Ava raises a toast as the rest of my family follows. Given I’m not allowed to drink legally, the mocktail is at least pretty in color, with strawberries floating on top and cotton candy hovering to the side. It’s sweet and lacks the main ingredient calledalcohol.
“You wish you were still eighteen,” I counter with a grin, taking a small sip to avoid a sugar rush. “You’re old.”
My family is known to throw extravagant parties when it comes to big milestones. Correction, I say my family when I mean Ava. With everything happening of late, I begged her not to throw a party. I’m just not in the mood. It was only last week I broke up with Cole, and it’s been harder than I thought to be single again. Maybe it’s because we share some classes or because our lockers are right next to each other. He knew I hated cafeteria food, so he would make sure he brought me food I would actually eat.
It’s just the small things that all became one big thing. I relied on him for so long, not even realizing just how much. Not having a safety net of a boyfriend feels very lonesome.
I thought I was doing better yesterday until Krissy, another senior, made sure to throw herself all over Cole at his locker. It’s not like he kissed her, but he didn’t stop her either when she ran her hands inside his jacket.
It was enough to make me turn around, exit the building in a rush, and cry to myself inside my car in the parking lot, where no one could hear me. Then, I had to go home, deal with my parents, and pretend everything was okay.
As for turning eighteen, I gave Ava strict instructions on a small, intimate dinner. It ended up being just my sisters and parents. Will was stuck in Boston after the airport was shut down a few hours ago because of some gas leak. Austin got called into an emergency at the hospital. Addy’s fiancé, Masen, sprained his ankle playing football with his brother yesterday and is on crutches. He offered to come, but I suggested he stay home, given that planes and crutches aren’t the best of combinations.
Thankfully, Millie and Ava organized babysitters because their kids are too crazy. It’s like a damn zoo every time they’re all together, the noise combined with the constant running around. If it’s not that, it’s the questions and stupid facts about games or kids’ stuff I don’t care about.
“Now, girls,” Dad intervenes with his whisky in hand. “If anyone’s old, it’s me.”
Millie places her hand on Dad’s shoulder as Mom hides her smile behind her napkin. I’m admiring her white blazer with the large gold buttons. She’s wearing it with a black-laced bodysuit underneath and high-waisted jeans. Of all us sisters, Ava is exactly my size which is why I raid her wardrobe often. Millie has a different style, though I have to admit she’s beautiful and call pull anything off. We joke she has curves in the right places but learned our lesson not to say that in front of Will anymore without it turning into something dirty.
“According to the internet and the many social media accounts dedicated to you,” Ava continues while trying to hold back her laughter, “age ain’t nothing but a number.”
Addy shakes her head in disgust. “It should be age ain’t nothing but a bank account. The mentality of young girls these days astounds me.”
“You mean the whole hooking up with an older man?” Ava questions and then digs her fork into the salad she’s eating. “I mean, what’s really considered too old?”
“Hmm, it depends where you are in life, I guess,” Mom adds, raising her cocktail glass which appears almost empty. This better not be one of those times when she gets drunk or I’m wearing my headphones because hearing her giggle in the bedroom is just traumatizing.
“Okay, well, I think ten years is safe,” Millie says.
“Of course, you have to say that.” Ava purses her lips before rolling her eyes. “Will is ten years older than you.”
Millie juts her chin with a dismissive glance. “And? I’m just saying it’s normal these days.”
This conversation is grossing me out. Older men? I could barely manage someone my own age. An older man would be demanding in the bedroom, or maybe that’s all men.
“I have a client who is sixty-seven, and he’s married to a twenty-five-year-old,” Addy tells us.
“Ew,” I say in unison with Ava. “That’s gross.”
“Maybe they love each other,” Millie suggests but then shakes her head. “Okay, but how old does he look? If he looks like he’s in his forties, then it’s not bad. Does he need help walking?”
“Can he even get it up?” Ava asks.
Dad bows his head and then covers his face with his hands. “Ava, do you have to?”
“Sorry, Dad, but Viagra can only get you so far. I’m not saying all old men need it, but…” Ava’s eyes widen then she chases down a glass of wine. “God, someone save me now…”
“Girls.” Mom chuckles softly. “Love is love or sex is sex. Depends on what’s important to you. Now, can we get back to celebrating my baby’s birthday?”
The cake coming out is a welcoming distraction from Ava veering onto Viagra talk in front of Dad. Everyone sings happy birthday before I’m requested to make a wish.
A wish, huh?
I wish for a new life. To be happy doing what I want to do without living up to everyone’s expectations.
But of all the wishes I could wish for at this moment, it’s to make all the nightmares disappear.
The candles burn bright before I lean forward and blow them out one by one. My family all clap with a cheer, and as I glance at everyone at the table, I wonder how being part of this family can be a blessing and burden all at the same time.