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Birthdays Are So Overrated
Isabelle Rocco
AFriday night crowd packed the restaurant, the murmur of their upbeat conversation drowning out the romantic music that faintly played in the background. The hostess led us through a dimly lit dining room, the glow of a candle flickering atop every table.
Cody and I sat at our table for two. I soaked in the sights and sounds of the five-star French restaurant, where all the men had to wear jackets just to get in. I’d never eaten anywhere this fancy in my life.
“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” Cody asked.
I didn’t want to make a big fuss over my birthday dinner because, as I originally told Cody, “birthdays are so overrated.” I’ve found that the more pressure and expectations you put on yourself to have have thisa~mazingbirthday, the more likely you are to end up feeling depressed and disappointed at the end of the night. Besides, we had plans: my dad just came to town tonight, so we were going to join him and go to a hockey game after dinner.
But Cody made it clear hereallywanted to take me out to a fancy dinner, his treat.
“This issonice. Thanks for talking me into it,” I said.
“Happy birthday, Izzy.”
Lately, I’ve noticed when my boyfriend smiles at me, his cheeks don’t dimple quite as deep, and his eyes don’t light up like they used to—which were the two very first things I noticed about him when we met in the dorms last year. I try not to dwell on it. But the truth is, lately, I’ve had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that something’s wrong. The weird part is, every time I ask him what’s wrong, he insists nothing’s bothering him. But you don’t spend nine months dating a guy without learning when something’s up, right?
Maybe I’m just imagining it, though, because Cody and I never fight. No—it’s more like, I screw up and do or say dumb things that disappoint him. And then I feelhorribleabout it.
I just didn’t want to do that tonight. Because Cody obviously wanted tonight to be a special occasion.
“Do you like my dress?” I asked, striking a little pose in the dress I bought for the festivities. The little red dress was sohauteand sexy—I’d been looking forward to wearing it all week.
“Yeah, you look nice,” he said. “But you didn’t bring a jacket. Won’t you be cold during the game?”
“I can deal with it,” I said with a wave of my hand. “I grew up going to hockey games. It’s not that cold in the arena.”
“If you say so,” he said with a shrug.
“I’m so excited to see Rust Walker play again, though. Dad used to take me to see his games all the time.”
Rust and my dad grew up together as little boys with big dreams of making the NHL. They were defense partners since PeeWee, all the way up through high school, where they won the Minnesota High School Hockey Tournament together. Coming out of high school, both were drafted into the NHL as promising prospects.
But that’s where the similarities end. While Rust made the NHL, Dad toiled in the minor leagues for a few years before he gave up on his dream. In fact, Dad’s playing days were over long before I was even old enough to form any memories of him being a pro athlete. Only a single photo exists of Dad, in all his hockey gear on the ice, holding me—then just a pudgy little dumpling of a baby—in his arms.
“That’s pretty cool your dad’s friend still plays,” Cody said. “He’s got to be what, close to forty?”
“Yeah, but I’m not surprised at all, because he keeps himself in such good shape.” I paused, considering whether I should tell my boyfriend what I wanted to tell him next. But I figured,why not?We told each other which celebrities we thought were hot all the time—why should this be any different? “I used to have the biggest crush on him.”
“Who?” he asked skeptically.
“Rust Walker.”
His eyes narrowed. “You had a crush on your dad’s best friend?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not a big deal,” I said with an innocent dip of my shoulder.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s… kinda weird, Izzy.”
I tried to put his mind at ease. “Relax. You don’t have anything to worry about. I only had a crush on him because he was a famous hockey player.”
“Who you saw in person all the time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please, Cody! It was a silly crush. Besides, Rust is twice my age. Trust me, you’ve gotnothingto worry about. I almost completely forgot about him until my dad mentioned he plays for the Sin now.”
“So he lives in Las Vegas,” Cody said, sounding somewhat shook.
