Chapter 12 Mimosas and Murals
~Felicity~ I woke up slowly, sunlight warming my skin—I’d left the curtains open.
I wish I could say that I felt fresh as a daisy.
I did not. I was definitely hungover. Burying my head in the pillow I found myself wishing I could be forty with my twenty-year-old capability to bounce back from a night of drinking.
Groaning, I pulled myself out of bed and slunk to the bathroom.
Leaving the door open, I thought, No lights—definitely not turning the lights on in here.
Climbing into the shower, I just let the hot water wash away the alcohol I knew was seeping through my pores.
The massage on my scalp was surprisingly healing.
I think I need an infusion of caffeine …
and water. I should probably drink water, not just stand in it.
I went through the motions of getting ready.
Deciding though that I would get breakfast out, I skipped room service and held off on taking something to help with my headache.
I did, however, knock back one of the giant bottles of water they provide in the room.
Just before leaving, I checked my phone and found messages from Caden.
Caden: I know you said no texting.
Caden: But I didn’t want to let today pass without saying Happy Birthday
Caden: I realize everything I’ve done, recently and in the last couple years, hasn’t told you this, but I love you.
You are everything to me. I’ve done nothing to make you believe that.
I wish I could turn back time, but I can’t.
So I will show you that change is essential to me because YOU are essential to me.
Caden: Enjoy your birthday. Call me if you want to talk. But I couldn’t let you think that you weren’t on my mind on this very special day. I love you.
I looked at the messages, reading them over again. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second. A thank you? A heart? Something easy and kind? But no. Not today. Today wasn’t about us. So I left him on read and exited my hotel room.
Ten minutes later I slid onto a pastel barstool in a tiny café tucked beside the hotel.
My fingertips traced the cool blue and white tiles of the counter.
The barista pulled an espresso shot, and the aroma hit me like a physical force, popping my drooping eyelids open.
When the server set down my Nutella French toast, I closed my eyes at the first bite—warm chocolate spreading across my tongue, the bread soft and gooey beneath my fork.
I caught the server's eye, pointed to a woman three stools down nursing something orange in a glass the size of her head.
"That. And coffee. Lots. Please." By my third sip of my mimosa and my second cup of coffee, my headache receded, and I could finally unclench my jaw. I felt human again..
Human—and obligation-free. No reminders popping up on my phone, calls to answer, no colleagues pinging me about yet another crisis. It was my birthday, damn it, and I had officially reclaimed it.
Phone in hand, I opened Google Maps and typed Things to do in Miami. For the first time in what had felt like forever, I could pick anything without factoring in someone else’s schedule—or their opinion. The freedom tasted better than the French toast.
I settled on three things: Wynwood Walls, Pérez Art Museum Miami, and a sunset cruise. Zero sand, zero tequila shooters (probably), maximum touristy delight. A perfect farewell tour.
By late morning the Uber dropped me onto NW 2nd Avenue where color bled across every surface. Murals stretched to the sky: a neon jaguar stalking a queen; block letters screaming CREATE MORE, CONSUME LESS. I paid the entry fee, slipped through the gate, and let the fun begin.
Our assigned guide mentioned that every wall there was repainted—nothing was permanent.
I stopped at a dripping teal heart half-buried under fresh pink strokes.
The piece was titled Love in Layers. It was beautiful and messy and profoundly unfinished.
I snapped a photo, tempted to send it to Caden with a snarky work-in-progress.
I didn’t. Instead, I noted in my phone—Life can be repainted.
Before I left, I bought a postcard of that mural. A keepsake for Future Me, because Future Me could always use the reminder.
A quick ride-share later, I stood beneath the Pérez Art Museum Miami hanging gardens.
Biscayne Bay glimmered like liquid glass beyond the terrace.
Inside, the exhibit Between Memory and Migration pulled me room to room—in the exhibit, there were textiles woven with family photos, a film loop of waves projected on suitcases.
One installation was a cube of mirrored beads suspended from the ceiling.
I stepped inside; infinite versions of me shimmered back: younger, older, braver, calmer.
I touched a bead, whispered, See you in ten years, and laughed when a nearby guide nodded like this was perfectly normal behavior.
I left the museum and decided to grab lunch.
A fifteen-minute walk away was an area of food trucks where I found one that served the best arepas in Miami!
So of course I had to try one. I grabbed a picnic table, enjoyed the sunlight and the hum of conversation around me.
The pulled pork arepa was incredible—the Fanta refreshing and ice cold.
Stuffed to the gills, I let myself relax for a bit before I headed off to do a little shopping and walk off the calories I had just taken in.
I found myself at the Bayside Marketplace—an open-air shopping adventure.
Listening to the steel drums and feeling the ocean breeze, my feet carried me from one shop to the next—my arms heavier with each door I opened.
I bought a breezy teal dress that made my new tan pop and flowed around my legs, landing at my knees.
I also found a fabulous new pair of silver sandals that shone in the sunlight.
Making my way back to the hotel, I dropped off all my new purchases—which included a duffle bag so I could get all my retail therapy results home tomorrow. I quickly touched up my hair and makeup, dressed in my new duds, and headed back out the door. I had a sunset cruise to get to.
I arrived just in time for the 7 PM cruise.
I boarded the double-decker boat with a coconut water in hand and claimed a rail seat.
Families were posing, influencers angling their phones for golden-hour selfies, and children were running around excited for the sunset tour.
The skyline ignited in pink and tangerine.
Halfway through, the captain cut the engine for photos.
Phones rose up; I closed my eyes and breathed—four counts in, six out—the way I had learned in my yoga classes.
Warm wind, salt on my lips, a city buzzing behind me yet somehow far away.
For the first time in a long time, the quiet inside my head was louder than the world outside.
This was the life. This birthday had been unexpected but, in truth, it might have been the best birthday I had ever had.
Closing out the night, I sat on my balcony back at the hotel.
Sandals were askew off to the side, a final glass of wine in hand from room service, I again breathed in and out.
I snapped a selfie with my phone so I could seal this memory forever.
Changing my phone screen to the new picture, I looked at myself—really looked.
And I saw a woman who looked younger than she had when she arrived in Miami just a couple days ago.
She was kissed by the sun, cheeks blushing, eyes alight with joy and calm.
I saw a woman finally at peace with herself—ready to go home and have the conversation with Caden that needed to happen.
Before going to sleep for the night, I set the postcard I had purchased earlier against the lamp.
Stamped and ready to be mailed, I didn’t want to forget to send it out in the morning.
It would reach me in a couple days, but having the postmark from Miami felt like something special and different for this birthday.
With my alarm set for morning, I climbed into bed and exhaled a sigh of contentment. I drifted off to sleep with the realization that, whatever tomorrow brought, I would face it head-on—no fear and no anxiety could hold me back.