Birthday Girl

“So…” Danni pulls up another stool. “Don’t your fall classes start up soon?”

I click off the Free Cell game, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah.”

She waits for me to say more, but I’m not really sure what to say. My financial aid came in, so classes are paid for, and I have enough to get an apartment back home, but it almost feels like taking a step backward. He called when I first left, but after a few days it stopped, and there’s been nothing since.

I hate to admit it, but I wonder far too often what he’s doing, if he’s seeing anyone, if he misses me…

If I go home, I may run into him. What will that be like?

I’m proud of myself that I’ve stayed away, but I still feel ashamed that he’s there in my head, lingering all the time. I’m not over him, and until I can blow out a candle and have something better to wish for, I don’t think my head is in the right place to go back yet. I’m scared.

“You know you can stay forever,” Danni goes on. “Seriously. My college isn’t bad at all. You can transfer.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. “But I need to go back. I know I do. I’ve just been putting off thinking about it.”

“You don’t want to see him.”

I meet her eyes, her black-rimmed glasses falling down her nose again.

“I don’t want to be who I was when I left,” I clarify.

“You’re not.” She leans an elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re allowed to hurt. But you didn’t allow it to keep you down,” she points out. “That’s what makes us strong. You haven’t called him, and we had some fun. He didn’t ruin your summer, because you didn’t let him.”

Yeah. We got drunk at the pond, rocked out to bad music as we raced around town in her ’92 Pontiac Sunbird convertible, and had some pool parties here. I laughed a little.

“And it’s not like he tracked me down, either, so…” I tell her. “I guess we both knew it was borrowed time. It was just a fling. He was right.”

A fling.

A cool story I’ll have fun looking back on when I no longer love him, and I can appreciate it for the sex it was.

I feel her eyes on me, because she knows I’m lying to myself, but like a friend, she lets me dive into my delusion. We need lies to survive sometimes, because the truth hurts too much.

Maybe a transfer would be a good idea, after all.

I stand up. “The printer needs paper,” I tell her.

And without looking at her, I walk into the back office, blinking away the burn in my eyes before she sees. I’m not going to cry. I can’t hide here forever, after all. Northridge is my home, my family is there, and I have to go back at some point. I can do it.

“Hi.” I hear Danni sing-song. “Welcome to The Blue Palms.”

I laugh to myself. The Blue Palms are a set of neon palm trees outside that aren’t real and certainly aren’t native to Virginia. But I like the tropical colors of this place, the retro pinks and blues, and the old-style, beachy charm. It might not have the amenities of the larger hotels, but it’s private, clean, and nostalgic. It has character.

“Uh, thanks,” a male voice says. “Um…”

I open the cabinet, grabbing a ream of paper, their muffled voices carrying on in the lobby. I hope he only needs one room, because for once, we’re about sold out.

“Jordan Hadley?” Danni says more loudly as if repeating him.

I halt with the paper in my arm and the cabinet still open.

“Yeah,” the man says, and I inch closer to the doorway to better hear. “I’m sorry to bug you. Does she work here? I was told she worked at a motel in the area, and I’ve been almost everywhere.”

The vein in my neck throbs, and I can only manage short, shallow breaths.

“And you are?” Danni probes.

“Pike Lawson,” he answers. “A friend.”