Birthday Girl

“Hey, can you pick me up at two?” I pin the telephone between my ear and shoulder as I count out my bank and put it in the register. “Ash didn’t come in. Her baby’s sick, and I don’t have another ride.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cole says. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

After our last fight, the aftermath progressed exactly like I predicted. He came home buzzed and relaxed, crawled into bed, and we cuddled it out. Things have almost gotten back to normal—or what our normal is, anyway—enough that I didn’t mind when he tried to pull me into the shower this morning. However, when we got into our bathroom, we discovered his dad had ripped out the sink and had started tearing away the tiles in our shower, our bathroom the next thing on his renovation list. How had we slept through that? And what time did he get up this morning?

“I’ll be done at two,” I state again, closing the register drawer.

“Yep, got it. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I reply and hang up.

Pike has been working on my car, and in an effort to smooth things over, I’m sure, Cole actually helped today. I’m not sure how I’m going to repay his dad, though, because I know he’s spending money on parts, even though he acts like he got the new exhaust cheap or just had those new tires laying around. I’ve been trying to go above and beyond in the house, doing things like making breakfast for everyone this morning and cleaning out from under the cushions on the couch. I even planted some flowers in the backyard, around the border, to help the aesthetic, which Pike agreed to as long as I don’t bring flowers in the house. I laugh, thinking about how grumpy he can be sometimes. It’s pretty funny.

Hours later, exhausted and my feet aching in my Chucks, I can’t wait to get back to the house, either. Home and in bed. I’m so tired.

Tying my hair up in a ponytail, I count out the bank, put it back in the tray, and slide the tray into the safe. After I cover the liquor bottles, finish the dishes, and turn off the lights, I peer out the window, seeing Cole’s car by the curb. I smile, delighted he’s on time.

I blow the out the remaining candles on the bar, closing my eyes and taking a breath each time. I hope tomorrow is better than today. It’s my go-to wish when I don’t have anything else in mind, and every day that passes, I’m trying to get closer to making it come true.

I grab my book bag, stuffing my tips in the pocket and head out the door, locking it behind me. The fresh air feels good in my lungs, and I toss my bag through the open back window before opening the passenger side door. I slide into the front seat, turning my tired but grateful smile on Cole.

“Hey—” I stop, my smile immediately falling.

Jay, my ex, sits in the driver’s seat. I look over my shoulder, making sure I didn’t miss Cole passed out in the backseat, but it’s empty.

My hands tremble. “Where’s Cole?”

Jay cocks his head, looking apologetic. “He’s wasted, babe. The guys didn’t want to let him drive.” His arm rests over the back of my seat, his hand inches from my hair and neck. “He’s sleeping it off at Bentley’s house. They told him someone would make sure you got home. I volunteered.”

No. Nuh-uh. Not a chance.

I don’t hesitate. Pulling the handle, I swing my door open and jump out, reaching into the backseat and retrieving my bag. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I can grab a ride from Shel. She’s still inside.”

“No, she’s not. You just locked up.”

I knew he would challenge me. Nothing gets by him.

An eerie calmness laces his voice, but I know it’s only skin deep. “Come on, I’m already here,” he presses. “You don’t want me to have to have come out here for nothing, do you?”

I lean down, glaring into his dark brown eyes as I simultaneously fish the bar keys back out of my back pocket. “I didn’t ask you to come. And like I said, I have another ride.”

Turning around, I hurry for Grounders’ entrance and quickly unlock the door.

“Jordan!” I hear him bark.

I yank the door open and step inside, casting a stern look back at him as he still sits planted in the car. “Go home.”

And I pull the door closed again, twisting the lock and backing away like he’s going to try to bust it down. I stay there, breathing hard and shaking.

He won’t let that slide. He won’t do anything tonight, because he would’ve been out of the car faster than I could make it to the bar door if he was going to try, but he’ll be pissed enough to not forget.

He was a six-month-long mistake I made in high school, but I won’t be that stupid again. My guard is up now.

And he didn’t come to give me a ride home tonight. Not directly, anyway. Maybe after he was done with me.

I close my eyes, trying to drown out the memory of him pounding on my car window one night as I frantically tried to get my key in the ignition. I can still feel the fire on my scalp from where he yanked my hair.

I turn away and open my eyes, pushing away the thoughts. After a moment, I hear the engine roar past the bar and the tires screech down the street.

He’s gone.

I set my bag down on the bar and run down the hallway, past the bathrooms, and check the locks on the back door, untwisting and re-twisting, yanking the handle to make sure it doesn’t give, and then I jog back up front and check the front door again and the windows.

Taking my phone from my bag, I sit on a bar stool, clutching it in my fist. Who do I call?

Jay’s probably telling the truth. Cole is drunk again. Why would he do this? He knew I was counting on him to be here. I’m positive he doesn’t know Jay was the one who came instead, but still… I could fucking kill him.

I swallow down the sickness rising up my throat.

I call my sister, but as suspected, it goes to voicemail. She’s probably just getting out of work or home asleep already.

My dad? Stepmom?

They haven’t even called since I called them a week ago. They can’t do anything without acting like it’s a huge imposition. Asking them for anything is owing them. It’s a burden.

I’m a burden.

Pike crosses my mind. I have no doubt he’d come.

But it would just piss Cole off if his father found out he dropped the ball tonight, and I don’t want Pike to know, either. It’s embarrassing. We’re adults, and we’ve made our beds. He’s taking care of me enough, and I’m not waking him up when he has work in the morning. It makes me a burden.

The only other person I could call is Shel, and her home is on the other side of town.

I don’t want to call Cole, because, of course, he can’t drive, but maybe he could send another friend.

But no. I’m not calling him. I’m too pissed right now.

And this town doesn’t have cabs, either.

I eye the pool table, the overflowing ash trays sitting on the edges, and the scratch marks all over the filthy felt.

Well, fuck. It’ll be light out in a few hours. I can walk home then. Time to suck it up. I’m not asking anyone for shit.

Hopping off the stool, I make my way behind the bar again and dig out two stacks of clean white bar towels and carry them to the pool table, one by one fanning them out and covering the dirty surface.

I kicked off the air conditioner hours ago, so it’s a comfy seventy-five by now, but I pull out my hoodie from my bag in case I want to cover up later. Grabbing my phone, I leave the hallway light on and climb on the table, scooting down enough, so I have room to lie down. Tucking my arm under my head, I yawn and check the volume and battery on my phone, making sure I have enough power to last in case something goes wrong while I’m alone here all night.

Like Jay coming back.

I find my app that makes a box fan sound and play it in hopes I can get a little sleep, but I’m not hopeful. I don’t feel secure, so I can’t relax.

Closing my eyes, I feel the weight of fatigue on my lids, and the pleasant feel of exhaustion. It’s the kind you know you deserve, because you worked your ass off that day.

But after twenty minutes, my mind is still racing. My body is done for the day but not my brain.

When my cell rings, I’m pretty sure it’s a sign I’m not meant to sleep tonight.

I bring it up to my eyes, squinting at the bright light.

Pike.

I knit my brow. “Hello?” I hold it to my ear, yawning again.

“Hey,” he says as if he didn’t expect to reach me. “I…a….I just saw it was after three, and no one’s home, so I just wanted to check in. Make sure everything’s okay.”

I turn on my side, still using my bottom arm as a pillow, and hold the phone to my ear with the other hand.

“I’m fine.” I smile at his concern and joke, “Do I have a curfew or something?”

“No,” he replies, and I can hear the humor in his voice. “You guys stay out and have fun. Do your thing. I just…” He pauses for a long moment and then continues, “You know, you don’t worry about things you’re not aware of. When Cole didn’t live with me, I didn’t always know where he was or what he was up to, so I didn’t think about it all the time. You two living under my roof now, I seem to be worrying constantly.” He breathes out a laugh. “That bar is shady. I just wanted to make sure you got out of work safely and everything’s cool. I’m just…checking in.”

I don’t take offense to his remark. It’s not my bar, after all, and yes, it is a dump.

I’m tempted to see if he wants to come and get me after all, since he’s awake, but my pride won’t let me. I don’t want to be a problem. And I definitely don’t want to be responsible for making waves between him and Cole. I can fight my own battles.

“Yeah. Everything’s cool,” I lie, adding some tease to my voice. “I’m not a kid, you know?”

“You kind of are.”

I snort. Well, kid or not, I guess it’s nice to have someone looking out for me.

“Did you call Cole, too?” I ask.

But he doesn’t answer. Instead I hear a loud slam and some shuffling. “Shit,” he barks.

My eyes open wide, alert. “What’s the matter?”

“The damn microwave doesn’t work right,” he growls. “I knew I shouldn’t have replaced it just to match the other new appliances, dammit. It won’t pop popcorn.”

I narrow my eyes, but I want to laugh so badly. He gets so worked up. “There’s a Popcorn button,” I remind him.

“I pushed it!”

“Twice?”

“Why would I have to push it twice?” he retorts like I’m stupid.

“Because the size of the bags you use take three-point-five minutes of cooking,” I point out.

“I know that.”

“Well, on your new microwave, pushing it down once only gives it two minutes of cooking. For the smaller bags,” I clarify. “You need to push it down twice to get the right time.”

There’s silence and then I hear a mumbled, “Oh.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. His random helplessness is pretty amusing. I wish I was there.

“Well,” he says after a short silence, “I guess I’ll let you go then.”

“Hey, wait,” I say, stopping him.

I pause, unsure of how to word this.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I finally say.

“No, I guess not.”

I wet my lips, hesitating. I don’t want to offend him, but I’m curious.

“Where’s all your stuff in the house?” I ask.

“Huh?”

I inhale a deep breath, forging on. “There’s furniture but not much else. It doesn’t look like you live there. Why?”

The other end of the phone is silent, and I stop breathing, afraid I’ll miss him speak.

Was the question insulting? I didn’t mean it to be. I just realized he knows so much about me, and I hardly know anything about him. He knows who my parents are, what happened to Cole’s and my friend, that I love 80s stuff, I grew up without a mom, what I study in college…

But he’s still such a mystery.

“I’m sorry if that sounded bad,” I tell him when he doesn’t answer. “It’s a beautiful home. It’s just that Cole mentioned that you and his mom met in high school where you were kind of a baseball star. You must love the sport. I’m just curious why I don’t see trophies or pictures or anything like that in the house. There’s no recent photos of you and Cole, either, no music, no books… Nothing that describes you or what you like.”

He draws in a breath, clearing his throat, and a cool sweat travels up my neck.

“It’s all packed in the basement,” he tells me. “I guess I just never dug it out after I moved into the house.”

“How long have you been in that house?”

“Uh….” He trails off as if thinking. “I guess I bought it ten years ago.”

Ten years?

“Pike…” I say, trying not to snicker.

He breathes out a laugh in my ear, and I smile, shaking my head.

“Guess it sounds weird, huh?” he asks.

That you still haven’t unpacked everything? Yeah.

I flip onto my back, keeping my arm tucked under my head. “I understand we do away with certain things as we get older,” I tell him. “But you’ve had a life since you moved into that place, haven’t you? I don’t see anything of your personality. Places you’ve visited, trinkets you’ve picked up over the years…”

“Yeah, I know, I uh…”

He hesitates again, letting out a sigh, and the sound of his breath vibrates across my ear, sending tingles down my spine.

I wish I could see his face. It’s so hard to read him over the phone. All I can picture is the way he drops his eyes sometimes, like he doesn’t want someone to know what he’s feeling, or the way he nods like maybe he’s afraid of what he’ll say if he speaks.

He finally continues. “Cole became more important,” he admits. “Somewhere along the way, who I was and what I wanted became irrelevant.”

I kind of understand. When you have kids, your hopes transfer to them. Your life takes a backseat to what they need. I get it.

But Cole is an adult now, and Pike has been on his own for a while. What does he do when he’s not at work?

“I’d love to see some of the stuff,” I broach. “If you ever want to unpack it, I’ll help.”

“Nah, that’s okay.”

I knit my brow at how quickly he shoots me down.

“You mean I can’t even see old yearbooks and if you and Cole were twinsies at the same age?” I tease.

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “God, no. Back when the only important thing I had to do was my hair?”

I grin, but of course, he can’t see it. Was he a one-girl kind of guy back in high school, or did he have lots like Cole did before me?

I remember what Cole said about his father cheating on his mom, but for some reason it doesn’t ring true.

“The truth is, Jordan,” he says, “when you’re young, you can be really stupid. I don’t care to remember that time in my life. I want to move on.”

But you’re not moving at all, by the looks of it.

“You need some spice in your life,” I jab at him. “You should get a woman.”

“Yeah, and you should get back to your friends now,” he retorts.

I laugh. “Oh, come on.”

“What makes you think I don’t already have a woman, Jordan?”

His voice taunts, and I can feel it all the way down to my toes.

My mouth goes dry. “Do you?” I ask.

I mean, I was just joking. Wouldn’t it be awkward to have two women walking around the house? I already have my chores down, and I do most of the cooking. That butcher block island and I have a relationship now. I might get a little jealous if another woman touches it.

“You haven’t known me long,” he plays. “My needs do have to be taken care of once in a while. I am human, after all.”

My stomach flips, and I shoot my eyebrows up. His needs?

An image of what he looks like when he has to get those needs met flashes through my mind. I push them away.

Umm, yeah. Okay.

All of a sudden, he laughs. “I’m kidding,” he says. “Yes, I do go out from time to time, but I’m not seeing anyone now. You don’t have to worry about running into some woman you don’t know in the house.”

“Or women,” I say. “Right?”

He scoffs, and I can just picture his face. “Do you honestly see me being able to juggle more than one female? Ever?”

“No, you like your me-time.”

“Exactly.”

My heart warms, and I knew I was right. Cole’s mom fed him bullshit to turn her son against his father.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something about Cole, but if Pike confronts him about the lies his mom probably told, Cole will see it as me betraying his trust. And it might embarrass Pike. They’re not my family. It’s not my place.

A yawn stretches my face, and I let out a little moan, my eyes growing heavier.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you go,” Pike says. “You both have fun, okay? Be safe.”

“We will.” My lids fall closed, his voice lingering in my ear. “And remember,” I tell him. “Push the button down twice.”

He snorts. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Later,” I say.

He pauses a moment before replying. “Goodnight, Jordan.”

He hangs up, and I set my phone down, yawning again and not bothering to turn my box fan app back on.

A smile still curls the corners of my lips. How can a thirty-eight year old man not know how to make microwave popcorn? It’s literally idiot-proof.

I chuckle, my lids resting heavy and sleepy as I forget about Jay and Cole and how uncomfortable this pool table is or how exhausted I’ll probably be tomorrow. Pike drifts through my mind and everything he said and how deep his voice was when he told me “goodnight Jordan” and how it made goosebumps spread up my arms.

And how this is the third night this week he’s been the last person I speak to before I fall asleep at night.