The Happy Birthday Song ✓

Chapter Eleven

XI

Sunday, May 19th 2013

Kangaroo Point, Brisbane

6:32 PM

Junie Bennett was twenty years old.

It felt like only yesterday it was her tenth birthday and she was walking down the street trying to get rid of that horridly big badge Mrs David had stuck on to her shirt. How had she gotten so old so quick? She was twenty years old. Twenty years old. She couldn't rap her head around that. She did not feel twenty. She still felt like that awkwardly lanky fourteen-year-old girl who was obsessed with skateboarding and secretly pining for her best friend.

Admittedly, she still was obsessed with skateboarding. She could never give that up, even if she wanted to. Skateboarding had been drilled into her system now and there was no way it would or could ever vanish. Even though university and work took up a lot of her time, Junie still managed to find some time at the weekend to go over to the local skate park.

"Twenty," she murmured. "Twenty."

Junie stared at her reflection in the long mirror that hung on the back of her bedroom door. Nothing much had changed. Five foot eleven. She was still awkwardly tall. Porcelain white skin. Still pale and still could not tan. Junie sighed. Birthdays, well, birthdays were not as pointless as she had originally thought.

There was something magical in celebrating the day of someone's birth. It was a great chance to show your appreciation for that person and it was a great chance for that person to appreciate what they had. At least that was what Junie tried to tell herself. It was hard to celebrate when she did not think there was anything to celebrate.

But turning twenty is something to celebrate, she told herself for probably the umpteenth time that week. It was the first time in years that she had dreaded her birthday. She had officially left her teens. Junie was not ready to be an adult.

She slumped down onto the sofa. She placed her elbows atop her thighs and buried her face in her hands. There was nothing to celebrate, there was no point in trying to convince herself otherwise. Junie swallowed, feeling the grief creeping upon as she thought of her mother.

Gone.

They always used that word when they referred to Audrey. Audrey was gone. She did not think it was possible to hate a word so much. No. Audrey was not gone. Saying she was gone implied that she would come back. Saying she was gone inferred that any minute now, any second now Audrey would waltz into the room with that air of nonchalance and melancholy about her.

Dead.

Passed away.

Deceased.

Those were the proper words to use. She preferred those words, they were clean cut, straight to the point. Unlike gone, those words did not even attempt to dress up or hide the sorrowful fact. Audrey Bennett was dead. It was a simple sentence. Easy to read. Easy to understand but harder than anything to let sink in.

It was three weeks ago, as Junie had been sat in the staff room of Lolita's taking her lunch break when Fiona had called her and told her the news. Junie had felt lightheaded, Fiona’s voice seeming worlds away. Something about a drug overdose. Something about Audrey having insomnia and taking too many sleeping tablets with alcohol. Something about one of the hotel staff walking in and finding Audrey's cold and motionless body lying on the couch.

Dead.

When someone died, especially someone like your mother, weren't you supposed to feel sad? Weren't you supposed to feel something? Junie did not feel anything. Just numb. Numbness everywhere.