Only Fools

Chapter Eleven

Alex: Happy Birthday, sis.

Me: Did you remember all by yourself or did dad have to remind you??

Alex: yee of little faith.

Me: So dad reminded you.

Alex: college is hectic.

Me: Too hectic to remember your little sister's birthday??

Alex: you know I love you, As.

Me: Sometimes I doubt it.

Alex: whatever. I'll text you on whatever's next. Thanksgiving?

Me: Yeah. You aren't coming home??

Alex: I wish I could but you'll have to wait until Christmas to be graced with my presence.

Me: Graced?? More like burdened.

Alex: you love me.

Me: Sometimes.

With a smile, I slip my phone into my pocket before heading downstairs in sweats, not actually planning on going to school today. One of the first things that I notice when I step into the kitchen is my father's signature communication method, writing on a paper plate.

Hey kiddo
Happy birthday! 17? I swear you're growing up way too fast. I'm definitely going to have to start banning these birthdays before they get out of hand.
I'm so sorry I'm not home right now. I was called into work, but I'll try to make it home to celebrate with you tonight. I know today is hard for you, but I know you're strong and you'll be fine.
Love you,
Dad

My reaction to the note is mixed as I feel the love from my dad and am reminded of the loss of love from my mom at the same time. As I take a seat at the small kitchen table, my mind wanders to the past years my birthday was celebrated, when my mom was here. She always made a big deal about everyone's birthday. She would get up extra early to make them a special breakfast and would have decorated when everyone was asleep the night before. She used to remind me that someone's birthday isn't just to remind them that they're a year older, but for those around them to show their thankfulness and love that they're there. That's probably why I was so shocked that morning four years ago.

All I can remember is running downstairs with a wide smile on my face, expecting decorations and waffles. What I got instead was a quiet house. My dad was on the couch in the living room with his head clutched in his hands and a piece of paper crumbled up next to him. That was one of the few times I remember seeing my dad cry. And I didn't even comfort him but instead ran to get comfort for myself. Alex was fifteen at the time and was still asleep upstairs. His introduction to the situation was me shaking him awake with tears in my eyes. We both stayed home from school that day. Alex was set on trying to make the day normal for me so he picked Ivy up from her house and we watched my favorite movies and ate store bought cake all night. Dad shut himself in his room and didn't come out until later that night with guilt in his eyes as he hugged me and wished me a happy birthday.

Though I could sense that my mother had withdrawn herself more than usual, there were no true warning signs. The day before had been just like any other day. My parents went to work. Alex and I went to school. We had a family dinner that evening. The conversation was no more interesting or less interesting than usual. And when I said good night to my mom, she even told me how excited she was for my birthday. Though now I wonder if she was actually excited for me or just for herself.

It's then that I hear a knock on the door that I was in no way expecting, interrupting my thoughts. It happens again before I'm able to open the door to reveal Ivy standing there with a worried expression on her face.