Chapter 14 - My Twenty-Sixth Birthday
One year after Madison cut the blue dress, I turned twenty-six.
Rebecca flew in from Knoxville.
Four coworkers joined us for dinner at a small restaurant in downtown Raleigh.
Nobody canceled.
Nobody had a breakdown.
Nobody announced a financial emergency.
I bought another dress.
Not blue.
Deep green.
It cost two hundred dollars less than the first one and somehow felt more expensive because I bought it without calculating what household bill might appear afterward.
At six that evening, Madison texted:
Can I drop something at your apartment? I won’t stay.
I said yes.
She arrived carrying a garment bag.
My stomach tightened.
“What is that?”
“Just open it later.”
“Madison.”
“It isn’t weird.”
“That sounds like something people say before something becomes weird.”
She smiled nervously.
Inside was no replacement dress.
That would have been too easy.
It was the surviving strip of midnight-blue silk from the original.
Framed simply beneath glass.
Next to it was a small card:
I can’t replace what I destroyed. I can only stop acting like destroying it was your fault.
I stared at her.
“You kept this?”
“Mom threw everything else away.”
“Why?”
“At first because I thought it was funny.”
She looked down.
“Later because it wasn’t.”
I hugged her.
Briefly.
It surprised both of us.
“Does this mean we’re okay?” she asked.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Fair.”
“It means dinner next week might be okay.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’ll take that.”
Dad sent no birthday message.
Mom sent:
Happy birthday. I hope tonight belongs only to you.
I didn’t answer immediately.
But I did not feel angry when I read it.
That was new.
At the restaurant, Rebecca raised her glass.
“To twenty-six.”
“What happened to twenty-five?”
“We don’t speak of her.”
May you like
I laughed so loudly people at the next table turned around.
For once, being noticed felt good.
