Page 30 of Melancholia

Instead, I sit there, paralyzed. My headphones resting around my neck, still carry on with my mortuary playlist. From what I can catch, the song playing might be “Just Pretend” by Bad Omens. And the title of the song feels like a sign from a god I don’t believe in to suck it the fuck up and put a smile on my face.

“You can do this,” I tell myself as panic grows and claws at my chest. “You’re being stupid. It’s just a party. Just three people out there who want to do something nice for you.”

Cecil is the one to come get me, and he proudly walks me back to the lobby, where a sheet cake bought from the local grocery store, is decorated with swirls of icing, candles shaped like a 2 and a 6, and the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY NELL in loopy blue icing.

“I tried to get you chocolate,” Hestia says with an apologetic grimace on her face. “I remember that one time you really liked the chocolate cake we had at the shop. But uh, they messed up and gave me strawberry instead. That okay??

She’s looking at me. I can feel her looking at me as I stare wide-eyed at the cake and then the balloons with HAPPY BIRTHDAY printed on their shiny surfaces. My stomach twists with nausea, and it’s hard not to either puke or start sobbing on the spot.

Somehow, though, I manage to put a smile on my face. I beam at them like this is the greatest thing anyone has ever done for me, instead of my worst nightmare. “It’s completely fine,” I assure her. “I like strawberry.”

I do not like strawberry; Elaina loved it. She’d wanted strawberry everything, from cake to cookies to Jell-O to milk. I never enjoyed the artificial flavor of it, though I put up with it on occasion for my twin.

When they sing, it’s agonizing to stand through. I feel like this has to be a punishment for everything I’ve ever done wrong in this life, and it takes all I have to not burst into tears. My smile hurts, and I‘m sure my eyes are a little too wide, but no one here knows me well enough to read the situation correctly.

Cecil gushes about the wedding with Hestia and Betty, giving me a few minutes to just nod along, before Hestia decides I need to be the center of attention once more.

“What do you usually do for your birthday?” she asks, putting me on the spot.

“Uh, not much,” I admit in a light voice, not wanting to have to make up a lie while they’re all watching. “My family wasn’t really into birthday celebrations for us kids.”

“You have siblings?” Cecil asks, catching the us part. His brows raise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention them.”

Fuck. My shitty little half-truth is apparently going to come back to bite me in the ass faster than expected. I stand there, my mouth feeling like it’s being pulled up at the corners by piano wire, before glancing down at the coffee I’m holding.

“Yeah. I had a sister,” I say at last. The taste of strawberry cake is sitting sourly at the back of my throat. No matter how much coffee I drink, I can’t seem to chase away the flavor of it. “She’s not…she died a long time ago.”

The room goes quiet, and I don’t need to look up to know I ruined the mood.

Then Betty’s phone rings and I jump, glancing up to see everyone finally look away from me and in her direction instead. Betty answers, gives a few noncommittal answers, then hangs up again before pushing a smile onto her lips.

“I did not come out here to have this turn into a downer of a time,” she informs us, brushing past Cecil to head back to the cake, where she cuts herself a generous slice. “Eat more cake,” Betty tells us firmly. “Don’t make me snack alone.”

Hestia is quick to follow, immediately starting up conversation once more. But as Cecil hesitates, dread builds in my stomach with every moment.

He’s going to try to comfort me.

Sure enough, the older man places a hand gently on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nell,” he says under his breath. “I had no idea.”

The wires on my mouth pull tighter as I look up at him, willing him not to see the hurt and exhaustion underneath my smile. “It’s all good,” I assure him. “You didn’t know. And it was a long time ago.”

As if the amount of time lessens it somehow, I think ruefully to myself. Things will never go back to the way they were. And I will never, ever want to celebrate another birthday without Elaina.

The sound of my lock clicking into place fills me with a sudden, sharp relief. My knees almost buckle as I lean against the heavy wood; my eyes closed as coolness flows down my face from the door.

“Finally,” I sigh, keeping my eyes closed as I just stand there. “I am finally free from today.” There’s only an hour left of my birthday, and I intend to be asleep before too much longer. Whether that requires me to take a Trazadone to make that happen remains to be seen.

But first, there’s something I’ve been both looking forward to and trying not to think about all day.

It only takes a few minutes to change out of my work clothes and into a pair of comfy sweatpants and T-shirt. With my hair still up in its messy excuse for a bun, I reach into the cheap plastic bag that’s been sitting for days on my small kitchen table, and I pull out the deep purple candle from within.

Purple was Elaina’s favorite color, and the scent of lavender curls in my nose as I set the glass-encased wax on the middle of my table.

With shaky hands, I light it, needing a few tries before the wick catches, thanks to my unsteadiness. But it picks up at last, so when the lighter flicks off, the little flame is still there, going strong as it feeds on the wick.

I stare down at it, not bothering to swipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Happy twenty-sixth birthday, Elaina,” I whisper to the candle. “I miss you, you know? And I wish you were here. Not just for me, or Mom, or Dad. But because you deserved way better than you got.”

For a few moments, I just stare at the candle. I don’t believe in real ghosts, nor am I waiting for some kind of sign. I know Elaina isn’t here, beaming down at me, thankful for the tribute. And I know she isn’t about to lean over my shoulder to blow it out—though that might be to my benefit since I’d probably pass out from shock.