12. MATTHEWS

MATTHEWS

2013

“Happy Birthday to you,” everyone sang in the kitchen. Momma carried a piece of cake across the mix-matched tile and slid it toward me.

“Make a wish, Lovebug,” she cooed and Mrs. Cody clapped in excitement.

I wish to spend the rest of my days as happy as I am today .

I looked around at them all, landing on Cael last, who was beside me with a cheesy, braces-filled grin on his face. He jokingly threatened to blow the candles out on me, but I knew he wouldn’t actually. His candles would come later, and it would be his chance to turn thirteen.

I exhaled, blowing out the candles, and Cael’s hand whipped out, sneaking some of the icing before popping it into his mouth.

“What did you wish for?” He asked, licking the traces of icing off his lip.

“An MP3 player.” I shrugged as Momma started to slice up the cake for everyone.

“Lame,” Cael scoffed, twirling in a circle to get free of his sweater before sneaking another bit of icing

“It’s not lame just because you don’t like it.” I shook my head and pushed his shoulder, tipping him off balance just enough that he tumbled back into the stool.

“We can share mine, why do you need your own?” He challenged.

“Because we don’t have to share everything, Cael!” I groaned. He was always so annoying about it, like we were twins or something that had to share instead of being our own people .

“I thought you liked listening to music with me?” Cael scoffed and took a step back.

“I do but… I’m sick of sharing. I want my own.” I was mad, mad over something I hadn’t even wished for. Mad that he was ruining my birthday by being a jerk.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You don’t have to share with me anymore, not anything. You can keep it all to yourself!” He said, crossing his arms over his chest before storming from the kitchen out onto the back deck.

Momma looked over at me and raised her eyebrow. I knew if she wanted to scold me, she would. She’d tell me it wasn’t very polite to yell at Cael, but he could just be so frustrating at times.

We ate cake and I never got an MP3 player, but Daddy got me a new blank journal, and Momma knitted me a new sweater with pretty orange yarn that sparkled. I thanked them both and took it all up to my room, sitting on my bed.

On the dresser, under the light of the dimming thrifted lamp, was Cael’s stupid MP3 player, mocking me for being mean. I looked over at the clock that said nine-thirty and crawled into bed, pressing my head tightly into the pillow. When I finally stirred, the clock was flashing twelve-nineteen and I hustled from bed, pulling on the sweater Momma had knitted me, and swiping the MP3 player from the dresser.

I quietly snuck downstairs to see that Momma had left a piece of cake on the counter. I smiled and carefully picked it up before sneaking out into the dark and down to the creek. Even though he was furious with me, I knew he’d be waiting. Sitting in a beanie and a sweater, he stared up at the sky.

I sank down into the grass beside him and leaned in close to his face, practically resting my chin on his shoulder as I whispered. “Happy Birthday, Cael.”

He turned to look down at the cake in my hands and smiled softly. “Thanks, Clem.”

I tugged out the player and wiggled it at him.

“Wanna share?” I asked. His blue eyes reflected back the stars as they flickered from my hand to the sky again as he nodded.

“I didn’t get to give this to you,” he said, digging something from his pocket. It was a small box, almost identical to the one I had gifted to him over Christmas .

“Is it an MP3 player?” I teased and he laughed with me.

“Don’t be mean.” He shook his head and pick at the cake with his fingers, popping pieces into his mouth as I pulled apart the box to find a small threaded bracelet in all sorts of pinks. I could have never imagined that he would take the time to make me one. I smiled down at it so hard that my cheeks hurt.

“It’s so pretty, Cael. Did you make it yourself?”

I could tell he had even before he nodded. It was sloppy, and some of the knots were loose, but it was perfect, and he had made it for me . He set the cake down and helped me tie it around my wrist carefully, his fingers brushing against my skin, warmer than the breeze blowing around us.

“I’m never going to take this off,” I said to him and stole a bit of cake as he picked the plate back up.

“Now we match,” he said with a mouth full of cake, holding out his wrist.