“Doesn’t it look just like it?” Harper squeaks, excited.
“Mhm,” I murmur.
“Tyrone saw it in a shop and sent it in the group text,” she explains further.
“It’s brilliant, thank you,” I say with a tight throat. There is a group text where they talked about a gift for me. The town I thought was secretly cold and horrible underneath, keeps proving itself to be sweeter and warmer than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I feel my cheeks burn. This is bloody weird. And why is my nose burning? Am I having an allergic reaction to something?
“Hey,” Harper says, shifting until my eyes lock with hers, “Are you all right?”
“What? Yes, of course, I just…why would you all…do this?” I ask.
A chorus of answers fill the room about how I’m a regular townie now, something about selling records and how I’m at least giving them until July.
At which point I’ll be leveling half your businesses.
I don’t say it aloud as Harper leads me by the elbow past the register and through the kitchen. I’ve been here once before yet again, a thrill runs through me. Only those close to her get to venture behind the counter.
“Steven, a little help?” She calls out before she hands me my coffee—Happy Birthday to Our Rich Assholewritten on it—and pulls me down the hall. “What’s wrong?” She asks when we’re in the tiny space she calls a back office.
“Hm?” I ask, not following.
“Is it the crowd? Or the surprise? Not everyone likes surprise parties but I thought—”
“No, no,” I say, reaching out a hand to hold her arm. “I appreciate it, thank you.”
She studies me, unconvinced and says, “You look weird. Even grumpier than usual.”
“I…I don’t know, that’s, uh, new,” I pull at my collar, suddenly hot, and gesture to the crowd a few feet down the hall.
She looks past me, then back up at my face. Her eyes widen as she says, “You’ve never had a surprise birthday party before.”
“I’ve never had any birthday party, actually.”
“W-what?” She exclaims the question.
I wince, “That’s weird, isn’t it? I forget sometimes, how strange my family is.”
“You mean as an adult,” Harper says slowly, “You mean like not since you were little?”
I chuckle, “No, I always mean exactly what I say, you know that.”
“Your parents didn’t throw you a birthday party!” She yells the statement in dismay.
I shrug, “When I asked for one in primary school my mother said, ‘why would we do that?’ And I never asked again. My parents…”
“Sucked,” Harper finishes for me. She’s flushed and fiery, angry on my behalf. Makes my nose start to sting all over again.
I let out another small laugh, “They just…had better things to do.”
“Than throw their little boy a party?”
“Than raise me, I suppose.”
Harper paces away from me and back again, “Wow, I was way off.” I frown and cock my head as she goes on, “I thought you were the golden boy, only son, always got whatever you wanted.”
“The last bit is true, but not from them. I was young when I realized they weren’t coming ‘round. It was my job to look after myself.”
