The Space in Between (21 page)

Ice cream.

I mean whoever thought up the idea of ice cream cake, man, I’d like to give them the biggest hug. That cake was awesome.

When she started getting sick, and especially toward the end where she didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, much less bake even the smallest of cakes, having parties, friends over or even a few balloons was rare. It was around then that I gave up on birthday’s altogether.

If my mom couldn’t be a part of it and my dad was so caught up in her it was a miracle he even remembered the day, then what the hell was the point?

That’s why I didn’t bother telling Emery that it was coming up. Why I blew her off and changed the subject when she asked me about it. If I didn’t care about the day anymore, why should she?

What I’m seeing now, the amount of time that must have gone into putting it all together, along with the soft touches that only someone like Emery could make happen, it’s almost enough to restore my faith in the day.

Like, maybe, just maybe, my birthday isn’t just another day after all.

It might even be the most important day to someone other than me.

“So what do you think? Too much?”

Hooked on what looks like a clothes line, running from one end of the house to the other, is a banner. A colorful one with shiny blown up bubble letters reading Happy Birthday, along with a random assortment of balloons tied to the trees bordering all the way around her yard with pure white Christmas lights lighting up the ones directly in the corners.

It’s crazy, the amount of work done in just the few hours we’ve been apart, but what stands out most isn’t any of what I caught sight of the second she asked me to step outside with her. It’s what’s laying out directly in the middle of the yard that does that.

A large blanket placed flat with four rocks keeping it grounded in each corner and in the middle is a picnic basket, two lone plates lying flat on opposite sides, laying hint to what she has planned for the night.

Her surprise is a birthday dinner.

To be honest, I was hoping that by not mentioning my birthday she would have just let it go, but standing here now, I’m glad she didn’t.

It’s perfect.

She’s perfect.

“No…umm…it’s amazing.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you know me too well?”

She can’t believe what I’m saying because I don’t believe in it. I’m so blown away that even calling this amazing doesn’t seem right. It’s a whole lot more than amazing. She has no idea what she’s done here, and I’m starting to think with the way I stutter and stammer whenever she’s around that I’m too damn stupid to explain it to her.

There’s also a part of me that thinks my mom is here right now. That’s how huge this is.

I can feel her.

“I just wasn’t expecting this, Ems. I’m blown away.”

“Well, I would have given you a heads up or at least done something even bigger and better if you’d have told me that your birthday was coming up. But because someone had to keep his normally big mouth shut, this was all I could come up with.”

“How’d you know this is what I wanted?” I ask, changing the subject, but wanting to know just how it is she could have nailed my last memorable birthday so easily.
Had she called my dad and he told her?
My old friends?

“I didn’t. At least not until now. I just wanted to do something a little more special than watching movies.”

“I love…it.” I choke up, swallowing down the urge to change up the last word. Something tells me that even though this would be the perfect time to say it, she’s not there yet. The last thing I want to do is rush it.

“I’m glad.” She smiles. “But if we don’t sit down and eat, the foods gonna be cold.”

“Lead the way.”

Following behind her as she practically skips all the way over to where the picnic basket is waiting for us, she sits and leans over, reaching inside and moving her hand around as she searches, finally bringing it back out when she’s gotten what she’s after.

A bottle of wine.

“It’s totally non-alcoholic stuff, but I figure we could pretend it’s real and we’re allowed to drink it.”

“In a hurry to reach drinking age?”

“Nope. Just imagining what life is going to be like ten years from now on this exact day.”

There it is again. The urge I have to pull her into my arms and kiss the breath from her body before declaring my love.

Ten years from now, us together and celebrating my birthday with a real bottle of wine over a picnic dinner.

Where the hell do I sign up?

Twisting the cap off after she hands it to me, I lean over and pour the liquid into the two cups she’s now holding in her hands, taking one and resting in between my legs before screwing the cap back on and placing the bottle back into the basket.

Bringing the cup to my lips, I take a nice long swallow as she places hers down and lifts a plate out of the basket and hands it over, making me question what the plates already laid out are for if these are our actual food.

“Dinner is served.”

Pulling the plastic away to unveil the dish underneath, I’m not at all surprised to see my favorite food on the plate. With her uncanny ability to put together a recreation of the best birthday in existence, it’s only natural she’d nail the food too.

“Oh God! There’s meatballs and everything.”

Grabbing a fork from the basket, I dive in, not even waiting for her to bring out her own plate to join me. There’s no way with as amazing as this looks, along with the mouthwatering way it smells that I’m waiting to try it.

It also doesn’t help that after practice, I was starving. It only makes the need to devour the plate even more prominent.

Laughing as she looks from me to the plate that I’m now inhaling the fifth bite of, she slips the plastic off hers and begins eating. Stopping after she’s chewed and swallowed her second bite to laugh again.

“You’re supposed to chew your food before you eat it.”

“Can’t—help—it.” I respond between chews. “It’s too good.”

She smiles at the compliment before turning her attention back to her food, but before her cheeks completely leave my view, I see them starting to tinge just the slightest shade of pink.

I’ve definitely gotta remember to compliment her more often. It’s cute seeing the way she responds.

“So, if this is what you’ve got planned for dinner, what’s for dessert?”

Motioning back toward the picnic table off to the side, I catch sight of rectangular shaped cake, complete with what looks like eighteen candles.

Well, that explains the empty plate.

“Did you make it yourself or buy one?”

“I baked it.”

“Scary thought.”

“Yeah, because if I was going to poison you, I would wait until
after
dinner.” She scoffs. “If I wanted to make you sick, I would have just spiked the spaghetti.”

Looking down at the plate, a bite or two left the only indicator that there had been a dinner there at all, I swallow hard, which when she catches, she laughs at.

“I didn’t poison you, Mikey. It’s all good.”

Twirling what’s left of the noodles onto the fork and bringing it up and into my mouth, I savor it, releasing a moan of pleasure and grin once I’ve chewed it up and swallowed.

“I don’t even care. Even if you did poison me, with what I just ate, it would be so worth it.”

“You mean inhaled, don’t you?”

“Good point. Seriously though, when did you learn to cook like that?”

“A couple of years ago. My mom was working more hours and I had to fend for myself a lot. Since she never left money behind for me to order in, I just taught myself how to do basic stuff.”

“There was nothing basic about what I just ate, Ems.”

Again her cheeks flush and the sight of it melts me. I like the way she doesn’t try to hide her reactions from me anymore. We’ve come a long way and I hope it never ends.

“So after we gorge on birthday cake, what’s the plan?”

“To be honest, I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“I call bullshit. You always plan, even when it’s last minute.”

Sticking her tongue out, but her cheeks turning an even darker shade at being caught in the lie, she reaches into the picnic basket again, this time bringing out a single piece of paper, smiling softly as she reads over whatever’s on the page before holding it out between us for me to take.

Putting the empty plate down, I pluck the paper from her fingers and read it over.

I was right. She did plan this all the way through.

“Why are you giving me a receipt?”

It’s obvious she ordered something online and because she’d done it that day, this is the only thing she could give me to prove she’d done it, but just what it is, I can’t see. At least not until I hit the bottom of the page.

She bought a star and named it after me.

“I know it’s not as good as the real paperwork, but in a couple of weeks, it’ll be here and you’ll have it. I wanted to be able to give you the actual star, but like I said before, last minute.”

“You named a star after me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean it seemed right. Naming a star after someone I consider mine.”

Damn.

I’m not exactly familiar with blushing unless it’s embarrassment, but that isn’t at all what’s happening here. The heat is rising to the surface in my face, and my heart, the more she speaks has completely stilled.

I’m her star.

“Why a star?”

Leaning across the blanket and resting her now empty plate on top of mine, she explains and it’s not only my face warming by the time she’s done.

“I do a lot of thinking about the way it feels when I’m with you and then I started thinking about something I learned about in Sunday school when I was a kid. When baby Jesus was coming into the world, the wise men came to meet him with their gifts and they were guided by a star. One that shined bright above the inn where Mary and Joseph were. They were guided home. Home was where he was and that’s how I feel about you. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m home.”

This is it. I’m gonna just tell her what I’ve been dying to say for weeks now.

I love her, and I’m pretty damn sure I always will.

Emery

“I haven’t done this in a long time.”

That makes two of us.

Other than the one time my mom took me to the park at night and spent an hour or so pointing to the sky and trying to point out constellations, this is new.

It almost feels like it’s the first time.

After finishing dinner and putting all of the dirty plates and silverware in the basket, I’d gone and grabbed his cake, tossing the basket in its place, bringing it over and lighting the candles.

Well, I did once he was done swiping icing and smearing it on my nose.

With the cake pushed out of the way and bordering the edge of the blanket, after we both had two slices each, I’d asked Christian what he wanted to do next and he’d suggested what we’re doing now.

Laying back and cuddling close on the blanket, star gazing.

“How long?”

“Eleven years or so, I guess. I think I was six, but that part’s a little hazy.”

“Was it something you did with your mom?” I ask, equal parts apprehensive and eager to learn more about this boy I seem to be falling for.

“Yeah. Pretty much everything I did back then was with her. You know about my dad.”

“I was with my mom the one time I did this too.”

“Did you ever make a wish on any of them?”

“Nah. I used to do it with my birthday candles though.”

“Let me guess. You always wished for the same thing.”

He doesn’t have to say it. He’s gotten to know me so well over the last few months that the obvious wish I would make would be for my dad to come back. He’s also not wrong. For the first seven or eight years, that was my one wish. At least until I caught sight of this one special edition Barbie at the store that my mom kept saying she couldn’t afford.

My dad coming back definitely took a backseat to that.

“I did, and as you can see, I’m still waiting for it to come true.”

Shifting his body and pulling away, he slides himself up to a lounging position, reaching out to me before I can voice my displeasure at the move and pulling me over until my back is pressed comfortably against his chest.

His arms like always finding their way around to hold me, as if moved by some imaginary force, warming me instantly as they settle.

“Why did you move?”

“Because I want to try something with you. And before you say no, I just want to say that it’s my birthday and I will pull the
‘you need to give me what I want’
card if I have to.”

“That would be cheap.” I laugh. “Thankfully, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m up for whatever.”

“I think that instead of waiting until your birthday in a few months, we should try now.”

“But you already blew out your candles.”

“I did,” he agrees easily. “And my wish has already been sent up into the night to be fulfilled, but, it doesn’t mean we both can’t sit here now, close our eyes and make another wish together.”

“Mikey, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s because you’re thinking about the rules. The way you’ve been taught and shown. Think outside the box a little, Carmichael. Live a little.”

“Jerk.” I laugh as I shift my elbow back and straight into his ribcage, earning a grunt and a huge intake of breath as reward.

“Maybe a little, but humor me would you?”

“Fine, but I gotta say, this is weird and I don’t understand what the heck the point is.”

“I’m thinking that maybe the wish has a better shot of coming true if this year, it’s wished for by two people. Not just any two people, but the two that want it to come true the most.”

It’s pretty obvious that making a wish for my dad would be something I’d want more than anything, but what gets to me most out of everything he said, even if he did lace humor throughout, is that he wants me to have my dad as much as I do.