Amidst the chaos of Canada's birthday party, the Northwest Territories leaned against a wall and sulked. He hated social gatherings. Even though he spent a lot of time alone, he always felt loneliest when he was around others. It was a reminder of just how removed he felt from everybody else, even from his brothers and sisters. All around the cheerily decorated room, the provinces laughed and danced and played games together.
Quebec, with his manly beard and luxurious hair, flirted with New Brunswick, until she reminded him she was his sister. The other Maritimes cracked up, probably laughing at one of Newfoundland's jokes. Everyone loves a good Newfie joke. Across the room, Alberta dropped his hand of cards on the table and folded his arms triumphantly. Ontario looked down at his own cards and pouted as Manitoba gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. That's when Saskatchewan ducked back into the game, carrying an armload of snacks for the group. They were instantly snatched up by BC, who looked a little spaced out and had a roaring case of the munchies.
From a safe distance, Northwest frowned. Even at family celebrations like these, he didn't feel like one of the group. They were all provinces. He was a territory. It was different. All of the provinces embraced their Canadian identity with pride, but few of them actually endured the rugged wilderness and frozen solitude like he had to. Sure, everyone put on a good act when the States were within earshot, but amongst themselves, it wasn't that tough to get by. Northwest, on the other hand, had it really tough. He was so far away from everyone. Between the distance and the permafrost, high food prices, and government neglect, everything was a huge hassle for him. Being down here with the provinces was just a painful reminder of his multitudinous decades of being an afterthought.
Giving up on the idea of even trying to have fun at the party, he slunk into the kitchen. There, someone sat alone, doing solo whiskey shots. As he hovered in the doorway, she looked up, swiping aside the mop of dirty-blonde hair that had fallen in front of her face. She eyed her brother with a blank expression.
"Hey, Northwest," she muttered.
"Hey, Yukon," he replied, plunking into a chair beside her. "Pour a shot for me, will ya?"
She obliged. Then she refilled her own glass well. In an unintentionally synchronized motion, they tipped their heads back and emptied their glasses. Northwest took a lethargic breath.
"This party sucks," he said.
"Yup," said Yukon.
"I hate these things."
"Me too."
Brother and sister did another shot. Wisely, Yukon capped the bottle after that one and set it aside. She brushed at an itch on the side of her face with her plaid flannel sleeve. Northwest smiled inwardly; he had worn plaid as well that evening. Really, the two looked a lot alike anyway. Both were blonde and pale from lack of sunlight. Their physically labourious jobs had made them more muscular than their southern siblings.
"No one ever thinks of the Territories," Yukon lamented. Encouraged by this mumbled solidarity, Northwest felt a ray of hope. He draped his arm around her shoulders.
"That's why it's just you and me, Sis."
Yukon nodded.
"At least we have each other."
The two spent the rest of the evening quietly chatting and playing cards. Nothing alleviates loneliness like spending time with someone who feels just as lonely. A crescendo of laughter from the living room implied that the provinces were having quite a party on their own. That was okay: Northwest and Yukon didn't want to be a part of all that rowdiness anyway. They were just fine without them.
From the kitchen's corner, Nunavut sighed.