The Fifth Wheel In My Own Relationship

An exquisite four-flavor mousse cake sat on the table at my 24th birthday dinner. My fiancé, Jimmy, deftly cut four slices, served one to each of our three friends, and kept one for himself. Then he pushed the empty cake board, smeared with a little jam, in front of me, the birthday girl. "The bakery said they couldn't make one with five flavors." Jimmy pulled out a napkin and handed it to me. "You're always trying to lose weight anyway. Just try a few scraps. Don't be such a baby." My best friend took a bite of strawberry mousse. "Exactly. We came to celebrate your birthday. It's the thought that counts." Our friend Derek laughed and agreed. "The birthday girl's the guest of honor. You ought to set an example and share." But I'd seen the personalized cake card at the bottom of the box. It clearly read, Celebrating 5 years of friendship for the Four Musketeers. At every gathering for the past 5 years, I'd been the fifth person, there to pay the bill, keep the conversation going, and clean up afterward. I stood, picked up the local delivery receipt, and tore it to pieces in front of them. Then I lifted the bowl of scalding tomato soup off the table and poured every last drop over the cake. Happiness had always been hard to find and harder to hold on to. "Fiona, are you done?" Jimmy didn't raise his voice. He even let out a weary sigh, as though he had no idea what to do with me. He took a wet wipe from the table and wiped the soup off his cuff. He didn't fly into a rage or overturn the table. He simply watched me calmly, the way someone might watch a child throwing a tantrum. "It's the fifth anniversary of the day the four of us met. We just wanted to enjoy dinner together, and you had to ruin it, didn't you?" Monica Hayes let out a startled cry and hurried to dab the red stains on her white dress with a napkin. "Jimmy, don't blame Fi." Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and her voice trembled with hurt. "I must have said something wrong and upset her." "I've spoiled her. Her temper just keeps getting worse." Jimmy tossed the dirty wipe onto the table, frowning slightly. Derek scoffed and pushed his plate away. "Fiona, you're completely overreacting. Jimmy puts up with so much from you. We're just celebrating an anniversary. Did you really have to lose it like that?" Our other friend, Vincent Reed, joined in, his voice thick with impatience. "Exactly. So the cake didn't get divided up properly. We'll buy you one all to yourself next time. Happy?" I stood there, looking at the four of them united against me. It had been like this every time for 5 years. Whenever Monica and I had a disagreement, Jimmy was always the first to defend her. He was forever saying that Monica was an orphan and very sensitive, and that we had to look out for her as her friends. But he'd forgotten that it was also my 24th birthday. I looked at the torn receipt on the table. I didn't argue, or try to defend myself through tears the way I used to. I simply turned and walked to the serving station in our private dining room. "Excuse me. Could I have the check?" My voice was quiet, and so calm that it surprised even me. The server brought the bill over, glanced at the ruined table, then looked at me. "That comes to 3,860 dollars, ma'am." I took out my phone, scanned the code, and paid. The beep confirming the payment sounded painfully loud in the quiet room. Jimmy came over and caught my wrist. "What are you sulking about now?" His voice softened into that familiar, condescending tenderness. "I've already booked us flights to Bellhaven tomorrow. We'll make up for your birthday, all right?" He always did this. First he hurt me, then he offered some little favor as though it made everything better. He was certain that the moment he agreed to spend time with me, I'd come running like a dog wagging its tail. "No, thanks." I gently pulled free of his hand. Jimmy froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to refuse. "Fiona, don't push your luck." His voice dropped, carrying a warning. "You got Monica's dress filthy, and she hasn't even complained. How much longer are you going to keep this up?" I turned to look at Monica, all wounded innocence. Then I looked back at Jimmy, whose expression made it clear that he thought I was being unreasonable. "I'm not making a scene." I put my phone in my bag and fastened the buttons on my coat one by one. "Dinner's on me. Happy fifth anniversary." With that, I opened the door and walked out without looking back. Cold air swept through the hallway, clearing much of the fog from my mind. Jimmy's irritated voice followed me. "Let her go. Where does she think she's going to go? She'll come crawling back to apologize within 3 hours." Derek was laughing. Monica was murmuring something soothing. I kept walking and left the restaurant. It was completely dark outside. Neon lights flickered along the street, their glow cold and unwelcoming. I stood at the curb and hailed a taxi. "Marlowe Road, please." Our home was on Marlowe Road, the place where Jimmy and I were supposed to begin married life next month. As the city lights slipped past the window, my phone lit up with a message from Jimmy. Jimmy: You have 30 minutes to calm down. Get a cab home yourself. I'm taking Monica home tonight. You scared her. I stared at the message for a long time without replying. Instead, I opened the notification settings for our chat and muted his messages. Then I leaned against the window and looked at my reflection in the glass. There were no tears, none of the agony I'd expected. 'After enough disappointment, it turns out you really can go numb. Nothing stirs in me anymore.'