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I was finally home for the rest of summer. I was home in time for my birthday. I was home to sleep in my own bed with the same sheets I’d left on it back in April. I was home to eat my mother’s heart attack-inducing food. And I was home in time to see my friends before they left for college. Again.

The day after I collapsed on my bed at nearly midnight, I forced myself from the confines of my bedroom to take a shower.

A real shower.

You don’t realize how much you take for granted the comforts of a stationary place to sleep, one with room enough to stretch your legs and to put your head in the right position so you don’t wake up with neck cramps. A shower - a warm shower - every day. Air conditioning that doesn’t phase in and out (but mostly out). Not the stench of gasoline when you wake up in the morning, but the smell of breakfast in the kitchen. I take it all for granted once I hit the road, and the second I’m back home, I promise myself I won’t feel the same way about the simplest comforts. But my plan always backfires. Most of the time I just forget to be humble in the mumbo-jumbo of the eight hour van rides, gas station pit stops, or the rarity of a motel to crash in.

I woke up at around ten in the morning, but I stayed in my room, staring at my walls, my floors, my feet. I didn’t get out of bed, even despite the grumbling my stomach made. I couldn’t absorb calories at the moment, only my surroundings.

I didn’t care that it was my birthday. Birthdays were no longer special to me. It might sound narcissistic, but it’s true. Once you’re out of elementary school, no one cares that it’s your birthday as much. And even in Pre-K through sixth, you had to buy off everyone with cupcakes or a free ice cream cup just so they would sing to you.

Birthdays just weren’t my thing, especially if the birthday in question was mine.

I got a few texts that morning from friends. And then even more friends as the day progressed rather slowly. Then there was the odd family member: a few cousins and my mother’s younger brother. I only got two phone calls: one from Justin at around lunch time, and another from a high school friend.

She called a half hour after Justin and wished me a happy birthday. She also told me she’d be stopping by late that night on a Greyhound from upstate and she wanted to meet up before her next connection in the early hours of the morning.

She was going back to college earlier than my liking.

“Coffee sound good?” I mumbled, scratching at the uneven patches of studio stubble on my chin.

“Sure.” I heard rustling in the background and a door slam shut. “But shall I remind you when I’m stopping by? I said late, and when I said late…” And she paused again as I heard a dead bolt slide in place. “I meant, like, almostmidnight late, Nick.”

I could only chuckle.

“I’m sure you don’t want to be pulling an all-nighter that doesn’t need to be attempted. Or even considered. Just…” She hesitated as a monotonous shuffling continued in the background. “Forget coffee. How about some fast food? Though I suspect you’re sick of that stuff.”

True.

“I mean, it’s really up to you. If you want to get coffee, I’ll gladly oblige.” Another door slammed, followed by a muffled voice, and I heard a car engine purr to life.

“You sure?”

“It’syour birthday, isn’t it?”

|||

It was past one in the afternoon when I melted off the beads of sweat from my shoulders in the shower. Don’t let Massachusetts fool you: Home may be up north, but that didn’t mean sweat-free summers. It didn’t help that my mother had opened my bedroom window the day before I came home, so I ended up obliviously sweating it out in my dirty, four month-old sheets.

I didn’t smell too good.

Until half past eleven at night, I’d spent the day at home, eating whatever my mother gave me, be it pasta, peanut butter sandwiches, or cookies. I lazily waited it out on the sofa in front of the TV for a while, but I spent most of my time in my room, even when my mother wanted to take me shopping to celebrate. I lied to her, faking a simplistic headache, and stayed cooped up in my bedroom, the buzzing racket of the house’s AC unit outside my window keeping me from enjoying any mediocre peace and quiet.

My friend from high school texted me the address and the time her bus would stop by at around dinner (which I had intentionally skipped, seeing as I was already overstuffed by Mother Dearest for four hours straight): I was to expect her toting a small duffle and backpack at the Braintree station at 11:35.

I drove to the station and was able to score a good parking spot close to the drop off point. The beauty of this late-night pick-up meant almost no one else was there to take up room in the concrete haven of the parking garage.

Her bus was nine minutes late.

I spotted her the second she jumped off the last step and onto the sidewalk. Her long, dark brown hair hung in a ponytail down her back, sweeping over her modest sun dress. She’d had the same dress since high school: flowery yellow like pollen with thick shoulder straps, the skirt brushing over her stout legs like a golden calla lily.

Fitting, I presume, as her name was actually Lily.

She spotted me leaning on the concrete ledge by the multiple decorative munchkin bushes in front of the parking garage, hands in my cutoffs and useless sunglasses tucked into my wrinkled plaid shirt. She smiled and dropped her duffle and backpack on the sidewalk, rushing over to give me a hug.

Back into her arms was a pleasant place to be, especially with a love like hers.

I engulfed her into my arms and against my chest, a grin stretching my face. In a good minute’s time, she unraveled from my grasp and gave me a tentative kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Nick.”

“Hey, Lily Ann.”

“Platinum record in the mixing process, huh?” She winked and walked back to retreat her plain, holey backpack and a plastic Wal-Mart bag. I slung her old softball duffel over my shoulder and fished my keys from my belt loop, leading the way to my car.

“Don’t say that, Lil. You’ll jinx it.”

“Sure,” she said, rounding to the other side of my family’s overly-loved mini van.

“I’m serious.”

I unlocked the doors and slid in. After two stalled attempts, the engine finally started and the CD player continued in the middle of a slow country pop tune.

Lily didn’t like country one bit. She had a passion on the verge of hate for the genre for no reason, and even she herself couldn’t explain it very well.

But this time she didn’t complain. Her face didn’t scrunch up in mock disgust. She didn’t even reach over to change the track on the mix CD. Instead, a small smile brightened up her face, which, in turn, brightened up mine.

“And here I thought you hated country,” I said, flicking on my turning signal and peering into my side mirror.

“When you don’t have Nick Santino’s favorite music playing from your laptop over a Skype conversation all the time, you miss it. And…” She paused as I raucously chuckled. “You start listening to it to get rid of the nostalgic homesickness. Then, before you know it, you actually stop flinching at the sound of a lap guitar or fiddle. Then, slowly but surely, you actually appreciate most country songs.” She shrugged and turned to give me a goofy grin.

“Impressive snowballing there, Lily.”

A giggle slipped through her lips, the last thing to disturb the easy silence on the way to the nearest open coffee bar.

|||

“What have you done all day, exactly?” she asked as the line to the counter shrunk by one body.

“Not much, really.” I shrugged and stuck my hands in my pockets, inching forward directly behind Lily.

“Don’t tell me you just lounged about doing nothing,” she exasperatingly groaned, giving me a sideways look over her shoulder.

“Uh…” I brought a hand around my neck and massaged my tense muscles. A long night’s sleep for the first time in almost three months in a real bed left me feeling uncomfortably stiff. “I …ate food.”

She just scoffed and moved closer to the counter, only a balding man in a pinstripe suit reeking of cologne separating us from the joys of caffeine and ground beans.

“People want to make you feel special on your birthday, Nick. The least you could do is let them.”

“Naw,” I mumbled, sticking my hand back into my pocket.

Lily gave me another glance from over her shoulder. “So what’re you getting?”

“Black coffee. That’s it.” I signified my choice with a slice through the air with my hand. “Yourself?”

“Hot chocolate. No, actually…” She tapped her chin with a finger, looking up at the chalkboard menu hanging from the ceiling. “Probably an iced hot chocolate. Either way, it’s not going to keep me up all night.” She gave an noncommittal shrug. “It’s whate—”

“Whatever, right.” I stifled a laugh as she gave me a cheap back-handed slap to my shoulder. If Lily had a catchphrase, it’d be ‘It’s whatever.’ Almost any bored statement of hers ended in those two words.

And Lily almost always sounded bored.

In the two minutes it took us to order and pick up our drinks from the other end of the counter, we didn’t converse. We were silent at our small outdoors table until I let out a small chuckle when I caught her staring at my palm resting on the table. Lily smiled in turn behind her dwindling second cigarette and tapped its mounting ashes in the tray between us before taking a final suave drag and putting it out.

“Did you drum on the record?” she asked, taking my hand in hers. She ran a chilly finger over the few blisters under my knuckles, whispering an apology when her touch on an especially red, sore one made me noticeably flinch.

“Not really,” I hoarsely replied, taking a sip of my coffee. “Mostly just the odd demo tracking sesh.”

“Let me see the other one.”

I didn’t ask why; I just rested my calloused left hand in her open palm.

She ran her fingers over my fingertips, disgustingly ashy from constant guitar playing. She nodded, as if confirming to herself the reality of my first love, and slipped her fingers between mine.

“I missed you.”

She absently stared out at the parking lot and fingered her pack of cigarettes on the table for another stick.

“Mhm,” I mumbled, running a thumb once over her skin, “I know.”

She lit another cigarette with one hand before abruptly standing up and dragging me out of my seat towards my car. Ignoring my protests and questioning stuttering, she quickly unhooked my keys from my jeans, unlocked the passenger door, and took out the plastic Wal-Mart bag she’d brought along.

She drew from the wrinkled bag a clear plastic box. Under the glare of the parking lot lamp, I could see a white candle stuck in a chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting.

I hate chocolate.

“They were all out of everything else, so I just grabbed the one with the latest expiration date,” she sheepishly mumbled, shrugging a shoulder. She let go of my hand and the icky humidity surrounding us immediately irritated my skin. As she flipped the top off the cupcake, she took the cigarette from her lips and tapped the miniscule ash off the tip before carefully lighting the candle with its illuminated end.

“I’d sing to you, but I’m afraid of even attempting.”

I could only try to stifle a laugh behind the dim glare of the candle.

“You know I can’t sing. So… uh, happy birthday, Nick.”

She handed me the cheap pastry and I took it. After a mulled moment, I easily blew out the candle and smiled wide, bringing Lily in for a small hug. I kissed her temple and gave her my first genuine grin for the entire day as she wrapped an arm around my waist.

“I’d hate to let this cupcake go to waste,” I joked, brushing a dab of chocolate frosting off the top with my finger. “I mean, it had the latest expiration date, am I correct?” I inclined my head towards her and she nodded. “Well…”

So I put the pastry to work and smeared the frosting across one of her cheeks.

Her only reaction was to stare me down with her dark chartreuse eyes as a smirk slowly appeared on her face. Taking a hit from her cigarette, she dipped a finger in the frosting and swiped it on the bridge of my nose. We both slowly broke into grins, which turned into silent chuckles, then developed into obnoxious laughter.

“Okay, truce?” I asked as I took out the candle and handed it to Lily so she could lick off the cake bits and frosting.

“Hmm…”

She took the rest of the cupcake from my hand and ate a small bite before smacking me directly in the middle of my face with it, letting the dry crumbs and wax paper fall to the parking lot.

“No.”

I blindly spit out the bits of cupcake lining my lips. “You… did not just do that.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, licking her frosting fingers, “yeah… Yeah, I think I just did.”

“You suck,” I muttered behind a chocolate facial.

Lily let out a small giggle and dropped her cigarette to the ground, stamping it out under a scuffed, off-white ballet flat. “Let’s take you home. You need to get cleaned up.” She reached over and opened the passenger door, waving me in.

“As do you,” I mumbled, wiping a bit of frosting from my eye.

I gave her a final sugary smile before she shut my door and dashed to the driver’s side, abandoning our drinks for a final pit stop at my house.

|||

“Hold still, Nick!”

“But it’s cold.”

“Stop moving.”

Lily softly wiped away at the last bit of rogue chocolate frosting under my eyelid. “There.” She set the soiled wash cloth on my bathroom sink and brushed a stray drop of soapy sink water from under my eye with her thumb.

“Thanks.” I gave her a small smile and momentarily set a hand on her cheek before reaching for a new washcloth next to the box of Kleenex.

“Now do me.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, but I mentally scolded my crass, boyish thoughts and immediately stopped laughing. I ran the cloth under lukewarm water and brought it to her soiled cheek, the frosting looking more like mud than anything even remotely edible. I cupped her chin and gently wiped at the brown streak I had made.

I think I always knew I loved Lily. I never always knew, however, that I could love her more than I did, and in an entirely different way on an entirely different emotional spectrum. I felt so bad when she first went to college farther up north while I stayed in Braintree and played music. We practically didn’t stay in contact until about a year ago when I called her on a whim on a van ride from one venue to the next in the middle of nowhere. We slowly came to call more often and exchange emails and, at times, use Skype, the usual tour-to-home ways of keeping up appearances.

Continuously wiping at the stray frosting marks, I couldn’t help but notice nothing was really stopping me anymore from doing what I had wanted to do for almost a whole year.

As I wiped away the last bit of stained chocolate, I tossed the rag over her shoulder on the granite counter and leaned down to brush my lips against hers, a hand still gently cupping her chin.

And to my greatest surprise, she kissed me back. But not the brushing of blushing pilgrims that I’d just feebly attempted, no. She kissed me back with a confident force so unlike her usual demeanor. And when I pulled her close against my chest, she gripped my shirt in her small hands as if I were the only thing keeping her on the earth at that moment.

I was the first to pull away, breathing heavily as a small blush warmed my neck and the hollows of my cheeks. When I opened my eyes and looked down at Lily, she stared straight at me, he candy green eyes running just the slightest over my own facial features. A tiny smile slowly stretched her full cheeks and she subtly shook her head; she didn’t say a word.

“Lily?”

She just smiled once more before reaching for the rag I’d tossed and sticking a finger into the cloth. She wiped at my cheek, the ghost of a smile still on her lips as she whispered, “You still have some chocolate on the bridge of your nose, Nick.” And she patted at my horribly wide nose, tugging back the slightest bit of skin behind her teeth.

“Lily… what was that?”

She didn’t answer, she just dabbed at my face.

“Lily—”

“Nick, hold still. I can’t get all of the chocolate off if you’re going to be talking,” she motherly commanded of me, setting a cool hand on my cheek.

The romantic in me screamed to kiss her palm, to touch her hand.

The guy in me urged me to take her in my arms and kiss her with a burst of lustrous passion.

The fairy godmother in me pleaded with me to confess my love and sweep her off her feet.

But I hesitated. I did none of that. I just let her wipe away the miniscule chocolate left on my nose in silence.

I think she had just figured out that I loved her.

|||

“And a right here,” she said, pointing to the cross streets ahead of us.

I nodded, flipping my turning signal and changing lanes under the yellow street lamps.

I quickly found a spot in the deserted parking garage once again and took my time with a fashionable parking job. Lily grabbed her backpack from the trunk as I wordlessly helped her with her duffel and followed her to the seemingly lonely bus parked under the threshold. The aged driver, clad in a wrinkled, faded uniform, leaned against the shuttle’s side, smoking a pipe with experience. He smiled at me under his bushy white mustache and continued puffing on the tobacco smoke.

“So, uh, I guess this is your bus.” I dropped the duffel at my feet and quickly looked across the rest stop over her head as she fiddled with the straps of her backpack. “Seeing as, you know, there’s no other… buses… here.”

I gave her a sheepish smile, one that she returned.

“So, um… will you be back during Christmas?” she asked, still fiddling with the loose threads on one of the straps. She bit her lip and gave me a quick questioning glance.

“Yeah, totally.” I gave her another smile, the only thing I could give her at the moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the old man pocket his pipe and brush off his hands on his dirty jacket. I jerked my chin in his direction as he boarded the bus.

“Looks like it’s time for you to go.”

Lily looked back as the man closed the bus doors and nodded in reluctant agreement.

I picked up her duffle and carried it to the side of the bus where there were already three passengers’ suitcases. I tossed in her yellow gym bag with the rest of the beat up luggage and shut the door.

When I turned back around to say my final goodbye, I was engulfed by her tiny arms in a tight hug. I quickly reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. I just stood there with her, barely swaying on the spot, and let her bury her face in my sweaty chest.

When she let go of my waist, I cupped her cheeks and bent down to kiss her forehead. I let her go from my arms when the bus obnoxiously started up, practically making me jump up five feet in the air. The sudden jerk of my arms at the noise had Lily trying to suppress a giggle.

As she walked to the other side of the bus, she gave me a small wave goodbye, accompanied by an even smaller smile. I animatedly waved back as she wordlessly disappeared behind the bus. With a frown on my face, I turned around back to the mini-van, shoving my hands into my pockets and dragging my feet across the bumps of blacktop.

As I heard the bus pull away, I turned back around to see if I could catch a last glimpse of Lily through the tinted bus windows. My frown became even deeper when I couldn’t find her face pressed against the bus’s glass, but it was soon wiped away.

Under the bus stop sign stood Lily, her backpack lazily slung over one shoulder and an embarrassed, self-chastising smile on her lips. As a warm breeze blew from behind me, her dark ponytail whipped wildly around her neck.

I let out a single laugh of incredulity before running right up to her, a grin stretching my muscles to their maximum and my hands still shoved deep into my pockets.

“Why… why did you just not board the bus?” I breathlessly asked, pointing to the Greyhound speeding down the street. “I mean, your duff—”

And I was gladly interrupted by her kiss.