Chevelle's Story

chapter 13

The next day, the energy in the Etienne house was different. Not better, but different.

Unlike she had expected to, Chevelle woke up late that morning—sometime between 10am and 11am, but since her phone was dead, she couldn't be sure.

Usually when someone spent a birthday at home with the family, they were woken up early with singing and dancing in celebration of another journey around the sun. And although this had been tradition in the Etienne household for the last 10 years, Chevelle hadn't expected much this year. This was her first birthday post-hospitalization, and she didn't know if her family would feel like dancing in celebration of her life when she'd just tried to take it. When she woke up, sans the singing and dancing, she had her answer.

At first, Chevelle hoped that maybe nobody had come to her room because they didn't want to wake her up early, but even she knew that was wishful thinking. Nobody in her family had ever been that considerate. Her mother had once woken her up at 5:45am just to tell her that the house needed to be swept. And when Chevelle told her mother to let her sleep, that the dust wasn't going anywhere, Nadègine had asked Chevelle how she expected to ever find a husband if she couldn't even keep her house clean. Chevelle was 14 at the time.

When Chevelle came downstairs, she could immediately tell that her father had spoken to her mother about their conversation last night. She could tell from the way her mother's eyes lingered as she looked at her daughter. There was both hostility and pity in her stare, like she felt sorry for Chevelle, but at the same time, also felt a bitterness toward her—irritated that Chevelle would have the nerve to speak to her father the way she had after she was the one who put all of them in this situation to begin with. She was the one who had brought Jared into their lives in the first place, and it would bode her well to remember that.

Because it was Chevelle's birthday though, Nadègine chose not to voice her annoyance. Just this once.

"Bonne fet, Chevelle," Nadègine said, finally cracking a smile. She opened her arms wide, and although the tension in the air still remained, Chevelle hugged her, grateful that at least this morning, her mother had chosen peace.

"Thank you," Chevelle said, deciding not to ask about the lack of singing and dancing, even though she was tempted.

Nadègine pulled away, holding Chevelle firmly by the shoulders and taking a moment to look at her daughter. She leaned forward and kissed both of Chevelle's cheeks. "Wow," she said. "Twenty-four. I can't believe it."

Chevelle laughed. "I know," she agreed. "It doesn't feel real."

But then again, she thought, birthdays weren't real. They didn't signify anything more than each passing day did, and yet, over time, humans had convinced themselves that there was something sacred about birthdays.

Chevelle was convinced that that was part of the reason why people hated their birthdays so much. Everyone had been led to believe that there was something special about that day, and then when they woke up on their birthdays and felt no different from usual, they grew disappointed.

"Where is everyone?" Chevelle asked, looking around the empty house.

"Your father and Josephe went to pick out a cake for you," her mother said, smiling excitedly.

"Ooh, I hope it's chocolate."

"But of course," Nadègine said. "Everyone knows that's all you like."

With a chuckle, Chevelle said, "And what of Farah?"

Nadègine could hear the silent 'and Jared' that Chevelle had chosen not to speak, and she sighed. "Farah is at the gym," she said. "With Jared."

"Oh."