But that's the price I have to pay for a future lifetime of freedom.If I'm moving to Alaska to live off the grid, then I must consent to having this birthday party.
With parents like mine, no cousin in the Rini family is going to have a bigger, more outrageously ostentatious party than their daughter.My dress literally has diamonds hanging from it because no one else did before.
Ugh, you really can't choose your family.
But I'm so relieved it's all over.Birthday parties are overrated anyway.They're fine for other people; I just don't like them when they're for me.
I sat through the whole thing because it might be my birthday to everyone else, but this is my farewell.One of my parents’ stipulations for letting me leave is that I'm not allowed to mention to anyone that I am indeed leaving.
Nope.I just have to disappear quietly into the night because anything less means they don't have control over me.They really don't.
I scratch yet again at the weird, irritated patch on my skin that seems to be getting redder and angrier.I bring my arm closer to my face and frown.
Am I imagining things?The circular welt has a little line in the center, and I'm sure that line is moving, like the hand of a clock.
Maybe it's just getting bigger, that's all.Something must have bitten me.My mom was revolted when she saw it since it didn't go with my dress and slapped layers of her nuclear-grade foundation on it to cover it up.But the magic cream slid right off my skin and onto the carpet of my mom's bedroom.
She applied it three more times before she gave up in complete frustration, then said it was my fault and that I was ruining the whole look.
How curious, though, this thing on my arm is.I wonder what could have actually bitten me to leave such a mark.
The itch temporarily relieved, I hold up my dress that weighs more than I do with one hand, my shoes in the other, and drag my tired feet across the marble tiles littered with gold confetti, kicking a stray balloon in my way.One more sleep, and then I'm out of here.
Just last month, my father was arrested for money laundering; one of his main companies shut down.Today, he sat at the head of the table with a party hat made of real jewels and shaped like a crown on his bald head, outfitted in his usual designer suit, Rolex, and a gun tucked into his pants.Standard Rini men's attire.
The little "setback," as my father calls it, since he spent no more than six hours incarcerated, has been swept so far under the rug that if anyone questioned whether it really happened, they'd be declared cuckoo.That's the Rini family way.And I want out of it.
I pass what was once a five-tiered cake with gold leaf decorations and topped with spun sugar and pearls.I stuff my shoes under my arm, swipe my finger through the vanilla-flavored frosting, and lick it off before spinning around and waving farewell to the empty grand hall of the Rini mansion.Am I even going to miss this place?Nope, I'm not.
I climb the stairs to my bedroom, immediately divest myself of the gown and underwear, and step into my shower with its waterfall faucet that kneads my tired muscles so dreamily I could sleep standing up.I might miss my shower.
After lathering up with soap and soaking my damp skin in oils, I slip into a pair of silk nightie and sit on my bed.The stupid rash on my arm starts to burn again, and my whole body feels as if it's on fire.What the hell is this?Do I need to see a doctor before I leave, or what?
I try not to scratch my skin off, but I'm very tempted to do so.I force myself to go to sleep, slipping my hands under my butt to stop myself from clawing at my skin again.
I close my eyes and try to relax...but what on earth is that humming sound?Wait, I heard it before, much fainter, but now it's so distinct there's no mistaking it.
I sit up in my bed.On one side of my room are all the bags I'll be taking with me to Alaska.I downsized a lot, and it was absolutely liberating.
On the other side of the room are a ridiculous number of gift-wrapped boxes—presents from associates of my father, hoping to put themselves in his good graces.
Ugh.
I get up from my bed and follow the humming sound.It's coming from one of the boxes.Wouldn't it be funny if there were a bomb in there?
But being cautious was never my strong suit.I take the box with me to my bed and tear off the weird gift wrap decorated with green humanoid monsters.Did they think I was three years old instead of twenty-three?
I open the box, and amidst a sea of tissue paper, I find...an egg.With careful hands, I lift the egg out of the box.It's surprisingly warm to my touch; the shell is both strong and fragile at the same time.
Iridescent gold and green colors shimmer from the marbling, casting bright shadows on the walls of my dimly lit room.
It's extraordinary and eerily beautiful.Is it an ornament?A lamp?So weird.
I'm not sure what I'm doing, but instead of replacing it in the box, I lay the egg on the pillow next to me, lie down on my side, and stare at the mesmerizing colors until my eyes close and I drift off to sleep.
I have no idea how long I was in slumberland, but when I'm jolted awake after thudding to the floor from my bed.
Did I run out of space, or was I pushed off the bed?
