“Mr Yang helped us,” Logan says.
“Thank you all. You shouldn’t have bothered.”
“We need a toast at this point,” Ross suggests. “A toast from the birthday boy.”
The last thing I want to do is talk, but it would seem rude to me now to refuse to do so. I pull back my chair and stand up, pick up my glass and clear my throat. All eyes are on me, but I look only at his, kind, sweet and truer than my own name.
“I am not good at this,” I begin. I take a breath and try to speak to that one remaining part of my heart. “I’m not in the habit of celebrating birthdays, especially if they are about me, but tonight…” Tonight is different from all the others, and only because you’re looking at me, hoping, and you kissed me… God, you kissed me in the bathroom of your house, after I had kissed you, and now all I can think about is your mouth. “Tonight is different because all of you are there to make it so. I think I will remember this moment for a long time…” For the rest of my life. “Thank you all for making my birthday special.” I raise my glass to the others, all imitating my gesture.
“How old are you, Uncle Rowan?” Emily asks innocently.
“You never ask someone their age, Emily,” Ross explains, “especially if they have been over thirty for a while.”
“Oh, sorry,” Emily says quickly.
“It doesn’t matter,” I reassure her. “I have no problem telling my age. I’m forty-two today.”
“Wow!” Ross exclaims. “And you wear them really well. All of them.”
The table laughs.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“I’ve been holding back a lot, you know.”
“Thank you especially for that.”
Everyone laughs again, then Seth’s eyes settle back on mine. I hold my breath long enough to feel them run through my bare soul, then I breathe again, slowly, almost in fear of ruining this moment.
“And what cake have you baked?” Paul asks, bringing me back into the conversation.
“White chocolate and raspberry,” Emily answers.
I look back at Seth, who is suddenly blushing. He shrugs and smiles at me, with that mouth that I now want more than anything else.
“Your favourite,” Paul says in a suggestive tone. “What a coincidence…”
I’d like to shut him up with one of those punches I always threaten him with, but I’m too busy keeping my eyes and all my thoughts on Seth.
I don’t know if I can silence what I’m beginning to feel. I don’t know if I can hide what I want for much longer. I don’t know if I can still pretend with all my being that I don’t want what I want now.
* * *
AFTER BLOWING OUT the candles and still holding a little emotion in my throat, I start unwrapping the presents as requested by all.
I have not received many presents in the past; as a child, perhaps, the early years, when my father was still at home with us. I remember racing cars and a track made out of cardboard from the street; I remember colouring pencils and albums, but I cannot place them chronologically. I know there were good years, but they are so distant and faded, covered by everything that came after, that I really struggle to put them back together.
“Thank you, Vanessa,” I give her a kiss, after unwrapping the gift she and Paul gave me. A bedside charger, where I can put my phone, headphones and watch all together.
“This is from me,” Mr Yang hands me a packet.
“You shouldn’t have.” I unwrap it a little anxiously, then smile. It’s a set of herbal teas. “Thank you very much.”
“Don’t forget mine.” Ross shows me a package. The wrapping paper is purple, with multicoloured hearts.
“I don’t know what… Thank you.”
“Open it, come on,” Ross urges me.
