A couple weeks later, I'm awoken by my phone's constant vibrating atop my dresser beside my bed where it charged overnight. Flipping onto my other side, I reach for my phone, finding Dylan's own bed across the room empty, which I shouldn't be that surprised at since it's almost nine a.m. and she has an early class. Luckily, my first class this morning was canceled so I got to sleep in, but I don't have long to linger.
My brother's name is on the screen of an incoming video chat and I don't hesitate to answer the call.
"Happy birthday!" he cheers the second the call connects.
"Thank you," I chuckle at his enthusiasm.
"Shit, my little sis is in the last of her teen years. How are you so old?"
"Fuck off," I laugh.
"Did you get my present?"
"I did," my eyes flick to the box that arrived over the weekend with strict instructions to not open until today in his scrawl once I tore open the shipping box, a gift wrapped box taped under said instructions.
"Go open it then," he smiles, waving me off.
"That requires moving," I groan. "You woke me up."
"I can tell, you look like shit."
"You're an asshole."
"I don't think you'll be saying that after you open my gift."
"Ugh, fine," I roll my eyes at him. I fling back my covers, tossing my phone aside so my brother is stuck looking at my ceiling before I crawl across my bed to where the box is on my desk. Sitting against my wall, I prop him up on my dresser where I have a small stack of books to lean my phone against. "Miles, what did you do?" I ask when I tear the paper from off the box, Miranda Lambert's Idyllwild brand staring me right in the face.
"Just open them," he sighs.
"Oh my God, Miles," I whimper when I open the box, revealing the prettiest pair of boots I've ever seen. "They're so pretty," I add softly as I lift the right boot out and slowly spin it in my hand.
The lightly distressed dark brown leather boots have an white embroidery design on the uppers of the thirteen inch shafts and a white trim design on the collar with pull tabs, round toes and two-and-a-half-inch western heels.
"I'm glad you like them," he speaks, pulling me out of my trance over my new babies.
"I love them. Miles, thank you," I blubber, tears brimming my eyes.
"No, don't do the whole water works thing," he warns. "You know I can't handle it when you cry."
"Then you shouldn't have bought me there! Miles, I've been eyeing these for a while, how did you afford these right now?"
Good boots in general are expensive so I only have a few pairs I've gotten over the years since I stopped growing, and I know these are $200 boots that haven't been on sale since they launched.
"Mackey, it's your nineteenth birthday. You deserve something special."
"Thank you," I smile as I hug the boot to my chest like a dumbass. "I hope you know I'm wearing these today."
"That was kinda the idea," he chuckles.
"Ha-ha" I mock him. "Seriously, thank you Miles."
"You're welcome Mackey. I'm glad you love them."
"There's no way I couldn't," I hum.
"Do you have any fun plans for your birthday?"
"I have classes most of the day and I do have to meet with my stupid group project team too. Dyl and S talked about doing something tonight, but I don't know," I shrug.
After my on-going bad luck with guys and parties, I put my foot down, more like stomped it, on having one for my birthday when the girls initially brought it up, wanting to just keep it small and simple with my friends, more specifically just Dylan and Sierra.
"You should do something. You only turn nineteen once and you're in college. You can't tell me there's nothing to do."
"On a Monday night in the middle of the semester?"
"You know what I mean," he sasses. "Look, just don't sit at home all night, okay?"
"Even if I'm having fun?"
"Just get out for dinner at least, please."
"Fine, if my big brother says so."
"He does," he smirks. "I'm proud of you, you know? He would be too."
"I hope so," I give a weak smile, our dad hitting front and center. This is my first birthday without him and the first holiday season is basically in full swing with Thanksgiving next week.
"He would be. School was never something you loved, but you're doing really well with your classes and you're getting out a little bit. Staying out of trouble for the most part too."
"That would be a surprise to him," I choke out a laugh. I was always sneaking out when I was in high school and my friends started turning sixteen since they were older than I was. We'd just drive around Buffalo, playing music too loud, speeding down the long middle of nowhere stretches of roads. My junior year and senior year, a lot of time was spent at parties where we would drink and Miles would have to come rescue us.
That all stopped though when I met Wesley.
I can still remember the first morning he was on the property as if it was yesterday, the first Monday of this past January. I'd been out with a couple of my girlfriends at a house party who spent the night after Miles picked us up and my dad came in to find Miles and I in the kitchen.
"There's my daughter who was in bed by 10 last night," my dad rumbles, his old and dirty boots thumping against the creaking floorboards.
"Sorry," I whine at his rougher tone, he's usually more laid back about me going out. You know, the second born child, a daughter at that. I'm not set to take over the ranch from him one day. I guess being out until 1:00 a.m. on the night before school starts again wasn't the best move in his book.
"Hm," he mumbles through his own gulp of coffee. "That new ranch hand I hired arrived last night while you were gone. He's staying in the barn, so don't be alarmed if you see him in there."
"Sure. Whatever," I brush him off.
"Don't terrorize this one, okay? He's a strong hand. We'll benefit from him sticking around."
"A little hazing never hurt anyone. Besides, aren't hands supposed to be tough? I think they can take what a teenage girl dishes out."
"If only you were a normal teenager Mac," my dad sighs before kissing the top of my head.
"Where'd you go?" Miles asks, my brain snapping back to the present.
"Just a memory with dad."
"I do that too," he confesses.
We haven't talked about our dad a lot lately, trying to heal and move on, never forgetting, though. It's just been a mutual silent agreement between us. Our last big talk about dad was when we decided I should go to school, a midsummer late night of heavy drinking and truths spilled out between Miles and I. It's the same night I told him more of what happened with Wesley, well the parts that wouldn't scare him for life at least.
"He'd be proud of you too," I tell Miles.
"I'd like to think so," he smiles in a similar way that I did when he told me the same thing.
"He did good with us."
"That he did," Miles nods.
"Mhm," I hum, looking my brother in the eyes through the screen, multiple emotions running through both us.
"Nana will probably call you at the worst time," he clears his throat, changing the subject.
"She already asked for my schedule today so she wouldn't," I giggle.
One thing about our maternal grandmother is she's not keen on you missing a phone call, especially on a birthday. She'll repeatedly keep calling until you answer out of annoyance while Miles does it for shits and giggles.
"Ah, she was smart."
"Oh yes," I laugh.
"Anything from mom?"
"No, but I'm not expecting much."
"Let her reach out if she wants, it's your birthday."
"Right, so if I want to ignore her, I will."
"You're gonna have to talk to her at some point."
"And my birthday isn't the day to do it."
"I'll give you that," he says, something in front of him catching his attention. "What about We-"
"No. He better not contact me."
"He knows it's your birthday."
"I don't care. I'm not ready to hear from him. I don't know if I will ever be."
"Mackey, he just wants a chance to explain."
"Yeah, well I don't know if he deserves that chance right now Miles. We're not talking about this anymore."
"Okay, I'm sorry."
"It's fine," I brush him off. "Now, show me my dog so I can go get ready for class."
"Right, the only one you really care about over here," he sighs before whistling out for Pepper.
"Duh." I giggle. "Hi Pep! I miss you!" I beam when my dog appears on my screen after Miles flips the camera around to show her. "She's so dirty."
"She's become quite the ranching dog since you've been gone."
"You've corrupted my baby?"
"Not me, but yeah."
"Great," I groan, flopping down against my bed. I already know who's at the hand of turning my "pet" into a proper working dog for the ranch.
"Look, I gotta get back to work and you have class. We'll talk later, okay?"
"Yeah," I huff, trying to hide my frown and ignore how rushed he sounds to get off the phone with me all of a sudden.
"Love you little sis, happy birthday."
"I love you too. Thank you," I smile at him before he hangs up, I toss my phone beside me and rub my hands over my face, a heavy breath passing through me. Rolling off my bed, I go to find a cute birthday outfit to go with my brand new boots.
I settle on my black long sleeve sweater to layer underneath a medium blue distressed denim jacket, one of the few pairs of light blue skinny jeans for my boots to go on over, on full display. I slip a simple pair of silver hoops in my ear, my oval turquoise ring on my right ring finger and call it after fixing my hair and doing a little bit of makeup.
"Happy birthday!" Dylan and Sierra call in unison later that day, when I walk back into our dorm room.
Our small living space is decorated in blue, silver, and black balloons and streams, a black "Happy Birthday" across the far window of the space. There is a present and a card on the table from them with some sparkling cider in an ice bucket and plastic wine glasses beside it.
"Aw, thank you!" I smile, closing the door and quickly cross the room to wrap them in a hug. "Y'all are so sweet," I add, tightening my hold on them for another moment before letting go.
"You only turn nineteen once, we had to do something," Sierra tells me.
"Exactly, and it's on a fucking Monday! You're already unlucky there," Dylan laughs.
"Fair points," I echo her laugh.
"Always," she chuckles. "Now, we have our own presents, but we did chip in on something too."
"You guys seriously didn't have to get me anything.
"Well we did, so it's too late," Sierra pipes up.
"Yeah, and hurry up on opening them so we can get some photos before the sun goes down."
"Alright, alright," I shake my head, reaching for the card propped in front of the box. "Shut up! I'm getting a tattoo tonight!?"
"Yes! I got my birth flower on my eighteenth and it was so fun. My first real taste of freedom," Dylan smiles.
"Oh my God," I giggle. "I don't know what to get."
"You have time still and we'll help," she says as I untie the ribbon around the box and remove the wrapping paper.
"Good," I fake a sigh of relief. "Stop, these are so pretty!" I gasp, opening two small pouches to reveal a different pair of earrings from a little jewelry store close by.
There is a set of two short dangle bars, one in each color while the other one is a set of three hoops, the biggest and smallest hoops are turquoise while the middle hoop is silver.
The rest of the contents in the box consist of some of my favorite snacks, sweet and salty ones to fulfill any craving I might have, especially during late night study sessions.
"Thank you so much," I smile softly at both of them, wrapping the duo in another hug.
"You're welcome, happy birthday," Dylan mumbles.
"Yeah, happy birthday Mac," Sierra tells me. "Now, go freshen up real quick so we can take pictures of the birthday girl! Then we'll grab dinner, get you your tattoo and come back here for some cake and non-alcoholic bubbly."
"Seriously, y'all are the best," I beam, clasping my hands together in excitement.
"Duh," they sass in unison, almost like they rehearsed it.
I touch up my makeup that still looks pretty good considering having worn it all day, swap out my silver hoops for my new little dangly ones and grab my soft gray suede cowboy hat before meeting the girls back out in the living room.
We head outside and find a nice quiet area in the area of the dorm buildings with good lighting and the two of them pose me in front of a building several times and take lots of pictures, making me laugh in most of them from their antics. Once they are happy with what they have, we set up times on all of our phones to take ones with all three of us.
"I think I want to get another one," I voice later that night, looking over the simple line drawn styled Chrysanthemum bouquet, a nod to my birth month flower now gracing my left forearm.
At dinner, I scrolled through my Pinterest board for tattoos with Dylan and Sierra and we settled on a few different ones, deciding any of them would be good and that the artist should be the final vote.
"Really?" Dylan asks from where her and Dylan are paying for my birthday tattoo.
"Do y'all mind hanging out longer?"
"Well, do you have time?" Sierra asks the female tattoo artist, Maddie, who gave me my first, and hopefully second round of ink.
"For a birthday girl, sure," she nods. "What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking that script piece would look good here," I answer, my right index finger running over the top of my sweater where the curve of my right breast is.
"Yeah, I like it," she nods. "Give me a few minutes to sketch up some styles and we can get started."
"Thank you," I smile before she walks away.
It doesn't take her long and within twenty minutes or so, I have two brand new tattoos.
"It looks so good," Dylan voices once that tattoo is done and I'm getting up from the table.
Sierra clasps her hands together behind where I study the ink below my bra's waistband in the mirror.
"It does." My finger grazes the clear wrap over the handwritten font.
"Know your worth", it reads, reminding me to protect my heart and live on my own terms.
It's something I've been failing to do, letting fear and grief run my life for most of the year.
But I'm done letting that hang over my head.
A little self love for our birthday girl! She's in her last "teen year!"
How are we feeling about the tattoos and that little revelation at the end??
I'll see y'all on Tuesday! I hope you enjoyed it!