Happy Birthday: A Short Story

 

Happy Birthday

A short story by The Reformist Princess 

 

“Happy Birthday to you…”. The song faded out into a roar of merry yells, hoots and chuckles. She waved off the noise with a casual smile but knew that the burning sensation on her cheeks would give away the embarrassment she really felt. As the cheers died down and everyone went back to their chatting, dancing and drinking, she took a seat in the far corner of the tavern. She deflected a few well-meaning attempts from her friends at conversation and found after a few moments, she became hidden in a quiet space, amongst the noise and ambient lighting. It was the moment she’d been waiting for all day. A moment to spend with herself, doing what she felt birthdays were really for. Laying out her life in front of her, like an animated timeline unfolding in her imagination. She thought of all the pieces that had come together to make her life what it had become. All at once, her heart swelled with a contradiction of love, laughter, joy, pain, fear, confusion and boredom. And the feeling of all these emotions together was oddly satisfying. Like how all the glitter in the snow globe, mixes together in random motion in a way that is unexpectedly beautiful. 

As her eyes scanned across the room, she thought of her friends and was grateful for their presence in her life. But more than those who were there, she thought of those who were not. And an unwanted feeling crept within. A feeling that unlike sadness, or pain and confusion, who all seemed essential to a robust and enlivened heart had a lifeless bite. Regret. She had told herself that people come and go, that family disagrees and that this was just the way of things. The most powerful lies are the ones you tell yourself but even she knew this one wasn’t true. She shook her head as if to manually shake away the unpleasantness. 

She thought instead about how different her life had been to what she had expected. When her life was just starting out, she’d given up a lot to follow a dream. And it was a good dream. And that dream sat across the room from her and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she saw his face light up with laughter as he chatted with a friend. A deep warmth and affection stirred and she was reminded of the giddiness and exhilaration of love. But like all dreams. This dream had come at a cost. As time passed, and birthdays came and went, she started to wonder what that cost had been. It had been opportunities, careers and expectations, this was true. They had told her she was naïve and unwise when she had willingly thrown them away, but they were wrong. After all these years, she’d never once regretted losing those things. She hadn’t found them to matter like people said they would. 

But there was one other thing she’d thrown away while she was all caught up in following this dream and it was something she’d never meant to lose. The strangest thing was, she wasn’t really sure what it was. But she felt its absence in moments like this. She knew it was there, somewhere, and that it was important. She could hear it like a muffled voice in the distance or a whisper on the wind that’s gone just before you can understand what it said. She could see it, like something that sat in her peripheral vision. That she found herself turning her head to find, but unsure where to look. How could you long for something you have lost, when you don’t even know what it is? You can. She did. Always. Always in quiet moments like this one. The pangs came on rainy days or moments of aloneness when the world finally stopped shouting at her or demanding her attention. But most of all, they came on birthdays. On the annual reminder that her time was passing by like a stranger in the night. The reminder that there is less and less time to find what is lost. 

“Another round?” her exuberant workmate bellowed from across the room. It felt unfair to be so mellow on a special occasion. All her friends had come to celebrate after all!

“Sure,” she replied. And as she got up from her chair, and again became surrounded by the noise and the conversation. The longing faded. 

Till next birthday, she thought.