Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday
It started on my 16th birthday. It was my first birthday since mother died, and father and I sat at the kitchen table, picking at the dinner he’d made, and trying to pretend we didn’t miss her smile, and her laughter, her decorations and special chocolate cake. Birthdays were always mom’s favorite, and she never failed to miss one. She always made me feel so special. I wanted her back so badly.
But that night, as I lay in bed, drifting off to sleep, a grim vision of my mother appeared to me. She sat in the chair across from my bed, a corpse with her head partially caved in from the car accident and her once beautiful smile transformed into a grimace now that rot had eaten away her soft lips. She watched me silently. I stared back, my body cold, and waited for her to fade away, sure that I was dreaming. But she remained that night, and every night since.
Every night, when I turned out the lights to go to sleep, her eyes would glow dimly in the dark of my room. Sometimes I would wake in the night to find her face floating silently just inches above mine, the moldy smell of her hair ripe in my nostrils. It would seem that mother was watching over me as I slept, and while that thought should be comforting, there was nothing in my heart except terror. On those nights, I would silently roll over and bury my face in the pillow, choking back terrified gasps and struggling in vain to slow the beating of my heart. It always took me a long time to get back to sleep.
I was relieved to finally go away to college, hoping she wouldn’t be able to follow me, and for a while things went back to normal. But on the night of my next birthday she returned once more, startling me into a scream when I felt her stroke my cheek in the dark. My roommate was oblivious both to her presence and the smell of an open grave that permeated my sheets and clothing, but I could feel and smell her everywhere. No one else seemed to notice. My grades suffered, and my hair began to fall out in clumps from the stress. Eventually I dropped out of school.
I’m almost 34 now. It doesn’t matter where I go; she finds me every year on my birthday. I’ve learned to plan well in advance, and if I move within a day or two afterward, I can get a little peace for almost the whole year. I even managed to finish school – online, of course, since I can never stay one place for more than a year. Until my next birthday. Until today. Dear Christ, is it time again so soon?
I quietly finish a solitary dinner, and watch some television, but my eyes keep flitting to the clock on the wall. 9:45. 10:08. 10:36: the time I was born. The moment she brought me into the world. The stench of old decay fills my nostrils, and I feel the spongy flesh of her hand fall softly on my shoulder.
Hello, mother.