"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..."
I open my eyes to see Angela sitting on the edge of my bed, smiling at me. I groan, wriggling back under the duvet, I've never been the morning type.
"Happy Birthday, dear Caitlin, happy birthday to you."
Angela tugs at my duvet with an attempt to prise it off me. I give in eventually and prop myself up on my elbows. She ruffles my hair like I'm a little kid.
"Hey, leave off, Angela," I laugh, swatting at her.
Angela laughs then and I put my arms around her and hug her although I'm afraid I might snap her in half because she feels so skinny. She's not been eating recently. I tried to make her book an appointment with the doctor because I'm scared about her but she kept pushing it aside saying she was alright and I shouldn't worry so much.
"Thank you, Angela."
"You're welcome. Now you stay here in bed and I'll go make you a special birthday breakfast."
Angela dashes to the door as I make my way over to the mirror and catch sight of myself. I'm still in my checked pyjamas and my hair seems unable to control itself. I comb it out, taking time to ease out all the frizz and arrange it into loose waves that hang around my neck.
Angela creeps her way back into my bedroom. She chuckles to herself and I jump, startled by her presense again. She's carrying a tray of presents, causiously carrying it over to my bed ensuring that none of them fall.
"Oh, Angela!"
Angela notices I'm staring at the presents and grins. "You're only sixteen once, today's special for you."
She tells me I can open them while she goes to fetch my breakfast and herself a cup of coffee but I wouldn't want to open them without her. She has went to the trouble of serving me a breakfast in bed: pancakes with syrup, one of my favourites. I try to make her eat one of my pancakes but she won't hear of it. She keeps telling me over and over that it's my special treat.
"You need to eat, Angela. Look how thin you're getting, you're practically starving yourself to death."
She flinches then, her hands shaking.
"Angela, I'm so sorry, it's just," I pause, scared that I'm going to upset her more so I think before I speak again. "I didn't mean to upset you but I'm worried about you."
"I know you are," she says and kisses my nose. "But I'm fine, I'm just not very hungry. I don't really fancy eating right this minute."
I know she's not fine but I give in because I know, no matter how much I nag at her, she's still not going to eat.
She stays sitting on my bed, sipping at her coffee.
"If you won't eat, can you at least promise me you'll go see a doctor?"
"There's really no point but okay, promise."
I finish up my breakfast. When I'm finished, she takes my tray into the kitchen and returns with two envelopes in her hand: one small with my name on the front in Angela's neat, swirled handwriting and a large one, the writing I'm unable to recognise. I decide to question Angela on this.
"Two birthday cards?"
"Mark brought round the other, said it was sent for you. He's unsure of who it's from too but I guess you'll find out once you open it."
Mark is my social worker from the children's home, he'd already gave me my card when he had seen me last week. Angela had fostered me when I was 10. Up until that point I dreamed of having a real home with a family. I've had two foster homes before: one when I was 6 and the other when I was 8. Linda and Sam first of all although I didn't care for them much and didn't get along with their other foster children so they got rid of me but I didn't care.
I was back in the children's home again until Tim and Sue came along. They were lovely and bought me great gifts like a bike and a mobile. I thought I'd stay with them at their home until I was grown up but they eventually dumped me too. The bike stayed with them but I'd kept the mobile. Don't mock, I was an imaginative child.
I think the children's home were becoming desperate to get rid of me. Mark was telling people I was crying my eyes out everyday because I wanted a family, acting like I was in total meltdown mode. This was a downright lie and he knew it. I was mortified because he had no business in telling people lies about me, even if he was my social worker. Mark has always been kind to me, forever looking out for me. The other kids used to sneer at me and tell me he was simply doing his job though. Mark used to tell me they were just jealous but that was ludacris, why would they be jealous of me?
I couldn't help thinking the children's home was a bit rubbish. Everyone had their own group of friends and I was always a third wheel or totally outcast. Not that I wanted to be friends with any of them. I'm much better off now with Angela. I open Angela's card first reading the message on the front then turning over. Sixteen shaped confetti falls out onto the floor.
She's wrote in pink: To Caitlin, happy super sweet sixteenth, sweetheart. Lots and lots of love from Angela.
"Thank you, Angela. The card's lovely."
"I'm glad you like it, now to open your mystery card, find out who your secret admirer is."
"I don't have a secret admirer," I laugh but I open it nonetheless and read it's message slowly. I stop. Time seems to freeze as I take this all in. Inked in black lettering: Happy sixteenth, Caitlin. With love from
Your brother.
