The Robin and The Raven

“Hey! Thanks for having me. You’re looking good,” Devon extends a heavy wrapped gift as he enters.

My lips are pressed into a cracked plaster smile. I carry his gift past the Bluetooth record player, past the navy and silver birthday streamers and balloons, past the array of finger foods, to the back bedroom of my apartment.

The room is dark. A mound of gifts looms on the dresser in front of the mirror. In the reflection, I see the lump of my roommate in bed.

“Robin, you’ve got to get up. Nearly all the guests are here.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s your birthday.”

Her dark eyes stare deep into mine. I want to grab her by the hair and drag her out, but no amount of physical effort can make her get up.

“I put so much work into this. The least you could do is try to enjoy it. It’s not a potluck, you know, I had to pay for all of it,” I growl.

“It’s not for me. The party is for the guests.”

“No, that’s funerals.”

She shrugs.

I preen myself in the mirror and practice my smile again, hoping that none of the guests will notice my frustration. She’s at least a little right. This party was supposed to motivate her, give her something to look forward to, and show how many people care about her. Now that it’s happening, the only metric in my mind is how good of a hostess I can be. Everything must be perfect.

Another knock at the front door draws me from the cavern. My coworker Reese stands there, looking a little lost.

“Reese! Thank you for coming,” I grin and check him head to toe, “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Oh, thanks, you look great, too,” he hands me a card.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” I press for a hug before leading him inside and waving to Cameron, my sister. “This is who I was telling you about. Isn’t he just a showstopper?”

Cameron’s eyes flick to him a moment too long– jealous, I’m sure– before she nods her approval. 

“And this is my sister Cameron. Please, make yourself at home.”

With Reese here, everyone has arrived, and the party chatter peaks. I increase the music volume a touch and review the progress on snacks as I make my way back to Robin. Per tradition, the veggie platter is nearly untouched, and only a few cheese cubes remain.

As I add the card to the top of the stack, I glare at Robin. “Get it together. You’re making me look bad. If I knew you wouldn’t get up for your own party, I would’ve just let you sleep in like every other day.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It’s your birthday, and nobody else was going to.”

She sighs heavily and buries herself deeper.

“Here, open a gift, you’ll feel better.”

Nothing.

“Fine, I’ll do this, too,” I tear open the card from Reese. It’s generic, with a childish color scheme. “Happy birthday, thanks for making every day better than the last. Reese. Plus $25 for coffee.”

Nothing.

“Well if you don’t want it, I’m not letting it go to waste.”

One by one, I open and describe each gift. Another gift card from Cameron inside a floral hand-painted letter with a cheesy note. A pair of black skate shoes from Nicki, and matching blouses from Sky, paired with cute animal-themed cards. Finally, from our old roommate Devon, a weighted blanket and essential oils.

Robin reacts to the blanket, a lone hand appearing from the darkness to clasp the comfort item. I scoff.

The guests had reshuffled since I was in the bedroom, Nicki and Sky welcoming new boy Reese into their exclusive company by the kitchen island, Cameron and Devon settling into quiet conversation on the couch. I chose the fun crowd.

“Hey! Okay, you’re here for the best part,” Nicki beamed from behind her champagne. “So I could see the finish line, and I know there’s at least one person on my heels so I can’t slow down when a dog– like, a labrador– starts crossing the path! Everybody is cheering, nobody’s grabbing the dog or anything, and even though I’m already out of breath my instincts kick in and I just manage to hurdle the dog– nobody gets hurt– and place in top ten so we won the donation.”

Nicki gives a theatrical curtsy as Reese and Sky praise her, and I remember that Sky had also competed in that charity race. “What did you place?”

“Not that great,” she chuckles dismissively.

“I’m sorry, I know you trained really hard for that,” I tilt my head, gauging her reaction. Sky and Nicki had chosen different organizations to support. The hurt was definitely there, coursing just under Sky’s thin veil of pride for her friend.

“No, it’s no biggie! We all had fun anyways.”

“I admire your resilience… Oh! I actually came over to thank you for the blouses, they’re perfect. Your taste is chef’s kiss.”

“Thanks, I knew you’d like it.”

While I thank Reese again for the card and his gift, Cameron injects herself, pouring a drink and filling her plate right between us. The interference breaks Reese off, and he turns his back on us to join Nicki and Sky’s giddy conversation.

“Are you having fun?” I mirror Cameron, taking a small plate for myself and a can of soda. She nods pleasantly and leads me toward the living room. There is almost a temperature drop from the warm energy of the kitchen. I sit diagonally from them in a square armchair.

Devon is sipping his water and absentmindedly scrolling on his phone, but I’m aware of his ears as Cameron pries, “How are you doing?”

I show my teeth and crack open my soda. “I’m doing really great.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome, I’m glad therapy is working for you.”

My gaze slides over to Devon, who has maintained his placid demeanor. I wonder if they planned this humiliation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Her eyebrows crush as she chews on her lip. “Oh, sorry. I thought you mentioned it– when does it start?”

“I don’t need therapy,” a technical half-truth. She doesn’t need to know about my therapy. She would just use it to gloat. I know I’m not as perfect and whole as she is, I know I’m not as successful as my friends or even good enough to keep my roommates happy, but I don’t need help putting my flaws on display. “I’m fine.”

Her dark eyes search my face like an appraiser, trained and ready to report a crack in my foundation. She doesn’t find one.

“Since everyone is here, and I know some people can’t stay too long, let’s do cake.”

She and Devon murmur between themselves, cracking an inside joke as they stand. I find candles in a drawer before taking the German chocolate cake from the fridge. The party in the kitchen catches the cue and migrates to meet around the dining table.

I place and light twenty-one silver candles, a joke among us since there are no more real milestones until the next decade. “Happy Birthday, Robin!” is scrawled across the cake in black cursive icing.

Cameron counts down and leads the melody. Nicki and Sky join, boisterous and out-of-tune, wrapping their arms around Reese and Devon encouragingly. I stand in the spotlight of the candles and sing to myself. When the cheering begins, I make my wish and blow out the flames.

The first slice is set aside. Then, the party takes turns claiming pieces and offering their compliments before regrouping as they were before, now with cake. A deck of cards appears in the living room, and I’m satisfied that everyone is occupied as I return to the dark back bedroom.

“You don’t deserve this,” I tell her, burying my fork into the moist chocolate reward. Robin gazes miserably, watery-eyed and fragile.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“I’m not mean, I’m honest. When’s the last time you did anything to help me? You’re a burden. Lazy, selfish, guilt-tripping waste of my time, but still, I have to do everything for you. I make sure the apartment stays clean, I make sure the bills get paid, I make sure we’re healthy. All you do is worry about your feelings. So, maybe if you did something worth being nice for, then I wouldn’t have to treat you like this.”

“If that was going to work, it would’ve already.”

The chocolate is silky. It melts with each bite.

“Okay, then change something. Try something new. I’ll wait.”

A cord of silence stretches taut between us. We were both tired of living this way.

“Come here.”

The words are a tug on that silent cord. My muscles flex to hold their ground. Robin’s eyes become whirling, pleading black holes. She opens a space next to her in the bed, soft and quiet, safe from judgment. I can’t resist the gravity.

I lay in bed, in the dark. “I need to make sure everyone is having a good time, or at least I need to be there to say goodbye when they’re ready.”

“They’ll be okay without you.”

The beat of music blends with the crescendo of laughter. My chest aches as I realize the party didn’t need me, after all. A flare of pride battles for dominance over the ache. They wouldn’t have met without me. I did all this. I put it all together. Me.

“I’ll need to clean up the mess.”

Silence.

“There’s streamers everywhere. And the leftover food.”

The ache is creeping up my throat as I search for my purpose, and the fire follows, choking me, hollowing me.

“It’s okay. That doesn’t matter unless you want it to,” she pulls the weighted blanket up over me.

“What I do matters,” I sputter defiantly, “I matter.”

Silence. I am alone.