cake
I hate my birthday.
I know you're not supposed to. It's your day! I know people who extend their birthday to be a whole birthday month of loving themselves and demanding other people love them, too. I think that's pretty weird, but, they're not hurting anybody. I thought about doing a birthday month once, but then I immediately spilled coffee all over my jeans, which must have been a sign. People aren't supposed to have birthday months and anyone who does is defying all natural laws of time and space.
The thing is birthdays mean attention. Attention means people noticing things you do. It means people looking when you don't want them to. It means people finding things out when you're not ready for that.
Worst of all, birthdays mean cake.
"Come on, Jess, blow out the candles!"
I look up at Mom who is smiling at me with her phone, a little bit too eager. She's lonely. Ever since my big brother Roland and I moved out, it's just been her and Dad, and since he's basically a large third child, it's really just been her. Any chance she can get us to see her, she takes.
I smile up at her and I hope it looks sincere. I wish I knew for sure that it was. I missed her.
She snaps the picture and smiles at me. Dad is smiling, too, but at something on his phone. By the time he looks up, I've already blown the candles out.
"Don't say your wish - then it won't come true."
I grin at Roland, but this time I don't have to think about if I look like I mean it - I know I do. I only see him a few times a year since he started college, and now that I'm in my sophomore year at my own university and don't own a car, it's really only special occasions. This occasion isn't really special to me, but, I'm still glad to see him.
"Okay." It's Dad's turn to get involved now. He's got a large knife and a serving tool. "Who wants cake?"
The cake was delicious. Vanilla, with a butter cream frosting. The texture was spongey and I could feel it melting a little bit in my mouth with every bite of the four pieces I'd eaten. The icing was just barely starting to dry on top, creating a slight layer of crust, which was especially delicious on the cake's flowers. It was just a Wal-Mart cake, but, cake is cake. It's pretty hard to screw it up. People always say "vanilla" to describe something "plain", but vanilla is a fantastic, sweet flavor. There was almost ice cream, too, but I said I didn't want any. I did, but I knew what would happen, because I knew what would happen with the cake. I knew what would happen with the cake because it happens every time, with just about everything these days.
I'm breathing heavily, leaning over the toilet in my parents restroom. I didn't add enough toilet paper so that the water wouldn't splash me in the face; that's hard to do without clogging it. My mouth hurts, and so do the knuckles on my right hand. But my stomach feels good, and even though my head is swimming and my face is covered in tears and snot, I feel an incredible relief.
I wipe my nose and wipe the smeared mascara under my eyes. I reach into my purse and fix my eyeliner, applying some new concealer so I can hide the dark circles that area always under my eyes these days. I cup the water I've left running into my mouth, swishing it around, trying to mitigate potential damage to my teeth. I hate the dentist. I swish mouthwash in my mouth too, but it quickly makes my teeth hurt, so I spit it into the sink.
For a moment, I shut my eyes and lean forward, gently placing my forehead on the mirror above the sink. I'm tempted to cry, but that would mean taking longer, and the longer I'm in here, the more suspicious it might come across. I don't think anyone knows, but I don't want to risk anything I don't have to. I turn the water off, turn the fan off, flush, and wash my hands again. Before I leave the bathroom I look at myself in the mirror one more time, checking my cheeks. I can't tell if they're swollen or not. I can't tell if anyone knows. Which means that it's unlikely anyone will notice anything.
Hi, my name is Jess.
And I'm a bulimic.
