FIRE & BLOOD • EVAN 'BUCK' BUCKLEY / 9-1-1

34.

Stella's birthday.

"Stella, darling, how do you work this darn machine?" My mother calls out from the kitchen. I hurry out of my room to see what machine she is talking about now. I've failed to remember my mother isn't very up to date with the latest technology. Such as a Keurig machine.

"Mom, it's 4 in the afternoon... do you really need a cup of coffee right now?" I can't hold in my laugh.

Three small buttons blink a blue light, each a different cup size.

"See these light up buttons here? You have to choose what size cup you'd like" I point to the light up buttons on the side. She sighs out in frustration.

"How do I know which size is which? I can't see those small buttons" she leans in for a closer look, "And I feel like having a cup of coffee, what does it matter if it's 4 in the afternoon or 8 at night. I'm drinking my coffee regardless. Don't tell your mother it's not healthy for her because it is. For my mental state." Grant lets out a deep laugh from the living room.

"Your poor mother has never used a Keurig a day in her life. She still makes her coffee on the stove sweetie" he says to me. I shake my head as I look back to my mother, who is glaring at Grant.

"Surprising for a 45 year old woman, no? You'd think she would've learned by now" he adds.

"Well why don't you come over here and teach me since you know everything" my mother throws her hands up in the air, waving for him to come into the kitchen and be her teacher.

"Matter of fact, I will. Stella seems to be in a rush to get out of here" Grant pushes himself off the couch and walks into the kitchen. I almost always forget the height difference between him and my mother. She looks tiny by his side. Despite him almost being in his 50s, his hair is still darker than my own. I don't even spot a strand of white hair in that head full of hair. Incredible. Overall, he's in great shape for his age.

My mother has never made it past 5'0 but she is as beautiful as she's ever been. Emerald green eyes, sandy brown wavy hair, golden skin and a body you wouldn't think a 45 year old woman would have. Everyone is always shocked to find out how old my mom is. Rather how young she is for having a 24 year old daughter.

25 actually. Today I turn 25. Disgusting the more I think about it. Blessed, but geez. I remember my 8th birthday like it was yesterday. Time passes us so fast. Faster than I would like it to.

"No I'm okay, I just have to get a few things from the store for dinner tonight" I give a big smile to my mom. After spending a good three days since she has landed in L.A arguing about how I don't want to go out on the day of my birthday, she finally gave in to doing a simple dinner for my birthday at home.

My mother doesn't return the smile. Only scolds me.

"Don't think I'm still not upset you don't want to go out and enjoy your 25th birthday!" She starts up. I groan in annoyance.

"I'm leaving now, I'll leave Grant to help you with the Keurig" I rush back to my room to grab my phone and keys.

"Who doesn't go out when they turn 25? I sure as hell did" I hear my mother say once I'm out of sight but I can still hear her very loud and clear from my room.

I grab my phone off my nightstand but before I turn away I pause in my tracks, staring at what sits beside my bed on my nightstand.

The red box has been sitting in the same spot since I came home that day when Evan showed up to my job and gave me my gift. I hadn't opened it until last night.

Inside the box was a necklace, a beautiful one with a peridot stone in the shape of a teardrop. My birthstone. When I realized there was something engraved on the back of the pendant and what it was, I caved in and broke down. I had to cover my mouth to silence my sobs when I saw the small 143. Three words: one letter, four letters, three letters.