Boy was I feeling angsty when I wrote this. I own nothing and mean no harm.
The box of memories she had carefully stowed away under her bed, the box itself had changed over the years. Currently her important things were in a tan and aqua fabric covered keepsake carrier she had gotten at the Container Store.
Everything of importance was in there, ribbons and medal from various competitions. Photos took up the most space, well the ones she had rotated out of the frames, and several USB sticks. Each stick held thousands of photos and hundreds of videos, all meticulously sorted and named.
Rachel pulled the box out and sat on the middle of her bed, her laptop had finished its booting cycle, she had carefully sat it on a long, thin hardcover reference guide on the art of Celtic Knots, there had been an Irish phase in junior high school.
With care for her electronics she inserted one of the USB sticks and set the photo gallery to shuffle. Out of the corner of her eye she smiled at a smaller version of herself grinning at Mickey Mouse.
And so she began her birthday ritual. Every year she would go through the box, remember who she was, where she had been and reaffirm in her heart where she wanted to go and the person she wanted to be when she got there.
Every year in lieu of a party, there had never been enough people in Rachel's social circle to warrant a party her Father's had taken her out for dinner, and if the day fell on a weekend, out of town. Given that it was Thursday dinner had been tradition and Rachel spun the thin tennis bracelet that had marked her Seventeenth celebration.
The jewelry was beautiful, a grown up present for a growing woman, and she had choked back tears when her Dad had slipped it on her wrist.
Dinner and one box and it was over. Nobody else had noted her birthday. There had been no passing congratulations, no cupcake and candles at lunch, she hadn't spoken to anyone in the halls and had eaten lunch alone in her car.
Some days she could handle the isolation but today had been a day for loud music in the privacy of her vehicle. And it had been loud, the kind of loud that could draw the attention of people walking by. Rachel didn't think that anyone had seen her, or more likely if they had seen her, hadn't paid any attention to her.
Most days it was absolutely fine with her, but today, her birthday, some attention might have been nice. Things should have been different this year, Glee had given her a social circle, finally, and she knew that she had had more than one conversation with Kurt about her birthday.
And yet there was still nothing, on the screen to her right an eleven year old Rachel was running into the blue waves off South Beach. This was supposed to be her year, her time, it was the one thing she had been so certain of last year.
This year was going to be the year she got a present from someone, anyone. The bracelet on her wrist caught her eye and she felt the brush of shame. Of course she had her family, they were fun and generous and she knew there would be presents trickling in throughout the week, mailed in from extended family.
But it wasn't the same, how could it be?
Rachel was headed for Broadway and big things, but she was still a teenager, never more than on this date and she wanted someone to remember!
Pushing the box off her lap she snapped the lid shut on her laptop harder than she should and stood.
Anger and sadness cinched her stomach into uncomfortable knots. The cream rich dessert was rolling uncomfortably around in her stomach.
She was feeling sorry for herself, self-pity was most unbecoming, she knew it, she knew she shouldn't be feeling this way; but she did.
It was her birthday and nobody cared.