“So, you’re saying that your news is something to celebrate?” Monika interjects, but Scott waves her off.
“Nice try, Monika, but Drew needs to go first.”
I stare at the envelope. I made it crystal clear last year, and every year before that, that I did not want presents on my birthday. That receiving gifts onthisdate was unacceptable. Yet here we are again, repeating the same song and dance. They celebrate me against my will, they get me a present against my will, and then we fight about it.
Well, Scott and I are technically the only ones who fight. Gabe and Monika are just along for the ride and jump in when things get hairy.
“Fine,” I concede. I’m not sure I have the strength to duke it out for yet another year, so I run my finger under the seal.
The card is thick. Best-case scenario, it shoots confetti at my face. Worst case, it’s a gift card with an exorbitant amount of money on it or another trip to a wellness spa. I hope for the former and angle the card accordingly so that I am not hit straight on by little pieces of plastic that will surely lodge themselves into my eyeballs and require an urgent care visit.
No such luck. As I open the card, multiple pieces of folded-up computer paper fall out onto the table. I ignore the paper like a kid who just opened up a card full of cash from their grandmother and scan the birthday sentiments.
Scott’s note is a joke about me being old, and Gabe’s is practically an essay about how much he loves me, which helps me to relax a fraction. Gabe hates confrontation and wouldn’t want to fight again either, so maybe the paper is a typed apology from the three of them for forcing their will on me for so long.
Or maybe it’s something small like a subscription to a crocheting magazine. I mentioned offhand to Monika last month that I wanted to get into knitting but quickly amended that to crocheting once I saw the instruments required. My hopes of a small, simple gift that I would consider accepting are dashed when I get to Monika’s note, though.
Happy birthday, Drew. We hope this trip is the first step in you starting to enjoy life again, because you deserve it! All my love, Monika.
Traitor comes to mind as I look down at her handwriting. While Scott always leads the fight, and Gabe is historically neutral, I could always count on Monika to err towards my side.
“You’ll like this one, I promise,” she says, as if she can read my mind. I cannot bring myself to meet her eyes. Instead, I look to Gabe, who surely wouldn’t have written a short story about how much he loves me just to force me into something he knew I wouldn’t want. He gives me a reassuring nod, and I decide to rip off the Band-Aid.
If he and Monika are both in on it, it can’t be that bad.
Chapter five
OVER TO THE DARK SIDE
Thingsgofromhopefulto hazy in three seconds flat as I see that their gift is not just a trip, but a weekend retreat scheduled for one week from today. With that small detail, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place as it becomes clear why Monika was acting so strangely earlier. She has always stood up for me in the past when Scott imposed his extravagant gifts on me, but it appears that she has officially crossed over to the dark side.
I glance out the glass doors at the front of the Book Cellar and wish I could rewind time to a minute ago to find the strength to end the night, cake and baby news be damned. Now, if I get up and leave, I’ll have to ask Monika for help because my purse and car keys are back in the bookstore, and something tells me that she would try and keep me here against my will.
The pizza and wine turn sour in my stomach as I try to push past the full body heat of betrayal but come up terribly short. “So, let me guess. You aren’t actually going on a cruise nextweekend, Monika?” I ask, voice sharp with anger. “You just wanted to make sure I was free so I couldn’t make up an excuse. The fact that I simply wouldn’t want to go isn’t a valid enough reason?”
As mad as I am at Monika, I am even more mad at myself for believing her story about finding a three-day true crime-themed cruise for her and her crime-junkie friends to go on together. It’s so obvious now that the whole story was completely made up.
Don’t get me wrong, I definitely found it odd that people obsessed with true crime would be willing to meet up with complete strangers on a ship that they couldn’t escape, except to jump, or be dumped off the side unceremoniously into the ocean. Monika doubled down when I raised my concerns, insisting that true crime lovers are theleastlikely to be murdered because they know all the signs and wouldn’t be caught unaware.
The whole thing sounded preposterous at the time, but I didn’t think it was my place to lecture her about safe adult behavior since she is thirty years older than me. I just agreed to cover her shifts and nodded politely when she brought up details about the itinerary, which reminds me of another detail.
“You forced me to go shopping for bathing suits with you last week!” I cry as the depth of her deception clicks into place. “We went all the way to Malibu!”
Her tan cheeks redden. “I was told to really sell it.”
My hands shake so hard that I struggle to get the card back into the envelope. After a few failed attempts, I eventually give up and shove it all back towards Scott.
This misguided present is just their attempt to do what’s best for me. I know that. They want to try and replace the bad memories attached to my birthday with newer, happier ones. The irony is, before opening their gift, they were actually achieving that by being here for a simple birthday dinner.
But, as usual, they took it too far. If it weren’t for the baby news that Monika and I are dying to hear, I would stomp out of here right now and walk home if they tried to hold my keys hostage. I never promised that I would accept the gift, just that I would open the card.
I take a deep breath and swallow my frustration before turning back to Scott. “Thank you. Your turn.”
“Thank you? Your turn?” he repeats, dragging his hand through his hair. “No, Drew. We aren’t sharing our news or cutting the cake until you agree to go.”
I fall back against my chair, jostling the balloons tied to it. “You said I had to open the card, not agree to what was inside.”
“Well, the rules changed.”
