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If he knew I was doing this for Arch, he wouldn’t be pleased. He doesn’t like him, while I’m afraid I like Arch a little too much.
“You look pretty, sweetheart.” He studies me for a moment and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s caught up in his memories. Thinking of another time. “I can’t believe you’re eighteen.”
“I can,” I tell him with a little laugh, digging into my pancakes. I don’t want to reminisce over past birthdays or tragedy and loss. The fierce way I miss my mother is a physical ache that lives inside me, but I know she wouldn’t want me to be sad about losing her on a day that should be for me.
He smiles at my answer. “Are you feeling every one of those eighteen years?”
“I suppose.” I take another bite of my breakfast, chewing and swallowing it down. “Thank you for breakfast. It’s delicious.”
“You’re welcome.”
We eat in comfortable silence, him reading the local newspaper on his iPad and me checking social media on my phone. I follow people I go to school with but not a lot and I don’t know why I never thought of it before, but I go and check Arch’s profile.
It’s public, because of course it is, and he has an outrageous amount of followers. Over fifty thousand, which is like…crazy. Though I assume they follow him because of who he is.
A Lancaster.
I realize the follow button on his profile actually says “follow back” and I’m surprised I didn’t get a notification that he requested to follow me. I hit the button, accepting his follow and wondering if he’ll be disappointed.
My posts are boring. Mostly photos of roses or a bird sitting on a branch in a tree. Semi-artsy stuff when I thought I wanted to be a photographer for all of a minute.
There are no photos of me with friends or a past boyfriend. Oh, there’s a photo of me and my parents from the Christmas when I was eleven.
The last Christmas we got with her.
“You have plans tonight for your birthday?” Dad asks when we’re almost done with our breakfast.
I stare at him in disbelief. What friends would I celebrate with? “No.”
“Ah.” He squirms in his seat and I wonder what his problem is. “Kathy asked if I wanted to get together for dinner and I told her maybe.”
Well, at least he’s thinking of doing something else on this day versus reliving the moment that changed our lives forever.
“I can cancel on her and tell her we need to save it for another time,” he’s quick to say when I don’t respond. “We can go out instead. Just the two of us.”
And be sad all night? “You can go out with her.”
He tilts his head. “You sure about that? I don’t want to leave you alone, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay. Really. I might have plans.” I think of Arch. He doesn’t even have my phone number, so it’s not like he can text me and ask if I want to do something on my birthday. Does he even remember that it’s my birthday?
I remember how he said happy birthday in my ear yesterday afternoon after he made me come, and I’m guessing yes.
He remembers.
But that doesn’t mean he’ll want to spend his Friday night with me. I shouldn’t expect anything from him.
“You might, huh?” His smile is wide and I can tell my response pleases him. All he wants is for me to be happy. To make friends and live a normal teenage existence. Instead of the life I’m actually living, which is nothing normal.
It’s not that I think I’m special or above anyone else. I’m just introverted. Shy. I find it freaking impossible to make small talk. I wish I was better at that sort of thing. More social, more easygoing. More open and flirtatious and cute.
Like Cadence. She’s perfect. A little whiny sometimes but I don’t think any of the boys at our school mind too much. She’s beautiful and confident and has lots of friends. She’s the most popular girl at the school and this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about her and felt…
Envious.
Arch used to be her boyfriend. If—somehow—Arch and I become a public thing—I can’t even imagine that happening but maybe it could—how will she react? Will she hate me?
Maybe.
