CHAPTER 9: First birthday.
1226 Words
Lisa didn’t remember her last birthday.
Probably because no one said anything.
Annabelle got cakes. Balloons. Lisa got “be grateful you have food.”
So when she woke up and the room was dark and quiet, she figured today would be the same.
She was 24 now.
Lisa sat up and felt for her cane. “Mara?”
No answer.
Weird. Mara was always up early.
Lisa got dressed slowly. Black pants. Soft sweater.
She walked to the kitchen. Still quiet.
“Hello?”
Footsteps.
“Good morning,” Damien said.
Lisa turned toward his voice. “Morning. Where’s Mara?”
“Day off,” Damien said. “I told her to take it.”
Lisa frowned. “Oh. Okay.”
Silence.
Then Damien: “Come with me.”
Lisa followed the sound of his shoes. Down the hall. To the elevator.
“Where are we going?” Lisa asked.
“You’ll see.”
The elevator went down. Then up. Then down again.
Lisa could hear music. Soft. Piano.
The doors opened to cold air.
“Outside?” Lisa asked, surprised.
“Roof,” Damien said. “Careful. 3 steps.”
He took her hand. Led her up.
Lisa heard birds. Wind. And... other voices?
She stopped. “Damien. What’s going on.”
“Happy Birthday, Lisa.”
Lisa froze. “What?”
“Happy 24th,” Damien said. Quiet. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say it.
Lisa’s chest got tight. “How did you—”
“Mara told me,” Damien said. “Last week. When she was helping you pick dresses.”
Lisa swallowed. “No one’s... said that to me before.”
“I know,” Damien said.
Lisa heard more people. Soft clapping.
“Who’s here?” Lisa whispered.
“Just a few,” Damien said. “Mara. Two of the security guys. And me.”
Lisa smiled, watery. “That’s... a lot of people for me.”
Damien led her forward. “Sit.”
There was a chair. A table. Lisa could smell cake. And flowers.
“Close your eyes,” Damien said.
Lisa laughed. “I... I can’t open them, Damien.”
He paused. Then he laughed too. Soft. “Right. Sorry.”
Lisa heard a lighter. Then candles.
“Make a wish,” Damien said.
Lisa did. She wished for one more year of this. Of not being alone.
“Blow,” Damien said.
Lisa blew. The room clapped again.
Someone cut cake. Lisa felt a plate in her hands.
“This is chocolate,” Lisa said. “My favorite.”
“Mara remembered,” Damien said. “From when you mentioned it.”
Lisa took a bite. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
“Thank you,” Lisa said. “For this.”
“You’re welcome,” Damien said.
They sat in silence for a while. Just eating. Listening to the city.
Then Damien cleared his throat. “I got you something.”
Lisa perked up. “You didn’t have to—”
“I wanted to,” Damien cut in.
He put something in her hands. Small. Square. Soft.
“What is it?” Lisa asked.
“Open it.”
Lisa felt the ribbon. Silk. She pulled it.
Inside was a box. And inside that...
A book.
Lisa ran her fingers over the cover. Braille.
“It’s...” Lisa breathed. “A book. In Braille.”
“Pride and Prejudice,” Damien said. “You said you loved it when you were a kid. Before... before the accident.”
Lisa’s fingers shook. “I haven’t had a book in 17 years.”
“I know,” Damien said. “So I had this one made. Special edition.”
Lisa held it to her chest. “Damien. This is—”
“Too much?”
“No,” Lisa said quickly. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Damien was quiet. Then: “There’s one more thing.”
Lisa tilted her head. “What?”
“Close your eyes again. Well. You know what I mean.”
Lisa smiled. “Okay.”
She heard him move. Heard him kneel.
“Lisa,” Damien said.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t do birthdays,” he said. “Not since Ella. But... I wanted to do this one. For you.”
Lisa’s throat hurt. “Why?”
“Because you deserve to be celebrated,” Damien said. “Even if it’s just by 4 people on a roof. Especially by 4 people on a roof.”
Lisa nodded, crying now. “Thank you.”
Damien’s hand found hers. He placed something cold on her wrist.
A bracelet. Thin. Delicate.
“What is it?” Lisa asked.
“A bell,” Damien said. “Tiny. So you can hear it when you move. So I’ll always know where you are.”
Lisa touched it. A tiny chime. “Damien...”
“In case you get lost in this stupid big penthouse,” he said quickly. Like he was embarrassed. “And in case... in case I need to find you.”
Lisa understood.
“Can I hug you?” Lisa whispered.
Damien went still. “What.”
“A hug,” Lisa said. “For my birthday.”
Another pause.
Then Damien stood and pulled her up. And hugged her.
Careful. Like she might break.
Lisa hugged him back. He was warm. And he smelled like rain and expensive soap.
“Happy Birthday, Lisa,” Damien murmured into her hair.
Lisa closed her eyes and leaned into it. “Best birthday ever.”
---
Later, they were still on the roof. The cake was gone.
“Can I ask you something?” Lisa said.
“Sure.”
“Do you want to hear Ella’s favorite song?”
Damien tensed. “You... know it?”
“Mara told me,” Lisa said. “She said Ella used to play it on the piano here.”
Damien didn’t answer.
Then Lisa heard him move. Heard the piano bench.
A few wrong notes. Then music.
Soft. Sad. Beautiful.
Lisa listened. Really listened.
When he stopped, the city was quiet.
“That was her song,” Damien said. Voice rough. “She played it every night.”
“It was beautiful,” Lisa said.
Damien sighed. “Thank you for asking.”
Lisa smiled. “Thank you for playing.”
---
That night, Lisa was in bed with her new book. Reading by touch.
A knock.
“Come in.”
Damien.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“No,” Lisa said. “I’m reading.”
Damien sat on the floor again. “How is it?”
“Good,” Lisa said. “I’m on chapter 2. Mr. Darcy is rude.”
Damien huffed a laugh. “He grows on you.”
Lisa set the book down. “Damien?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For today. For remembering.”
Damien was quiet. Then: “Happy Birthday, Lisa.”
“Happy Birthday to me,” Lisa said, smiling.
Damien stood to leave. At the door he stopped.
“Lisa.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you were born.”
He left before she could answer.
Lisa lay there, bracelet chiming softly when she moved.
24.
And for the first time, it felt like a number worth having.
- Writer
