60. Birthday
BIRTHDAY
My breath hitches, and my fingers dig into his flesh as my legs buckle. Conner buries his head into my shoulder, his back contracting and his body stiffening.
Our breaths are nothing but pants, and our chests rise and fall irregularly. All energy drains from me when Conner rolls over and sits on the edge of the bed. Part of the sheet conceals his naked body while I lie there, uncaring. Too exhausted to even move the sheet over my chest.
Conner chuckles. “Out of everything I offered to give you for your birthday this morning, you wanted sex.”
I smile while rolling onto my side. “Is that a problem?”
Conner shakes his head as he leans forward. He grabs a smoke from the packet and the lighter by the bed and stands. My face flushes, watching him as he slides the condom off and puts his boxers back on.
“It was more of a surprise,” he admits. A wicked smile plays on his lips when he leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “I’m going to have a smoke before a shower. When you’re ready to get up, could you strip the sheets so I can wash them?”
As soon as he’s out the door, I roll on my back again and touch my chest. When did I become so confident?
Shaking it off, I sit up, shuffle out of bed, and tear the sheets off.
My eyes linger on a wet spot. Embarrassed, I hide that while I go to the laundry room, which is only a tiny closet.
I stuff the sheets in, tip two scoops of laundry powder and a dash of softener into their designated slots and turn on the washing machine.
After, I grab a towel folded above the washing machine and head in to wash the remnants of what happened off my body. Conner joins me a few minutes later, and we stay there longer than expected.
“Okay.” Conner collapses on the lounge while heaving a sigh. “You’re a minx today.”
I sit beside him, a grin on my face as I say, “A minx?”
“Yes,” he declares. “My horny little minx.”
“Ah.” I giggle. “Is that a red flag?”
He eyes me, a crooked smile reaching his face. “I see what you’re doing.”
“And what’s that, Conner?” I playfully say while my fingers trail up his leg.
He twitches a brow, struggling to suppress his emotions. “Can I at least give you your actual birthday present?”
“All I want is you.” I pout.
I’ve become addictively close to Conner. Yearning for him and wanting to be closer than ever before. I’m not sure why. I think it’s because I’ve never been this open and honest with anyone. And since living here, I feel closer to him than ever before.
“Yes,”—Conner grabs my arm before I can feel between his legs—“I can see that.”
Sighing, I lean back and fold my arms across my chest.
“Are you sulking?”
He laughs when I nod.
He groans as he stands. I eye him while he goes into his bedroom.
Sitting upright, I watch his movements as he opens the drawer that leans against the wall and takes out a box with a bow tied around it.
I recall the box in his car and how weirdly he reacted when I grabbed that instead of the envelope.
I furrow my brows when Conner sits and hands me the box.
I clutch it, already seeing the engraved silver label of the store beneath the bow.
My eyes widen. Pinching the end of the bow, I pull at it until the ribbon comes undone.
The silk slips through my fingertips, landing on my lap.
Conner leans in, more eager than I, when I lift the lid off the box.
You know those ads where the woman opens the gift—any jewellery gift—and her face shines, glorifying the entire situation? This is it. I feel like the woman in the ad after her significant other handed her jewellery.
I touch the chain, my finger poking at the music note charm. There are two other charms. One is a shiny orange heart. I smile, feeling the warmth slipping down my cheeks at the paintbrush charm attached to the chain.
Conner takes it out of the box, and I raise my right arm. He lowers the bracelet, wraps it around my wrist, and binds it with an adjustable clasp. After it’s on, I rub my eyes, and my shoulders shake, trembling with warmth and adoration.
“Why are you crying?” he asks softly.
“It’s just…This is the first time I’ve gotten something for my birthday in a long time. Thank you.”
I wipe at the tears, but they keep flowing. I can’t contain these emotions. And when Conner leans closer to me, my arms wrap around him, and I bury my face into his shoulder, letting his shirt soak up the tears I shed.
His arms move around my back, and his lips find my neck, planting sensual kisses across my shoulder, neck and jaw.
“Take me to the bedroom, Conner,” I breathe into his ear.
He stands, I wrap my arms and legs around him, and we move into his bedroom this time.
My fingers are shrivelled. Having two showers so close together isn’t an excellent idea. Nevertheless, it had to happen, for guests are arriving shortly.
I sit on the chair in the kitchen and watch Conner grab plates Mrs Jones bought and set them, as well as tall diamante glasses, on the counter beside the pizza.
After removing my sheets, the washing machine beeps, and I remove Conner’s bed sheets and stuff them in the dryer.
While I make my bed, the buzzer goes off.
I still, and even knowing I mentally know who it is, the thought of Dad getting released before the trial comes to mind, and my stomach drops.
My heart reminds me of a drum beating loudly in my chest. I feel sick as my eyes dart to my open door, contemplating whether I should lock it.
Conner goes to the door and pushes the button beside it, and Sammy’s loud voice fills the apartment.
My racing heart slows, and I place the pillows on the bed after fixing the sheets.
As I leave the room and sit on the lounge, there’s a knock on the door.
Conner opens the door for Sammy and Dylan.
Dylan holds a square box. He speaks to Conner, and Conner points to the kitchen counter.
“Happy birthday, Noya!” Sammy cries. She removes her hands behind her back and lowers a gift bag with a cute, tiny kitten print. “Open it!”
I bite my lip while I tear at the tape. The bag opens, and I take out a small box. I eye Conner after realising it’s from where he got my gift.
“We collaborated,” Sammy answers when I open the box and see the B.F.F. charm.
I unclasp the bracelet and slip the charm among the others. “I love it,” I breathe.
Sammy leans her arm against the lounge while I place the bag and small box on the coffee table. “Are you coming back to school tomorrow?”
“Uh… yes,” I agree. “I still need to hand in a few assignments, and Conner has his exams this Wednesday, and then he graduates.”
She looks at the boys heading onto the balcony to smoke. Her eyes darken once the door closes, and she turns her attention back toward me. “Andy asked how you were doing. I told him you were doing better.”
I stiffen, avert my gaze, and chew my bottom lip. “He’s not going to talk to me tomorrow, is he?”
“No,” she answers, shaking her head. Sammy shuffles uncomfortably and says, “There’s something else I wanted to warn you about before heading to school tomorrow.”
“Oh…”
“A group of girls in Year Nine are handing out flyers.” Sammy rummages in her bag before pulling out a folded piece of paper. She hands it to me, and I open it, my eyes widening and my stomach dropping at the headline. “They want you to be their spokesperson because… you know.”
“I’m not interested,” I declare while folding the paper and tossing it beside the gift bag. “I didn’t escape what happened to me, only to relive it for thousands of people. I want to move on with my life.”
Sammy pets my leg while saying, “I know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. They’re keen to have you talk at their seminar for domestic violence victims.”
I scrunch my face, feeling the pain as the memories flood in of the countless times Dad hit me.
Then, thinking about talking about all those times again to people I don’t know.
It’s nothing I thought about doing or wanted.
Thousands of other people are more capable of expressing their lives as victims of domestic violence.
Brave, courageous people worthy of the spotlight.
That’s not me. I wanted to live my life and leave the past in the past from the start.
“If they come up to you at school, I’ll tell them to piss off.”
I breathe a laugh, then sigh. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Sammy arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I take a deep breath. “A while ago, you told me your mum was pushing you to leave once you turned eighteen.” Sammy’s brows furrow. “Conner and I were talking and thought that perhaps you could live here if you have nowhere to go.”
Her eyes widen, glistening.
“Conner is moving into the room I’m staying in now. We were going to use that room for an art room, but there’s plenty of room for a desk in the room we will stay in.”
“Noya… I.”
“Dylan can come as well.” I turn towards Conner and Dylan as they enter the apartment. Turning back to her, I say, “What do you say?”
“Fuck.” Her black fingernail flicks at the tear slipping down her cheek. “I can’t believe I’m crying—and it’s your birthday!”
“Is that a yes?”
She nods, which is a surprise, considering Sammy always has something to say. To leave her speechless… well, that’s something new.
We eat pizza, and Sammy tells Dylan the news—which he already knew because Conner told him about it while they went for a smoke.
After the lights go out and the curtains close, plunging us into a dim, grey room. The candles were lit, and a mud cake with Snickers bars poking out of it. I laugh, unable to contain my excitement when they sing Happy Birthday melodramatically.
Conner then hooks up the Nintendo Switch he bought, and while we eat cake, we play Mario Kart. I’m terrible, but the vibrancy and energy in the room are enough for me to be happy. I couldn’t ask for much more on my birthday with those I care for.
There is a slight sadness in thinking of Mum and Dad. It’s what I wanted for a time. A birthday as a family, opening presents they knew I’d love, and eating a nice, home-cooked meal. We would then watch a movie, and I’d sleep feeling loved.
But that’s not my reality. And as much as I wanted it, wishing it would not make it come true.
Then Conner came out of nowhere. And that’s where my new dream came to be, and with him came memories I’ll cherish.
Sammy and Dylan leave later in the evening. After I say goodbye, I help Conner in the kitchen by placing the plates and glass cups in the dishwasher after he rinses them. He shows me how to work the dishwasher, and afterwards, we agree to watch the rest of the Marvel movies.
I sit, and while I wait for him, I grab the blanket we keep underneath the table and place it over my legs. Conner doesn’t seem to enjoy the heat very much, and the air-con always seems to be on.
Conner sits and places a long, small box on my lap.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
“Another one of your presents.”
“Conner… the bracelet was more than enough. I don’t want anything else. I only want you.”
His hazel eyes flicker at the box, up at me, and then he smiles.
I shake my head while sighing. Taking hold of the box, I open it. My brow furrows and then immediately springs upwards. I jump up, a high-pitched squeal penetrating my lungs as I cling to the tickets to the Imagine Dragons concert. “Are these real?” I demand.
“Yes.”
I place the tickets on the table, hop onto Conner’s lap, and press my lips firmly against his. It catches him by surprise. His body goes rigid before his hands rest against my hips.
“Take me to the bedroom,” I demand.
He shakes his head while standing. “Shower,” he breathes through the fierce kisses I slaughter him with. “I’m not… washing the sheets… again.”
“Bath,” I declare.
“Bath?”
“Bath.”
“Okay. Bath,” he agrees while carrying me through the threshold.