Chapter 5
EILEEN
At the end of the day, I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. Instead of going home, I go to the bar to meet one of my favorite people.
“Three weeks before the big day!” my best friend, Camilla, shouts when I squeeze into our regular booth at Finley’s Pub.
“Shh,” I tell her. “You’re gonna jinx it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop being paranoid.”
The bar is crowded with older guys watching some sports and twenty-somethings laughing over pitchers of watered-down beer. This is our favorite bar in town because my dad used to own it, and also because it’s renowned for their loaded fries and cheap beer—not because the drinks are good.
They’ll go down fine enough and get me to relax to get through the week. As Camilla pours me a glass of whatever IPA we’re trying tonight, I know that’s all that really matters at this point in the day, week, and year.
“You know I’m right. You’ve seen the shit I’ve been through during my birthdays,” I say.
“It’s not that bad,” she insists.
But I swear she’s trying to hide a smirk.
Of course, I don’t leave it at that. Instead, I bring a few nuggets from memory lane.
“Remember when Grandma Lori came to visit on my fifth birthday, and she ended up hospitalized after that bee sting,” I begin. “Or remember my seventh birthday party? Joe O’Riley was playing pin the tail on the donkey, and he landed on my fucking cake.”
She waves her hands and can’t stop laughing at the disaster that is my birthday. I glare at her, unamused. “I’m glad you can laugh at my misfortune.”
“Sorry, but you gotta admit it’s a little funny.”
Hilarious, I think bitterly.
At least none of them made it to America’s Funniest Videos.
I grab my beer, take a sip and say, “Yeah, tragically funny. Maybe as an encore, my brother can get arrested during my graduation ceremony, or they can finally cancel my trip.”
My parents promised this year would be different.
They even “insisted” on taking me on vacation after graduation to celebrate my birthday and that I graduated. If telling me they’re finally rescheduling my birthday vacation, then telling me that I have to pay for my own way counts as a “trip.”
“You’ll have fun and you know it,” Camilla chides me softly. “You’re always saying you miss your family.”
True. As much as they drive me crazy, I feel like I don’t see them enough anymore. Even though they live less than twenty minutes away. We’re all just too busy trying to get by.
I take another sip of my drink, taking a deep breath and letting Billy Joel’s piano playing take me away for a moment.
“I guess,” I concede. “As long as they don’t make a scene during graduation, I’m fine. Even if they bail on me.”
Speaking of which, I dig into my oversized purse for her graduation ticket. Camilla calls it my “mom friend bag.” She doesn’t like admitting that it’s come in handy for her more than once.
“As promised,” I say as I try to hand it over. “You get to celebrate my birthday and my third graduation. I’m officially out of school.”
“Three degrees later, Doctor,” she says and smiles sheepishly, averting her eyes.
Uh oh.
“What?” I ask as my back tenses.
She shakes her head. “I think I might be your birthday let down, babe.”
“Why?” I deflate.
When push comes to shove, Camilla is always there for me.
Especially when no one else will be. She’s the person who bails me out when I’m in trouble.
The only one who cares when I need a pint of ice cream, a stack of romantic comedies and tissues because I went through a bad breakup—or whenever my parents forget me.
Camilla takes a long chug of beer, avoiding my gaze. Great, my birthday is already disappointing and nerve-wracking.
“Work,” she says. “If I could avoid it, I would. You know I hate to sleep in hotels. Let alone being away from home for six weeks.” She shivers.
Camilla is the definition of a germaphobe. There was a stint in college where she’d only let me touch her stuff after using pre-sanitized hand sanitizer.
Not to mention my bag is the only other place besides her own where she can stand to keep her silverware and straw. Because that’s how much Camilla hates using other people’s stuff.
“When are you leaving?” I ask.
“Tomorrow, but it’s okay,” she says, gently patting my hand. “You’re going to be away for two weeks with your family.”
I stare at my glass, scratching it lightly with my thumb as if there were a label. Being with my parents isn’t really something worth getting excited about. They’ll be too busy checking Charlie’s Instagram to make sure she’s doing alright without them.
Their poor thirty-year-old daughter apparently can’t survive without her parents. Or what if Sam has to stay because of some forsaken reason? They still treat him like he is five. Who knows what the twenty-two-year-old “kid” can get into when he is unsupervised?
My trip sounds more and more like such a blast the closer it gets. I should’ve organized something with my best friend and forgotten about this ridiculous expedition my parents have been promising since I was thirteen.
Then I look at her and remember she won’t be here. This year is doomed. What happened to the whole golden birthday? I’m turning twenty-seven, on the twenty-seventh of the month. That’s lucky right?
I hear a snort inside my head. Clearly not.
“It’ll be fine,” she reassures me. “You’re the most positive person I know, but when it comes to your family…”
“I’m a neurotic asshole,” I concede.
“Sometimes for good reason. But what’s the worst that could happen?” she asks, sounding kinda annoyed.
“I could lose my passport. Or my brother could get lost at the airport when—”
“That’s the plot to Home Alone, and it’s impossible to lose a twenty-two-year-old man.”
“We’re talking about Sam,” I remind her.
“Point taken,” she says. “Buy one of those child harnesses and attach it to him.”
I can’t help but laugh at the picture of my brother walking on a leash. He would put up a fight first and then think it’s funny and act like a dog.
Fuck, someone save me. I don’t think I’ll survive two weeks with my parents and Sam.
When I get home, my cat, Max, is waiting for me at the door
“Hey boy,” I greet him.
“Meow,” he answers, purring and rubbing his head against my leg.
“Did you miss me?” I ask as I pick him up.
“Meow!” he complains and wriggles out of my arms.
“I’ll do the same with you when you climb on my bed tonight,” I complain at him. “Or when you need food.”
I text my mom a quick goodnight since I forgot to finish our conversation earlier in the day.
Mom: What are you doing up so late?
“I’m almost twenty-seven,” I complain out loud.
Max follows me around as I change. When I climb into bed, I set my phone on do not disturb mode. But not before I receive a message from my older sister.
Charlie: Can you help me this weekend?
I groan. She either needs a ride somewhere or she wants to borrow my car.
“Buy a car, Charlie,” I mutter.
Eileen: With?
Charlie: Dad might finally agree to cosign the loan for a new car.
I stare at the phone unsure of how to answer her message. Option one, hurray, you’re finally buying a car. Option two, what the fuck do you need me for? Option three is, do you even have enough money to make monthly payments?
Charlie: Unless you want to sign for me. I wish you were a little more supportive.
Eileen: I can’t sign for you, Charlie.
Charlie: You can be a little selfish, but I forgive you.
I spend no less than two minutes screaming into my pillow. I leave Charlie and Mom unread as I fall into a fitful sleep. Yep, my life is just peachy.