AGE 11
“Happy birthday, butthead,” Steven sang, dumping a pail full of sand into my lap. A sand crab wriggled out of the sand and crawled onto my thigh. I let out a shriek and jumped up. I chased Steven down the beach, white hot fury pumping through my veins. I wasn’t fast enough to catch him; I never was. He ran circles around me.
“Come and blow out your candles,” my mother called.
As soon as Steven turned around to head back to the towel, I leapt onto his back and with one arm around his neck, I pulled his hair as hard as I could.
“Ow!” he howled, stumbling. I clung to his back like a monkey, even with Jeremiah grabbing my foot and trying to pull me off. Conrad fell to his knees, laughing.
“Children,” Susannah called. “There’s cake!”
I hopped off of Steven’s back and scrambled over to the blanket.
“I’m gonna get you!” he yelled, chasing after me.
I hid behind my mother. “You can’t. It’s my birthday.” I stuck my tongue out at him. The boys fell onto the blanket, wet and sandy.
“Mom,” Steven complained. “She pulled out a hunk of my hair.”
“Steven, you have a whole head full. I wouldn’t worry about it.” My mother lit the candles on the cake she’d baked that morning. It was a lopsided Duncan Hines yellow cake with chocolate frosting. She had messy handwriting, so “Happy Birthday” looked like “Happy Bimday.”
I blew out the candles before Steven could try to “help” me. I didn’t want him stealing my wish. I wished for Conrad, of course.
“Open your presents, Smelly,” Steven said sullenly. I already knew what he’d gotten me. A stick of deodorant. He’d wrapped it in Kleenex; I could see right through the tissue.
I ignored him and reached for a small flat box wrapped in seashell paper. It was from Susannah, so I knew it would be good. I tore off the wrapping paper, and inside there was a silver charm bracelet, from the store Susannah loved, Rheingold’s, where they sold fancy china and crystal candy dishes. On the bracelet there were five charms: a conch shell, a bathing suit, a sand castle, a pair of sunglasses, and a horseshoe.
“For how lucky we are to have you in our lives,” Susannah said, touching the horseshoe.
I lifted it up, and the charms glinted and sparkled in the sunlight. “I love it.”
My mother was silent. I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that Susannah had overdone it, that she’d spent too much money. I felt guilty for loving the bracelet so much. My mother had bought me sheet music and CDs. We didn’t have as much money as they did, and in that moment I finally understood what that meant.
