Page 61 of The Birthday Girl
Miracle’s voice softened, sliding into an intimacy that had comforted Danielle since junior high. “You want me to comeover? I can bring wine. Or weed, or both? The good kind, not the shit we used to buy behind the library.”
Danielle’s lips twitched upward, betraying her for a split second, and she pushed a hand through her unwashed hair. “Bring the box of wine, and maybe takeout, if you got cash. I can’t really smoke since I’m breastfeeding.”
“Done and done,” Miracle said. “See you in twenty.”
The call ended, leaving a vacuum that filled rapidly with Tyricka’s babble and the low buzz of the refrigerator’s compressor. Danielle slid the phone back onto the table, wishing, not for the first time, that someone else could call and wake her from this nightmare—someone with a voice that said, “Actually, no, it was all a mistake. Your mom and dad are on their way home now.” However, the only certainty was silence, followed by the pounding in her chest.
Danielle slid down to the floor, her back against the coffee table's edge, watching Tyricka's tiny mouth work around her thumb. The walls seemed to have retreated, leaving too much empty space between them, space that echoed with absence. Each tick from the kitchen clock hammered against her eardrums, and her chest tightened. If she didn't move, do something, anything, she'd splinter apart right there on the carpet.
With trembling fingers, she grabbed her phone and punched her parents' names into the search bar. Tears blurred the screen before she blinked them away, revealing a cascade of headlines.
BANKS COUPLE PRESUMED DEAD IN BOAT EXPLOSION.
DEBRIS RECOVERED BUT NO BODIES FOUND.
DAUGHTER TAHLIA BANKS RELEASES STATEMENT.
Her thumb hovered over the words until they scrolled out of view, replaced by another post, then another. Every feed, every blog, and every gossip site buzzed with Tahlia and her parents’ names, but not hers.
Then she froze. She thought the detectives’ news was the worst of it, but nothing prepared her for what stared back at her. A flyer gleamed against the glow of her phone with a black background, white serif lettering, and roses bordering the corners.
Honoring the Life of Steve and Tisha Banks — Hosted by Their Daughter, Tahlia Banks. Public Service Open to the Community. New Hope Baptist Church, Sunday at 2 PM.
She read it once, twice, then again before slamming the phone down on the couch cushion. Her lungs burned as she sucked air through clenched teeth, each breath shorter than the last until her ribs ached against her skin. The tears evaporated from her cheeks, leaving salt trails that tightened her skin like drying glue.
“I just know this bitch didn’t,” Danielle whispered, voice cracking.
Her hands shook as she snatched the phone back up to stare at the image again. “She… she kept everything from me.”
Her parents’ faces smiled from the flyer, framed not by family but by Tahlia’s name alone. Danielle wasn’t mentioned. Not once. She let out a sob that bent into a laugh, wild and hollow.
“That fake bitch knew for weeks and didn’t say a word to me.” Her laugh came out jagged and splintered between sobs. “She’s out there giving statements, planning memorials, and posing for cameras like I don’t even exist.”
Danielle jabbed the flyer with her finger until the image blurred. “She wants the world to see her as the grieving daughter, but she’s got me fucked up on all levels. I’m not letting her stand up there and play that part like she isn’t the devil incarnate.”
She clutched Tyricka closer, whispering into her baby’s ear. “We’re going, mama. She can’t keep us away from this.”
Danielle was pacing her living room when a knock rattled the door. Tyricka startled against her chest, whimpering, andDanielle pressed her lips to the baby’s crown, whispering, “Shh, it’s okay.”
She tugged the door open with her free hand, and Miracle stood there with rain dripping from the ends of her braids and her leather jacket clinging to her shoulders.
She raised one brow, eyes scanning Danielle’s blotchy face. “You look like shit, babe. We got to get you together,” Miracle said, pushing past her into the living room without waiting for an invitation.
Danielle sniffed hard, her grip on Tyricka tightening. “Fuck you, but okay.”
Miracle dropped her bag on the couch and sank into the cushions with a sigh. “How are you holding up?”
Danielle exhaled through her nose, shifting Tyricka onto her hip before sitting across from Miracle. The flyer was still lit on her phone screen, its glow bleeding through her fingers. She shoved it across the table toward Miracle. “Not good at all. Have you seen this shit?”
Miracle picked it up, scanned the words, then lifted her gaze slowly. “When were you planning to tell me?”
Danielle barked out a hollow laugh. “Tell you? I didn’t even know until now. That bitch planned a whole memorial without me. Put her name on everything, like she was their only child.”
“She knew weeks ago,” Miracle said flatly, setting the phone down. “Are you surprised she’d pull a stunt like this?”
Danielle’s jaw clenched. “I’m really not. While I’ve been calling, crying, and wondering where the fuck my parents were, she knew they were already gone, and instead of picking up the phone, she moved on without me.”
Tyricka began to cry, the kind that came from pure frustration, and Danielle’s arms tightened around her instinctively, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Even my baby feels it. This house feels it. I can’t breathe in here.”
