Happy Birthday Laney

I can’t believe you turn eight today— the same day that Dad turns two years dead. Your eyes glisten with amusement as mine reflect hesitant tears. I am distracted by my phone buzzing. I know it’s Ethan again. I leave the phone in my pocket, not knowing what to say to him.

He should be here, I know that.

I stand tightly tucked against the back corner of the living room, watching you ravenously rip the paper off of the pristinely wrapped present among the sea of bags. I hate adults. Don’t they remember being a kid? Wrapping paper is always better.

I feel the plethora of aunts, uncles and cousins eyeing me as the event proceeds, but my attention is solely on you. I know all it takes is one glance to be read as an invitation to come and chat.

“Mo, a plane! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!” you shout feverishly. I missed your incandescent energy. You run delightedly over and hug me before taking off from the living room in full flight through the dining room, and out the back door. A small smile briefly passes over my cracked lips as mom chases you outside, pleading for you to open the remainder of your presents.

The rest of the family buys you baby dolls and hair clips, but I know you want to fly planes some day. I certainly understand the appeal, I can imagine your problems would feel so much smaller up there in the clouds. Of course, you don’t have problems to run from yet.

My phone buzzes again.

“Cake time!” Mom yells with forged spirit as she finally corrals you back into the dining room. As the herd of family members makes their way to the table, I briefly lock eyes with cousin Riley. He starts to make his way to me.

Great.

“Hey Mona, how you been?”

I hate talking to people these days.

“Fine. You?”

“I’ve been good.” He pauses. “How are you and Ethan?” I notice a few eyes shift towards me as the question leaves Riley’s lips. I’m the elephant in the room, and everyone is so fucking nosey.

“Well we still aren’t engaged if that’s what you are asking.”

“Are you going to say yes to him? I’ve never seen you so happy with anyone. Your dad wouldn’t want you to—"

“Hey Laney-bug! Smile for me.” I turn away from Riley as I snap your perfectly posed picture of pure merriment crowned by pigtails.

I feel his eyes behind me, but I don’t look back. I shuffle to the other side of the dining room just as Mom brings out her homemade chocolate cake— your favorite.

She smooths the rich chocolate icing with the spreader, and the room seems to slow around me. I watch intently as the icing turns to tar, and I begin to wonder how comfortably it built up in Dad’s lungs before the stroke decided his body was a perfect place to call home.

Everyone is smiling as the candles are lit. My eyes are intensely locked on the lighter, and I fight the urge to take it from Mom’s hand. Your eyes are bright with the reflection of the flickering flame. I seem to only recall a haze in Dad’s eyes.

You take a big breath and blow out all the candles. The smoke clouds my view of your faultless face. I hadn’t realized that all of my memories of Dad had a similar screen over them. I couldn’t tell if I was starting to forget him, or if the smoke subtly framing his jaw line was really all I had ever known.

Mom places a generous piece of the rich dessert in front of you. I imagine that for Dad, breathing might have felt like trying to inhale air with chocolate cake congesting your throat.

I am brought back to the dining room when someone knocks at the door. I seem to be the only one who heard it.

I walk over and open it to the familiar smell of an ash tray.

“Hi” Ethan says tentatively.

I hear your laughter miles away.