1
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Melissa
I should have seen it coming. It was the day before my twenty-ninth birthday, and Mom unexpectedly wanted to meet up and go shoe shopping.
I had told her I didn’t need shoes, but she doubled down, saying that was even better. We could focus on finding her the perfect pair of summer sandals, and I wouldn’t be distracted with trying on anything for myself.
My mother could talk a comedian out of their last joke. She’s just that good.
So we went shoe shopping, bra shopping, and furniture browsing until the commissioned sales people there gave up and wished us dead, and just when I thought she might let me go home and waste the rest of my Saturday on my own terms, she announced she needed to use the bathroom.
My mother does not do public restrooms. She’s developed an iron bladder to cope, but sometimes when you gotta go, you gotta go. And my house was closer.
I had just bought one side of a duplex in a cute neighborhood where all the lawns were green and mowed, except for ours, and I was totally going to remedy the situation whether my deadbeat duplex neighbor ever decided to help or not. He’d been avoiding meeting me, probably because of the yard situation, and perhaps because he had something sketchy going on over there with all the cars coming and going at all hours.
As I pulled up to my new house, the expanse of dull brown against the green of the other yards had me wrinkling my nose. Mom jumped out the passenger-side door the second I stopped at the curb. I tossed her the keys, and she ran inside like she was about to win the fifty-yard dash.
After turning into my carport and enjoying the quiet for a moment, I gathered up my shopping bags and went around to the front door. In her haste, Mom had left the keys in the lock. I pulled them out and tucked them in the front pocket of my jeans.
Today hadn’t been so bad. I had a new pair of cute sandals and a new black lace bra that managed to give me a nice lift without digging into my sides. I hadn’t wanted to try it on at all, but after Mom announced to everyone in Macy’s that my once-white bras were gray and not quite getting the job done anymore, heading into the dressing room suddenly sounded like a great idea.
I turned my door handle, preparing to deposit my bags on the end table, and instead dropped them on the floor as a dozen voices yelled, “Surprise!”
I blinked, trying to make my eyes adjust to so many people with their expectant gazes on me, most of them practically strangers. Neighbors, I quickly realized. Ones I had only waved to once or twice, but who now had been forced in here by my formidable mother in her attempt to make me new friends. It was seventh grade all over again. Oh crap, I was beginning to sweat. I mentally backtracked to this morning to make sure I’d put on deodorant. Check. Check. My panic subsided a smidge.
“Happy Birthday!” several people said at once.
My across-the-street neighbor pushed her way toward me just as everyone began singing the birthday song with off-key enthusiasm. “Hi, sorry.” She leaned closer so she could whisper-yell above the singing. “Your mom said to gather everyone at four, put up the banner, and wait in here. I’m sorry. I should have told her—”
“No, it’s fine.” It wasn’t this woman’s job to go toe-to-toe with my mother. I was just relieved someone else got how weird this was. “But um, how did you get in here?”
“She told me where you keep your extra key hidden, so you may want to move that, but um, first…” She gave me a subtle head tilt down. “Let’s take care of your shopping bags.” It was then I realized my brand-new bra with its very supportive cups and optional padding was nestled between our feet. She’d probably kicked it back toward me on her way over. I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me, but that didn’t matter. We were officially kindred spirits. I reached down to pick up the bra, but the strap was under her shoe.
She took a step back, but that only created a stretchy tug-o-war between my hand and her foot. By the time I had the thing safely back in the bag, I’m pretty sure every person there could identify it in a line-up if they had to, and my poor neighbor had apologized four more times. I had to start looking like I was having a good time or the awkwardness levels in here were going to kill us all.
“It was a successful shopping trip,” I said to no one in particular. I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with anyone until my face didn’t feel like the surface of the sun. I liked meeting people, but this? This was all the things I hated wrapped up in one—surprises, sudden loud noises, unexpected guests, and forced obligation. I was obligated to make this party a success because it was mine. You couldn’t be the pooper of your own party.
After a deep breath, I went around shaking hands and introducing myself, which was super embarrassing, since birthday parties were supposed to be filled with the people who knew and loved you. All the people who fit in those categories were taking me out to dinner tomorrow night. My dad wasn’t even here. He was probably out giving golf lessons and had no idea what Mom was up to. She was a stealthy one with her shenanigans. If she’d told any of my friends or family about this surprise party, there would have been no party, and no surprise.
Speaking of people who loved me, where were my dogs? They would have been all over me the instant I came in the door, and despite the major distraction that was this party, I felt guilty for forgetting them, even for a minute.
“Mom.” I took her aside, giving the neighbor she was talking to an apologetic smile. “Where are Buster and Sarge?” I didn’t have a fence up outside yet. I was terrified she’d sent them out back, and they might be roaming the neighborhood looking for trouble.
“Natalya has them. I told her I was cleaning your house from top to bottom as a birthday surprise. She’s coming back with them soon. Don’t fret.”
That made me feel a little better, despite finding out my mother’s lies in planning this party were a cavern I’d probably never see the bottom of. At least my dogs were in good hands. They were probably living it up at Natalya’s house.
“Time for cake,” my mom called out, rallying the group towards my kitchen, where a banner hung with the words, ‘Forever 29!’ I bet my mom did a Google search for birthday banners, not realizing this one was for women who had long past that age. Hilarious. When she wasn’t driving me crazy, my mom was unintentionally hilarious.
I wondered who had been roped into bringing the cake. Maybe my mom bought it for them and made them store it in their fridge along with a promise to come. Ack, it was probably better not to know.
I forced myself to smile at the few stragglers still standing with me in the living room, but then I caught sight of the guy sitting casually in my armchair in the corner. I couldn’t smile at that. Athim.
He was reading a manuscript on pink scented paper, deeply engrossed, with an amused and slightly smug smile on his face. He looked up at me and thenTURNED THE PAGE. No shame whatsoever that he was a snoop—a smug snoop, and a bad neighbor, and a tree and grass killer. Oh, and probably a criminal who sold shady goods out of his house. I couldn’t forget that little detail. The fact that I found him to be the handsomest guy I’d ever laid eyes on only made me more irritated. Who did he think he was, sitting there leafing through my stuff? Yeah, no more having an emergency key out. In fact, I should probably change my locks, just in case.
“Hey, neighbor,” he said when I marched over and held out my hand, palm up.
