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Lighting the candles, I take a few moments to gather myself and settle my thumping heart rate. Then I flick off the lights. “Ta-dah,” I chime, presenting Billy with the cake as the other break out in song.
“Please don’t sing at me,” he moans. “It’s worse than death.”
Everyone falls silent, their happy singing coming to an abrupt stop, all of them, including me, staring at Billy in horror.
“Jesus, lighten up. It was a joke.”
A joke? Then why the hell isn’t anyone laughing? I should be happy he’s trying to be funny. I can’t be. “Cake,” I squeak over the lump in my throat, and Billy looks at me, his skinny shoulders dropping.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I encourage him to blow the candles out, thrusting the cake toward him.
He inhales and puffs out a miniscule bit of air that barely makes them flicker.
“It’s okay, try again,” I say, smiling at his effort.
Again, Billy breathes in and blows, but only two of the candles go out. He tries again, putting another one out. I see his jaw clench, and I begin to worry, kicking myself for making him feel like he needs to do this. I pull the cake away. “Never mind about the candles.”
“No.” Billy slaps his hand over mine, stopping me from taking the cake. “I want to blow out my candles.”
I stand back, nervous, flicking my eyes between our friends around the table. Everyone is still quiet, looking at each other cautiously. What have I done? Billy sucks in as much air as he can and pushes it out. The remaining candles remain lit. He tries again, and again, and with each failed attempt, the tension in the kitchen grows thicker and thicker until I can’t bear it any longer. Keen to ease the atmosphere and ease Billy’s struggle, I lean forward, set on blowing out the candles for him.
His hand moves fast, finding mine, and he looks at me. “Together,” he says quietly, and I swallow, nodding, the lump back in my throat. Pushing out on his chair, he taps his lap, and I comply willingly and quickly, perching on his emaciated thighs but not releasing my full weight. We both lean forward and take in air, puffing it out across the cake. I know it’s only my effort that extinguishes all the candles, as does everyone else in the room, but it doesn’t matter. Together.
We get an applause, and I go to lift from his lap, but he somehow stops me. I look over my shoulder at him. His eyes speak a thousand words. “Stay,” he says quietly, and the lump grows even bigger. So I remain on Billy’s lap as I cut up the cake, passing it around the table, and when his arm snakes around my waist, I look down, seeing past the gray tone of his skin and focusing on the simple fact that he’s holding me. Willingly. He wants me close, and I absolutely relish in it.
I don’t move from his lap for the rest of the evening. It’s uncomfortable, his thick thighs now bony, but I don’t care. He wants me here. And it feels so incredible to be this close to him.
By ten thirty, he’s exhausted, and as I go to remove myself from his lap, he strains again to keep me there. “No, I’m too heavy.” I fight against his hold this time and get to my feet, starting to clear the dishes.
“I’ll help.” Billy stands, gathering up the pasta pot.
“No, you relax.”
“Let me help, Lo,” he insists, giving me the look he used to when he meant business. Just Billy looking at me like that makes me happy. Until I see him struggling to take only two paces before stopping. I take in air. “I’ve got it,” he breathes, moving again. He loses his grip, and the cast iron pot hits the floor with a deafening crash. “Fuck’s sake,” he hisses, silencing the room.
“It’s okay.” I rush to gather up the mess. “No harm done.”
Billy staggers back to his chair and plummets to the seat, his energy zapped, as Penny joins me to clear up the mess. I offer her a small smile that she returns, but it’s meek and oozing that dreaded sympathy.
“It’s okay,” I repeat, the atmosphere in the kitchen unbearable again.
Gareth stands and declares he’s beat, followed by Lewis. “It’s been a lovely evening,” he says, coming around the table to us, giving me a look of pity too.
“Yes,” I hear Helen say. “Let me help you clear up before we head off.”
“Honestly, I’ve got it.” Having our friends clear away will only serve to enhance Billy’s feeling of inadequacy. “Thank you for coming.” I smile as brightly as I can.
Lewis comes to me, linking his arm around my neck and kissing my hair. But he doesn’t say anything before breaking away and tapping Billy’s shoulder as he passes. They all edge out to escape the crippling atmosphere, and every look back over their shoulders shows distraught disbelief. Yes. This is the reality they’ve all avoided. This is our daily heartbreak.
