Happy Birthday... I Guess

Hezzlie

“Oh, you look so beautiful!”
Mom is crying again as she stands behind me looking at the two of us in the mirror again. She’s already had to fix her makeup twice.
I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like on my wedding day–if I ever get married. I’m not going to mention that right now, though, or she’ll be out trying to find Dean.
God, what if she makes him ask me to dance?
She’s probably already bribed him….
“Mom,” I sigh as I turn to hug her. “You’re supposed to be happy.”
“I am so happy, darling. I’m happy that we’re together, that it’s almost your birthday, and that these wonderful people are giving us the opportunity to celebrate your big day.”
I wipe her tears away, streaking mascara on her cheek. We’ll need to fix that.
“Do you like your dress?” She looks down at my gown, and I can see a slight shift in her demeanor. She’s lamenting the changes I asked the seamstress to make.
“I love it,” I tell her. I glance down at it, too. The poofy sleeves have been replaced with silver spaghetti straps, and the top is now a low V also in silver with sparkly rhinestones. The skirt isn’t quite so poofy, and I think it looks modern and fun.
But I’m not really sure what difference any of it makes because it’s not like any of my friends are going to be there. It’s just going to be the people who live in this house, and as far as I know, that’s not a lot of people. I think it’s more of an opportunity for some of the staff to have fun.
Still, it’s a nice gesture, and I’m ready to see my mom twirl around the dance floor with whomever she wants to dance with.
I do hope she meets a nice man one day and gets married. She deserves that.
She fixes her makeup and then loops her arm through mine. “Are we ready?”
“I think we are.” I take a deep breath and head toward the door with her. We will be just a few minutes late, which is fashionable.
It seems to take forever for us to pick our way down the stairs. The ballroom is on the bottom floor, which makes sense if guests were coming in from outside in ridiculous heels like the strappy silver ones I’m wearing.
Two guards I don’t recognize stand at the double doors and pull them open as we approach. Mom lets go of my arm to see my face as I take the room in. I cover my mouth with both hands and stare at how beautiful everything is.
The huge room is decorated with large light blue feathers and glittery silver balls and streamers. Tables are set off to one side with massive centerpieces with large glitter branches and more blue feathers. An orchestra is set up on the other side of the table with a huge table full of snacks across from the entrance. The lighting is soft and inviting with a spotlight dancing around to various areas of the massive dance floor in the middle of the room.
“Do you love it?” Mom asks with a huge grin.
“It’s… amazing!” I throw my arms around her, and we jump up and down in a tight embrace.
“Happy birthday, Hezzlie!” Dean’s voice booms over the music as he rushes over to hug both of us. I let go of Mom and hug him back. When I step away, I see he’s wearing a suit and looks very nice. Dr. Bolton is there, too, and he also looks like a gentleman in a suit. He hugs me and wishes me happy birthday, as does Wilma, who is wearing a nice, modest yellow gown, and looks so happy.
I thank her for all of her hard work as dozens of other people I don’t know come over. I do recognize the cook and thank her for preparing all of the delicious looking food. Smokey Sam, as Dean calls her, says, “It’s my pleasure, dear. Wait until you see the birthday cake!”
“I can’t wait.” I hug her again, and then Mom drags me out to the dance floor, and the band plays something upbeat.
We dance with anyone and everyone. I don’t see too many people my age, though there are a couple of girls who look like they might be and a couple of young men as well. I assume this is all staff. They’re wearing nice dresses and suits but nothing like the expensive garments Dean, James, Mom, and I are wearing. It’s clear they are happy to be here, though, and as the party goes on, everyone pitches in to help refill the punch bowl or bring out more snacks so that no one is working.
I keep glancing around, pretending like I’m not, hoping no one notices, especially my mother–and Dr. Bolton. But I can’t help but wonder if anyone who actually owns this house might show up.
Like the queen regent.
Or… the king.
I don’t see him anywhere, though, which shouldn’t surprise me. He’s probably got more important things to do than come to my birthday party.
A few hours in, Mom insists that I open my presents. There aren’t a lot of them, but that’s okay. I don’t need anything anyway. I go over to the little table near the band and open them. Dr. Bolton gives me a nice new notebook and pen and tells me it’s for journaling. Dean gives me a fancy watch. The staff gives me some beautiful earrings, and there’s a matching necklace from “the Moonstrykers,” which is nice. Finally, I open Mom’s gift.
It’s a new cell phone.
“Do you love it?” she gushes, folding her hands in front of her face and waiting.
“I love it,” I tell her, hugging her. The phone is pink, but there’s also a glittery pink case.
“It’s rose gold! They didn’t have blue.”
“It’s perfect.” I hug her and kiss her cheek.
“Good! Now, make your mother happy and go dance with Dean,” she whispers.
I open my mouth, thinking I might protest, but how can I?
She’s already beckoning him over anyway. “Don’t you want to dance with the birthday girl?” she gushes.
He grins and offers me his hand. “Of course, I do.”
The music slows down as we head to the dance floor. I’m not sure how to slow dance with a man. I’ve only ever been to school dances with awkward hormonal boys. But Dean knows exactly what he’s doing. He takes one hand and puts his other on my hip. I’ve seen enough movies to know I’m supposed to put my other hand on his shoulder, so I do.
“Are you having fun?” he asks, his breath warm on my cheek.
“Yes. This is great. You don’t have to–”
“I wanted to dance with you,” he interrupts. “You’ve brought a joy and happiness to this place like we haven’t experienced in years.”
I catch the solemn tone in his voice, even though he’s smiling, and I realize he’s talking about the war. I’m not sure what to say, so I try to keep my mouth quiet, but I have to say, “I don’t think I’ve done anything.”
“Everyone is excited about you. You don’t get to see them much because you have to stay in your room, but having you here, getting to plan this, getting to know your mom, it’s made a difference. For everyone.” He clears his throat. “Almost everyone.”
He’s talking about Rowan. It’s quite apparent that the king doesn’t care that I’m here.
Well, that’s probably not true. I think he does care. He wishes I wasn’t here, but for some reason, he let Dr. Bolton bring me here.
I turn my head to find James drinking some punch over by the band. I haven’t danced specifically with him. I think it would be weird to slow dance with my doctor. It was weird enough group dancing with him. It did help that Dean was being ridiculous, doing the shopping cart, watering the lawn, and making us all laugh with the Q-tip. He’s not being silly now, though.
Still, there’s nothing between us, and we both know it. No matter how hard my mom wishes there was.
The door whooshes open, and the music seems to slow down as both of us turn our heads. Rowan marches in, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes in the scene. Dean steps back, like he’s been caught doing something horrible, like kissing his best friend’s girl, but it doesn’t make sense to me.
Why would Rowan care who I’m dancing with?
Yet, he looks monstrous as he stalks toward me. He stops in front of me and offers his hand, starting to calm down just a little. He isn’t asking me to dance, but I take his hand anyway, and the music flares back to life.
He wraps an arm around my waist, and we are dancing, but it’s not like with Dean. He’s doing actual dance steps, some sort of ballroom dance that I stumble through, my eyes locked on his.
About five minutes into a dance that doesn’t seem to ever end, he asks, “Are you having fun?”
I nod, my tongue apparently glued to the roof of my mouth.
“Good.” He looks around the room. “They did a nice job.”
“Yeah.” There… I can speak.
In fairness, the last time I saw the man, I was kissing him, so how could I not be nervous talking to him now?
He stops talking and peers off over my shoulder as he continues to waltz me around the dance floor. Or whatever kind of dance this is doing.
Finally, the song ends, and he releases me. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile. “And thanks for the necklace.”
His eyebrows almost touch. It wasn’t from him. Of course it wasn’t.
A tinge of anger boils up inside of me. He’s trying to make a show of it, like he’s a good person or something. But he’s not, and it’s irritating.
He nods and heads off toward the door he just came through, and I follow him out with my eyes. When the door closes behind him, I wish he hadn’t even come.
“Hezzlie?”
Dr. Bolton’s hand is on my shoulder. I turn toward him.
“Care to dance?”
He’s just being nice. But then, I guess that’s what I am now. One big charity project. I nod and take his hand, blinking back tears, and we begin to move in time to the music.
But my mind is elsewhere. Why the fuck did stupid Rowan even have to come in here? My life would be so much better if I never saw him again.
I can’t wait to leave this place, go home, and forget he even exists.
I’m sure he’ll never think about me again.