“Let me think about it,” Megan said, happily.
“Really! oh, Mom, thank you!” Olivia’s voice danced with excitement and hope.
“I said, think about it.”
“I know, I know, but usually when you say that, it means there’s a good chance!” She gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, Mom! Think about it!”
“What was all that about?” Peter asked, his lean body came forth to embrace Megan, tensed, and took extra caution not to squeeze Megan too tightly.
“Hey Peter! I assumed Jack was coming with you,” Megan said, as she hugged him and moved slowly across the shining hardwood floor towards the couch. “Where is he?” she looked toward Holly. “And Peter, I thought you were bringing Cruz.”
Holly said, “Oh, you know Jack. He has so much to do—always has a list—but he promised to try and come later. Besides, it’s more fun without the men!” She smiled and sat down next to Megan, propping the oversized cranberry pillows comfortably against her friend’s sides and leaning back against the corner of the couch.
Peter cleared his throat with a loud, “Ahem!”
Holly looked at him and laughed, “Well, you know what I mean. You’re like one of us!”
They all laughed.
“Cruz couldn’t make it. Besides, it seems like he’d be invading our time together, and I’m not really there yet.”
A knowing glance passed between the friends, as, in unison, they said, “Uh-huh.”
“Peter, after three years, don’t you think you could let him into your life a little?” Holly asked.
“Only if he wants to keep him,” Megan interjected, “and therein lies the problem.”
Peter plopped down on the chaise lounge, sinking in as if it were memory foam. “Whatever, you guys. I let him in. He’s with me two, three nights a week.” He sipped his wine.
“Commitment-phobe,” Holly said.
Olivia brought in appetizers from the kitchen. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, she asked, “Are we discussing the trials and tribulations of Mr. Peter ornsby again?” She set down the platter of stuffed mushroom caps, bit into one and dribbled it down the front of her shirt. She laughed, “Oh sorry, Mom. Now you’ll have to wash it.”
Megan motioned her unconcern with a wave of her hand.
Olivia turned on the radio, which played top-forty tunes in the background as she bounced around the room, nibbling off of the trays and humming.
“So Meg, this is the big thirty-nine!” Holly put her hand on Megan’s knee. “How does it feel? I mean, you are so much older than the rest of us.”
“Yeah, right!” Megan placed her hand on top of Holly’s, thankful for the warmth as it seeped into her own cold skin. “I think you’re a little older than me.”
Holly got up and walked around the living room, inspecting photos of the four of them, admiring Olivia’s vase from first grade art class, and ignoring Megan’s comment completely.
“Hol-ly!” Megan sang. “Aren’t you older than me?” Holly spun around. “Actually, no. You see, when I was
born, you were not, but then you were and we skipped a year and then I was no longer older than you. Don’t you remember the old skip-a-year thing that our parents did?”
“What skip-a-year thing?” Olivia asked, perched on the arm of the couch next to her mother.
“Well, you know that grandma and Mrs. Blackwell were great friends, right?” Megan said.
“Yeah, you and Holly were playmates when you were little.”
“Right. What you don’t know is that when I was born, our parents decided that they wanted us to be best friends, like they could decide it for us. So Mrs. Blackwell told Holly that she was one year old for two years in a row, and basically just pretended that she was the same age as me. It fell into place when we were about five or six, I think.
Right, Holly?” Megan looked at Holly, who was lying on the chaise lounge next to Peter. “Yeah, right around there.”
“No way!” Olivia interjected. “So she just pretended you were the same age and it went on that way forever?”
“Yup, pretty much,” Megan said. “Grandma and Mrs. Blackwell enrolled us in school the same year. Back then there weren’t as many rules and regulations. No one gave it a thought if your kid started school a year later than was normal, and then each year they would send notes to the principal asking to place us in the same class.”
“That worked until about sixth grade,” Holly said, “until we talked so much that we became problematic.”
“Then,” Megan said, “we would just meet in the bathroom several times each day, or pass notes through other kids.”
“That is so cool!” Olivia looked from one to the other. “And Holly, did you know how old you really were?”
“Well, not until many years later. I needed my birth certificate to drive, and when I saw it, I told my mother it was wrong, that she had to get it fixed.”
“You were so pissed!” Megan remembered how Holly had screamed at her mother for not telling her the truth, and how badly she had felt—like it had been all her fault.
“Yeah, but only for a day or so, then I wanted to be your same age again,” Holly said.
Megan remembered that decision fondly; Holly had snuck into her bedroom window in the middle of the night and had crawled into bed with her. Holly had looked her
In the eye and had told her that no matter what her birth certificate said, she was always just the same as Megan. The memory sparked an affection that filled her with warmth.
“Wow,” Olivia said. “Your moms were really cool. My mom would never do that!” She looked at Megan, who passed an intimate look to Holly.
“I might have, if the right situation had occurred,” Megan said as she squeezed Holly’s hand.
Megan snuggled into the couch, the afghan draped across her legs, the pillows embracing her petite frame. The din became a dull hum, and she was enveloped by the kindness that emanated from her closest friends. The lavender fragrance of candles, burning quickly down their wicks, mixed with perfumes and baked goods and filled the air. Scents of the ocean wisped through the open window, intertwining the many smells into one of comfort and happiness. How did I get to this place? Megan wondered. After thirty-nine years, she still couldn’t believe that she was now the age that she’d always remembered her mother being. When did this happen? When had age crept up on her, like a flower that had bloomed, vibrant and beautiful, and quickly browned around the edges, struggling to simply keep erect. There is no going back. gone was the energy that once revolved around what could be—wants, desires, and aspirations—and it was replaced with thoughts of what was best, what had to be.
Her small, veined hands felt cold, and she rubbed them together. Her olive skin had lost its sheen. It was slightly more wrinkled than what she had believed it was, what she had envisioned and held onto in her mind for the past few years. Her legs, she knew, were no longer strong and lean, but wilted and frail. The reality was like a weight in her heart. She had chosen to ignore it for so long that the realization hit her fast and hard, like a punch to the gut. She had truly thought she could beat it, age gracefully, and maybe even glow.
Peter popped up off his seat, “Okay, ladies, enough of this. Let’s get down to the real thing, the cake.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Jack?” Megan asked.
“No way! He’ll get here when he gets here. Don’t let a man’s tardiness ruin our good time! Besides, you know Jack, he may not make it until the morning,” Holly said, offering Megan her hand.
Megan took it gratefully and was surprised by the ease with which Holly lifted her to her feet.
Olivia dimmed the lights. Holly held Megan’s hand, warming it as her thumb caressed her friend’s thin skin. Holly swallowed hard, fought back the tears as they rushed forward. Her sadness sat hard and fat in her throat, as if she had swallowed an egg. The four of them stood around the lightly-textured countertop, brown sprinkled with beige and
greens, like Megan’s eyes.
Peter was the first to speak, “Well, Meg, this is your chance. Make it a good wish this year!” He looked at Holly and Olivia, who each looked down, unable to meet his eyes.
“Wait!” Olivia yelled, her smile revealed perfect white teeth like a fine strand of pearls. “We have to sing, remember?”
They all laughed, and Peter started singing Happy Birthday, softly at first, and careful, and then it grew louder and filled with joy as they each tried to sing the sickness out of their best friend’s body.
Megan’s eyes drifted closed. She could hear the singing and happiness around her, but separated her thoughts to be solely her own. She needed a quiet moment to make what she knew was to be her final wish. She envisioned herself as a sponge, absorbing every sensation. The muscles in her arms ached, her frail fingers clenched around her best friend’s, like a lifeline. Her breaths felt shallow and weak. She took note of all of these feelings, and realized that they didn’t fill her with sorrow. She accepted her frailty, accepted her pain, laced with a strange kind of loneliness, and accepted her fate. She relaxed her grip, and gave her wish to the powers that be, keeping her eyes closed for good measure.
Megan had only wished for two things in her life. Well, two things on her birthday wishes anyway, the important wishes, the ones that counted, the ones that god heard no matter how busy He was. She’d wished the same wish since she was eight years old, every night before she went to bed and every birthday before blowing out the candles. The wish had changed when Olivia was born. Her wish had gone from being solely about her to being inclusive of Olivia. Her heart sank, as she realized that this year’s wish would be placed only half-heartedly, knowing that her first wish wasn’t granted after thirty-seven years of wishing, hoping, praying, and making deals and promises in the dark, when it was just her and god. She really thought He had heard her wish for all of those years. She thought she and god had a special connection about that one wish, but she was wrong, as she had discovered a year ago. She was very wrong.
Yet here she was, putting her faith in Him yet again. Rethinking the first thirty-seven years of wishing, she held her eyes closed tightly and said in her mind, Please, God, just half the wish. That’s all I ask for, just half. She wished her yearly wish, then, knowing it had already been broken, shattered like a glass fallen to the ground, she took a deep breath, and wished a new wish, Please let her let go of me. As a tear slipped down her cheek, she added quickly, Let her move on with her life, but not forget me.
She opened her eyes and returned to the present. She wiped the warm tears from her eyes, their salty remains landing on the cake. No one seemed to notice. Megan never saw the tears in her friends’ and daughter’s eyes.
Megan blew out the candles, and a wave of uncertainty thickened the air. Smiles and well wishes surrounded her. She felt the love that swirled in the air like a scent that she could smell, a taste that she could swallow. She realized, then, that though she had never wished it, the love she had assumed would always be there, taken for granted, and reveled in, was the most precious wish of all. That love, which had been there through the good years and the bad, would be Olivia’s future, her stronghold, her vice. Megan said a silent thank you to god, and eked out a smile.
Holly wrapped her arm around Megan’s shoulder, hugged her, and kissed her forehead. “Happy birthday, Meggie.” Her smile came to rest softly in Megan’s heart.
“You go, girl!” Peter said. “Let’s have some cake!”
Olivia, who was already sneaking frosting from the bottom of the cake, licked her long, thin fingers and said, “I’ll do it!” She cut huge pieces and handed out the heavy plates.
“Livi, I can’t eat this much!” Holly said as she eyed the thick chunk of chocolate cake.
“Oh, come on, Holly. It’s a party!” Olivia said.
“Well then, give it to me!” Peter said. He snagged the plate from Holly and took a big bite, leaving white frosting on his upper lip like a child would.
“Here, Mom,” Olivia said. She handed her mother a large slab of cake, knowing she wouldn’t eat it. “It’s your birthday, live a little.”
“Thanks, Liv,” Megan said. Her hand brushed against Olivia’s. “You guys mean more to me than you can ever imagine,” Megan said. She looked around the room at her most cherished friends. “I couldn’t have made it through my breakups, my heartaches, my life without you guys here to help me through. I just want to thank you guys for being so great. I love you all!”
Tears welled in Megan’s eyes, “And Livi, you know you are my heart. You are my reason for being, and my legacy. I love you, honey.”
“We know, now drink up and let’s have some fun!” Peter was never one for tears when there was fun to be had. Eating cake and drinking a few too many shots of tequila, they laughed like goons and moved easily through their conversations, reliving moments in time, college events, and inside secrets, which Olivia loathed because she was not privy to them. When the sun dipped from the sky and the moon slowly took its place, when shoes were long ago kicked off, when neatly pinned hair had been pulled down for comfort, and when all of the excitement had died down to a familiar lull, Olivia, who was curled up in front of her mother on the couch, Megan’s arm draped easily over Olivia’s body, whispered, “Isn’t it time, Mom?”
Holly answered in her own whisper, “I think it is, Livi.” She had been sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and she reached her hand up behind her to hold Olivia’s young, warm hand in her own.
“Well, let’s get ready!” Peter whispered, his quiet tone was filled with mischief.
“Mom?” Olivia asked, hesitantly.
“I’m still thinking about it, Livi,” Megan said, torn between spending every last second with Olivia and wanting her friends all to herself for this last ritual. She wrestled to find a balance between hurting Olivia’s feelings and saving her own. She knew what was coming, and she wasn’t sure Olivia should be there to bear witness. Olivia jumped up, forgetting how frail her mother was, and threw her body right on top of Megan’s, taking her by surprise, and sending an ache throughout her ribs and back.
Megan closed her eyes and relished the pain of her only daughter’s weight on top of her. She reached up and brushed Olivia’s hair off of her forehead.
“Livi, you know how special this is to me, right?” Megan asked.
“Yes! Yes!” Olivia said, her words burst with excitement.
“Okay. This is something we have done since we were kids, your age. So I need time to figure out if it’s okay right now, for me, I mean. This is important. It is what centers us, what brings us each to the same place within ourselves, our own little world.” She smiled, wondering how Olivia could possibly understand what she had just said.
“Mom, I’ve watched you guys out my window ever since I can remember. I know what it means to be part of this.” She closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. “I want this so much, to be part of your world. Can’t you please let me in?” Olivia kissed her mother’s cheek and lay on top of her for a minute longer. A tear dropped onto her mother’s hair.
“Livi,” Megan said, her voice strained. She tried to move under Olivia’s weight, and cringed with pain. “Livi?”
Olivia’s head popped up, her eyes bright, her dimples made her appear even more youthful than her fourteen years. “Yeah?” She noticed the cringe on her mother’s face and quickly jumped off of her. “Oh! Sorry, Mom!” she said. “Are you okay?”
Holly put her arm around Olivia’s shoulder and squeezed, whispering in her ear, “You’re a good egg, kiddo. Hang in there, we’ll work on her.”
Olivia’s disappointment faded quickly. She beamed at Holly, taking her compliment and tucking it away with the others that she had held dear for so many years.
“Megan,” Peter said, “why don’t Livi, Holly, and I go set up while you relax here, inside?” He looked to the others for support.
“Great idea!” Holly said, busy tying a
knot in her skirt so it fell just above her knee.
“Oh, great idea!” Olivia bent over and rolled up her jeans.
“You know,” Peter said, “Only someone like you could bend at the waist to roll up their pants! For god’s sake, I have to bend my knees! I can’t remember the last time I could actually reach my feet without bending my knees!”
The women exchanged a cynical glance, raised their eyebrows, and then looked toward Olivia.
“Whatever! Are you going to be okay, Meg?” Holly tucked the afghan around Megan and pushed the table with her drink close enough for her to reach. She put her hands on her hips as she surveyed Megan’s perch.
Megan shooed them out of the room, “Go, go already. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m dying!” The words stung her heart as they left her lips, and her smile was lost among the shocked faces of her friends, who looked to one and other for support. “Come on you guys, go already, really!” once they left the room, Megan took a long deep breath and closed her eyes. Alone—finally. The music calmed her. She opened her eyes and realized how much she loved her living room. She smirked at the thought, living room—the room where people do their living.
She eased off of the couch and made her way slowly up the stairs and down the long hallway to her bedroom. As she walked past her dresser, littered with scarves, papers she’d meant to go through, her hairbrush, strewn with hair gone from her head, she sighed. She’d had a happy life. She had lived her life just as she had wished to. Megan had cherished every day and hadn’t let herself get wrapped up in the little things in life, like having a spotless house. She was comfortable. She had Olivia, and she was happy.
She pulled her hippie bag, as she liked to call it, from the bottom of her closet, where it lay safely tucked behind the few pairs of shoes and boots that she owned. She ran her hands around the outline of the multi-colored patches, the swatches of gold, orange, and red. She fingered the threads which clung for dear life, ran her fingers along the drawstring and the bottom, and finally across the fine gold threads that weaved their way in and out of the surrounding colors. She remembered finding the bag in Provincetown, the summer before Olivia was born. She reached inside the bag, unzipped the secret pocket that was stitched deep inside, near the bottom, and she withdrew her Yin necklace. As she fastened the clasp around her neck, she finally allowed herself to think of Jack.
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