Happy birthday
Vanna’s POV
Thursday, Dec 18, 2003
*buzz buzz* My phone was vibrating on my nightstand; it wasn’t going to stop. Who could be calling me this early in the morning, and why are they being so persistent? I rolled over in my bed to answer my phone. It’s my friend Clint. I wonder what he wants. “Hello,” I say, yawning through my words. “Happy birthday! You better be up and ready for the day because I got the whole day planned.” He was so excited; he and I have been friends since 7th grade. I moved here when my parents split, and he was the only one who bothered to be my friend. He took me under his wing and never really left me, ever.
“What do you mean you planned the whole day?” I knew we were going out for my birthday, but this was new information. “Look, just get dressed. I’m on my way; I’m turning onto your street right now,” he hangs up.
I have no idea what he has planned, but it beats staying here with my father, waiting to get into a fight. I shuffle out of bed and stumble over to my closet. I didn’t have much; it was mostly work scrubs and possibly a few nice dresses. It was 50°F today and supposedly windy too, but I took a dress off the hanger. It was a white and blue striped dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves. Its skirt was just above my knees. I slipped into a pair of tan flats; they looked so cute with the dress.I looked out my window and saw Clint parked in the driveway. I put on some lip gloss, grabbed a jacket, and headed downstairs. *thud thud thud* I heard my father’s footsteps coming up behind me. “And what do you think you’re doing?” he asked me. I could hear the irritation in his voice; this was going to be a nightmare. My father never really lets me do anything or go anywhere with anyone. I couldn’t even text or call half the time. People like Clint always referred to him as Father Gothel. I never saw the humor in it, but I suppose I am kind of locked up in a house and isolated from everyone. “I was just going into town; I figured I could go out on my own this time,” I lied, and I’m sure he knew, but if he knew Clint was out in the parking lot, he would’ve just had a raging fit. “You’re not going into town today; I’ve gotta go fix the air conditioning at work, and then Randall needs the brakes on his truck fixed—” I cut him off. “Can’t Randall do that himself? He’s a forty-year-old retired oil field worker; I’m pretty sure the man knows how to fix brakes.” My father’s face wrinkled into anger. “It doesn’t matter! I told the man I would do it, and I’m doing it now. Go change out of that. Put some sweats on, and let’s go!” He was loud; he was always loud. Sometimes, it made my ears hurt. “I just wanted to hang out with Clint on my birthday, Dad.” His eyes got wide, and he started walking towards me. “Just because you’re 18 doesn’t mean you get to just call up your friends and go hang out. Go get changed!” I ran upstairs, got back in my sweats, and texted Clint to go ahead and leave. After a few minutes, my dad came up and told me I was staying home since I wanted to have an attitude, which was fine with me.
AN HOUR LATER
*BEEP BEEP* I was sketching in my room when I heard a horn honk. *BEEP BEEP* It kept honking, and I looked out my window to see Clint. I was so happy I got dressed again and got in his car. I don’t know what I’m doing right now; it feels like a rush. I’ve never snuck out before, and I have no clue what he’s going to do when he finds out. I stayed quiet in the car; my nerves were going crazy. Clint shoved my arm. “Hey, get out of that head of yours, quit trying to bump yourself out. What’s he gonna do, call you and tell you to come back? You’re eighteen now; legally, he can’t do anything.” I think he’s trying to comfort me, but it’s not working. “I guess you’re right, but what if he tries to take me back?” “Then I’ll call the cops and report a kidnapping.”
He chuckled, but I still didn’t think it was funny. I went into his glove compartment and started rolling myself a joint; he always had weed on him. He handed me a lighter and smirked, “You know, it’s usually nice to ask first. But you’re okay, just this time.” His tone changed, as if he were lecturing me; he usually never has a problem with me helping myself. I took the lighter and started smoking. I still had no clue where we were going, but I trusted him. He’s probably got some party planned. We drove for a while; we were in the city now, and I had never seen this part before.
Everything was so clean; the polished streets complemented the ornate buildings and atmosphere. He pulled into this nondescript building; its exterior had walls of backlit blue glass panels and a lamp-lit path that led around the corner. There were no windows to see inside, except for one opaque glass door lined with beautiful iron vines. He got out of the car, opened my side, and helped me out. We walked inside to be greeted by a short man who led us quietly to a cloakroom. Clint took my scarf and coat and hung them on a small coat valet. He then pushed the partition, leading to an open room with beautifully washed-out marble floors with golden veins, tables with white cotton cloths, and a single candle at each table in red or yellow globes. He stopped at a podium and gave his name to an older gentleman: “Reservation for Beareharthe.” He said, “Right this way, sir.” The gentleman led us to a table where another gentleman was waiting. They pulled out our chairs and seated us.When the waiters walked away, I took the chance to ask Clint what was going on. “So, this is an awfully fancy place, and we drove for a long time.” I struggled to get my point across: “I hope you like it. I wanted to do something nice for your birthday; you only turn eighteen once.” He took a drink of his water and checked his watch. I almost felt bad for asking, but I still needed to know. I looked around the room; we weren’t the only ones here. There was another couple; they were dressed so elegantly, it was making me feel underdressed. Now that I think about it, Clint looked more polished as well, so I asked again, “I only mean that you never really struck me as a suit-and-tie kinda guy; you’re always so laid back. And you never go into the city. So this is really special...” I could hear myself beginning to ramble, so I decided to shut up; it still didn’t really get anything out. Time passed, and we ordered our food and drinks and talked some more about his job. He asked me if I was going to move out of my dad’s. He thinks my dad is this horrible monster, and sometimes I can see why. But at the same time, I’m sure my dad has reasons for the things he’s done. He continued to check his watch every few minutes. “Is everything okay? You’ve been checking your watch ever since we got here,” I asked him; it was almost like he was late for something. “It’s nothing for you to worry about; I simply want to make sure we don’t stay here too long. There’s more I want to do today.” He smiled. We finished up, gathered our effects, and got back in the car. He checked his watch two more times during the ride. We drove around the fancy city, window shopping, and he bought me a few nice dresses. Many people stopped to talk to him; I suppose they were friends of his. One man stopped to talk to Clint, and I heard him ask about me. For some reason, Clint didn’t want me talking to these people, and they weren’t really talking to me either.
It was getting darker, and we were still in the city’s town square. It was so beautiful; the streets were lined with lamps instead of lights, and they were clean, not littered with even a toothpick.He checked his watch one more time, and then we started walking back to his car. We conversed about the day, and I realized my dad must be freaking out about where I was. The stars were out, the streetlights were on, and I knew he had to be home by now. I looked in my purse for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I checked the sides of the seat to see if maybe it had fallen, but it wasn’t there. Clint started glancing over at me; I wasn’t trying to worry him, but if he took me home and my dad called me and I never answered, or I didn’t even have my phone, I’d have hell to pay. I started checking my pockets and looking on the floorboard. “Everything okay over there?”
Clint asked while I was looking at the floorboard. I felt him lean over me, and I sat back up. “Um, no, actually, I think I left my phone at the restaurant, and we might have to go back.” I can’t believe I did this; how could I leave my phone? I never let it out of my sight! “Calm down; you didn’t lose your phone,” Clint says as he starts rubbing my shoulder and brushing my hair back. “It’s going to be okay.” He kept repeating himself. I was getting super tired super quickly. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I was still trying to find my phone. I checked my purse one more time, and Clint took it from me. “I really wish you’d quit fighting it and just go to sleep! Your phone is fine, and no one’s called you all day.“Now stop looking for it and go to sleep; we’re almost home anyway.” He was agitated, and I was confused. Did he take my phone? Why was I so sleepy? He reached into the glove compartment, pulled a scent packet out, hung it over the vent, and turned the air up. He pulled a mask out of his pocket and put it on. My vision was getting blurry, my mouth was salivating, and I felt lightheaded. I looked at Clint. “I don’t feel well, Clint. I...” He cut me off. “Sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know, but it’s okay; just relax. Close your eyes. The more you fight it, the sicker you’ll be when you wake up.” He pulled over, got out of the car, came over to my side, and leaned the seat back. I couldn’t do anything; my arms were limp, and I was dizzy. He covered my eyes with something, and I passed out.
