When I woke up the next morning, the day of my birthday, I was struck with all this hope that things would be different today. Grant would show up at my apartment and wish me a happy birthday. We’d fall into bed together, the memories of our argument drifting from our minds with the feel of our bodies pressed together. I’d cry out his name, feel release wash over me, and know I hadn’t made a horrible mistake in walking out of the theater and refusing to return his calls the next day.
But there was no Grant waiting for me when I woke up, not even a call. There was just my unfinished O-chem assignment on the kitchen table and a package from the girls, wrapped in little kids birthday paper.
My hope winked out like a flame deprived of oxygen.
“Happy birthday!” Cheyenne cried.
She walked into the dining room carrying a stack of pancakes with a candle lit in the middle. Shelby and Gabi followed behind her. They all started up with a chorus of, “Happy Birthday,” and I just stoically stared at them. I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate.
Cheyenne unceremoniously plopped the plate down in front of me.
“I know it’s not a cake, but we know you love blueberry pancakes!” Gabi said.
“It’s great. Thanks, guys,” I responded automatically.
“Make a wish!” Shelby crooned.
I wasn’t much in a wishing mood. The other wishes I had made weren’t coming true, but I couldn’t deny my friends this after they had gone through all the trouble.
I leaned forward and closed my eyes. I wish for everything with Grant to be all right.
It felt dumb wishing for something I could fix by picking up the phone and giving into my stubbornness. But I didn’t feel in the wrong here. So, I blew out the candle and hoped wishes came true.
The girls had splurged on a new outfit for me. It was nothing like anything I owned, and I assumed it was Cheyenne’s influence, but they all looked so happy I couldn’t even muster up the sarcasm to ask.
“Where am I going to wear this?” I asked, holding up the sparkly sequined backless dress that secured around my neck. They’d paired it with shiny gold hoop earrings, heeled booties, and a matching hair clip.
“Tonight of course!” Cheyenne said. “We’re taking you out for a drink!”
“Oh no,” I said. I pushed the dress back into the box and then held my hands up. “I don’t want my birthday to be a big deal. I have to finish my homework and go to class, and then I’d rather stay in, eat ice cream, and watch Netflix.”
“No way!” Shelby cried.
“Not in the plan,” Gabi agreed.
“Please, please, please, guys! I don’t want to do this. Maybe this weekend?”
“Don’t think for a second we believe you when you say this weekend. We’ve lived with you for over a year,” Cheyenne said, sinking into her hip and giving me a dirty look. “If we don’t get you out tonight, you’ll never go out with us.”
I groaned. Why did my birthday have to fall on this week? All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about what had happened with Grant.
“You better be ready to go by seven tonight, or I’m going to get a free-for-all with your hair and makeup.”
Cheyenne was teasing, but I wouldn’t put it past her to doll me up to an unrecognizable state. The girl could work makeup like no one else I’d ever known. I knew enough to brush a mascara wand over my lashes, dab some blush on my cheeks, and apply a coat of lip gloss. The rest I tended to ignore.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Besides, I could probably use a drink.”
Somehow, Cheyenne got her claws into me anyway. She added curls into my typically stick straight hair and made my dark blue eyes smoky. I suddenly had high cheekbones and rosy cheeks. My lips were full and red. I hardly recognized myself.
I slipped into the black sequined dress and booties, slid the hoop earrings into my ears, and adjusted the diamond ring on my right hand that my father had given me this weekend. Seeing my reflection in the mirror made me anxious.
This was not the Aribel Graham who had dated Benjamin Curtis and cared more about her calculus homework than the breakup.
I almost felt…powerful.
It was a feeling I’d never associated with getting dressed up like this. I knew I was powerful because I was smart and determined to succeed. I knew I was powerful because I wouldn’t let other people stand in my way or make me feel like less for knowing who I am. Now, for the first time, I felt powerful as a woman.
If only Grant could see me like this…
My heart sank.
No Grant tonight though.
I rolled my shoulders back and stood up straight. If he didn’t call me before midnight, then I’d have to take this into my own hands. I would not be the girl who sulked over a boy on her birthday.
Determined and with a plan of action, I left the house with my girlfriends.
Cheyenne pulled up to the League, and I nearly groaned.
“Isn’t there anywhere else in town we can go to get a drink?”
“Yes. But why would we want to?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I haven’t heard from Grant in four days, and I don’t want to be reminded of him.”
The silence constricted the air in the car. Cheyenne exchanged a look with the girls in the backseat.
Shelby finally responded, “It’s going to be okay. Try not to think about Grant tonight.”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?”
“Nope,” Cheyenne said, popping the door to her car.
I counted to five before following her out of the car. I walked precariously on my high heels toward the club. A sense of foreboding washed over me. I didn’t want to be here. Tension pricked at my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” I said, stopping before the entrance. “I don’t feel good. I want to go home.”
Cheyenne gave me an exasperated look. “You cannot go home, looking like that.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
“What she means”—Shelby wrapped her arm around mine—“is that you cannot get down on yourself so hard, all because of one boy.”
“Guys are all idiots,” Gabi agreed. “Grant is super hot, but he’s still just a boy.”
“Going home now would be giving in,” Shelby said.
“Yeah. You’re better than this,” Cheyenne said.
I closed my eyes in frustration. They were right. I was better than this. I didn’t need a guy to make it okay for me to go out like this.