BIRTHDAY PT 2.
982 Words
I was about to explode in panic the moment the realization hit me—these were his parents.
Not distant relatives. Not family friends. His mother and father. And Xavier hadn’t told me. Not even a warning. Not a single hint.
My chest tightened, breath shortening as my thoughts scattered in every direction at once. I felt exposed, unprepared, suddenly too aware of how I was standing, how I was dressed, how my voice might sound if I spoke again. I didn’t even know their first names, yet somehow they knew mine.
Before my mind could spiral further, she pulled me into a hug.
It was warm and firm, the kind of embrace that didn’t ask permission but offered comfort anyway. Her arms wrapped around me with a familiarity that startled me into stillness.
“Hello, Evelyn?” she said gently, her voice calm and kind.
Evelyn.
My full name sounded strange coming from her mouth. His parents knew my name, while I knew absolutely nothing about them. The imbalance made me feel foolish—like I’d walked into an exam without studying.
“Hello, Ma’am,” I replied softly, forcing my voice not to shake.
“Welcome. Feel at home.”
She guided us toward the living room, her hand resting lightly on my back as if she could sense how close I was to unraveling. The room itself was warm and inviting—soft couches, framed photographs lining the walls, a faint scent of polished wood and something floral lingering in the air. Everything about the space spoke of stability, of years filled with shared meals and conversations.
Everyone looked happy. Relaxed. Comfortable.
Everyone except me.
I sat down carefully, unsure of where to place my hands, my feet, my eyes. I hoped my confusion wasn’t obvious, though I suspected it was written all over my face. My leg began to shake uncontrollably under the table, nerves betraying me despite my efforts to stay calm.
Xavier noticed immediately.
He placed his hand gently on my knee, grounding me. The warmth of his touch brought me back into the room, back into my body. I smiled faintly and placed my hand over his, squeezing lightly.
“Evelyn,” he said calmly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “Meet my Mom and Dad. Mr. and Mrs. Ryan.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I managed, my voice polite but cautious. “This is really a surprise.”
They chuckled together, the sound light and easy.
“He can’t stop mentioning you,” Mrs. Ryan said, her tone warm and composed, smoother than any woman I’d ever heard speak. “We suggested you visit us one day. I’m glad you came.”
Before I could respond, Xavier cleared his throat.
“Actually,” he said, glancing at me, “it’s Eve’s birthday.”
The room froze for half a second.
So did I.
My birthday.
The word barely registered. I hadn’t celebrated it properly since my parents died. Somehow, over the years, it had become just another day—easy to forget, easier to ignore. Remembering it only brought memories I wasn’t ready to revisit.
Mrs. Ryan’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have baked her a cake.”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Xavier said quickly. “She didn’t know either.”
Her gaze softened as she looked at me. “I used to remember all the important days at my age,” she said gently. “I wonder how you forgot?”
I smiled, unsure how to explain grief without naming it.
“You used to?” Mr. Ryan teased her.
Xavier chuckled. “With my mom in the house, we don’t need a calendar.”
Laughter filled the room, easing the tension in my chest.
“Let me grab something,” Mrs. Ryan said, excusing herself.
“Miss Evelyn?” Mr. Ryan called.
“Yes, sir.”
“I hear you’re studying.”
“Yes, sir. Undergraduate at the University of Xenonia. Bachelor of Community and Development Studies.”
“What a great course,” he said with genuine interest. “What do you want to do in the future?”
I paused, surprised by how easily the answer came. “Paint. Or write.”
He laughed softly. “I’m impressed. When I was your age, I had no idea what I wanted to do. You must be really smart.”
Xavier looked at me proudly. I smirked shyly. “Thank you, sir.”
Mrs. Ryan returned carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle of wine. “I wish I’d known today was special,” she said apologetically. “I would have prepared something nicer.”
“It’s okay, Ma’am,” I replied honestly. “I forgot too.”
She raised her glass. “To Evelyn’s new age.”
“To Evelyn,” they echoed.
The glasses clinked gently.
Dinner followed—questions, laughter, stories flowing easily. When Mr. Ryan asked how Xavier and I met, we exchanged amused glances.
Xavier told the story—the blackout, the scream, the cowardly girl.
I smiled, though the memory stirred something deeper. Back then, I’d avoided going home because home no longer felt like one. Sitting alone in the library felt safer than facing an empty house filled with ghosts.
Their laughter softened the memory.
When dinner ended, we said our goodbyes and stepped back into the cool night air, fingers intertwined.
“Your family is lovely,” I said quietly.
“That’s why you felt comfortable,” he replied simply.
The drive back was quiet.
When we reached my house, he handed me an envelope.
Inside—a ticket.
Guatemala.
Three weeks away.
I hugged him tightly, tears burning behind my eyes.
Then my uncle coughed from the doorway.
Xavier left.
And the silence returned.
- Writer
