CHAPTER 2: THE ROUTINE. EPISODE 1: BIRTHDAY APART
686 Words
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Day 14. Saturday.
It was my birthday.
I woke up to 27 messages. Sister, cousins, friends, my mom.
And one at the top:
*Tariq: 12:00am - Happy birthday to my favorite person. Even from Toronto.*
He’d sent it right when my day started. 7 hours before his.
The house felt weird. Birthdays with Tariq meant breakfast in bed and him singing off-key.
Today it was just me, tea, and his hoodie.
At 10am he called.
"Happy birthday!" he yelled before I even said hi. He had a paper crown on.
"Did you make that yourself?" I laughed.
"Yes. And I’m wearing it all day. Out of respect."
He’d ordered me flowers. They came at 11am with a note:
_For the girl who makes 6 months feel shorter. Love, T._
"I cried," I admitted on call.
"Good tears?"
"Good tears."
We spent the day together... apart.
I went to the market and sent him pics of everything.
"Get the mangoes!" he said. "It’s your birthday, spoil yourself."
He sent me pics of his lunch and made me rate it.
"3/10. You’re starving on your birthday."
"I know. I miss your cooking."
At 8pm he said, "Okay. Get ready. Virtual date."
"Where are we going?"
"Anywhere you want."
So we "went" to our restaurant. The one with the bad chairs and good chips.
I ordered takeout. He ordered the same thing from a place near him.
We lit candles. His real ones. Mine from the blackout.
"To 24," he said, raising his juice.
"To 24," I said. "And to you."
We talked for 3 hours. About nothing and everything.
About how last year on my birthday he stole the last piece of cake.
About how next year he better not.
About how weird it is to blow out candles alone but with someone watching.
At 11pm he went quiet.
"What?" I asked.
"I got you something else," he said. "Check your email."
I opened my laptop.
There was a video.
It was him. In the apartment.
"Hey birthday girl," he said on the video. "So I can’t be there. But I asked people to help."
Then it cut to my sister. "Happy birthday Morie! Tariq made me do this."
Then my best friend. "He bribed me with Tim Hortons coffee."
Then his mom. "My son talks about you every day. Happy birthday, dear."
Then Bwino. Just Bwino barking at the camera while someone said "say happy birthday!"
I was sobbing by the end.
"How did you..."
"I asked everyone 2 weeks ago," he said, shy. "Told them it was important."
"You’re an i***t," I said.
"The best kind," he said.
We stayed on call until 12:30am my time. 5:30pm his time.
"I hate that I’m not there to hug you," he said.
"I hate that too," I said. "But this was... this was good."
"Best birthday ever?"
"Second best. First best was with you."
"I’ll take second."
When we hung up I felt full. Tired but full.
In my notebook:
_Day 14: 24. Birthday apart. He made me feel less alone than I’ve ever felt. 168 days to go._
*Sunday. Day 15.*
He texted at 7am:
*Tariq: How’s the birthday girl today?*
*Me: Still 24. Still missing you.*
*Tariq: Fair. Want to do it again today?*
So we did. Lazy Sunday. Movie. Nap. Him falling asleep on call and me watching him.
At 9pm he said, "Can I tell you something?"
"What?"
"I was dreading your birthday. Thought it would be the saddest day."
"And?"
"And it was one of the best. Because it was ours."
"Yeah," I said. "Ours."
Day 14 taught us:
Milestones apart hurt.
But they don’t have to be empty.
You can fill them with effort. With video messages. With paper crowns and takeout.
Distance can’t stop a birthday.
It just makes you get creative.
In my notebook:
_Day 15: Routine is starting. 9pm calls. Sunday movies. Missing him in normal ways now. 167 days to go._
At 10:45pm:
*Tariq: Sleep well, birthday girl.*
*Me: Sleep well, party planner.*
*Tariq: Always for you.*
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Chapter 2, Episode 9 done đź’›
to be continued...*
- Writer
