Page 46 of The Edge of Summer
She was strangely insistent that we make it to brunch today. I chalked it up to her general mission to make us feel welcome here, but evidently that wasn’t the whole story.
“Sit, sit,” Maggie says, ushering me, Sophia and Parker to the table.
Still too stunned to object, I take my usual seat. Right beside Luke. He catches my bewildered gaze and he smiles.Smiles—something that goes against everything he stands for when it comes to me.
“Happy birthday, Shutterbug,” he murmurs.
“Thanks,” I whisper. Then I turn my eyes away from him and his stupidly pretty smile. They land on Clara. “How did you know?”
She grins sheepishly. “Your rental application. I couldn’t let the day pass without acknowledging it.”
I shake my head. “This is a lot more than just acknowledging it, Clara. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
I wish you didn’t do this.
I feel instantly guilty as soon as the thought crosses my mind, but I can’t help it. This day was already hard enough,and now I have to grin and bear it in front of the nicest family I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.
From across the table, Gabe laughs. “Try telling Mom that. Celebrations are compulsory in this house.”
A rush of emotions hits me all at once.
I didn’t always have a complicated relationship with my birthday. When I was a kid—when it was just my parents and me—we used to spend the whole day together. As a surprise gift shortly after their high school graduation, they weren’t prepared for me. But that didn't stop them from doing their best to give me everything I wanted. Our life wasn’t easy, but it wasgood.
Things shifted when Dad decided he wanted to get into politics. Generally speaking, he was young, but he had a way with words that gave him carte blanche to climb the ranks. After that, I was often paraded around as proof of his success. If he could make it out the other side of young parenthood alright, surely he could run a province. As if those things are actually comparable. But when it comes to optics, it doesn’t really matter, does it?
I think what hurts the most isn’t that things changed. Things changed, and I got left behind. When asked to subscribe to a new cookie cutter life, I didn’t buy in, and I watched my simple life wither away. Birthdays were no longer dedicated days but shuffled obligations.
I swallow thickly, stuffing my feelingsdown, down down. No one needs to be witness to those. They’re awfully ugly things, twisting my insides until I hardly recognize myself.
“That’s really sweet of you guys to include me.”
Clara’s expression softens. “Of course we would include you.”
You know the feeling you get when you’re in a moment that you’re sure you’ll want to remember forever? That is what I feel right now. I feel special and cared for, andfuck, it hurts.
“Now I wasn’t sure what your favourite flavour was, so I took a stab in the dark and went with chocolate. Everyone loves chocolate,” Maggie says.
“You got me a cake?” My voice sounds scratchy even to my own ears, like my words are passing over sandpaper.
“I helped Grammy make it!” Abbie interjects.
“I taste tested the frosting,” John adds helpfully.
Iknowthat I’m laughing, but I feel like I’m outside my body, experiencing everything through a third-person point of view.
A round cake, iced to perfection, is placed in front of me. Maggie strikes a match and sets the candle—a golden26—ablaze. I watch the flame dance. Then Abbie is standing on a chair, belting the birthday song from the top of her little lungs. This whole family is looking at me expectantly. They’re looking at me, and it all feels just a little too much.
My lungs expand with the breath that I grapple for. Then I meet Parker’s gaze from across the table. His expression is pained, and I hate that this is affecting him, too. I try to wrestle with my emotions, forcing them into submission. They can’t explode all over this well-meaning family.
“Help me blow the candle out?” I ask Sophia.
She nods readily and then climbs onto my lap. Together we extinguish the flame. Maggie whisks the cake away toslice it into pieces, conversations converge all around me, and I feel like the room is folding in on itself.
I hastily set Sophia back on her chair before I quietly excuse myself. The front door slams behind me as I rush outside, the house all at once comforting yet stifling. I make it just off the front steps before I bend in half, hands planted on my knees. I take what feels like my first true breath since walking inside the house.
The screen door swings open behind me. I expect to see Clara, or maybe even Maggie, but when I turn around, it’s a different Bowman standing on the porch. Luke doesn’t say anything. He just grips me with that penetrating stare.
For a moment, I can’t bring myself to look away. Even though I visibly have tears in my eyes—even though I hate people seeing me this way—I hold on to his gaze. But soon the embarrassment kicks in and I spin away, severing that connection between us.
