Birthday Girl

by Penelope Douglas

  I remain silent, the weight of his words sitting in my gut like bricks.

  “You think she won’t regret choosing you, knowing that her best years are almost gone?” he asks.

  But I don’t have to answer. He knows he’s right.

  In ten years, she’ll still be young and beautiful, and I’ll deserve her even less than I do now. I can’t give her everything she wants no matter how much my ego thinks otherwise.

  She was built for big things. She’s smart and strong, and she deserves the world. She deserves a life that passed me by a long time ago.

  Another man will be to her everything I’m not and never will be, and even though that idea is like acid in my mouth, she’ll be happier for it. And above everything else, that’s what I want. She’ll grow with someone else, and that’s the life she deserves.

  Dutch leaves, and I close up the garage, heading into the house and immediately up the stairs. I stop at Jordan’s bedroom, the door open and the light breeze outside her window blowing the leaves on the tree in the backyard.

  Her faint smell lingers, and the dent her body made is still etched into the pillow propped up in her chair.

  I don’t go in, though. It’s not my room, not my girl anymore, and she’s out there somewhere, moving on with her life, and I need to do the same.

  Enough. Do the right thing.

  Reaching for the knob, I inhale her perfume one last time.

  And I pull the door closed.

  Pike

  Two Months Later

  Threading the thin, white rope around the wheel, I yank on it, seeing it move toward me on the pulley. I move over to the other wooden post I’ve cemented into the backyard and pull on that rope, as well, testing it.

  I have no idea why I’m putting in clotheslines.

  All I know is I’m running out of ideas. I already built a wooden picnic table with a built-in beer tub in the middle, stained it, and added benches. I’ve also put in a fire pit, a stone pathway leading from the back gate to the back door, mulch in the flower beds, torches around the pool, a pergola, a hammock, and a small pond with a rock garden. I keep moving from one project to another, so I don’t have time to think about how I’m not using any of it. I’ll enjoy it when I’m done, I guess.

  “Looks different back there,” I hear someone call out.

  I look up, seeing Kyle Cramer standing on his bedroom balcony and looking down into my backyard.

  Does this guy have a hard-on for me or something? Why’s he always trying to talk to me?

  “Got some time on your hands, huh?” he gauges. “I noticed it’s been a lot quieter here the past several weeks.”

  I cast him another look, giving him a curt smile. Maybe if I acknowledge him, he’ll leave me alone.

  And yes, it’s been quiet. Until now.

  “So, um,” he starts, and I silently groan. “I saw you and Jordan one night.”

  I stop and shoot my eyes up again, glaring at him. Heat rises to my neck at hearing her name. I haven’t talked about her with anyone for months now.

  “My kitchen faces yours,” he explains, “it was late, and you two were at the sink.”

  My body warms, remembering that. The sight of her walking naked to the kitchen one night, and how I wouldn’t let her get a midnight snack until I got mine. She was so beautiful.

  I straighten, clenching my teeth. “You watched?”

  “No,” he blurts out like he would never. And then he shrugs. “I mean, I might have if you two hadn’t eventually taken it to the floor and out of my line of sight.”

  He follows with a laugh, and if I could fucking fly, I’d be over this fence right now, strangling him.

  He seems to notice my anger and tries to placate me. “Listen, I didn’t mean to see anything, okay? You could try to stay away from the windows, you know?” He shakes his head. “I’m just saying, I think it’s the first time I ever saw you smile. She certainly seems like she made you happy. I can’t imagine she wouldn’t make any man happy, actually.”

  “Shut the hell up,” I mumble, bending down and picking up tools, dropping them into the small box.

  Really? How could we have been so careless? He’s the last person whose eyes I want on her.

  “So, where’d she go?” he asks. “It didn’t work out with you two?”

  I ignore him, gathering my shit, so I can escape inside.

  “How’d you fuck that up, man?” he laughs out, taking a swig of his beer. “You get a woman like that—young and hot with a body in that good a shape—you don’t lose it.”

  I toss my wrench down, charging forward with nowhere to go. “I’m gonna kick your ass. Shut the fuck up.”

  “So, she’s available now, right?”

  “Son of a bitch,” I growl.

  He just snickers. I must be so amusing.

  “You are definitely sad,” he says. “Women aren’t that hard to make happy if you have half a mind to.”

  “I’m not incapable,” I snap. “But that’s not the point. Teenage women belong with teenage guys, and don’t you fucking forget it next time you run into one. She deserves someone her own age.”

  He nods, thinking. And then he pins me with a look. “So, your son was her age, right? Did he treat her better than you did?”

  I breathe hard but stay silent. He gives me a smug half-grin and backs away, walking back into his house.

  That’s not the point, asshole.

  Yeah, I can safely say her relationships with guys her own age weren’t winners, either, but…

  But what? I’m not going to be able to give her everything she wants? I’m not going to grow with her? I’m not going to start over and build a family anymore at my age?

  Two months ago, those all seemed like viable arguments, but over time, they feel less convincing now. Like maybe who I am and where I’m at in my life isn’t carved in stone. It can still be subject to change.

  I shake my head. I don’t know.

  No, I did the right thing. It’s been months, and I haven’t heard from her. She’s clearly moved on.

  But God, I fucking miss her. It’s like I’m constantly sick with hunger, but food won’t satisfy me. There’s an emptiness inside me that I can’t fill on my own.

  I pick up the tool box and turn toward the house, but when I look up, I see Cole standing in the open back doorway to the house.

  I halt. Jesus. How long has he been standing there?

  The box dangles from my fingers as we just hold each other’s eyes, and I’m completely stunned to see him here.

  “I saw you at the graduation,” he says, a hand in his pocket.

  His graduation from boot camp was yesterday, and I’d been writing him and hounding his recruiter all summer for any contact. I had to see him, though. I couldn’t miss it. It’s a huge accomplishment.

  Slowly, I drift toward him, unable to tear my gaze away. He looks incredible. Taller and bigger, a long summer at boot camp having tanned his skin and lightened his now buzzed, blond head of hair. He wears his green camouflage uniform with his hat in one hand as he leans against the doorframe.

  “I just wanted to see you,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure if you put me on the list or your recruiter did, but you didn’t respond to any of my letters, so I wasn’t sure you wanted me there.”

  After the ceremony ended, I wanted to talk to him, but his mom was there with her latest boyfriend, and he was joined by a couple friends who’d driven up to see him. I didn’t want to ruin it, so I left. He’d have his cell phone back now, so he would see all the calls, texts, and voicemails. He’d let me know when he was ready.

  He drops his head, scanning the ground in front of him. “I got all your letters. Thanks for the phone cards.”

  You mean the ones you didn’t use to call me? I quirk a smile, not blaming him. It was a long shot, but I am glad he got everything. As long as he knew I was thinking about him…

  “How are you?” I step up and set the tool box down, pulling the shop cloth out of
my back pocket and wiping off my hands.

  He’s quiet and takes a deep breath. Finally, he raises his blue eyes to me. “Got a beer?”

  I nod gently and lead the way back inside and into the kitchen. The air conditioning hits me, cooling the sweat on my back, and my nerves make it hard to breathe, but I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be when this moment came. He’s not yelling yet, so that’s a good sign.

  I pop the tops of two Coronas, the late afternoon sunlight vanishing from the kitchen table as it dips behind some clouds.

  He takes a seat, and I do the same. When he remains quiet, though, I realize the ball’s in my court.

  “So, are you happy?” I ask him. “In the military?”

  I’ve had time to get used to the idea, especially after getting assurances from his recruiter, but I need to hear it from him.

  “Yeah.” He sets his beer on the table, keeping his fist wrapped around it. “I don’t know—I guess it’s what I needed. To be torn down and rebuilt better.”

  I wait for him to go on.

  “I can’t sleep in,” he says, “I can’t show up drunk, I can’t call in sick because I’m feeling lazy that day…. It sucks, but I’ve also got a job and money in the bank. A career. That feels pretty good.” He finally raises his eyes to me. “I’ve got a future, and for someone who never knew where the fuck their place was in the world, it’s kind of nice to let the military decide for you and give you direction.”

  “You sure?” I lift the bottle, taking a drink.

  I love that he’s doing something with himself, but I also want to make sure he’s carving his own path.

  He goes on. “That’s where Jordan and I never made sense. She knew her own mind, and I resented myself when I was with her, because I never did.” He releases a sigh. “I wasn’t her equal, never good enough for her. I would never be that strong-minded. Some of us just aren’t.”

  My heart skips a beat at the sound of her name again, but I ignore it. I’m not confident that joining the military was really what he wanted to do with his life, but I am sure he wasn’t finding answers in this town. At least he knew that much.

  He was strong-minded enough to take that leap.

  “You did this, didn’t you?” I ask. “You made it through training. I’m proud of you.”

  I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, and the muscles in his jaw flex. He takes another drink, still not looking at me.

  “So, where is she?” he asks, casting looks behind him to the living room like she’s still in the house.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “She left after you did. I haven’t seen her in two months.”

  His gaze snaps to mine, his brows furrowing in concern.

  “I’ve talked to her sister,” I assure him. “She’s fine. Wherever she is.”

  He seems to accept that answer, because he takes another swig. But now I’m a little more unnerved than I was a moment ago. It’s clear she hasn’t kept in touch with Cole, either. Not that I thought they would stay in contact after everything, but they were friends. Lifelines to each other at one point. The more ties she cuts, the less reasons she’ll have to come back.

  “You seeing anyone else?” he asks.

  “Nah, not right now.” I take another drink. “Just concentrating on the house and the business.”

  “Yeah, I ran into Dutch on my way into town, and he told me you guys are like two years ahead of schedule.”

  I chuckle. “Not that much…”

  Although, we’re doing damn well. You can get a lot of work done when you’re not racing home every day to a woman who sets your body on fire.

  “So, did she break it off with you or you with her?” Cole asks, bringing up Jordan again.

  I stare at him. I don’t want to talk about this. I just want him to be okay. I want him to talk about anything else with me.

  But mostly, because I’m not proud of my answer. If Jordan hadn’t left, I would’ve kept her as long as she was willing to stay. I should’ve given her up for him, and I didn’t. And I’m not sure I would’ve if she had left the choice up to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him instead. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

  His eyes are locked on mine, a flood of emotions I’m not sure I want to face crossing his gaze. Pain, disappointment, confusion, loneliness…. But also calmness, resolution, and acceptance.

  “When I saw you at graduation yesterday, I wanted to still be mad at you,” he says. “And I was aggravated that I wasn’t.”

  He drops his eyes, the wheels turning in his head.

  “There’s something to be said about time and distance, I guess.” He gives a sad smile. “You get a lot of perspective. A lot of time to think about things.”

  Yeah.

  “When I was six,” he goes on, “you lost a contract because you came to my Little League game that day instead. On my tenth birthday, you moved my party and paid for everyone to go to the go-cart place, because Mom and one of her boyfriends started fighting at the house and embarrassing the hell out of me in front of everyone. When I graduated high school, you took out a second mortgage to pay for my college which I just pissed down the drain.”

  My throat swells. He remembers all that?

  “Doing what you could to make me happy, no matter the sacrifice, never seemed like a tough decision for you.” He peers over at me, his voice thick with emotion. “So, I think, doing something you knew could hurt me, was definitely not an easy choice,” he says. “I know you love me.”

  I grind my teeth together to keep my breathing even, and relief washes over me.

  “I don’t know how okay I am with all this, but…” He nods. “I know you love me.”

  I’m speechless. It’s a little heartbreaking to look at your son and wonder if you had anything to do with how good he turned out. I can’t believe he’s sitting here right now when I wasn’t sure he’d ever look at me again.

  “Do you still love her?” he asks.

  I hesitate a moment, searching for the words. Yes, I still love her, but… “She’s better off,” I tell him.

  He leaves it there, not pressing further. “I have to be back tomorrow night. Is it okay if I stay the night?”

  “Of course.”

  He rises, carrying his beer toward the living room with him. “The Twins are playing the Cubs tonight,” he says. “You want to watch?”

  I inhale a deep breath and release it, feeling like my body is relaxing for the first time in months. “Sounds good. I’ll order some pizza.”

  “Cheese,” he specifies.

  I laugh quietly. “Yeah, I remember.”

  I take my phone out of my pocket and start to dial Joe’s, but then I hear his voice.

  “And Dad?” he says.

  I look up.

  “I love you,” he tells me. “But no one’s better off without you.”

  That night, I wake up to thunder rolling somewhere in the distance. I don’t open my eyes, the weight of too many long days at the job site heavy on my lids. I turn on my side, knowing I’ll fall back asleep if I give it a minute.

  The inside of my right arm burns with the tattoo I got earlier tonight. Cole and I decided to go to Rockford after the pizza and get those tattoos he mentioned. He chose an anchor in the middle of his back, accompanied by a compass and a fisherman’s knot with the motto “Forged by the Sea” around it. It’s all just outlined, though. He said he’ll get it colored in after he’s earned it.

  I’m guessing that means after his first six months at sea.

  The candle etched on my skin feels like it’s actually lit, the smoke from the wick drifting up the inside of my arm all the way to my elbow. I’ve known since Cole first mentioned tattoos two months ago that something that represents Jordan was the only thing I wanted on me for the rest of my life. The birthday girl and her wishes. She’ll always be a part of me.

  I inhale a long breath, and even though I’ve washed the sheets several times since she left, I can s
till smell her hair on the pillows.

  And if I concentrate hard enough and keep my eyes closed, she’s there next to me.

  I snake an arm around her body, and pull her into me, burying my nose in her cool hair.

  “Was I snoring?” she whispers.

  I smile, trying not to laugh. “No.”

  She’s so self-conscious, and it’s adorable. I hug her to me, feeling so filled, because everything I need is in my arms right now. Her curves fit every inch of mine, and I’m whole. My chest fills with something almost too much to contain.

  She breathes calmly, and I run my hand over her naked stomach, my body coming alive for her. So easily, like it always does.

  Suddenly, her small voice pierces the quiet room again.

  “You got me pregnant,” she whispers.

  I still. What did she say?

  No, that can’t be right. We’ve been careful.

  When I don’t say anything, she turns around and faces me, her guarded eyes on mine. “I missed my period last week,” she says timidly. “I took a few tests earlier today. Best I can figure is I’m about a month along.”

  I close my eyes. Oh, my God. A baby?

  My baby.

  “I hope she has my eyes,” she tells me.

  I open mine. “Your eyes?”

  “Well, she’ll be a mix of both of us, after all,” she explains, “and I want her to have your smile. It evens out, right?”

  I touch her face. “You’re sure? There’s a baby?”

  She nods. “I’m sure.” She looks at me warily and asks, “Is that okay?”

  I open my mouth, no words coming out. A baby? I picture myself waking up with an infant in the middle of the night, car seats, and cartoons, and I’m overwhelmed, but strangely, I feel...so fucking in love with her and the idea of her body growing with my kid.

  But I wanted her to have choices. Does she really want this?

  The only thing I know is that I want her. I want everything with her, and I wish, for her sake, it wasn’t yet, but I wanted this eventually.

  “I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”

  She exhales and smiles as if she were holding her breath that whole time, and climbs on top of me, straddling me.