𝘼𝙐𝘿𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙎 » 𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 ✓ [1]

XVI

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AUNT ALICE

November 12th, 2002
North Pasadena, California

'Happy Birthday to youuuu!'

There's clapping. A little bout of hollow, cheerful echoing of grown up claps in the tiny dining room that had yellow-painted walls with blue skirting boards, and I'm leaning forward across the table. I'm stretching my hands far across the wooden, sucking in as much breath as I can. I blow with all my might, the flames ceasing. Apparently you were supposed to wish on those things. It seemed like a silly ideal. Little wafts of smoke danced around the pink sticks of wax, little drops of it now clinging to the icing. Somebody had flicked on the light again.

'Atta girl Laz,' A voice cheers. A man's. Gentle.

I'm beaming a brilliant smile, ear to ear and stinging the apples of my cheeks. I'm applauded for it again. I giggle. People stand. There's footsteps and chatter and I was sat there with hands under my thighs, kicking my legs aimlessly under me for they couldn't touch the floor, watching the cake be carried away from its place in front of me. All that was left was the table. Adults sat around the table. Talking to each other. I was looking out at the window blinds drawn shut, slates of white staring back at me.

'Well, you better eat this quick,' says a woman's voice after a little time had passed, where I couldn't really be bothered to focus on the chatter and clinking of cutlery wandering around in the kitchen. The voice is older. Still gentle. She's sliding a piece of cake in front of me on a gleaming plate of crockery and silver fork. It's lathered in pink icing, little crumbs of chocolate cake already scattering the plate. The slice had 'Laura' scrawled on it in violet frosting, and now, I cant help but feel it was entirely intentional. She was always sentimental in that way. Little gestures and comments and smiles. They had meant a great deal to her. She's got my eyes. Her hairs a little lighter.

'But I'm not going anywhere,' I say, and she laughs.

'I know that,' she replies. 'I just meant that you better eat it quickly so we can get you off to bed.'

I'm pouting. 'But it's my birthday!' I proclaimed in despair.

'And you've still got day care tomorrow,' she replies.

I don't argue, because another woman is giving me a stern gaze from across the table, with love in her eyes, mind you.

And so I'm shovelling sugar and flour into my mouth until it's gone, and I don't do much but look up at the lights and windows and paintings of plants and bones that seem totally pointless to hang in a dining room. Now I could say that they were probably photographs. Captured and blown up onto canvas over time.