Chapter 6
Milow
Birthdays were a foreign concept to me. I knew people got older. I knew the body changed. But I didn’t know there was a day meant only for you—a day where people celebrated you for being born. I didn’t know that others lit candles and sang for you on that day.
But they were all singing: Iris, Gus, the boys. My throat tightened, and my eyes stung.
Tears spilled down my cheeks before I understood what was happening. I wasn’t used to feeling joy and fear at the same time. It was always either one or the other. I didn’t know how to deal with both at the same time.
I saw Iris’s eyes widen, and Gus froze with the cake held in midair. Their panic made me panic even more.
Iris moved first. “Oh, sweetheart.”
She scooped me out of the chair, and I wrapped my arms around her neck. My face pressed into her shoulder as my body shook.
“Why is she crying?” Ashby asked. I peeked up at him and saw his hands were still together from clapping. And he was frowning at me. “We’re just singing happy birthday to her.”
“I know, buddy.” Gus put the cake on the table, then he placed one hand on Ashby’s shoulder. “It surprised her.”
“Maybe we were being too loud,” Wesley said, looking concerned. His pale eyes were full of worry.
Ashby scrunched his nose. “Or maybe your singing was so bad it made her cry.”
Wesley smacked his arm, and Gus shot them both a look to shut them down. “Boys, be nice.”
“You’re okay,” Iris whispered, her hand rubbing my back gently. The chair creaked as she sat, settling me onto her lap, and I wrapped my legs tight around her waist. My fingers clung to her shirt. I didn’t want to let go. Not until this confusion in me disappeared.
I was breathing calmly, with a voice inside my head telling me that I was safe in Iris’s arms. Nothing would hurt me here. But the rush still stayed, even if nobody was telling me to stop crying.
I stared at the candles on the cake, and with more time passing, my tears stopped and dried on my cheeks.
I lifted my head a little and searched Iris’s face.
I wanted her to make sense of this. I wanted to know why they had started singing to me, why there was a cake with candles, and why everyone looked so happy that I had been born seven years ago.
My birth never mattered to Daddy. My existence only meant being kept inside, being hurt by his owie-stick, and being punished if I asked for more food.
Iris’s eyes shone with tears. There was guilt and sorrow in them, and I didn’t like seeing her like that. I didn’t want to be the reason for those bad feelings, but it was hard for me to make her feel better when I was drowning in bad feelings myself.
She brushed my hair from my face with a soft smile.
“We’re celebrating you,” she told me quietly. “We’re so happy you’re here, Milow.”
Gus stepped closer and crouched down next to us, his hand coming up to rest on my lower back. “This is your day,” he explained. “Your birthday.”
I still just stared, needing more time to understand everything. I had created this mess by crying when all they were trying to do was celebrate me.
Ashby climbed onto his knees on his chair. “Birthdays are really fun,” he started to say, his eyes wide and bright. He was trying to cheer me up, and he never once failed. “On birthdays, you get cake and presents. And it’s your birthday, so you get all that today.”
I wanted to ask why, but I kept my hands to myself.
“That’s not what birthdays are all about, Ashby,” Wesley said with a frown.
“Yeah, duh! But the presents and cake are the best part.”
Wesley rolled his eyes, then he smiled at me. “We’re happy you were born and are here with us, and that’s why we’re celebrating.”
I watched him for a moment. I wanted to understand so desperately. I wanted to know why anyone would be happy I was born.
Iris must’ve sensed the question burning deep inside my mind, and she pulled me closer. “You deserve to be loved.”
Gus nodded, his smile gentle and encouraging. “If birthdays feel scary now, that’s okay. We’ll go slow. We’re here with you.”
I slowly nodded because I didn’t want to ignore them any longer. They deserved more than my silence.
Ashby awkwardly shifted his weight and tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. His eyes constantly flicked to the candles on the cake as the wax dripped.
“Can we help her blow them out?” he asked.
Gus smiled a little. “If she wants.”
I looked at the glowing flames and wondered why Daddy never made me blow out candles. Or why he didn’t think my birthday was important enough to be celebrated. Maybe he didn’t even know we were supposed to celebrate it, because his was never celebrated either.
[Okay.]
Ashby’s eyes widened. “Cool!”
Gus pulled the cake closer to us, and Iris whispered, “Make a wish.”
I didn’t know how to wish. I didn’t know what wishes were supposed to do, or what they meant. My mind raced with too many possibilities. What could I ask for that wouldn’t be taken away? What was safe to want? Was it okay to wish for my voice back while still staying obedient?
My breath trembled, but I leaned forward anyway, following Ashby’s lead. He scooted closer until his arm brushed mine, and he filled his lungs with a dramatic gulp of air. Then, we blew together. Our breaths mixed. The flames bent, then vanished into thin smoke that curled upward.
Ashby cheered loud enough to shake the table, and Wesley clapped his hands with a proud smile.
My chest ached and loosened at the same time. I was still feeling so much, but now, they were mostly good feelings.
I could learn to like my birthdays.
I could learn to celebrate being born.
__
That night, Gus and Iris tucked me under the blanket and read a story out loud.
Their voices were calm, and I focused more on them than the words they were saying.
They had made the day bearable, without pushing me to play when the boys asked, and giving me time to adjust to the overwhelming feelings I had felt since waking up this morning.
When the story ended, they kissed my forehead and whispered that they loved me.
Then they turned off the lamp and left, smiling as they closed the door.
Seeing them happy mattered to me more than the candles or the cake.
I curled on my side, hugging my new teddy bear tight against my chest, with its soft fur pressed into my cheek. My eyes were heavy, but my mind still raced, and it would be another difficult night to fall asleep.
My eyes snapped to the door as the doorknob clicked.
Fear rushed through me, for a moment thinking that it was Daddy coming to get me.
He used to come at night, telling me that it was time to be an obedient girl, and I always went with him without a fight.
Because if I fought, the owie-stick would hurt even more.
I tightened my grip on the teddy bear as the door opened slowly, and a small shadow moved across the floor. My heart jumped, and I held my breath as the fear grew. But relief soon followed when I saw Ashby’s small frame slip inside.
“Milow?” he whispered into the dark. “Are you sleeping?”
I pushed myself up and shook my head.
He paused and stared at me for a beat. Then he whispered, “Can I come inside?”
He was already in the room. He had crossed the threshold without waiting, but I didn’t mind.
I nodded slowly. My eyes followed him as he stepped forward, then shut the door softly.
He walked to the bed and stopped beside it.
The moonlight from the window lit half his face, and he turned on the nightlamp so I could see him better.
I held the teddy bear tight in my lap, arms locked around it, unsure but curious why he had come.
Ashby’s mouth tugged upward as a mischievous grin spread across his face.
My head tilted on instinct. I waited for him to say something, but he stayed silent.
He reached behind him with a quick motion, and when his hand came back around, he was holding a rolled sheet of paper.
It must have been tucked into the waistband of his pajama shorts, because I hadn’t seen it in his hands before.
“This is for you,” he said, his voice filled with excitement as he extended the paper toward me.
I stared at it, my fingers tightening around the bear.
“Take it,” he urged, nudging the rolled paper against my hand. “I drew it for you. It’s a birthday present I made.”
A present. Another one. I had already opened five today. One from each of them, and one they said was from everyone together. Five gifts for me felt like too much already, and now Ashby was offering a sixth.
My fingers loosened around the bear. I reached out slowly to grab it and slid the rubber band off before unrolling the paper.
A bright and colorful drawing appeared.
“This is me. And this is you. And we’re superheroes.
” He leaned close, pointing at two stick figures wearing capes.
He explained each detail with excitement.
“We can fly, see? That’s us in the sky. And that’s the pool where I swim.
And this is the backyard with the playground Dad promised to build.
And—oh! That’s your bean bag with your Sudoku book on it. ”
His finger tapped each part, and his voice rushed without breathing.
I kept staring at the drawing. My eyes moved across every shape and color.
“And I started another one with Mom and Dad and Wesley,” he said. “It’s not finished yet, but tomorrow I’m gonna finish it. Then you can hang it up in your room.”
He turned to look at the wall above my desk and pointed with certainty.
“Right there. And maybe you can draw something too, so that I can hang it up in my room.”
His eyes sparkled at the idea. His voice kept going so fast that I struggled to keep up. My mind lagged behind his words, but it was nothing new.
When he finally fell quiet, waiting for an answer, I nodded slowly.
[Okay.]
He flashed a grin and took the drawing out of my hand to place it on the nightstand, then he climbed onto the bed without warning.
I shifted away a little to make space, and he crawled under the covers, moving with the confidence of someone who had done it a thousand times before.
I watched him settle in next to me. I hesitated, unsure whether to stay frozen or move closer.
But this was Ashby. If there was anyone I could allow near me, it was him.
So I lay back down and turned to face him, with my teddy bear tight against my chest. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, making the room look pale blue.
His messy hair fell over his forehead without his hat holding it back.
Only when he slept did he take off his hats.
His eyes searched my face, and I looked back.
“Milow,” he whispered. “Can you show me how to sign Mom and Dad in your secret language?”
I never used those two signs, but I knew them because Jensen had taught them to me back at the home. I lifted my hands and signed the words, and he repeated them back to me with stiff fingers and a bit of awkwardness. But he tried again until he got it right.
He smiled with pride. “Maybe you can call them Mom and Dad, too. It took me a few years before I did. Wesley too. We used to say their names. But now we say 'Mom' and 'Dad' because they are our parents. And they’re yours too.”
I blinked at him, confused about his words. I thought Iris and Gus had always been their mom and dad. I thought Ashby and Wesley belonged here since they were born. I never imagined they were adopted, too.
So they had come from somewhere else.
Someone else had given them away.
Someone else hadn’t wanted them.
Or maybe their Daddy had been taken by a monster too, and they were lucky enough to find Gus at the fire station. My heartbeat thudded harder against my ribs as I looked at him. We kept looking into each other’s eyes, and I wondered if he knew about the storm he had started inside of me.