Page 10 of The Birthday Girl
“Then she shouldn’t have had a baby she couldn’t afford.”
Her mother sighed. “As always, you’re right. But it’s too late for that now. The baby’s here, and we need you.”
“And if I do this, you’ll understand when I say no next time? Because I love y’all, but none of you are ever there for me. I shouldn’t have to be the only one showing up.”
“Whatever you do from here on is your choice. I already told you that.” Her mother’s voice was bored and laced with indifference.
The dismissal of her feelings hurt because Tahlia knew Tisha only agreed because she wanted her to feel as though she was overreacting. As if the problem were hers and not the years of neglect, she had finally decided to address.
Tahlia smirked into the receiver, though her chest tightened. “Good. Send me the bill once you’ve planned everything, and don’t act surprised if this is the last thing I ever do before cutting all of you off.” She disconnected before her mother could respond.
Something about the way her mother spoke when she said she wouldn’t attend the shower didn’t sit well with Tahlia’s spirit. It put her on high alert. Made her feel like she was hiding something or perhaps wanted to use her absence as an excuse to speak ill of her.
People loved talking about you in your absence, which was exactly why it was always satisfying to watch their faces crumble when you appeared. She needed to see it.
The truth was, staying home would have been easier. Safer, even, but she knew how her family worked. Her silence would only give them space to run wild with their mouths. They would spin her absence into proof that she didn’t care. That she thought she was better, that she was too selfish to celebrate an innocent baby who had done nothing to her.
No, she wasn’t giving them that. Not this time. She wanted every whisper to dry up the second they saw her. She wanted their smiles to falter and their gossip to shrivel on their tongues. Let them see her with their own eyes and choke on the fact that she came anyway.
“Girl, ain’t that Tahlia?” her sister Danielle’s friend Latifah said to the woman standing beside her as Tahlia approached the building.
“Mm-hmm,” Miracle, another of Danielle’s friends, replied.
“Chile, I didn’t think we’d see her anytime soon.” Latifah shook her head, eyes wide.
“Why not?” Miracle asked, glancing between them.
“You didn’t see the shit all over social media about her boyfriend?” another lowlife standing nearby cut in, eager to butt into the conversation.
Of course, they were talking loud enough for her to hear. They always had. Danielle’s little entourage of mean girls had been tormenting her since childhood, making it their mission to ridicule her whenever possible. Those bitches had always been her bullies.
Danielle had never once told them to stop, and Tahlia had never stepped in either. Not because she couldn’t, but because she knew that if she snapped, it wouldn’t have stopped with a few slaps or a shove. It would’ve turned into a bloody massacre that ended with police sirens and her in juvenile or jail for most, if not all, of her life.
Tahlia wasn’t afraid of them. She feared what she would do to them. So, she let them run their mouths, let them pick apart her shoes, her hair, and her silence. Their favorite material to use against her had always been tales from her miserable childhood until Tyriq handed them something better.
The post his side chick made was still circulating, still trending, and still giving every person with Wi-Fi a reason to keep Tahlia’s name in their mouths. She wasn’t surprised that they’d use it to get under her skin.
Rolling her eyes, she adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder and pushed the stroller she had bought for her niece past them as if they were invisible. Tahlia was no longer the little girl she once was. She was a bad bitch, making moves that they only could imagine, and she wasn’t about to stoop to the levels of women beneath her.
“I hate broke-ass hoes. Eww.” Her voice carried loudly enough for them to hear.
With that, she pushed through the doors of the banquet hall, where the heavy bass of trap music drowned out the whispersbehind her. The room was overflowing with pastel balloons, flowers sprayed with fake glitter, and folding chairs that sagged under too much weight.
People turned when Tahlia entered, and she plastered on a smile, pretending she wanted to be there. She didn’t, but Danielle got a pass. At least she hadn’t stood her up on her birthday without a reason. She had actually been in the hospital delivering her baby.
The minute Tahlia approached her sister, she knew Danielle saw dollar signs instead of her. She had rented the space, paid for the food, covered the cake, and made sure nothing looked cheap. Yet, she knew none of it mattered.
Danielle, her older sister by two years, stood in the middle of the room, glowing as if she had planned the whole thing herself. Friends and relatives swarmed her, cooing at the baby in her arms and feeding her the kind of praise she thrived on.
Tahlia rolled the stroller and carrier combo toward her. Both were top-of-the-line, both more than enough for someone who had gone into labor with nothing waiting at home for her child.
Danielle glanced at the stroller, then at her. Her smile faltered. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.” She giggled, trying to disguise her shock at Tahlia’s presence.
The laugh was thin, nervous, the kind you let out when you didn’t know whether to hug someone or hide from them.
“I wanted to meet my niece, so I changed my mind.” Tahlia shrugged, deliberately casual.
“Okay then…” Danielle’s eyes darted past her, scanning the room instead of meeting hers. “Where’s the rest of the gifts?”
