupid wish, but that's all I want now.