Chapter 40
I’m not proud of how I wallowed the weekend after Malone and I consciously uncoupled.
Salcedo had found another college student to room with instead of me, which was both good and bad.
Bad that I had nothing to distract me but good she wasn’t there to watch me mope.
BB and I sat on the couch together watching Murder, She Wrote.
I brought some treats for the kitten because she seemed jealous of my popcorn.
She was also surprisingly understanding when I said things like “This episode is like Gaslight, which is funny because Angela Lansbury was in that movie” or “Look! There’s Victor from The Young and the Restless! ”
The next day, however, I had to get to work. Backgrounds weren’t going to check themselves. Papers weren’t going to serve themselves. Rent sure as heck wasn’t going to pay itself.
By that afternoon I wanted nothing more than to return to my Jessica Fletcher marathon, but Havisham called.
“Stark, get your ass over here.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“I’m shorthanded, and I need you.”
I poured kibble out for the cat. “I can’t mix drinks. You know that.”
“True, but you can bus tables.”
“Fine.”
Thirty minutes later I walked into Finnegan’s with a sour expression, only to be greeted by a chorus of “Surprise!”
Oh.
My birthday.
“Sorry we have to celebrate early, but on July fourth the place is going to be covered up. This way you can have Finnegan’s to yourself,” Havisham said.
The fact that Havisham had closed the bar for me gave me squishy feelings. I, however, did not like feelings, so instead of saying thank you, I said, “It’s a real pain sharing a birthday with America.”
Havisham studied me for a moment. But like knows like, so she wasn’t offended. “You think that’s bad, try having to share the spotlight with Jesus.”
“You were born on Christmas Day?”
She grinned. “And that’s your first birthday present because I usually don’t tell anyone that.”
I surveyed the crowd: Trace, Havisham’s multimillionaire cowboy philanthropist, was there. Nana had brought Lucius Malone as her date. Salcedo came stag, but I knew she was now dating someone.
Odd to feel alone when with my favorite people.
“I can’t believe you shut down the bar just for me,” I said.
“Bah, I deserve a night off every now and again. Gives me an excuse to put up the ‘Closed for a Private Event’ sign, too. That usually entices someone to book an actual private party.”
The small number meant we could easily sit at two tables pulled together and chat. When Havisham disappeared, I leaned over to whisper in Nana’s ear, “Lucius Malone? Really?”
“He was my prom date back in sixty-four. Why do you think I’ve wanted to go to that gala all these years?”
I couldn’t deny that Nana looked happier than I’d seen her in a long while.
Havisham reappeared with a sheet cake that held forty candles, each of them aglow.
Forty glowing candles? Both a fire hazard and an impressive sight to behold. From my seat at the end of the table, I could feel the heat.
“Make a wish. Make a wish,” Salcedo started to chant, and Nana quickly joined her. Even Trace and Lucius eventually joined in.
I made a wish, an absolutely foolish wish, and then I did the best I could to blow out all forty candles. It took two tries.
“Aw, now your wish won’t come true,” Nana said.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that snowballs in hell had a greater chance of not melting than my wish had of actually coming true. I refused to look at the door. My wish had been that Malone would show up and declare his love for me.
Instead, we had cake, and then Havisham declared it was time for my presents.
She placed three huge gift bags in front of me.
“Green, Malone? You boys may not want to stick around for this one,” she said gruffly. “This is not for the faint of heart.”
“I think I can take it,” her cowboy said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
In contrast, Lucius looked concerned but also clearly didn’t want to be shown up. “I think I’m worldly enough to handle anything you have planned.”
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Havisham, what have you done?” I asked.
“Me? We. We—Salcedo, your nana, and I—have created a survival kit for your forties,” she said. “You pull out the item, and I’ll explain. If I have to. Start with the bag that has balloons on it.”
I looked from her to the first gift bag. It seemed so innocent with its large balloons in primary colors and the brightly colored tissue paper sticking up from the bag, so why did I feel a growing sense of trepidation at what I would find inside?
I removed three sheets of tissue paper and drew forth a four-pack of reading glasses.
“Sometime in the next decade,” Havisham said, “your eyes are going to decide not to work. It’ll happen overnight.
Then you’ll need a pair of glasses in the kitchen so you can read recipes.
And another for your purse so you can read menus.
Another on the coffee table for when you want to look at your phone or read a book. And another—”
“I get it. What if I have trouble seeing distances instead?”
“Probably gonna be close up,” Nana said as she held up her own pair of readers.
I reached inside and found . . . tweezers. “What’s with the multipack?”
“Oh, you’ll need one for your bathroom and one for your car—great natural light to see those chin hairs,” Havisham said. “Maybe a pair for your purse, should you find yourself in a bathroom with especially good lighting.”
I fixed her with a stare. “I don’t think I want to be forty.”
“Too bad. You’re only thirty-nine for another day or so.”
Next, I found sunglasses, sunscreen, a magnifying mirror, retinol, and a cleanser that would help with wrinkles without making acne worse.
Salcedo moaned, “Don’t tell me I’m going to keep getting zits while also getting wrinkles. That’s ridiculous. I thought zits stopped when you became an adult.”
The older women stared her down. I told Salcedo as gently as I could, “I regret to inform you that the acne will continue even if the morale improves.”
“Keep going,” Havisham said.
I had to stand up to reach down into the bag because it was so deep. There I found a giant bottle of ibuprofen, super tampons, a portable neck fan, an eye mask / Bluetooth headphone combo, and a heating pad.
“For the love, is there anything fun about being forty?”
“That’s what the next bag is for,” Havisham said.
I turned my attention to a second gift bag, floral this time, and rummaged around inside to find a silk pillowcase.
“Good for your hair and for fighting wrinkles while also being a luxury,” Nana said.
Next, I found deluxe chocolates and CBD gummies. Salcedo laughed. Trace muttered something about calling him if I wanted the good stuff.
“Nice,” I said with a tight smile as I pulled out a T-shirt with a vintage Nancy Drew cover photoshopped to have the title It’s Not Voyeurism If You’re Solving Mysteries.
I would’ve loved this shirt a lot more if it didn’t remind me of Ken’s spying, which, in turn, reminded me of Malone. That dull ache behind my breastbone was back, but I kept going through the bag, hoping my smile was still in place.
A bottle of Veuve Clicquot. A gift certificate for a massage. A journal with a sticky note that said, “Start recording all your wisdom—the world will need it.”
“Well, thank you, everyone,” I said as I surveyed the two piles in front of me, some bad but mostly good. Such was life: a grab bag of both. But the thoughtfulness of the presents warmed me from the inside out. “I really don’t know what else to say.”
“Oh, there are a couple of more things in that second bag,” Havisham said with a wicked grin that told me I wanted to leave whatever was at the bottom of the bag right where it was.
With a sigh, I reached past the tissue paper that remained to find . . . a vibrator.
I stared her down. “Havisham.”
“Just two more little gifts, Stark. I believe in you.”
With a deep sigh of resignation, I removed the vibrator from the bag and laid it on the table. The women squealed with delight. Trace burst into laughter. Lucius cleared his throat and blushed.
“One more,” Havisham taunted.
Muttering something about getting this over with, I tossed all the remaining tissue paper on the table until I came to a jumbo box of condoms. I placed them gently in the midst of the tissue paper.
Well, I wouldn’t be needing those anytime soon. The vibrator? Inspired gift, that.
“Aurelia, you forgot the lubricant,” Nana said.
My cheeks heated. There was a sentence no one ever wanted to hear from her grandmother. Even Lucius, who might benefit from Nana’s foresight, was studying the Liverpool flag as if it were a Monet.
“I can take care of that,” I said. “In fact, I think I’m as prepared as I’m ever going to be. Thank you, everyone. And please don’t ever buy me sex toys ever again.”
Trace spewed his beer. Lucius shifted in his seat.
“Wait! You gotta open the third bag,” Salcedo said.
I was afraid of where the night might go from the vibrator. “I’m feeling pretty gifted out. I mean, I’m grateful, but—”
She smiled. “Good things come in threes.”
“That’s why I named this place Finnegan’s,” Havisham said.
Finnegan’s reminded me of Malone, too. He was the one who’d explained a mulligan for a mulligan to me. So cruel to give me condoms and to remind me of him.
Of course, everything reminded me of Malone.
“Fine,” I said tentatively. “Lord, preserve me from anything else embarrassing.”
I fished through tissue paper in the third bag and pulled out a coin purse in a fuchsia paisley print. The pattern was definitely not my style, but I settled for a different observation instead. “What the heck is small enough to fit in here?”
“That’s where you can store your fucks since you will no longer have that many to give,” Havisham said. “That’s one bonus of turning forty.”
Nana cracked first, her laughter inspiring everyone else’s. “That’s a good one, Aurelia.”
“Please, call me Havisham.”
“And you can call me Jefferson.”