Today is my birthday.  For most people, birthdays are a cause for celebration but for me, it’s the most dreaded time of the year. My birthdate represents two of the most tragic moments in my life. My mother’s death when she brought me into this world. My father’s death when he skidded off the Pacific Coast Highway a few hours before my thirteenth birthday.

I think of my dad.  Seventeen years have passed, but I grieve as if it were only yesterday. Daily, I think of the man who cherished me. I smile, remembering how we’d sing along to show tunes while walking me to and from school daily. Every weekend, he and I would manage to catch a movie or a musical. A day didn’t go by without an “I love you.” Closing my eyes allows me to hear my dad play the piano.  The sound of Rachmaninoff’s “Prelude in C Minor” is so clear that I forget where I am.

In an instant, I open my eyes. I look to my right and on my nightstand is a first edition of Turgenev’s First Love, a gift from Julian.  It was my father’s favorite book and the last one we had read together.  I choke at the memory and would give anything to have my dad by my side. 

It’s nine o’clock in the morning, and I am still in bed under three comforters, wishing the day would quickly end.  I’ve spent the past fourteen birthdays in bed. Andrew never forced me to do anything. We just never celebrated my birthday.

My phone has been buzzing all morning, and several texts and voicemails have arrived.  The messages are from my nana, Marcel, Patti, Roger, and some of my friends who, although I haven’t seen in years, have somehow always remembered to wish me well on this particular day. Several messages, including the last one, are from Julian. I can’t resist replaying the last message several times.

The Blue Nile’s “Downtown Lights” plays in the background.

“Happy Birthday, darling. You’re probably under a million covers and wishing this day would go away.  Am I correct?  Today is not a day of mourning, Lina, because you’re here.  And although you’ve experienced so much loss in your life, there is still a reason to celebrate.”  There is a slight pause. “If you can tear yourself away from your massive bed, I would love to see you. I would love to be with you on this special day.” 

His message has been replayed at least ten times in the past thirty minutes.  I touch my lips, and the memory of the kiss of all kisses envelops me again.  And although his lackluster response to my last text disappointed me, I can still feel his lips. I still taste him. And I want him as I’ve never wanted someone before.

Stop, Lina. Stop.

Realization hits me that everyone has called except Andrew.  Even with so much on his mind, he has always been cognizant of the fact that birthdays are difficult for me. There have been birthdays when he’s spent the entire day in bed with me, holding me, soothing me, as I cried the day away. It’s painful to acknowledge he hasn’t contacted me. His last words come back loud and clear, “You need to stop this. Do what you need to do.”  I had become an inconvenience in Andrew Nielsen’s world.

Suddenly, his ‘Good luck’ text appears in my head.  

Fuck you, Andrew.  Fuck you for not fighting for me, for us.  

It’s exhausting feeling sorry for myself. I finally leave the comfort my bed affords me.  I brush my teeth, study myself in the mirror, and wonder if I have aged too much.  A line has not formed on my forehead.  There are no signs of crow’s feet.  But traces of sadness that makeup can’t conceal are all over my face.

Turning on the Bluetooth speakers, The Church’s “Under the Milky Way” plays as I make my way into the shower.  I sing along, contemplating the lyrics.  I wish I knew what I was looking for as well.   Warm water runs down my body as I tell myself that today I am going to celebrate my birthday.  I am going to celebrate my life even though it’s not exactly how I thought it would be.  My former fiancé is probably getting his day started by walking around the block. Patti is in Miami again with her Louie.  Roger is in Austin attending SXSW, and my nana is back in Sao Paulo visiting friends and probably drinking a caipirinha in my honor.  Although I think of them, there is really no one I would rather spend my birthday with than Julian.  

I glance at my naked body in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, checking out my thirty-year-old figure when I hear a knock on my door.  My hair is still dripping wet, and my body is covered in almond oil. Immediately reaching for the towel on my bed, I wrap myself in it and head for the door.

“Lina, are you there?”  Julian calls out; his voice etched with concern.

“I’m coming,” I yell, tightening the towel around me as I rush to open the door. “I just got out of the shower. How did you get in?”

Standing there in front of me with Julian’s mouth half-opened, it finally dawns on me that I am practically naked.  He doesn’t respond to my question.  Rather than turn away, he continues to gape, and he is staring at me with a different look in his eyes.  There’s something in his big gray-blue eyes I have never seen before. 

Could it possibly be?

“Lina.” His voice is lower than usual.

There’s no mistaking the lust behind his sapphire eyes or the longing in his deep voice. 

We’re two bodies only a few feet apart, unable to move for what seems like hours, when it is only a couple of minutes. Waking up from the trance, I say, “Julian, excuse me, I … I need to put some clothes on.  Make yourself at home.” 

I hurry to my bedroom, excited at the mere thought of seeing lust in Julian Caine’s eyes.  It was definitely more than a ‘you look attractive’ kind of lust. I can’t remember ever seeing lust like that in Andrew’s eyes.

After putting on underwear and black tights, a black fitted turtleneck sweater dress, and black wedge leather boots, I dab on some lip gloss and a touch of blush.  Although my hair is still damp, I forgo drying it and hastily wrap it in a loose bun.  Studying myself in the mirror, I am no longer sad but enthusiastic about the day.

I make my way to the living area where Julian is seated, allowing me to enjoy my view. I watch him flipping through the pages of one of my magazines.  Realizing I am in the room, he glances up. 

“My God, you look beautiful.” Julian grins as he rises from the couch. Only a few inches from me, he pulls me into a gentle hug. “Happy Birthday, darling.”

Surprised, I admire him.  You look so handsome. So hot. “I was actually going to call you since you made a good case for getting out of the covers.  I … I want to celebrate today.” 

“That’s why I’m here. It dawned on me that it would be ridiculous not to celebrate today together.  I’m taking you out.”

“Really?  Where?” I ask even though spending the day with him is the only thing I want to do.

“It’s a surprise.” With his forefinger, he tips my jaw lightly. In a soft tone, he says, “Lina, if at any time today you feel like crying, please do. Let me be here for you.”

I nod, aware for the first time in seventeen years that sleep is the last thing I want to do on my birthday.

I grab my bag and keys from the console in the foyer.  When I close the door behind me, I take a deep breath.  A few feet from me is Julian, and it feels different.  The air between us has changed.  It feels more charged. Electrifying. More terrifying.