On the stormiest Sunday night in late spring twenty-one years ago, when the winds were howling and the rain was washing the sins of the world away, I came out of my mother screaming just as loud and severe as the thunder that rumbled above us.
Sunday is known as the 'Sun's Day' -babies born on this day will refuse to live an ordinary life. They will always provide sunshine for those around them with their auras of brightness and life. Sunday's child is creative, noble, caring, proud and stubborn. They cannot be harmed by evil spirits and will be both fair in looks and in spirit.
Babies born during a storm will be a force of nature in life. They will often face strife and struggle, but will always persevere in the end. These children tend to be fierce and passionate in love, but insecure and troubled in everyday life.
My day of birth was a contradiction in and of itself and the life that has followed is a testament of that fact.
I am bright in spirit, but troubled in life. I cannot be harmed by spirits, but I have suffered greatly. I am passionate and insecure, but also caring and stubborn.
My own spirit struggles to pick a side.
It's no wonder that birthdays have always put me in a sour mood, even more so after I had no one to celebrate them with.
Though, this birthday, I am determined to change my attitude and the outcome. I stuff my face with grapes for breakfast –known as food for the soul. I slip on an old red crop top and a blue floral skirt that flows past my knees with matching shoes –the color blue a good mood-booster. I kiss my doorjamb as I leave the house –assuring that I will return home safely.
I throw on a thick velvet red choker that belonged to my mother and tassel earrings –trying to compensate my bad attitude with accessories.
Despite all of these things I feel a weight in my chest, heavy like an anvil, and a cloud over my head that blocks out all the sun.
Birthdays are just another reminder that time is passing, while everything else remains stagnant. I turn 21 today and that makes it nine years since I have heard my father's jovial laugh and ten years since I last felt my mother's embrace.
It feels like a lifetime.
But, just as suddenly as I think that, a cold chill sweeps over my body and the familiar Chanel perfume fills the air.
Usually, I detest the presence of my mother's ghost- as she always tends to wreak havoc around me when she visits. But, today I take a deep breath, reveling in my mother's scent and I let the first smile I have had all day light up my lips.
It's a bittersweet feeling to know that I have my mum watching over me on my birthday –that I am not alone- even if I can't touch her or talk to her.
Not really, anyway.
But, my preparations and my mother's presence cannot lift my mood and neither fools my Nana –her intuition powerful. As soon as the bell announces my entrance into the shop and my Nan looks up from her book, the smile on her face fades and worry adds another wrinkle to her forehead.
"Ma chérie," She glides so gracefully along the hardwood it's almost as if she, herself, is a spirit, "How is your heart today? What's wrong?"
My sigh is deep, but I try to make my smile look as enthusiastic as possible, "My heart is still going strong, Nana. You know how I feel about my birthday, that's all."
Her frown only deepens as her hands reach out in the air between us -picking at the empty space and then throwing it behind her shoulders -trying to remove the bad energy from all around me, but failing.
I'm usually a very positive and light person, but when I get in a bad mood it's almost impossible to pull me out of.
She stops her ministrations, eyes darting around my whole figure before landing above my head and narrowing her eyes. She doesn't greet my mother, but her lips purse before focusing her attention back on me.
"Is it just your contempt for your special day or does this negative energy have anything to do with what that lab coat told you about mon fils?"
And just like that, my negative mood plummets into downright depressive.
"Actually, no," I laugh, the sound hollow, moving around my Nan to set my purse down on the counter, "But, thank you for that reminder."
She follows me, ring-clad fingers tracing the crystal bins lovingly, her eyes slightly distant. Her orange dress sweeps the floor and the bright yellow of her aura flashes brilliantly.
I have to admit that just being around my Nana has my temperament lifting slightly –everything about her radiates positivity, warmth, life.
She lost her husband, her daughter, and, practically, her son-in-law who was like her own blood. Leaving behind her home, moving to a foreign country, and having to start over all for me without a single complaint.
She is everything I want to be and more.
Her hand is gentle as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind my ear –a trait I inherited from her, though she has let the silver in her's grow in completely.
She is the moon, I am the sun.
"Chérie, your father is resilient. He has made it this far and he will continue to survive and perservere. We are not sticking him in some home and we are certainly not taking away his soul when it is not his time to go. When he's read to go, the spirits will take him. »
Her words are soft and meant to be reassuring, but they only have my stomach churning with despair.
I don't want to even imagine a life without my father. A life where I truly am an orphan.
« I really don't want to talk about this right now, Nana. I do appreciate you trying to cheer me up, though. »
She opens her mouth as if to say more on the subject, but swiftly shuts it before turning around to rifle through the bins full of powerful and colorful crystals. The rock she comes back with is a brilliant lilac with yellow spilling through it like cream through coffee.
« Ametrine to heal the soul, ma chérie. Happy day of birth. »
Ametrine is a hybrid of the spiritual effects of Amethyst and Citrine to promote optimism in one's spirit. A powerful cleansing stone to rid oneself of emotional blockages and physical ailments to harmonise and heal the body and mind.
The smile on my lips is one I don't have to force, my Nan's warmth and love enough to warm my soul with light. My knuckles grow white around the rock before I rub it between my palms, hoping to spread it's positive effects through my veins.
Before I can even begin to feel the crystal's calming affects, a very excited Niall comes bursting through the front door, obnoxious balloons squeezing in behind him.
"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you," He sings completely off key, but his grin is so wide and his eyes so bright I feel his good attitude rubbing off on me, "Happy birthday, dear, Nova. Happy birthday to you!"
And then, much to my great shock and slight embarrassment, he plants a swift kiss on my cheek before pulling a bouquet of flowers behind his back and thrusting them and the balloons at me. The flowers are purples dahlias –my favorites, but it's the balloons that grab my ultimate attention.
"Baby Boy? I wasn't aware that I gave birth."
Niall's cheeks flush as he looks up at the blue balloons bashfully while my Nan tries and fails to bite back her laughter, "They were out of the birthday ones, okay? I thought it was the thought that counts."
He fake pouts at me and I reach out to ruffle his mess of blonde hair, my smile soft and my spirits up.
"Yes, it is," This time, it's my turn to peck Niall's cheek and his face reddens even more, "Thank you, love."
"So, how is the birthday girl?"
I hesitate, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to whine about nothing, either. In my brief pause, Nana manages to come up behind Niall and pop one of the baby balloons with a loud and startling burst, saving me from answering, and making both of us jump in shock.
Niall begins to protest, but Nana cuts him off promptly, tsking, "Bad luck to give any baby gifts before there is a baby. Don't want to jinx anything, I do want to be an arrière grand-mere one day."
Now, it's my turn to blush profusely, choking on my saliva and reeling back. Niall laughs lightly at my reaction before turning to argue with my Nan about how much those balloons cost him.
I interrupt their bickering after calming myself down from that mini heart attack, "Don't even put that thought into the universe, Nana.... Can we just go and get this dinner over with?"
They both turn to stare at me, concern etched on their features, but I plaster a big smile on my face and fake it for their sakes. I'm so lucky to have these two people in my life that manage to care about my getting older every year than I do and I don't want to disappoint them.
Spirits, give me strength.
While Niall is bringing their car around and my Nan is closing down the shop I go ahead and put the beautiful flowers in a vase, soaking in their aroma to calm me. I can still feel my mother hovering above me like a guilty conscience, but she remains stagnant, her birthday present to me, I'm sure.
It's while I'm admiring the docility of my mother's spirit that my phone dings in my pocket from a number I could type by heart.
H: Your place tonight?
It's embarrassing how fast my heartrate increases, how quickly my mood shifts from a single text from Harry.
Everything has been perfectly normal with Harry since our little spat two weeks ago. Since we made up in the locker room all we have been doing is 'making up.' He's constantly in my bed or in my shower or on my porch swing...
Though, when he is out of my house we go back to being nothing more than acquaintances who don't even say hello in passing.
That is our agreement, after all.
I've begun to depend on his constant presence, begun to get used to having him there. And I know that that is much too dangerous and that I need to get re-accustomed to aloneness because he won't be around forever.
They always leave.
Me: Can't. I'm busy tonight, sorry.
And, well, it's not a complete lie.
"Who's that?"
Niall's thick Irish accent nearly has me jumping out of my skin, spinning around to face him and tucking my phone back into my purse. His eyes are curious and watchful and I clutch my hand to my chest and laugh.
"You can't sneak up on me like that," I laugh, but Niall just raises a brow at me in question. Instead of answering, I brush past him, "Let's go, c'mon. It's bad luck to be late."
I stride towards the door without looking back, though I feel his eyes on me the whole way.
_________________
The staring is something I have gotten used to over the years.
With my reputation and the unusual style of my dress, it's only natural to be a spectacle in a town where everything other than cookie-cutter is considered practically blasphemous. I cannot blame the whole town on an ignorance passed down for generations.
What I will never get used to is the gawking directed towards my Nana.
She is more of a recluse than I am –rarely leaving the store except to visit my father or to grab groceries. This, of course, only stirs the folklore and adds to her mystique.
So, when she does venture out into the public eye, she is practically treated like a celebrity.
Though, less like Beyoncé and more like Amanda Bynes.
And the staring is exactly what greets us when we make it to the restaurant. It's a little Italian joint ran by old Mr. Arenado and his wife, and it's one of only five restaurants in town. It is quaint and homey –the gold and red decorations a little gaudy and the low lights making it a little hard to see, but the food is as authentic as it gets in this area.
We come here for every birthday and every birthday I have to bite my tongue from lashing out at the gawking patrons. I never let it get to me and my Nan doesn't even notice –completely in her own world.
Niall, is less forgiving, of course.
"What the hell are you looking at," He spits at some young boy with an unfortunate amount of blemishes on his cheeks, "Fucking twat."
I reel Niall back, grabbing onto his elbow and pulling him to my side as the host guides us to our usual table in the back corner booth.
My Nana walks on, completely oblivious, but I turn Niall around to face me in shock of his attitude. The boy has gone back to staring at his plate, but his parent's eyes are now glaring at the back of Niall's blonde head.
"Niall, please. Don't cause a scene, I-"
He stops in his tracks, eyes blazing, "Every fucking time, Nova! How can you possibly be okay with this?"
"They don't mean any harm, okay? You can't just go around yelling-"
But, my chastising stops short when my eyes flicker over Niall's shoulder –a familiar bright orange aura grabbing my attention and making my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.
His emerald eyes are already trained on me, wide in surprise as they appraise me and flicker over to Niall –flashing slightly. I stumble over my words and Niall follows my gaze, doing a double-take.
"Harry, lad!" Niall instantly leaves my side and heads over to Harry's booth where he sits across from a beautiful and very familiar woman with beautiful raven hair and tanned skin.
Reluctantly, I follow the traitor's lead, noting that it would be odd not to greet him in such a public setting when he is my trainer, if nothing else. I know that Niall knows Harry through Liam, but I had no idea they were friendly enough for Niall to sound so eager to see him. The thought makes me a bit uncomfortable for some reason.
The woman flashes me a smile as soon as I reach the table, but I suddenly find it very hard to return, my stomach churning with an unfamiliar feeling.
Niall and Harry do that whole one-arm-hug-fist-bump thing as I awkwardly stand by until the former pulls away and Harry's eyes land on me. He does a quick sweep of my body –so subtle I'm sure neither of them notice, but it makes my hairs stand on end.
"Hey, Nova," He pauses, a smirk on his face and an odd edge to his voice as he glances between Niall and me, "Are you two... On a date?"
Niall laughs, cheeks tinging pink slightly and I know I am just as red. Niall opens his mouth to answer, but my response is quick. Almost too quick.
"No!" They both glance at me with raised brows at my assertiveness and I clear my throat awkwardly, "I mean... My Nan is with us too. We're all having dinner."
I feel so, so stupid for clarifying –for justifying my being here with Niall. As if Harry would even care if I was on a date and as if I would care if he did care.
He is here with a woman as well, and though it's not my place to jump to conclusions, I can't help but be a little miffed he wanted to meet up with me after this dinner was over. Rebel Nova suddenly very much wants to jump out of her cage and give Harry a piece of her mind, but I reel her back.
Why do you care so much anyway, Nova?
Harry chews on his cheek and I can't help my gaze from drifting towards the woman again and I know that he notices my curiosity. His eyes widen as he looks at the woman and then back to me and he opens his mouth to explain, but Niall beats him to the punch.
"Yeah, we're celebrating Nova's birthday."
And then Harry's mouth snaps shut and his eyes swing to mine in shock and I think I'm going slightly crazy when I see a flash of hurt in them, gone too quick to really tell.
He chews on his lips, brows raised, "It's your birthday?"
I nod, very reluctantly, shrugging lightly as Harry purses his lips in response. It's not as if we're dating, so I didn't find it pertinent to tell him.
"Well, then. Happy birthday, Nova." He raises a glass with amber liquid in it before tossing it back so quickly I'm sure it burns, though he doesn't even wince.
Niall jokingly salutes Harry before placing a hand on my lower back to lead us to the table and Harry's eyes zone in on it before flashing back up to catch my stare. I mouth a quick thank you, my gaze flitting back to the woman before turning around and letting Niall lead me.
The rest of the dinner passes in relative peace; Nana chides Niall on his low work ethic, I try to ignore the fact that the light above our table flickers incessantly -no doubt, thanks to my mother- and Harry only catches me looking at him twice.
Thank the spirits that the lights are so dim he can't see the harsh blush on my face each time he does.
And, just like every year, I try to keep up a brace face when the wait staff brings me a slice of chocolate cake with a candle lit on top. They sing happy birthday loudly and with enthusiasm and if every patron wasn't watching us before, they sure are now.
It's me, this time, that catches Harry looking. Though, instead of blushing like I had, he smirks unabashedly.
I ignore the fluttering in my chest and try to conceal my embarrassment as the staff finishes their song by clapping.
Niall urges me to blow out the candle and make a wish -one superstition he holds firm to be true. So, with a deep breath and a quick thought, I extinguish the flame with little hope of this fallacy panning out.
The crowd claps and disperses, leaving our small table to raise our glasses of wine in a toast.
I ignore Harry's stare burning into me even if my body can't.
Nan smiles brightly, copper eyes shining in the flickering light, "Bonne anniversaire, ma chérie."
My smile is soft as we clink glasses one person at a time, our eye contact never ceasing -another superstition that Niall can actually get on with.
An old French tradition -one must maintain eye contact with whomever they clink their glasses with or they shall be cursed with bad sex for seven years.
It's one of the more silly superstitions, though the consequences of failing to do so are severe. It's no wonder that Niall chooses to abide by this one in particular while the rest give him the creeps.
I take a sip of my third glass of wine, my veins buzzing, as I instinctively glance towards Harry's table to find him watching me again -his eyes full of mirth and mischief. His stare alone is enough to have my skin hot and my thighs pressing together.
Oh, spirits, I don't think I'll ever befall the bad sex curse while still involved with Harry.
Just the reminder of our trysts has me standing abruptly from the table, both Nan and Niall glancing at me quizzically, suddenly dizzy and in need of a change of scenery.
"I have to run to the restroom, help yourself to the cake."
I'm off before they can say much more, but the ceiling light keeps flickering and my chest doesn't feel so heavy and thank god my mum has the decency to let me go to the loo alone.
The bathroom is a small, one person toilet and I quickly go to the sink to wash my hands and try to catch my breath.
It's hard enough to keep up a happy facade while feeling guilty the whole time about lying and even worse when the man I've been sleeping with is a mere few tables away, watching me.
I've barely had time to dry my hands when the door swings open and I turn around with a start, "So sorry, I forgot to lock-"
But, my words get stuck in my throat when I see the Chelsea boots and black jeans, the wrinkled red button up and tattoos, the devilish grin and messy brown curls.
"Harry," I breathe in surprise, but my eyes quickly narrow and my voice drops when he steps into the room and I hear the lock slide shut, "What do you think you're doing?"
He stalks towards me like a cheetah circling it's prey, his eyes dark and full of hunger, and it's suddenly much too hot in here. He stops only when I'm cornered against the sink, his arms caging me in, and his hard body pressing against mine.
"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" He whispers into my neck, breath fanning the flesh so delicately that I shiver and goosebumps prickle my skin.
I try to swallow, but my throats feels like sandpaper and he smells so, so good -like expensive cologne mixed with something more primal, more woodsy.
"I... I didn't think you'd care."
He stills at my excuse and I brace myself against the sink to stop myself from running my hands through his hair. It only takes him a moment to gather himself, petal soft lips trailing down my neck and body pressing against mine even further and it's then I feel him against me -hard and ready.
Oh, spirits, give me strength.
He pulls his mouth from my neck only to have them graze my own lips lightly, breath hot between us, "But, then I could have gotten you a proper present."
I frown, ignoring my body's needs, "You don't need to get me anything, Harry... It's just another day."
His hands fall from the sink to graze my waist, sliding down my hips, and then landing on my bum and bunching up the material of my skirt there.
He kisses me tenderly, but deep, his lips hot and needy, but gentle. Like he wants to make it last, but he's too impatient. Like kissing me is his oxygen and he might suffocate if not for my lips.
"Well, now, it's too late anyway," He sighs into my mouth before roughly kneading my butt in his hands and making me jump slightly, "But, I can wish you a happy birthday in another way... A better way."
And to my greatest and upmost horror, Harry drops to his knees in front of me.
My eyes instantly revert to the now locked door and down to his mischievous eyes as he slides his hands up what little skin is revealed by my skirt until they disappear inside it.
His palms are rough, but his hands are gentle as they trace their way up my calves before journeying towards the thick flesh of my thighs.
I squeeze them together instantly, trying to ignore just how much I want this. How much I so desperately want him –how much I wanted him as soon as I met his eyes over Niall's shoulder.
I place my hands on his shoulders and push back a little bit to stop him, "What if someone walks in, Harry?"
"The doors locked." He smirks, his fingers dancing along the inside of my thighs.
"What if someone hears?"
His leer widens and his pants tent, "You'll just have to contain yourself."
My stance loses its strength and instead of pushing him, I am actually gripping onto his shoulders desperately as his hands reach the lace edge of my underwear and he grips the flesh of my bum and kneads it hungrily.
I keen into him, my mind growing hazy as the thought of doing something so private in such a public place begins to poison my mind and thrill me at the same time.
Though, through the fray, one thought sticks out and this time I do shove Harry back just enough so that he can meet my eyes.
"What about the woman you're having dinner with?"
I try to keep my voice as non-chalant as possible and avoid the word 'date' until I have all the facts.
But, I may not sound as casual as I think I do because Harry's hands seize their attentions and he glances up at me with furrowed brows.
"Theresa? She's a trainer at the gym I'm trying to bribe with dinner so she'll take some of my shifts teaching some snot-noses kids."
His explanation is swift and there is no doubt in my mind that he is telling the truth. I knew that the woman looked familiar and it just now that I make the connection.
I hate how relieved his assurances make me and I hate that he notices.
"Why?" He arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow, hand coming around the front of my legs suddenly and cupping me through the lace, "Are you jealous?"
I gasp at his touch, leaning back onto the sink for support as Harry's fingers glide across the lace of my panties.
"N-No," I moan as his fingers dip into my underwear and we are skin to skin, "I just don't want her to get worried when you're gone for too long."
Which is mostly true, though, even I don't want to think about the other reason for the uneasiness in my belly.
Harry smirks so deep both of his dimples make an appearance in his tanned cheeks and his emerald eyes go nearly black as he dips two fingers between my folds, nearly making my knees give out from under me.
"I wouldn't worry, judging by how wet you are right now... this shouldn't take long."
And before I can even react to those cocky and lustful words, he is swooping beneath my skirt, disappearing completely. I spread my legs wider to accommodate him as he removes my underwear in a flash and places his head firmly between his thighs.
His hair tickles the inside of my thighs and the stubble on his chin scratches against my sensitive flesh. He grips the backs of my thighs and spreads my legs even farther apart. He kisses up the tender flesh of my thighs before closing his mouth around a particularly thick area just below my womanhood.
He kisses the flesh before nipping it lightly, closing his mouth and sucking at the flesh –no doubt creating a bruise that will stop me from wearing shorts for a few days. I keen against him, whining for more, but Harry continues to kiss along my thighs teasingly.
And just when I am growing a bit impatient my whole body snaps to attention when I feel him blow cold air onto my hot sex -the stark difference causing me to nearly convulse at the act.
Finally, I feel his tongue prod at my lips, replacing the cold air and making my knees quiver. His strokes are gentle at first -teasing, almost- as they delve into my folds, but ignore the one place that aches for him the most.
Increasingly, his strokes grow more desperate and needy. They lap up all I have to give and more, his hot tongue even probing inside me as his hands grip my ass so hard I'm sure I'll have bruises.
Still, he doesn't go near where I need him.
"God, Harry," I moan, my knuckles turning white against the sink and my knees about to give out. At this point I am so desperate for his tongue that I am not above begging, "Please."
Harry groans against me, the sound vibrating to my very core and my legs close around his head, trapping him there.
Then, finally, his tongue circles my bundle of nerves before his mouth closes around it and sucks. Hard.
I have to physically bite my hand to keep from screaming and Harry holds onto me tighter so that I don't collapse around him. My eyes squeeze shut and all of my senses are concentrated on what his mouth is doing to me.
"Fuck, you taste so good. Always so wet, so sweet for me."
His moan makes me moan and I can't even worry about someone walking in on us when what he is doing has made this entire birthday worth it.
I can't see what he is doing at all, but that fact somehow adds to the pleasure. Every single swipe of his tongue a surprise that has me spiraling closer and closer towards ecstasy. Every kiss makes my knees quake and every groan sends me clutching onto the wall for balance.
He is vicious with a hunger I have never experienced before -not once pulling away to take a breath or swallow. He is completely devoted; eating me like I'm his last meal on Earth, like he might die without my nutrients.
It's so dirty and wrong and wonderful that it doesn't take long for my vision to blur and my core begin to pull.
But, all it takes is one small, yet powerful, smack to my behind to make my whole world go white.
My head tosses backwards and one hand slaps the wall as I try to steady myself when every nerve ending bursts into flame. My body stills and tightens, my mouth only forming his name as I come undone and Harry laps up everything I have until the last drop.
I forget my birthday, I forget that we're in a bathroom, I even forget my fucking name.
All I can think about is Harry.
When I come crashing down from my high; my cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and body quivering Harry removes himself from underneath my skirt and slowly pulls my underwear back up my shaky legs for me.
My knees tremble so much I find it hard to stand and my breaths are so rapid and short that I find it hard to breathe.
I feel like I almost just died from that orgasm.
Harry simply watches me come down from my high, eyes light in admiration, but cloudy with lust. He holds onto me until I am strong enough to stand, eyes never leaving my face. His face is just as red, his chin glistening, and his pants pulled tight around his erection.
Lightly, he presses his lips to mine and I can taste myself on his mouth, making my face flush even more.
"Happy birthday, Nova." He whispers against my lips, pecking them once more before letting me go.
And then he is out the door as quickly as he came and I am left reeling, both from my orgasm and from his abrupt exit.
By the time I gather myself together and venture out of the bathroom Harry and the woman have already left and Niall has already eaten all my cake.
_______________
When I finally do make it home the windows are dark and lifeless and there is box on my doorstep wrapped in newspaper.
I snatch it up quickly, assuming it's from Niall, and step through the front door. My mum is waiting for me there like a shadow, but the rest of the house is empty and cold. There is no warmth or love or life in this house and, usually, it wouldn't nag at me.
But, today, it does. Today holds all the memories of past birthdays in these walls.
Memories that only haunt me now, taunt me with something I don't have. Something I can't have.
Clearing my head, I go through the nightly routine of watering each one of plants; tending to their leaves, testing their soil, singing lightly to those who have begun to wither somewhat. Through all this, though, my eyes keep averting back to the box on my counter.
It's been quite a while since I have received an actual gift from anyone; mostly because I outright tell everyone I don't like gifts.
The flutter of excitement in my belly is one I am unfamiliar with and I truly do have no self-control because I am tearing the newspaper off and opening the box in no time.
Inside, is a very rusted and chipped four-leaf clover keychain. It's small and no longer shiny and some of the green paint has started to come off on one of the leaves, but I get an overwhelming warmth in my chest just from holding it.
Underneath the keychain is a small scrap of paper, ripped off from a notebook, its contents making my heart seize it's beating in my chest.
Didn't give me much time to get you a gift –apart from what I gave you in the bathroom (;- so this is the best you get. My family doesn't believe in all this superstitious stuff, but my dad did carry this around his entire life and he met my mum carrying it, so it must have some ability. He doesn't have much use for it anymore, so I thought it might be able to bring you some luck.
Happy birthday, Nutty Nova.
H
The most idiotic and goofy grin lights up my face at the note and I grip the old keychain with a newfound tenderness. Heart singing and steps light, I dig in my purse and attach the clover to my set of keys and slip the note into my wallet.
I hate receiving gifts, I always felt bad to get something without giving something in return. It never seemed fair.
But, I'm suddenly very happy and grateful for this present.
The house suddenly feels less empty, my heart less heavy, and I take this shift in mood to dig in the closet for a few folded up red Chinese lanterns, candles, and lighter.
My mother's spirit follows me out the front door as I make my way to the cliff's edge and prepare the lanterns.
It's a family tradition I used to do with both parents on my birthday and one I have kept up since I've been alone.
It felt wrong to just stop doing it once they were gone... It's one of only a few good memories I have left of them.
Lighting the lanterns and sending them into the night is supposed to take away all of the bad events that happened in your last year, a cleansing of sorts. Making a wish on the lanterns when you push them into the air will make it come true.
I light three of the lanterns in quick succession –one for each member of my family- and I watch them float against the backdrop of the night until they blink like stars and disappear.
And, even then, I sit at the edge of the cliff, shivering in the cold, and watch the area they vanished in, my wish from the cake and the lantern echoing around inside my head -the same one I've been making for the last nine years.
And I pray to the spirits that this year is the year it comes true.
I wish my father would wake up, I wish the suffering would end.
________________
Lol, not so fun fact: on my 12th birthday I wish that my grandma would be okay (she had cancer) and she passed away two days later. The universe is twisted man.
Also, this song is their theme, okay?
Sorry if this chapter isn't as great -I'm going out of town in less than two hours and just really wanted to get this up before then. So, leave me some love while I'm in Austin and let me know what you thought.
As always, her outfit (which this one might be one of my faves) is on my insta @badbrits. And for real guys, I have like 20 unanswered follow requests so just let me know that you're from Wattpad and i'll approve you!
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