Dear Celia

XI

December

Birthday dinners were always so stupid, I found. There was really no point in sitting around a table and eating food just because someone had lived another year.

It was so goddamn stupid.

It was early December, and I found myself staring at my hands as everyone else at my birthday dinner seemed to be focused on anything other than me (not that I was complaining). On the table was a half-eaten dish of steak, and bowls of vegetables and potatoes laid out on Happy Birthday! table sheets. Beside me, Noelle and Uncle Jed were whispering to each other about something. Auntie Marie and Mrs. Hawkins were cheerily chattering about some new restaurant in town, and worst of all, was Celia sitting across from me.

Auntie Marie had decided that my 18th birthday needed to be much more than just the three of us, so she called Noelle up and sweet-talked her into coming down for dinner. Then, to my horror, she invited Mrs. Hawkins and Celia as well.

I kept staring at my hands, clenching and unclenching them as I listened to the voices around me. Celia didn't seem to attempt to talk me. I heard her say a few things to join in on conversation now and then, but other than that she was as silent as I was.

I wondered what she was feeling right now.

I mentally shook my head and told myself that I would not think of Celia. It was just a few hours of endurance, and then she would go back to her life with her boyfriend (Chad? Chuck? Chaz?) and I to the one with absolutely no meaning at all. I had stopped attempting to even try to pull myself out of all this self-pity because Celia still haunted my dreams, and so did my mom's death and every other problem in my messed-up life.

"Alright! Who's up for birthday cake?" Auntie Marie suddenly announced as she stood up.

We all silenced and looked excitedly up at her, but she left to the kitchen before we could even answer.

"Celia baked it!" Mrs. Hawkins declared as she patted my shoulder.

I looked up and smiled at her. "Thanks."

Mrs. Hawkins laughed. "Thank Celia!"

I looked up at Celia, swallowing hard as I gave her a little nod. She looked back at me with an unreadable expression, just a hint of a smile on her face.

I tore my gaze away as quickly as I could and instead turned it to the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. I busied myself with wondering what type of cake it was. I avoided everyone else's eyes.

Then the lights shut off, and Auntie Marie walked in with a plain vanilla cake that read Happy 18th Birthday, Lucas! at the top in green icing and glowing candles messily stabbed into the cake. Everyone chorused the Happy Birthday song and before I knew it, we had all sat down again and everyone was eating cake in an excited atmosphere.

I didn't want to eat anything Celia touched, but I forced it down anyway. It was sweet, and plain.

Nothing special.

Uncle Jed suddenly stood up and tapped his fork against his glass. We all looked up at him and he cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Lucas," he addressed me, "I would like to say a few words before we wrap up this wonderful dinner."

Auntie Marie cooed and rubbed my back.

"When you came to us last year, you were just a scrawny little thing," Uncle Jed said. He raised his hand to his chest. "Just this tall!"

"5 years, sweetie," Auntie Marie said in a small voice. "It was 5 years ago."

"Oh yes," Uncle Jed said. "Sorry, my bad."

"Keep going."

"Well Lucas, you've grown up to be a fine young man, and we could never be so proud, your aunt and I." His eyes were unreadable, but I knew he was lying.

How could anyone be proud of an 18-year-old with no future, no plans, no life?

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn't want to listen to Uncle Jed spew on about things that were complete lies.

"I want you to know, that no matter what happens," he said, "we love you so much, you got that Lucas?"

I nodded.

"What happened with your parents... we were so devastated."

The room went cold.

Auntie Marie paled, Mrs. Hawkins looked uncomfortable, Noelle fidgeted, and Celia just stared forward at her plate.

Nobody expected anyone to bring up my parents.

Uncle Jed, oblivious to the change in atmosphere, kept going. "But out of that tragedy came you! You rose out of that crap load of an incident and grew up!"

I felt Noelle's eyes boring into my back, because we both knew that I really hadn't grown up. I was still 13-year-old Lucas, crying myself to sleep.

"Good things always come out of bad things, Lucas," Uncle Jed was saying. "Your father was an asshole. A complete jerk, that man!" He gave a laugh. "Thank God you'll never be like that!"

"Jed..." Auntie Marie said slowly in a low voice.

"I see a bright future, Lucas! I see college, a wife, a family, a great life, my boy!" He kept going, and I rose from my seat. I knew Uncle Jed only had good intentions, but the words stung. They scared me.

18 years old, and what future could Uncle Jed even see out of the mess I was? I was still hung up over a girl who had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me, I still lived with my chirpy aunt and forgetful uncle, and I still couldn't even leave the house without wanting to break down.

"Thanks," I said, but it came out as a wheeze as I began to back out. "Thanks," I croaked again, then disappeared up the stairs.

...

december 5, 2012

dear celia,

you were the only thing good in my life

...

On December 20, the four of us stood in the snow in front of my mother's grave.

Juliette Young Anker

1972 - 2007

Daughter, Mother, Wife

Auntie Marie cried, and Uncle Jed rubbed her arms as she wept. I could only stare at the headstone. I wondered why every single year it hurt the same, but it still felt different this year.

This time, I burned.

I didn't cry either. I just stared coldly at the gravesite, dark feelings swirling inside me.

"Lucas."

It was barely a whisper, but I heard it and I turned.

Noelle stood behind me, wrapped in her scarf and winter coat. Her eyes were red, and her face was pale. She took a step towards me, and took my hand.

I didn't pull away, and instead let her wrap her fingers around mine. "I'm sorry, Lucas," she whispered.

"I am too," I replied.

I'm sorry that I can't be normal.

I'm sorry that my life is nothing.

I'm sorry that I didn't do anything.

I'm sorry that it was my fault.

That day just felt cold and numb.