Birthday Girl

“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.

Pike

The next morning, I’m surprised to see I’m the first one up. Jordan is usually moving about, showering, or working on her laptop before I’m even downstairs, but the house seems empty. I open the front door and notice Cole’s car isn’t in the driveway, either.

It’s Sunday morning. He wouldn’t be up already. Did they not come home then?

I go about my business, carrying on with my morning, but as it reaches ten, I want to get going on the main bathroom, tearing out the old tub and prying up the floor tiles, but it’s going to be a lot of noise. I knock on Jordan and Cole’s door to make sure they’re not in there.

No one answers, and I crack open the door to see the bed still made and the bedroom empty. I guess they must’ve crashed at a friend’s last night. I close it again and get to work.

“Hey,” Cole says as he walks into the kitchen an hour later.

I shut the fridge, clutching a soda, and turn toward him as he tosses his keys on the counter. He looks haggard, his hair matted and his eyes red.

“Hey.” I gesture to the cabinet to the left. “The aspirin’s in there. Get yourself some water and a shower. You can help me with the bathroom.”

He nods, but he looks like he’s two seconds from vomiting. His skin is a sallow green, and I actually feel sorry for him. I don’t miss that feeling.

“You’re drinking a lot,” I say.

He ignores me, shuffling toward the cabinet and pouring himself some aspirin.

I press further. “You’re drinking too much.”

He still says nothing, but his jaw flexes, telling me he heard me.

I wish he’d talk to me. Even fight with me, because it’s better than nothing. I want to hear about his job and his life. About the friend he lost. I shouldn’t have learned something like that through Jordan.

I should’ve pushed harder when he started to shut me out. So much harder.

But I know who I really have to blame for the wedge between us.

“I was good to your mother,” I tell him.

He sniffles, taking another huge gulp of water and still not looking at me.

He’ll believe her. He’s not ready to hear me yet. But I’m still saying it.

“I worked hard, I supported you both, and I was faithful.” I rise from the seat and look down at him. “You can ask me questions. I won’t lie.”

But he just shakes his head, finishing off the glass and setting it down. “I gotta get a shower.”