If We Survive The Night

Birthday

Casey

"Cake?"

I look up and find Jaden standing over me, handing me a piece of a chocolate cake on a plastic plate. The plate is pink, with unicorns and rainbows, just like the napkins and the balloons and the rest of the decorations around us. Too bad the Birthday girl can't fully appreciate the design, being only one year old.

"Thanks," I say, accepting the plate. Jaden hands me a pink plastic fork, then pours himself some soda and takes a seat on the chair next to me.

The fork is too small to eat comfortably with, but I dig into the cake, anyway. It's nice to have something to busy myself with. I'm still feeling out of place, even though Hazel's family has been absolutely welcoming.

I've met them first at her funeral last month. I'd had my doubts about going there, about how they'd treat me, but I felt like I owed it to Hazel, coming there. I didn't know how to act with them, and felt, perhaps irrationally, that her death had been, to some extent, my fault. I tried to keep my distance, but they wouldn't let me.

The amounts of hugs and condolences that I received from them took me by surprise. Despite their own grief, they had so much warmth to give that I felt underserving of such treatment. They also invited me and Jaden to this Birthday—of Alice, Hazel's youngest granddaughter. Thinking they were just being polite, I tried to come up with some excuse not to come, but Jaden told them that we would be there, and so here we are. We even had our first shopping experience together, buying a walker push toy for Alice, one with interactive sound and light effects, and adjustable speed—the description made it sound like a luxury car. I sure as hell didn't have such toys when I was one.

All awkwardness aside, I'm glad to be here. After all the sad faces and wet eyes at the funeral, it's good to see the same people smiling and chatting, their kids running around, babies sitting in their mothers' arms. Hazel would have loved to be here. The thought of her makes me choke a bit. Jaden reaches out and pats my back in a quick, reassuring gesture, then hands me his soda cup. I take a sip before returning it to him.

"You cool?" he says.

"Too much sugar." I put the plate aside.

"Hazel firmly believed there's no such thing as too much sugar."

"Modern health science would disagree."

"It still tastes good."

"Nobody argues with that."

He looks around, smiling. He smiles more nowadays, and frowns less, as if emerging gradually from some sort of cocoon he'd been enclosed in. I like to think that I might be playing a part in that process, too.

"Families are good," he says, eyeing the kids running past us. "Even though this isn't my family, it still feels good." He sighs. "I kind of always wondered what it's like, to be a part of a big family."

"So did I," I echo.

His smile dies down a bit as he watches Alice's mother holding the Birthday girl in her arms, talking to another woman. I can bet that I know what—who—he's thinking about. Maybe now is the right time to tell him. I thought I'd do that later, when we get back home, but maybe he'll be glad to hear it now.

I slip my hand into my back pocket and retrieve the folded pages.

"What's this?" He frowns as I hand them to him.

"Printout of plane tickets," I say.

He fixes me with a sharp gaze, then checks out the pages. His eyebrows go up.

"Mexico?" he says. "Next week?"

"I took the liberty of choosing the hotel," I say. "Five days. Enough time to meet your Mom, to eat tacos, to swim in the ocean, and, I don't know, maybe make love in between." I grin to hide my nervousness. "You see, I have it all planned."

"Why did you..." He glances at the papers, then at me again.

"You miss your Mom, and I want to meet her, so I figured we should have that sorted out. Also, we could both use a little break. Get away from the cops and the lawyers and the headlines. Change of scenery. Starting a new page. Mr. Collins says I'm allowed to get away for a few days." I know I'm blabbering, but I can't help it. "Please tell me it's not a bad idea."

He watches me, his frown gradually smoothing out, and I feel something relax inside of me. I'm becoming so attuned to his moods and reactions it's scary. I've never felt like this before. Maybe it's because I've never been in love before.

"It's a great idea," he says. "A new page sounds terrific."

"As do tacos."

"Especially tacos."

I grin, unable to hide my relief. He smiles, too, and then he leans forward and kisses me as the Birthday party continues happily around us.