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29
GRACELAND
Pain of Love by Whissell
Hearing Noelle’s car pull into the driveway, I race to the door and fling it open. She drags a large garbage bag out of her backseat and shrugs at me as I narrow my eyes at her.
Laundry.
“Have you become a shut-in?” she asks, bending down to pick up the papers.
“Just leave them,” I yell to her but she doesn’t listen, gathering them in her arms while dragging the massive bag of laundry.
When she reaches the door, she drops the bag and hands me the papers.
“I haven’t been a shut-in,” I protest, snatching the papers from her and dropping them on the coffee table.
“Happy birthday,” she says, giving me a sweet smile.
The doorbell sounds and I jump up from the couch.
“Pizza,” I tell Noelle, wiggling my eyebrows, but when I get to the door, I can tell it’s not the delivery man.
When I open the door, I’m shocked to find Beth on my porch, along with Laura and Ianna.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, shocked, and look back at Noelle to confirm if she arranged this, but she just smiles.
Ianna’s three girls run into the house as if they own the place, running straight for the patio door, faces pushed into the glass while they stare longingly at the pool.
“Surprise!” Beth says, holding her hands out like she’s in a jazz show.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought the girls,” Ianna apologizes while she runs through the living room, trying to wrangle them up.
Watching the girls excitedly jump up and down makes me realize what this house was missing: family.
“Happy birthday!” Laura says, giving me a hug, one that feels warm and inviting and so needed.
Trying to shut the door behind them, it’s stopped by a hand and a shout. When I pull it open, Georgie stands on the doorstep, juggling a bottle of wine and a couple of pizza boxes.
“A little help here,” she says, frazzled.
Grabbing the pizza, I open the door wider for her and then lock it behind her.
“Did you commandeer the pizza before he even got to my house?” I ask, setting everything down on the kitchen island.
Georgie makes herself at home, pulling glasses and plates down from the cabinets.
“Can we go in the pool?!” The girls ask, snubbing their noses at pizza if it means they get to go swimming.
“I brought suits,” Ianna says bashfully, “just in case.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I say truthfully.
Taking the pizza outside, I turn on the misters and the water feature in the pool for the girls. I hand out spare swimsuits to anyone that can fit in them, and those that can’t, improvise.
Dangling my feet in the water, I sit on the edge of the pool, my belly full of the pizza and warmed by the wine I watch as the girls kick and scream in the shallow end.
Having everyone here with me, this just might be the best birthday I’ve had in a very long time.
