Page 9 of Claimed by the Fallen
Mom nods, and her cheek stops twitching. “Well, that’s good tohear.”
“It sure is,” my dad states. He lifts his beer in the air. “Now, let’s get back to celebrating what we’re all here for. Ronnie, sweetheart, I love you. I know you might be eighteen, but you’ll always be my little girl. HappyBirthday.”
My mom and friends repeat the celebratorywords.
I’m both touched and embarrassed by my dad’s short, emotional speech. “Thanks, Dad.” I pick up my tea and tap my glass against his. Mom lifts her water and joinsin.
“To Ronnie,” Annie nearly shouts, “the best friend anyone couldhave.”
“Here, here.” Joey says. He and Annie bang their glasses against mine, causing some of the liquid to slosh over the sides. I laugh, shaking my head, and drying off my hand with the linen napkin on thetable.
“Thanks, you guys.” I look around the table with a smile, happy to be surrounded by my four favorite people. “I’m glad you’re allhere.”
“We wouldn’t miss it.” Joey bumps my shoulder with his. I grin back athim.
A server arrives balancing a large tray full of food. He unfolds a metal stand and lowers the tray. Our food is delivered. We begin to eat while speaking with one another in-betweenbites.
As I sit there, listening to my parents and friends joke about silly antics I pulled during my childhood, I can’t help but take a moment to realize how lucky I am. Not everyone is blessed with such a support system. Especially, not adoptedkids.
Other than knowing my birth parents gave me up for adoption the day after I was born, they are a mystery. Most of the time, it is easy to forget I was adopted. Mom and Dad took me in when I was only two weeks old, and I’ve never experienced life without people who love me. At least, not that I canremember.
But at times like this, when I am surrounded by such love and affection, I know my situation is not something I should take forgranted.
I’m one of the lucky ones, and I remind myself to never forgetit.
As I eat, I realize the pain in my chest has dulled to a steady throb. It’s feels like a beacon, calling out to some lost soul on the open ocean. I ignore the unusual thought and go back to enjoying my birthday dinner with my friends and family, unaware of how accurate my description actuallyis.
Four
The concert venueis crowded and hot. The sun set over an hour ago, but the body heat around me refuses to let the temperature drop to a bearable level. I rub my fingers against the condensation on my glass and dab the moisture on the back of my neck. I’d given up having my hair half-down within the first fifteen minutes of being here. Thank god I always wear an extra hairband on my wrist. My thick, black hair would feel suffocating in thisenvironment.
I stand to the left of the bar centered in the middle of the space, waiting for Annie to stop flirting with the guy sitting on a barstool. I lean away from a stumbling couple and barely avoid being spilledon.
I sigh and sip my drink. Sometimes, it isn’t fun having such a pretty best friend. We rarely go anywhere where Annie doesn’t attract at least one guy’s attention. I wish Joey was here, but he is off somewhere talking to one of his soccer teammates. He ran into the guy almost as soon as we entered. After quickly saying he’d be back in a minute, Joey disappeared into thecrowd.
I’m on my own for the timebeing.
I scan my surroundings to pass the time. A DJ is playing popular radio songs on the stage while a crew walks behind him, plugging in amplifiers and arranging instruments. It’s a quarter to nine and almost time for the band to come on. I hope the crowd around me will move toward the stage once Young and Heart begins to play. I’ll be more than happy to stand in the back and enjoy the music without their sweaty bodies bumping againstme.
Without warning, a fresh pain twists within mychest.
I hiss and place my hand against my sternum, confused as to what is causing the uncomfortable feeling. It feels like the pain that happened at dinner, only less pronounced. I consider the pain level might be the same and I am just getting used toit.
I’m pondering the odds of Annie allowing me to bail on the concert when I look up. On their own accord, my eyes veer to the staircase on the right side of the stage, leading to the second-floorbalcony.
There, leaning against the rusty railing, is a blondguy.
Not your typical blond, I tell myself. His hair is platinum blond. I think it might be fake, but something tells me the rare color is natural. My lips part. I’m stunned by the sight ofhim.
The stranger wears dark blue jeans and a tight, white V-neck. He smokes a cigarette. Though I find the habit disgusting, I can’t deny it makes him look good. It’s obvious the guy is aiming for a bad-boy look. And he’s killingit.
The stinging pain fades to the background as I keep staring, unable, or unwilling, to look away. He’s watching the DJ on the stage with a bored expression. I feel like he reminds me of someone, but I can’t place who. Before I can think about it anymore, Annie pops up besideme.
“Sorry about that, Ronnie,” she rushes tosay.
Begrudgingly, I tear my eyes from the enthralling stranger and look at my friend. “Are you really sorry?” I ask with raisedeyebrows.
She blushes. “Hey, can you blame me? He’s super cute.” She glances over her shoulder. I follow her gaze and see the guy at the bar looking back atus.
