Sequel: Recital ›
Happy Birthday
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It was his birthday tonight and I was spending it at the bar. My friends dragged me out, either knowing that I wouldn't be in a good mood or because they wanted to spend time with me. I think it was the former because they all knew me too well. But it was also because they wanted to spend time with me since we hadn't talked in what felt like ages.
I gulp down my second shot and settle on a beer for the rest of the night. The girls and I sit at a booth made for four, but we make it work. There are conversations going on, ones that I don't particularly pay attention to. My tongue aches for a different taste than the Corona in front of me. I wash it away with the smooth liquid since cigarettes have left my tongue with an empty feeling.
Tonight's different from last year. Maybe because last year was so far away and I didn't even feel like I was happy then. I'm certainly not happy tonight, but maybe that will change with the coming hours. Last year seemed like a much better place to stay with the chaos and all. Now all I'm left with is this hole in my chest and a gnawing feeling around it. Sometimes it feels like I struggle to breathe when I know that I'm perfectly fine.
A hand on my thigh catches my attention and my friends are all staring at me. They ask if I want to dance, but I shake my head and smile promisingly. They move out of the booth and go dance, having fun unlike me. Do I even know how to have fun?
I take another drink from my bottle and realize something. I stop, set it down, and stare at it. It's like the drink can somehow conjure up a spell to make him appear. All this time I thought that I didn't want to see him, to spare the pain, and now I'm reminiscing on old memories that have slowly died away. I can hear him whispering in my ear whenever he wanted to tell me something and ending his sentences with a pet name. I hated the pet names. I missed them now. I'd probably give anything to hear them again.
It's his birthday. Shouldn't I at least wish him a good one even though I want him to have a terrible one? He hates me and I don't want to cause any more trouble then I already have. Maybe we're thinking the same thing. Maybe he wants me to wish him happy birthday because he knows that he would do the same.
The girls are still dancing and laughing with each other. I take another sip and strangely taste him. My eyes stop on the bottle in my hand and I nearly slam it on the table. I reach into my bag resting beside me and pull out my phone.
But what if I do wish him happy birthday and he doesn't know who it is? What if he doesn't answer back? No, I'm okay if he doesn't say anything. I shouldn't even say anything, but I'm better than that. In reality, I just want him to be happy wherever he is. Hopefully he's out having fun with his friends and he's getting drunk and singing at the top of his lungs like we did that night. I can remember it so clearly that it seems like yesterday.
My friends would kill me if they knew I was even thinking about texting him. They made me delete his number so I would be fully rid of him, but you can't delete a number you know by heart. I never even took the time to practice his number; I just knew it like the back of my hand.
I type in his number and stare at the screen for a moment. In a way I hope he never sees it. In a way I hope that I remembered the number wrong and it goes to someone else. Then I can laugh about it and he'll never know I was thinking about him. I doubt he's thinking about me after everything.
I check to make sure the girls are still on the floor. They're laughing hysterically, faces red and alcohol coursing through their systems. I should've danced with them to get my mind off of everything. Texting him shouldn't be a thought.
Happy birthday.
I stare at the letters on the screen after my fingers stopped moving. It's scary to see them staring back at me and I delete them, but roll my eyes at how ridiculous I'm being.
Happy birthday.
I type again and leave it there to stare blankly. It only takes one movement for him to see it. That is if he hasn't blocked my number.
Without further ado, I hit send and suddenly drop my phone into my lap. The back faces up and I sigh, taking a large gulp as my fingers shake a little.
Is it stupid of me to be thinking about him? The girls would say yes and that I'm an idiot for even remembering his birthday, but how can I not after all this time? It's not like I can suddenly erase everything about him and forget everything between us. God, I wish I could do that! I wish I wouldn't feel guilty for texting him or for not texting him and wishing him a happy birthday. He at least deserved to have a good birthday, text or no text. It would've bugged me the whole night had I not said anything. Again, I was better than that.
I want to distract myself from my phone vibrating in my lap. I want to think it's him, but it's only my sister checking up on me. I answer her back with a sigh and take another sip as I wait for her next message. It vibrates again in my hand and I look down and read the message. In shock, I read it again.
Are we ever going to have it again?
I gulp down my second shot and settle on a beer for the rest of the night. The girls and I sit at a booth made for four, but we make it work. There are conversations going on, ones that I don't particularly pay attention to. My tongue aches for a different taste than the Corona in front of me. I wash it away with the smooth liquid since cigarettes have left my tongue with an empty feeling.
Tonight's different from last year. Maybe because last year was so far away and I didn't even feel like I was happy then. I'm certainly not happy tonight, but maybe that will change with the coming hours. Last year seemed like a much better place to stay with the chaos and all. Now all I'm left with is this hole in my chest and a gnawing feeling around it. Sometimes it feels like I struggle to breathe when I know that I'm perfectly fine.
A hand on my thigh catches my attention and my friends are all staring at me. They ask if I want to dance, but I shake my head and smile promisingly. They move out of the booth and go dance, having fun unlike me. Do I even know how to have fun?
I take another drink from my bottle and realize something. I stop, set it down, and stare at it. It's like the drink can somehow conjure up a spell to make him appear. All this time I thought that I didn't want to see him, to spare the pain, and now I'm reminiscing on old memories that have slowly died away. I can hear him whispering in my ear whenever he wanted to tell me something and ending his sentences with a pet name. I hated the pet names. I missed them now. I'd probably give anything to hear them again.
It's his birthday. Shouldn't I at least wish him a good one even though I want him to have a terrible one? He hates me and I don't want to cause any more trouble then I already have. Maybe we're thinking the same thing. Maybe he wants me to wish him happy birthday because he knows that he would do the same.
The girls are still dancing and laughing with each other. I take another sip and strangely taste him. My eyes stop on the bottle in my hand and I nearly slam it on the table. I reach into my bag resting beside me and pull out my phone.
But what if I do wish him happy birthday and he doesn't know who it is? What if he doesn't answer back? No, I'm okay if he doesn't say anything. I shouldn't even say anything, but I'm better than that. In reality, I just want him to be happy wherever he is. Hopefully he's out having fun with his friends and he's getting drunk and singing at the top of his lungs like we did that night. I can remember it so clearly that it seems like yesterday.
My friends would kill me if they knew I was even thinking about texting him. They made me delete his number so I would be fully rid of him, but you can't delete a number you know by heart. I never even took the time to practice his number; I just knew it like the back of my hand.
I type in his number and stare at the screen for a moment. In a way I hope he never sees it. In a way I hope that I remembered the number wrong and it goes to someone else. Then I can laugh about it and he'll never know I was thinking about him. I doubt he's thinking about me after everything.
I check to make sure the girls are still on the floor. They're laughing hysterically, faces red and alcohol coursing through their systems. I should've danced with them to get my mind off of everything. Texting him shouldn't be a thought.
Happy birthday.
I stare at the letters on the screen after my fingers stopped moving. It's scary to see them staring back at me and I delete them, but roll my eyes at how ridiculous I'm being.
Happy birthday.
I type again and leave it there to stare blankly. It only takes one movement for him to see it. That is if he hasn't blocked my number.
Without further ado, I hit send and suddenly drop my phone into my lap. The back faces up and I sigh, taking a large gulp as my fingers shake a little.
Is it stupid of me to be thinking about him? The girls would say yes and that I'm an idiot for even remembering his birthday, but how can I not after all this time? It's not like I can suddenly erase everything about him and forget everything between us. God, I wish I could do that! I wish I wouldn't feel guilty for texting him or for not texting him and wishing him a happy birthday. He at least deserved to have a good birthday, text or no text. It would've bugged me the whole night had I not said anything. Again, I was better than that.
I want to distract myself from my phone vibrating in my lap. I want to think it's him, but it's only my sister checking up on me. I answer her back with a sigh and take another sip as I wait for her next message. It vibrates again in my hand and I look down and read the message. In shock, I read it again.
Are we ever going to have it again?