Michiru Kaioh did not imagine that she knew how to handle each and every situation possible in life, and she confessed that this had never come up in her etiquette courses, but she was fairly certain it was in bad taste to reveal that you'd gotten a copy of your girlfriend's birth certificate in order to confirm her date of birth.
That you'd done it before you had begun dating was also a detail better left unexpressed.
But Haruka had not said anything about the affair–it had passed last year unnoticed, their relationship too fresh and tender for Michiru to press the issue. Michiru had simply responded by ignoring her own birthday, which had worked, in the way that it had failed entirely and Haruka had made her a terribly ugly and terribly thoughtful cake which, she was told, was meant to represent an Impressionist painting, but more rightly seemed to represent what happened if you turned on the blender with the lid off.
So, this year, she would not make such a mistake.
"Haruka?" She called softly as she walked into the living room. "You know, I was wondering–we've been together a year now, and, oh I'm horrified to say this, but it seems I must have missed your birthday." She sat on the couch next to Haruka, who paused her game and looked up. "You simply must forgive me, I promise to make it up to you."
Haruka shrugged. "I don't care."
"Well, if you simply tell me when it is, I will plan the entire thing, as lavish as you like." January 27th, her planner already said. 8 days from now. She had given Haruka the opportunity to bring it up for as long as was practical.
Haruka shook her head. "It's next week. But, Michiru, I don't really want to do anything."
"Nonsense, don't be a spoil-sport. We can celebrate in all kinds of ways." She smiled, hoping Haruka was rise to her bait, but instead she just tossed aside the controller and pulled her sweater more snugly over her body.
"Birthdays are for kids, Michiru, I'm too old." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms. "What's to celebrate, anyway?"
Michiru's heart broke a little in that moment. You, of course, the greatest gift the world has ever given me, she would later think she should have said, but the fear was still there, that Haruka might take that slender knife of love and use it against her.
She neatened the stack of magazines at the end of the coffee table. "Well, if that's truly how you feel about it."
"It is." But Michiru noted her voice was not cold, just sad. She took a few breaths, then gave Michiru a weak smile. "Can we get pizza for dinner tonight?"
"Of course."
There had, of course, been birthdays. She sat at the table, after Michiru left the next morning, eating her doughnut and drawing circles on the table with her finger. She smiled as she thought of her grandmother, of that birthday.
"Oh my GOSH." Her eyes, eight years old as of this morning, she would be quick to tell anyone, grew wide. "Grandma, it's the best cake in the WORLD."
It wasn't the most complicated affair, two round cakes put together, an eight iced on top of them to look like a race track, a few of Haruka's cars used as decoration, but she had worked hard on it, and her pride showed.
"I'm glad you like it, honey." She kissed the top of Haruka's head as she studied the cake. "Are you ready for your party tonight?"
"Yes!" Haruka jumped excitedly off the chair, thundering onto the floor, and her grandmother gently put a finger to her lips. Haruka nodded. "The downstairs neighbors."
"The downstairs neighbors." She nodded in return, but smiled. "We're going to have a real houseful tonight. I heard that Dina is coming, with her family."
Haruka blushed. She and Dina had spent a lot of time together in the park a block away, and once Dina had made her a flower crown, and set it on her head, declaring her the princely princess of the park. Haruka still had it in the shoebox under her little bed.
"I'll wear my blue sweater."
"And do you know what?" Her grandma smiled. "Guess where we get to go this weekend? I've saved especially."
"Where!?" Haruka lit up, still trying to hold on to the image off blue sweater, so she would remember later. Sometimes it was hard for her to remember, when she got excited.
Her grandmother produced a gift card to the Olive Garden–she'd traded it for a bit of sewing work, knowing how much Haruka loved it.
Haruka gave a cheer, and the blue sweater was gone from her mind
Dina had come that night, with her family, and didn't seem to mind Haruka's dinosaur t-shirt. Their apartment had been filled with the potluck of foods from those who catered their own parties. There had been laughter and talk and a ring of people singing happy birthday. Her grandmother knew how to attract people, how to rally them behind something, and the thing she had always rallied strongest behind, from the day she was born, was Haruka.
She'd gotten a little RC car. It had been one of the best days of her life.
It had been the last like that, and her circles on the table grew larger as she remembered her grandmother, later that year, bundling up to go the emergency room, kissing Haruka on the cheek and telling her there was nothing to worry about, but Haruka had known that was a lie, her grandma had called a cab, and they never took cabs, not for anything, not even when Haruka was sick.
The last thing she told Haruka was, "Be brave. Be good."
Those four words burned into her mind, and would guide the rest of her life.
Her ninth birthday had gone unmarked, nothing more than a happy birthday sticker from a kind teacher.
She popped the last of her doughnut in her mouth, and pressed it from her mind. There was no point in trying to chase a kind of love that'd never come again.
Michiru, of course, had no intention of letting the matter settle there. It wasn't as if she needed to have a finely catered party–even her parents' finely catered parties hadn't truly been for her, so she could understand the reluctance–but to allow Haruka not to mark the occasion entirely seemed wrong. Haruka enjoyed drama and ceremony so much, and she rejected so little as a cake.
Haruka may well dislike a number of things associated with birthdays, but it could never be said she didn't like cake.
She knew Haruka's young life had not been easy–when they had first started to toy at the edge of dating, she would often fill Haruka's fridge and cupboards with food, employing a thousand excuses why it had nothing to do with haruka's ability to do so, but they had never really gotten to the meat of its difficulty.
Haruka's mother had been drunk and strung out, once, when Michiru had come over, and that had been enough explanation for her.
But her mother's lack of care was no reason for her to eschew birthdays entirely, Michiru thought, and in any case, it certainly wasn't going to make haruka feel any better to simply let it pass her by.
A thousand ideas came to her at once, and she filed them away in her notebook. She wouldn't try for anything so grand as a party–in deference to Haruka's wish for privacy, of course, and not for any fear of Haruka rejecting her gift in front of others– but they could go to a race, or out to a fine dinner, or something to mark her birth.
She couldn't pinpoint why is was so important to her that Haruka do something for her birthday, but it was. It was terribly important. Critical, even.
There was the little park, with the putt-putt golf and the go-karts, she'd always enjoyed that, and Michiru didn't mind debasing herself just a touch for Haruka's happiness. Maybe that would work.
And then, a perfect idea came to her, and she wondered why he hadn't considered it before.
Haruka, as ever, had no idea what was good for her, and it was up to Michiru to set it right.
"Haruka?" Michiru waltzed into the living room on January 27th, at 1:25 pm. "I was hoping we might go out tonight. Somewhere special."
Haruka looked up from her car magazine, cautious. "Yeah?"
Michiru sat down at the edge of the couch, straight as an arrow, very pleased with herself. "I have reservations, well, I'll call ahead, they don't rightly take reservations, but, tonight, we shall dine at the Olive Garden." She clapped her hands together lightly. "As a celebration of your birth."
Haruka's face darkened. "I told you I didn't want to do anything for my birthday."
"Oh Haruka, everyone feels they should say that, but–"
She stood up and brushed a crumb off her shirt. 'I meant it, Michiru. I don't want to go anywhere."
Michiru sighed heavily. "I don't understand why you insist on being so intensely dramatic about this. You love the Olive Garden, and I am offering to take you there."
"Why can't you just leave things alone!?" She pulled on her coat. "You have to make everything the way you want it, all the time, well I DON'T WANT TO GO, so go yourself." Se opened the door. "I'm going out. FOR MY BIRTHDAY."
"Haruk–" The door slammed. "Well, that was entirely unnecessary."
–
Haruka sat down on the park bench, stewing. She had told Michiru she didn't want anything to do with it, she didn't want to think about it, she wanted no part of it. She had spent years avoiding the issue of her birthday entirely, and people had always let her off the hook.
Her mother ruffled a hand through her hair, and it was so strange that she recoiled, but her mother just smiled.
"Nice haircut, kid." Her eyes were clear and bright. "You do that yourself?"
Haruka blushed and tugged at the end of her hair. I did, I did it two weeks ago and your boyfriend made fun of me and we got into a fight, and I swore at him. He's a fucking loser anyway. He slapped me and my ear bled and I still can't hear out of it that great and it hurts some. But you don't remember.
She noticed Haruka's color, and laughed. "I'm just joking. It's not so bad, it just needs some cleaning up. Come here." She pulled a set of scissors out of a drawer, and grabbed a fine comb. "Sit down. God, you're getting so tall."
Harua sat down cautiously. "Yeah."
Her mother trimmed the bottom and edges of her hair, combing it back into some sort of style. Haruka didn't know what to think, this woman who treated her so gently and lovingly made rare and rarer appearances. But she seemed so earnest, and it wasn't as if her mother had ever hit her, just ignored her, and that wasn't the same as abuse, Haruka decided, it just sort of sucked.
Her mom blew the hair off her shoulders and swooped Haruka's hair to the side. "Short hair suits you. Looks pretty good, now."
Haruka beamed, despite her fear. It was the first time anyone had complimented her hair. "Thanks." She picked up her bag. "I gotta get to school." She said it with reluctance–she wanted to stay here, where she had a normal mother who loved her and trimmed her hair and cared what happened to her.
Her mother nodded "After school, how about I take you to the Olive Garden? On me."
"Really, Mom?" She hadn't been in years, not since her grandma died, and she hadn't seen her mom like this, and her boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and it all seemed too wonderful to be real.
"Yeah! You like it, right?" She swept up Haruka's stray hairs. "It is someone's thirteenth birthday, after all."
"I love it!" Haruka grinned.
She tried to stay calm on the bus home, but her leg kept bouncing, so excited to have a night out with her mother. She had bought a little cake, with her spare funds, and carried it gingerly, hoping the roses on top would stay. It wasn't very big, the store called it a cakelet, but there were only two of them anyhow.
"I love you." Her mom had said, as she had left that day, and everything seemed to come together. Her grandmother had told her, and she had listened, and she had tried very hard to be good, and to be brave, and maybe her mom had noticed, and maybe she wanted her for a daughter.
The bus stopped, and she practically ran up the steps, bounding toward home. They'd have to get on a bus soon to get into town to the Olive Garden, so Haruka had already planned what she would wear, hoping her mother didn't take too long to get ready, but it would be okay if she did, they could even go somewhere else, if she wanted.
She opened the door and was greeted by the familiar smell of alcohol, and didn't even have to look in her mother's bedroom to know she was passed out again, and the worn black jacket on the table already told her she wasn't alone.
Haruka slowly went to her room, set the cake down, and lit the little candle on top.
She sang quietly, almost a whisper. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Haruka, happy birthday to you."
It has been the last birthday she ever celebrated.
Michiru didn't know that. No one knew that. She crossed her arms on the park bench. No one ever would. Whose own mother doesn't care about them?
She'd apologize, though. She had to.
Michiru owned the apartment.
"You came home." Michiru had an edge of fear in her voice Haruka didn't recognize.
"Yeah." She hung up her jacket. "Listen, Michiru–"
"No." Michiru sat at the couch, with a cake and two glasses of champagne. "Let me. Please." She indicated to the seat next to her, and Haruka sat down obediently. "I have to tell you something. I am terribly sorry I upset you. Please let me tell you why." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and haruka thought she must be hallucinating, because it looked a little like Michiru was shaking. "I am, well, not very practiced in these sorts of truths, but I've been asking myself all day why I had any need for you to celebrate something you clearly hate." She placed hand on Haruka's. "I suppose it's that I'm celebrating. You." It caught in her throat, and she forced it out. "You mean so very much to me. I'm not sure I've ever held anything so dear, in my entire life. Not even my violin, it must be worth some million dollars, and I would smash it in an instant to stay by your side." She looked away from Haruka. "Anyhow, I suppose I found it abhorrent that the only thing in my life worth celebrating was the only thing I was not permitted to celebrate. So I pressed it on you. And for that, I apologize." She looked back up at Haruka. "I love you, so very much."
"Oh, Michiru." She she wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.
"This cake," she indicated to the beautiful concoction, "is most certainly not for your birthday, nor will anything be ever again. It's simply a chocolate cake, of which I know you're very fond, and I hope you'll accept it as a gift for it being Tuesday."
"I love you, Michiru." She kissed Michiru's forehead, and they sank into each other. "I'm sorry I was mad."
"You were perhaps a bit dramatique, yes, but I was undeniably pushy." She gently stroked Haruka's collarbone. "We can both take a fair amount of the blame."
Haruka held her close, basking in the gift of Michiru's honesty, and presented a gift of her own.
"Can I tell you why I hate my birthday?"