"Because it is today." I sit within an egg-shaped swing set at the edge of the garden. Brendan pushes his way inside and sits next to me. It's tight because it's not meant to be shared, so I'm practically on his lap. "What the hell?"
"Relax, I'm not coming on to you." He pulls my legs across his lap and I adjust so I'm sitting at an angle on the cushion. "Talk to me. I won't leave you alone 'til you do."
"Why do you care?"
"Lana, cut the shit."
I close my eyes to fight back the tears that start to form at just the thought of saying it out loud. "I miss my grandmother." I swallow hard.
"When did she die?" he asks, his voice careful as if just asking might hurt me.
"Almost three years ago. But it's harder today, because ... I guess, it was our day," I explain in a rasp. "My mother has always had a hard time celebrating my birthday. I think it has to do with my father, since he left her seventeen, pregnant and heartbroken. I have a feeling he was the love of her life, and she never got over it. And I'm the reminder of that heartache, even sixteen years later."
I have Brendan's rapt attention. His deep brown eyes take in every word, his hand gently gripping my knee as if to console me.
"Why am I telling you this?"
"Because I'm a good listener," he answers with a small smile. "You were about to tell me about your grandmother."
I can't look at him when I start talking, so I pluck at a loose thread on the cushion. "She would take me out every year. I think it was more to keep me away from my depressed mother, but we always did something crazy. For my tenth birthday, we went to all the ice cream places in town on a mission to try ten different flavors. I thought I was going to be sick. Or for my eighth birthday, I was obsessed with Thumbelina and wanted to live in a flower, so we plucked them from people's front yards or window boxes and created a bouquet so big I had to carry it with two hands. Just ridiculous things. The last year, for my thirteenth birthday, we sprawled out on a blanket in front of a memorial statue in the center of the city while cars passed by and some even honked at us. We looked up at the sky, and made up stories that went along with the shapes of the clouds. She always told me stories, some real, but most were twisted fairytales." I let out a broken sigh. "I wish she were still here."
"I'm close with my grandmother too. She raised me. Even before my mother, you know," he says quietly. "My mother was only a couple years older than yours when I was born."
I shift my eyes to examine his face, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.
"How old were you when ...?" I can't quite bring myself to say, murdered.
"Four. I found her."
"What?" My voice shaking from shock.
"She overdosed."
"I thought you said ..." I begin, so confused.
"Another time," he says patting my knee. "Suicide isn't the best birthday talk." His tone transitions into something lighter, his eyes blinking back to the present. "I'm sorry your grandmother isn't here with you and you're stuck with all of us. But, you'll remember this one. I promise." He grins like he's keeping a secret.
"Does everyone know?" I ask, cringing.
"You're spending your birthday with a bunch of delinquents. Of course they know! We need any excuse we can to party."
I let out a short laugh.
Brendan ducks out of the egg swing and offers me his hand. "Lily's hosting tonight after work, so wear your sluttiest dress. Or just come in your birthday suit. Either way, I can't wait to spank you."
"And just was considering liking you a little, you have to ruin it," I say, making a sound of disgust in the back of my throat as I push myself out of the swing.
Kaely, Ashton and I spend the afternoon serving at The Deck. It doesn't take me long to catch on because I've done this most of my teen years, except this place is much slower paced than I'm used to, and not nearly as loud. Even though I know he's not here, I still find myself looking out the window or over the edge of the deck every time I hear a golf cart go by, wishing it were Grant.
The girls are upset that Brendan told me about the party. They were hoping to keep it a surprise until we arrived, which makes me glad Brendan told me--I hate surprises.
I let Ashton curl my hair, which I reluctantly agree to leave down after she begged me the entire day. And miraculously she figures out how to tame it and keep it from frizzing out around my head. The waves she's spun into it give it a life I'll never be able to duplicate. Nina never understood why I had hair the length of my back, but refused to wear it down. Maybe if I had someone to style it every day, I would.
"Can I pay you in gummy bears to style my hair for me whenever I want?"
"I'd prefer THC gummies, but I'll take whatever you have."
I do wear a dress, but it's far from slutty. It's a powder blue baby doll dress with delicate t-back straps. It's a bit short, reaching my mid-thigh, but anything longer would look like a nightgown on me. It has several layers of flowing chiffon over a fitted slip, and with my wavy hair resting down my back, I'm feeling pretty amazing. I slide on the thick-soled wedge sandals that wrap around my calves and apply a coat of gloss to go with the rose gold hues Ashton and I decided I should wear.