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Thirteen Years Ago
University of Texas, Austin
“Happy Birthday to you,” sang seven of our best friends.
My sisters and I—all triplets—were turning twenty-two in five days. However, by then, all of us would have gone our separate ways home to our families for Christmas break. Yeah, sometimes having a birthday on December twentieth wasn’t so great. Having two fairly identical sisters made up for that. Our parents had always been great about making sure our birthday was a special day set aside just for us. No birthday slash Christmas presents ever. But it could be difficult to throw a December birthday party without Christmas sneaking in, either in the color scheme or the fresh flowers.
All my life, it has driven me crazy when people asked, “Isn’t it awful to have a birthday so close to Christmas,” and I want to shout, “I don’t know! It’s all I’ve ever known.” But I thought what bugged me most about that question was the implied opinion that there was something wrong with a December birthday. Like I said, it’s all my sisters and I have ever known, and as far as I was aware, none of us was bothered by our birthday’s location on a calendar.
Yeah, I was one of three. Mom must have still been high on drugs when she named us in alphabetical birth order. Andrea, Brooke, and Claudia. Yes, kind of corny, but as the oldest of the group, having my name start with an A reinforced my maturity…all ten minutes before Brooke and thirty minutes before Claudia. As the oldest sister, it was my job never to let them forget I held the power.
I glanced around at my sisters. Both wore bright smiles and sparkling eyes. Our closest sorority sisters had insisted on throwing us a small party after winter finals before we headed home for the holidays. Since Dad would send the plane for us tomorrow and we didn’t have to make the long drive from Austin to Dallas, we were happy to hang around, especially for a party in our honor.
When we told our parents that we were hanging around Austin for an extra night so our friends could throw us a birthday party, they’d insisted on providing the cakes, and I suspected picked up the bar tab as well. Each of us had gotten our own cake. Three cakes—Italian cream for Claudia, white with white buttercream icing for Brooke, and red velvet for me. Each cake held twenty-two lit candles with Happy Birthday scrawled across it.
Looking at the smoke the sixty-six lit candles produced, I joked, “I’m surprised we don’t set off the fire alarms.”
“No kidding,” Brooke said with a loud laugh.
“And the parents came through again,” Claudia added, gesturing to the three cakes.
My sisters and I sat with seven of our closest friends around a large table on the uppermost level of the Orange Cactus. Without a doubt, this was my favorite bar and this was my favorite level. Of course, most of the time, this level was packed wall to wall with UT students, but so many had already hit the road that the place was only slightly crowded. Reserving the Eagle’s Nest for a private event, like tonight’s, took some planning.
“Okay, ladies, which of you thought to reserve the Eagle’s Nest?” I asked as I sliced into my red velvet cake.
My sorority sister, Dana, raised her hand and waggled her fingers. “That would be me.”
“When?” Claudia asked. “It had to be some time ago.”
I nodded in agreement with Claudia.
“January.”
Claudia slammed her hand on the table. “January? Eleven months ago?”
Dana laughed. “Yep.”
“And that’s why she’s president of every club she belongs to,” Pamela said. “No one can organize like Dana.”
Dana shrugged. “It’s my anal-retentiveness.”
My actual sister, Brooke, wrapped her arm around Dana’s shoulders and hugged her. “You’ll make a great doctor.”
Dana shimmied her shoulders. “You and me, babe. We’re so going to rock med school.”
Brooke agreed with a nod. “They’ll never know what hit them.” She and Dana tapped wine glasses. “To my future roomie.”
The sound of heavy feet on the steps leading up to the Eagle’s Nest caught everyone’s attention, and we turned en masse to see what was happening. Three waiters approached our table, each carrying a champagne bucket and stand. A waitress trailed behind with a tray of champagne flutes.
“What’s this?” Claudia asked.
“Champagne from the gentlemen at the bar,” the lead waiter said. “They said to tell the birthday girls happy birthday.”
All ten of us leaned over the railing to look for the guys who’d sent three bottles of champagne. At the bar, a line of guys waved up at us and threw a few air kisses before lifting their beer mugs in a toast. Brooke, Claudia, and I waved and blew kisses back while shouting down, “Thank you, guys.”
I recognized one of the guys at the bar as Sandy’s boyfriend.
I heard Claudia asking Sandy about him.
