Page 1 of Solitude

1

SUMMER ‘21

Winnie

My parents forgot my birthday.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. Lorelai and Colson Carmichael probably wouldn’t be able to tell their coworkers my birthday, my favorite color, or even my eye color without double checking first.

The toes of my white sneakers dig into the dirt beneath the swing as I stare at the single flame of a gold birthday candle I can’t bring myself to blow out. I found it in the junk drawer in the kitchen, tucked behind a wedding invitation from my cousin that my mother rolled her eyes at, a remnant from last year when my parents took me out to a formal sit-down dinner.

If I’m honest, all I’ve ever wanted was a party at home. Not even a party, really. Just a small gathering where my parents sing a silly little birthday song to me with a smileon their face. I want a homemade cake and sixteen candles, so I can make a wish and struggle to blow all of them out in one breath. I want my favorite meal for dinner and a movie marathon with my best friend.

I haven’t actually seen my parents since school let out for summer break three days ago, which isn’t unusual. I naively assumed that when your only child turns sixteen, your parents would make time for it. Isn’t sixteen one of the big ones?

I would’ve settled for a text message even.

A glance down at my phone tells me the same thing I’ve seen the last hundred times I checked it. There’s nothing from them. Just a text from Sienna wishing me a happy birthday with six party emojis.

That’s how I ended up on this rusted red swing set in my t-shirt and cutoff shorts staring at a lit candle on a single strawberry cupcake that I bought from a new bakery that opened on Main Street.

The summer breeze tastes salty when I lick my lips and tilt my head back, enjoying the gentle wind as it blows softly over my bare arms and legs. I wonder briefly if I should’ve grabbed a light jacket before I left the house. The sea breeze gets cool and damp at night even though it’s unbearably hot all day. Despite the shiver that occasionally racks my body, I can’t bring myself to walk home yet.

The metal chains creak under my slight weight as I swing back and forth gently, barely moving, and it sounds eerie inthe night’s silence. The park is technically closed at night, but the fence is a measly three bar enclosure that’s not very good at keeping unwanted guests out. I’ve been shimmying underneath the bars and between the gaps for months and spending late nights in this rundown park for a couple of months now.

That’s the thing about living in Magnolia Hollow when you’re notreallyliving here. The people are kind and generous; always asking me if I need anything as I pass them on my walk to and from school.

Somehow in a town so small you can sneeze and seven of your neighbors will come out to check on you, I’ve learned how to live a life with minimal questions. I think some of it is out of fear of my parents, so I get it. Lorelai and Colson are terrifying.

For that reason, no one ever interrupts my solitude.

That’s what I like about it. The quiet peace this town holds for me. But it’s also what I hate the most. Like it’s toostill. My skin feels too tight and thin, wondering constantly if they can see through me. See just how lonely I am.

If I looked their way when I walked by, would I see pity in their eyes?

As if the universe is listening to my thoughts, a light voice speaks behind me. “Am I interrupting something?”

An embarrassing screech bursts from my mouth, loud and jarring in the quiet, and the shadowed man visibly takes a step away from me at the sound as I jump off the swing. The cupcake flies from my hand without a second thought,arms slinging back and hurling it as close to his head as I can manage.

Fight or flight.

Color me surprised when not only does the cake fall more towards his left shoulder, but then he also easily sidesteps out of the way before the cupcake collides with his body.

He has the nerve to stand there and chuckle, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts as he stares down at the smashed cake, and I think I hear a small sound leave him. Something akin to disbelief.

“Did you just throw that at me?”

Lifting my chin, I fist my hands at my sides. “It’s rude to sneak up on people.”

His head lifts as he glances my way then back at the ground. Something about him is familiar but somehow not at the same time.

He bends down at the waist to pick up my obliterated birthday treat, inspects the damage with a grimace, then tosses it in the garbage can a few feet away. Just plops it right into the smelly garbage without a single thought. My hand lifts, mouth opening and closing to stop him, to say literally anything, but I catch myself, the words die in my throat.

I’d planned to throw it away, but it feels like a punch to the gut to watch him do it instead.

How embarrassing.

Then to make it all worse, he strolls closer, brushing dirt and leftover cupcake remnants off before leaning a shoulderagainst the swing set. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets again, and my heart drops as I finally get a good look at his face.

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