Unravel // Van McCann

1. Happy Birthday

Warning: This story mentions sexual assault but it is not described in detail. Please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable. I'll try my best to put warnings on sensitive chapters.

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Sunday, 1 August 2021
Seattle, Washington

I always do three things on my birthday. The first thing I do is call me mum and dad, if they didn't beat me to it already. The second thing I do is treat myself to something nice. And the last thing I do is get stoned. I do them in no particular order.

I woke up before my alarm because the sun was shining in my face. The curtains weren't closed all the way; I had left a gap by accident after a drunken night out with friends. I pushed the duvet aside and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and that's when I felt my pounding headache. The head rush didn't help either. I opened the drawer in search of paracetamol...or should I say acetaminophen? I was still getting used to the lingo in the States but I was catching on.

I opened the bottle, shook out two pills, and popped them in my mouth, chasing them down with bottled water. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and made my way towards the bathroom to get ready for the day. I'd normally start my day on the balcony smoking but I figured I'd wait until I had some food because I felt like shit. Hangovers get worse with age.

Once done, I got the kettle going for tea and decided on toast for breakfast. I felt better after eating but I still felt dull pain in the back of my head that wouldn't go away. I finally felt well enough to have my morning cigarette so I pushed the door open and stepped out, looking at the city below for a minute or two before placing a fag in my mouth and lighting it.

I grabbed my phone and checked my notifications. I had several birthday wishes from family and friends in the UK, and my mood improved having read them. They've gotten better at remembering that I'm in the states so they text me rather than call me. I called my parents and put them on speakerphone, setting my phone in my lap with my legs propped up on the table.

"Happy birthday, dear. You're fucking old," my mum greeted, earning a chuckle from me. It always humored me when my mum swore because you never expect it from her. "How old are you again? 31?"

At this, I burst into laughter because no matter how many times I tell her, she never remembers. Either that or she knows and is giving me shit. It's probably the latter.

"Stop it! I keep getting younger," I joked. "I'm turning 66 today. I can finally claim state pension!" I could hear my dad laughing in the back which meant I was on speakerphone.

"Did your gift come in the mail?" my mum questioned.

"Oh—yes! I got it on Friday but I forgot to call. Sorry about that!" I replied, ruffling the back of my hair in embarrassment at having forgotten. "But thanks for the boots. They fit and I love 'em. How'd you know I needed a new pair?"

"I'm your mum. I know you love to wear your boots until they're scuffed up."

"That is spot on," I tittered. "You also sent Yorkshire tea and British sweets which I can always have more of. Thank you."

"You're welcome. So do you have any plans for today?"

"Um...yeah! I'm going out for dinner...gonna order a Sunday roast because I miss it. And I'm gonna eat some cake."

"That's it? You're not gonna go to the pub with your mates?"

"That was last night! I woke up with a pounding headache. But no...I've got work the next day so I'll only have a drink or two. You know me...I'm not big on celebrating my birthday. Gonna just stay in." I finished my cigarette and stubbed it in the ash tray.