fourteen
Avalon
I’m nineteen today.
And celebrating alone. I don’t think my mom has remembered my birthday since way before her accident. And the last time I celebrated was when my grandparents were still alive. After that, we celebrated when she finally remembered she missed it.
If she remembered. Usually, she’s too high and drunk to even know what month it is, let alone if it’s a holiday or my birthday.
The only birthday message I got today was from Jay, but he’s on shift, so it’s not like we’ll go do something. Not that we ever do. I honestly think celebrating makes me sadder than doing nothing.
And with everything going on between us, I don’t think I’d want to celebrate with my mom anyway.
I went to the bank and got some of the money back. It wasn’t easy, but I disputed some of the transfers my mom completed, and after that, I got a whole new card. The bank told me if I wanted to get the rest of the money back, I’d have to go to the cops.
Which I still haven’t been able to do.
Even though she doesn’t care about what she did to me, I can’t turn her in. I’ve tried. I’ve been to the Police station a handful of times since it happened, and every time, I just go home.
“Can I get you a drink?” I didn’t even come here to meet anyone; I just needed a night out. But I guess I shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have sex. I haven’t had sex with anyone since Zeke.
Not because I’m not interested in sleeping with someone else, I am. I just had a lot on my plate, and somehow, going to a local bar and finding a guy got pushed down my list of things to do.
“I don’t drink,” I respond. “But maybe a soda?”
He smiles, motioning toward the bartender and then looking back at me, “You don’t mind if I get one, do you?”
“Not at all,” I continue. “Just not my thing.”
“What kind of soda?” he asks as the bartender reaches us.
“A root beer, please.”
“Could I get a root beer and anything you have on tap,” he tells the bartender and then hands him his card.
“Open or closed?”
He looks at me and then back to the bartender, “Open.”
“That’s awfully forward of you,” I begin. “How do you know I won’t head out after one soda?”
“Because I’m too interesting for that.” His cockiness reminds me of Zeke, and I hate that it does. Like why? This very attractive guy is beside me, yet I’m comparing him to Zeke. “I’m Oliver.”
“Avalon.” I shake his hand as the bartender brings our drinks.
“Thank you,” we say simultaneously, and once the bartender disappears, he turns back to me.
“Do you go to Rockford?”
“I do, you?”
“Yeah, I’m a senior. I’m studying Business and Agriculture.”
“Business and Agriculture, huh?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice when I was a kid, but I grew up on my family’s farm, and once I got older, I knew I wanted to take it over.”
“That’s really great. And I know it sounds like I’m being sarcastic, but I promise you I’m not.” I take a drink of my soda.