KALILA
I was released from the hospital the next day. My doctor had kept me overnight for observation. I hated being in the hospital at night; I kept feeling like someone was watching me. Now, Mitch was taking me home.
“You feeling alright?” he asked as we drove in his Lamborghini through the New York traffic.
“Yea. Just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll feel much better at home,” Mitch said through a smile.
We arrived at our apartment building and we parked in the building’s garage. Mitch helped me out of the car and held my hand as we walked into the lobby of the building. Reporters were there and swarmed me as we entered.
“Kalila! How are you feeling?”
“Do you have any idea of who could’ve done this?”
“Can you say a few words on the death of Ryan Masters?”
Mitch blocked me from the group and the building’s security rushed forward to hold them back as we made our way into the elevator. I leaned my back against the elevator wall and sighed. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could use my mind control to get those jerks to back off.
We arrived at the penthouse, which the elevator opens right up to. There were about a hundred people inside. “Surprise!” A banner hung over the middle of the living room that said, “Welcome Home!”
“Guys! You shouldn’t have.”
Mitch put his hands on my shoulder, “But wait, there’s more.” Someone tugged a rope attached to the banner. The banner fell to the ground, revealing a sign that said, “Happy birthday!” My mouth dropped. I had totally forgotten that it was my birthday today.
My mother came up to me and wrapped her arms tightly around me. She half cried in my ears, “Twenty-two years ago today, I gave birth to an angel.”
“Literally,” I said pulling back and laughing. My three best friends--Angela, Emilia, and Carmen--ran up to me holding little Love.
“She is so cute!” Angela squealed.
“I want her!” Emilia said giggling.
“She peed on my shoe.” Carmen said sourly.
I laughed and took little Love from Angela’s arms. She was only about the size of a Kleenex box. I kissed her nose and my friends started giggling. “What?” I asked. They all pointed to my shirt where I was growing increasingly warm. Sure enough. Little Love had peed on me. “Ugh.” I set the puppy down and she ran off into the crowd of people. “Well, I needed to change anyways.”
I walked through the crowd to my bedroom. The whole way I was greeted by people who--for some of them--I don’t even know. I made it to my room and stripped out of the plain jeans and white t-shirt I had been wearing. I looked through my closet and picked out my favorite white dress. I matched it with a pair of gold heels and walked back to the living room.
Mitch was standing just outside the door. He came up from behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “So, did I do good?” he asked as he kissed my neck.
“Yes. Thank you,” I said as I turned around to kiss his lips. He picked me up and spun me around. Everyone stared at us, how perfect we were together. We made our way to the center of the room and swayed back and forth to the music.
The night continued on. A huge, five tiered angel food cake was brought out and everyone sang to me. Some people brought presents and we all gathered around to open them. I opened and thanked everyone, the whole while little Love was ripping away at the wrapping paper on the floor.
I opened the card from my mother. On the inside she had wrote, “My present for you is a dog trainer. Your welcome.”
I looked at my mother, then at little Love who was nibbling on my toe, then back to my mother. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
Once I had finished opening presents, everyone went back to doing their own things. Dancing, talking, eating, and a game of beer pong broke out in the kitchen, with Mitch taking home the championship. The party was a smashing success... literally.
The party was beginning to dwindle down. About twenty people remained and we were all sitting around talking. Everyone screamed as a dumpster flew through our huge window that covered the living room wall. Mitch ran carefully over to the broken window and looked out. He saw nothing. As everyone calmed down, I flopped down onto the sofa as I looked at the dumpster. Everyone was whispering and the rest of the humans at the party left, leaving only eight remaining angels who all stared at the dumpster. We all knew who it was from, since on the side, clear as day, the words, “Happy Birthday Bitch,” were burned.