Whatever It Takes

Chapter Eighteen

On the morning of September 15th, May and Peter crept into Emma's room and cringed at every squeak the worn floorboards made. Warm sunlight blazed against her wall, just barely missing her face that stayed settled and peaceful in her sleep. The aunt and nephew knelt down at her bedside and Peter reached out a hand, gently shaking his sister's shoulder to wake her. When that didn't work, he chuckled as he poked her cheek a few times, starting to whine her name. As soon as Emma's eyelids finally began to part, the pair began to sing the happy tune that swam into her ears as slowly and softly as the world gathered itself around her.

Happy Birthday to yoooou,

Happy Birthday to yooou,

Happy Birthday dear Emma,

Happy Birthday to yooooou!

The tiny blue and white swirled candle stuck into the centre of a donut fixed on a small saucer warmed Emma's heart. The flame danced and flickered against the soft singing from her family. Propping herself onto her elbow and brushing away a piece of hair tickling her eyelid, Emma thought as May held the small pastry closer. "Make a wish, Sweet 16," she smiled with a tear holding on for dear life onto her waterline. What should she wish for? What shouldn't she wish for?

She knew.

Her cheeks filled, and with a small puff of air, the flame fell into smoke. Emma sat up, watching her brother pop up from the floor and sit on her bed next to her. May handed her niece the plate, "happy birthday, sweetheart," she placed a warm kiss on Emma's forehead. The scent of candle smoke mixed with Aunt May's perfume. Vanilla never smelled like vanilla to Emma or Peter, it just smelled like their aunt. Like home. "Thanks so much guys," Emma smiled widely, plucking the candle from the donut and setting it aside to put in a baggy as a momento later. Peter pulled his sister into him in a tight side hug. Emma appreciated every small and big thing done for her, but May's posture still sagged with regret from not being able to get Emma a cake in time. "Sorry it's not much, Em," May said. Emma's cheeks were already packed like a hamster's with a spot of crème stuck to her lip. She swallowed, a genuine smile still on her face, "this is awesome, Aunt May, thank you!"

"Are you guys sure you want to go to school?" Asked May with her hands tangled in front of her. Emma nodded, wiping her lip as the last bite of her donut warmed her stomach, "yeah, may as well. It's almost the weekend anyway." Emma was as Emma as she ever were. She had hardly missed a day of school since she started, the last time being just before the bite with a cold that May spent an entire morning convincing Emma she had. One puppy dog look from her aunt, and Emma was on the couch with a blanket and soup. Aunt May leaned against the doorframe, "I still wish I could have thrown you a nice party. Or that you would have let me," she laughed. Peter scratched the back of his head, "Sorry May, I don't think she's going to be a party person at any point. I'm having a hard enough time getting her to go to homecoming." May snorted, "God, I wish you luck on that, Pete." Emma humorously flicked her head between the two, "gee, thanks for the birthday roast, guys," she barked a laugh. May grinned and Peter pulled her in again in a Brother Bear hug. Suddenly, May remembered, "Oh! Hold on!" Running to her bedroom, she plucked a giftbox off of her nightstand and jogged back to Emma with a smile full of excitement. "Here!" May bounced as Emma took the box. To her surprise, Emma didn't say her usual endeared comment of how May didn't have to get her anything and instead pulled the rectangle box lid from its bottom. Inside were a pair of glasses identical to her aunts. The box now on her lap, Emma inspected the glasses with a sparkle in her eyes that reached her heart. "They're fakes," May explained, "I thought you looked so good in them when you tried them on when I was picking out my last frames. I couldn't resist." Emma broke out in a grin, now getting up and pulling her aunt into a hug. "Thank you, May," her voice was warm. May kissed the top of her head and took a close look at the teens. They had both nearly lost all of their baby face at this point. More tears welled, and before they could fall, May left them to get ready for the day. Peter stood from Emma's bed, smoothing out his pajama pants. "It never gets old," Emma grinned, "having a family to sing you happy birthday." Peter felt something move in him. A small wash of sadness and bittersweet happiness. Relief that if nobody else could be there, they were. And now, Peter hoped that Tony would be too as he wrapped her in both arms. "Happy birthday, sis."