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May 13, 1989
SAMMY WAS SAD. Today was his birthday, and what would have been Charlotte's. His birthdays hadn't ever been happy since Charlie's death nearly six years ago. Every year, he would just spend it, quietly, wishing his other half was still here. He just wanted his sister back.
Sarah would've normally baked a cake, but the last time she did that was exactly six years ago. To make up for it, Cameron would take him to the store and buy him cupcakes and they would both eat them all.
But today, neither brother spent their time eating an entire thing of twelve regular sized cupcakes from Walmart.
Sammy has a single chocolate cupcake sitting on a paper plate on his nightstand. There's a candle stuck in the middle of it, half melted, wax covering the buttercream frosting. He had lit it a few minutes ago with a Zippo lighter he kept in the drawer of his nightstand, and had only blown out the flame a bit after.
Six years without you, Charlie, he had thought, just moments before he had blown out the candle. I wish you were still here.
As much as he wanted to eat the cupcake, he never did, which was why the candle wax had hardened on the frosting.
Sammy climbs off of the bed and pushes the plate off into a metal trash can beside the nightstand. He sighs as he walks out of his room. Maybe, just maybe, he could ask his mother for some spare cash and ask Cameron to take him to the movies or something. He just wanted to break tradition this time around and do something other than eat cupcakes.
He enters the hallway and heads downstairs, only to be greeted by yelling coming from the kitchen. The door is wide open, but he stays hidden behind the wall, peeking every few seconds, as he listens to his brother and his mother arguing.
"Cameron, what the hell is this?" Sarah holds up a stack of unsent letters addressed to Henry.
"Goddammit, give me those," Cameron mutters, snatching the letters from his mother's hands. "They're drafts of the letter I sent to Dad three years ago. I needed to know how he was doing. He's never responded. I just hope he's read it, at least."
"Why would you keep these drafts, anyway? That was three years ago, Cameron," she sighs, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You know, I told you not to talk to him."
"I just don't want to forget about him, Mom," he responds, frowning. "I just... Sammy and I haven't seen him in, like, six years... Henry is still our father, whether or not you want to choose to be associated with him anymore. I mean, look, we've been living in fucking Los Angeles for the past six years, and I still can't call this place home! The least you could've done is let me and Sammy stay in Hurricane..."
