“What on earth is this for?” I manage, confusedly looking through the applauding people for an explanation. My eyes bounce from my beaming sister Rachel to Blake and a couple of my girlfriends—Dara, Kristi. “Hey,” I say, recovering. “What are you doing here? Good to see you.” We hug in rapid succession, and I nod politely at the half dozen others I don’t really know. They must be Rachel’s friends. “What’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday.”
Rachel bounces up through the ranks and crushes me in an overly enthusiastic hug that almost knocks the wind out of me. “Happy Anniversary sis!” she squeals. “We’re all proud of you. Where the hell have you been? You took FOREVER to get home, god! We drank half of the beer already.”
“Anniversary?”
She pulls back and laughs at me, shaking her head. “You don’t think I’d forget your two year anniversary of living in New York, do you?”
“Oh.” Whelp, I sure as hell forgot. Certain things tend to slip your mind when you’re having an existential crisis in the shoe aisle. “Right.”
Rachel scrunches her nose at me and rumples my hair. “Gotcha good, huh?”
“You sure did.”
“Score Rachel, 1, Ava, 0.”
The familiar voice makes me turn around. I summon a smile and turn to slug Blake in the arm. “You could have warned me,” I say. “J’accuse! You know I hate surprises.”
Blake shrugs and laughs at me, scooping me into a brotherly hug. “Get used to it. Word on the street is that life is full of them, surprises. I thought you could use the pick-me-up after today’s lunch shift debacle. By the way, where the hell did you go? I’ve been calling you. We were all worried.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling and shake my head.
Blake throws an authoritative hand in the air to prevent my response. “Forget it. You are forbidden to mention or think about the restaurant or the low level pond scum that run it,” he says. “There will be no talk of being fired for stupid crap that stupid George made up because he can’t get in your pants.”
“I have to tell Rachel,” I groan. “I have to find a new job so fast.”
“Don't worry about it I already told her. Just relax and let her throw a party for you. It makes her so happy to make you uncomfortable. Besides, all creative geniuses get fired from at least one serving job. Maybe this is your big break.”
I fan my shirt away from my body, mentally cursing myself for not caving in and letting my parents buy me that air conditioner. “I needed that job, Blake, what am I gonna—”
“Zip!” He pulls an imaginary zipper across my mouth, his face hilariously intense. I can tell he’s had a couple beers. “There are plenty of employer fish in the sea. Tonight you will repress your feelings, drink alcohol and pretend to enjoy yourself.”
I smirk. “So, just a typical Thursday?”
“Yup.” Blake grins back and holds up his beer to toast. “Happy two years, Ava. Keep it up and you’ll be a jaded shell of a human being like the rest of us native New Yorkers in no time.”
I glare playfully at him as he chucks me under the chin and swigs his beer. “One jaded shell of a human being, coming right up. Where’s the beer? Just point me.”
Rachel has rematerialized and grabs my hand. “Come on!” she urges, tugging me towards the kitchen. “There’s a cake!”
As Rachel leads me away I turn to Blake and mouth with false enthusiasm, “There’s a cake!”
“Oh boy,” he mouths back.
Rachel pulls me close, giggles, and turns her sparkling eyes over her shoulder at me. “So, you and Blake?” She whispers. “Tonight the night?”
“No!” I hiss back, rolling my eyes. “Oh my god, will you stop it? Blake is gay. I keep telling you he’s gay. You’ve seen him pick up guys at bars. You know he’s gay.”
“He’s bisexual maybe.”
“He’s gay.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“You brat!” Realizing she is goading me for the hell of it, I pinch her behind. “You know, you don't have to be a brat 100% of the time. You can take breaks.”
She pulls a face of mock surprise. “Wow, really? I didn't know that!”
Rachel gives me a playful shove and brings me face to face with a large cake box from Billy’s Bakery. Peeling back the lid, I see that it’s carrot cake.
“Oh my god Rach,” I say, touched. “My favorite! You went through a lot of trouble, and it’s a work night for you. You’re so sweet, thank you.”
“Anything for my big sister.” She throws her arms around me from behind, pinning my arms the same way she always has, and we both giggle. “But it wasn’t just me. Mom ordered the cake from Ann Arbor. She’s the one who reminded me it was your anniversary. Love you, Bean.”
For some reason Rachel has always called me Bean, not Ava. That’s little sister logic for you: the same kind of thinking that decides to throw surprise anniversary parties for introverted, stressed out big sisters who just want to be alone and cry into their iced tea.
I twist around to look into Rachel’s eyes and soften, brushing her disarrayed brown curls from her face. She’s the extrovert, the socialite. She’s throwing me this party because she would love it, because it’s her love language. It’s her way of following the golden rule the way Mom and Dad taught us to: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The thought makes me smile ruefully.
“I love you too, Rach. New York is already a million times better since you moved in and are constantly forcing me to be less grumpy. Thanks.”
The mushy feelings are welling up, but I stuff them down and busy myself with looking for a plate and utensils big enough for the cake.
“Let me do it,” Rachel says, using her hips to box me away from the sink.
“I can,” I say, pushing back. "It’s fine."
“No I’m the host, you’re the guest of honor.”
“This was my apartment first, so just try and stop me.”
“Well my butt is bigger.” To prove her point she wiggles into me, and our joking instantly becomes wrestling. My only defense is to hop on her back and spin us around, laughing, using my height advantage to dominate her.