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Happy Birthday; Jennifer Perez, Age 12
Topic Started: Jun 1 2009, 10:40 PM (325 Views)
MurderWeasel
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It was Jennifer's twelfth birthday, and she was supposed to be having fun. It was supposed to be a good day. A happy day. She should be celebrating with her friends and family.

Nothing was going like it was supposed to.

Jennifer was sitting at the table with her mom, her older sister Monica, and her younger brother Samuel. There was cake, and everyone had sung "Happy Birthday" for her, but she didn't want to eat. She didn't want to open presents. She didn't want to do anything except cry. To keep from doing so, she looked around the room, at the walls, painted a subdued yellow; at the ceiling, where the one light bulb burned brightly, sharply; at the cake, bright and pink and covered in candles. The cake was right in front of her.

Suddenly, Jennifer realized she was supposed to blow out the candles. They had already melted most of the way down, leaving thirteen little pools of wax on the cake's surface: one for each year of her life, and one to grow on.

"Go ahead," her mother said, following her gaze, "blow them out and make a wish, Jenny."

Jennifer closed her eyes, leaned forward, and blew.

I wish Dad was here. I wish he and Mom hadn't argued so much. I wish I hadn't tried to help. I just made things worse. It's all my fault.

She inhaled deeply, eyes still closed. For just a second, Jennifer could pretend that her wish had come true, that her Dad was there, that her family was happy and united, like it never had been in real life. She could pretend that everyone was smiling, laughing, having a good time.

Jennifer opened her eyes. Her Dad wasn't there. She'd only blown out half the candles on her cake. She quickly blew out the rest.

Wishes aren't worth anything anyways. They never come true.

Her mom cut the cake, and gave each of them a slice. Monica ate hers quietly. She was three years older than Jennifer, and, Jennifer thought, decades more mature. Jennifer always wondered how she stayed so calm. She hadn't even cried last week. At least, not where Jennifer could see her.

Jennifer's mother wasn't eating her cake. She just poked it around with her fork. Jennifer realized that she was doing the same thing. Dad leaving had to be so hard on Mom. Sure, they hadn't really gotten along well, but he had still been a part of her life for years. The divorce process had been long, but Jennifer doubted it had really felt real to Mom until last week, when it was finally completed. It certainly hadn't to Jennifer. It had just seemed like a game or something, something different to try that would end soon, bringing everything back to normal. Jennifer had even been happy at first. Dad being out of the house meant there hadn't been much yelling.

Samuel, at least, seemed happy. He tore into his cake, getting pink frosting all over his shirt and face. Jennifer couldn't help smiling. She finally took a bite of her cake, intentionally smearing some frosting on her face too.

And just like that, everyone was smiling and laughing. Everyone was being messy, playing around. Jennifer could almost forget that Dad wasn't there.

Then the phone rang.

Mom went to answer it, leaving the kids clowning around. Jennifer had finished her slice of cake, and was about to use Mom's absence as an opportunity to grab an extra large second slice, when she heard her mother's voice from the next room, where the phone was.

"...I don't care. I know she's your daughter too, but I don't care. I don't want to... Look... Look, shut the fuck up and let me fucking talk!

"I don't care if she's your fucking daughter and it's her fucking birthday, you worthless piece of shit. I don't want you anywhere near my fucking house. I don't ever want to see you face again, but I know I'll have to when you pick them up, but I don't want to any more than necessary and today isn't your visitation day, so fuck you!"

The phone slammed down, and Mom walked back into the room. She composed her face, but, just for a second, Jennifer could see the rage there.

That's what she thinks about Dad now. Does she think that about me too?

Jennifer didn't even know she'd run to her room until she was there, lying in her bed, face in her pillow, door locked behind her, crying.

Why is this happening? Why are they like this? Why? What's going on? Why couldn't they have talked nicer to each other? Why couldn't they have waited, at least just a little longer, at least until after my birthday?

They didn't even try to get along It's all their fault. I don't know. I couldn't help them. They argued about me. It's all my fault. It's everyone's fault. I hate it.

What's wrong with Mom? Why did she say that? "I don't care if she's your fucking daughter and it's her fucking birthday". That's what she said. Why was she cursing about me. Why doesn't she care? How can she not care? I care. I care about her and about Dad and about Monica and about Samuel and about everyone. What can I do?

I tried to help.

I tried.

Why did this happen?

What can I do?
V7:
Juliette Sargent drawn by Mimi and Ryuki
Alton Gerow drawn by Mimi
Lavender Ripley drawn by Mimi
Phillip Olivares drawn by Ryuki
Library Vee
Misty Browder drawn by Ryuki
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