A Summer Only We Know

A Birthday to Remember

Even though the grand hall was stacked to the ceiling (and the ceiling is pretty high up) with martinis and cream puffs, even though the room was covered in red and gold (my favorite color combination), even though this whole "party" costed more than the town, and even though - ya - it was my birthday, I couldn't help but be completely bored out of my friggen mind. But I stood there, a thousand dollar smile pinned to my face, and listened to, yet another one of my mom's friend's sons tell me "how pretty I looked tonight" and ask for my number. I grabbed the pen and napkin he held up, scribbled down a fake number, and handed both items back to him. I almost let out a laugh at the look of pure hope in his not-half-bad-looking eyes, but I caught myself. 

"Thanks," He said, glancing down at my fake number that he was probably going to memorize as soon as he got home. I couldn't help feel sorry, so I winked and smiled.

"Any time." Then i walked past him, wanting to get out of there, wanting to get away from all of it. How could the room be so big and yet suddenly feel so small. There were people talking all around, half of them I didn't even know, and almost all of them talking about business. Then, my eyes caught on the exit sign and my shoulders relaxed. I was about to make a beeline for the door when a signature trill sounded from across the room that could only belong to my mother. I turned towards the direction of her voice and saw her standing on the stage where the orchestra was playing with a champagne flute in one hand and a microphone in the other. Her breathing sounded through the whole room - deep and heaving. She wobbled slightly from left to right and her eyes seemed tired, yet excited.

Yep, she was drunk. 

"Elizabeth, my darling daughter," She began. "My only daughter...that I know of." The crowd chuckled. "I have watched you grow, and my have you grown into such a wonderful young lady." I smiled.

So far so good.

"... What am I saying?" Mom laughed. "Young lady? You're boobs are bigger than mine!" My cheeks turned scarlet. I ran up to the stage and took the microphone from her hand. "Look! It's my daughter!" She slurred. The crowd was a blur of murmurs. I gave my mom an are-you-kidding-me-face, but she just gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I love you," She said half into the microphone. I almost choked on her drunken breath. Then I remembered that all eyes were on me. I cleared my throat and tried to stay balanced, but it's sort of hard with a "grown up" woman hanging on your side.

"Well, that was sort of a beautiful speech," I said to the guests. "Thank you, Mom." I said to the drunken sloth on my body. "And thank you all for coming. It really means a lot." I returned my attention back to the crowd. Mom's hand that was still holding the champagne flute went up.

"To Elizabeth's 16th birthday!" 

"Mom, I'm 17."

"17th birthday!"

The crowd raised their glasses up and cheered politely, "To Elizabeth's 17th birthday."