Coffee Shop Conversations | ✓

14

i was probably going to hate october 14th for the rest of my life.

it was tucker elliot's birthday today.

every single year birthday when we were children, his parents would take us down for a few days somewhere and just kind of let us order them around. 

when we were babies, they'd let us throw food on a map (tucker's parents were weird).

when we got there, we'd go to tourist attractions, eat food, walk around, and anything else stupid we could think of. 

"amy," he'd say and i'd turn around to give him my worst glare. through my death glare, his toothy grin would always remain.

"don't call me amy! then other people'll call me amy and i hate it when other people call me amy!"

we'd argue like that for two minutes (i never got him to stop calling me that) and then we'd both get distracted by the same thing.

"amy sounds so- oh my goodness, look at that roller coaster!"

when we turned 7, we made it a goal to make it across canada by the time we were 18. we did it every year consecutively until grade 8. we've been up north, on the west coast, and all the prairies. we never got to touch the east coast: the maritime provinces--but we've been everywhere else.

birthdays and tucker were the best part of my childhood, and probably the only good parts.

my parents were never at home and if they were, they'd be pretty absent. when they weren't absent, they were yelling at me or at each other. birthdays, however, gave them a reason to pay attention to me.

tucker's parents would always be able to convince them to get off their asses and do something fun for their kid (for once), something my existence couldn't compel them to do.

we turned 13 and all of that stopped. my parents didn't even bat an eye on my 14th birthday. all i got from tucker on my 14th was a guilty glance at school and some mean words.

i guess the mean words stopped in grade 10, but his silence was probably worse than his unexplainable wrath.

i didn't need tucker, and i certainly didn't need my parents now that i was 17, but i missed it all the same. i'd be moving out the next year and the last time i went out with my parents was on tucker's 13th birthday. how fucked up is that?

"bye dad," i murmur on my way out.

he doesn't even look up from his paperwork.