Today is my birthday, again.

 

I ought to be happier, but I cannot help but feel only melancholy in this moment... I suppose I was happy.

 

‘Do blow out your candles, dear. Your cake is getting warm,' she said, considering it carefully. I examined her figure the same, wavering under the orange hue of the candle flames. I wanted to keep looking.

 

She turned to me now with arms akimbo, ‘If you'd wanted to eat wax you should've told me earlier.'

 

I forced a weak smile, ‘Yes dear,' and blew out the candles.

 

She hugged me tightly, ‘Happy birthday, dear.'

 

I closed my eyes and lent my body to the warmth of her embrace, perhaps I was hesitant to blow out the candles because I was afraid of the cold. I leaned in even more. Perhaps I was afraid that I was right.

 

She took a step away and I almost fell over, I fell asleep.

 

‘Oh—" She quickly stepped back before I did, ‘What's the matter dear?'

 

Who could help it? An embrace was a special sort of hug you only get a few a lifetime, how could I bear to separate? But I could not tell her that, I could not tell her how much I loved her.

 

‘Mmm...' I made an ambiguous noise, pretending to be asleep as much as I tried to be, unwilling to let go.

 

‘Dear...'

 

In the end I could not help it, and relented to her soothing. Still unmoving though, I insisted, ‘I want to sleep.'

 

‘Sleep? It's only eight o' clock. Are you feeling alright? Are you sick?'

 

I felt the gentle brush of her hand on my hair, and the warmth of her palm on my forehead.

 

‘No, I'm fine. I just want to sleep like this, forever and ever, if I could.'

 

‘That's so uncomfortable!'

 

‘Not for me. I like my pillow,' I hugged her tighter.

 

‘You silly goose. Well, it's uncomfortable for me!' she laughed.

 

I shuddered and had my arms slacken in an instant, falling to my sides. I sat up, avoiding eye contact with her.

 

‘Let's cut the cake,' I said hastily to fill in a silence I expected otherwise, and grabbed the bag with the plastic knife. My hands were shaking as I tried to tear it open and retrieve the knife; I was really tired now, but I managed. My hand wobbled over the white cylinder topped with a dozen colours as I drew up arbitrary lines in my head, ready to cut.

 

‘Wait!' I dropped the knife in surprise, and she continued, ‘Scrape all that off first, you dummy!'

 

I looked at her briefly then back at the cake, only now seeing that it was indeed painted a few hues brighter by the wax.

 

‘It's confetti!'

 

‘You really want to eat wax, huh? Or maybe I shouldn't have gotten a white cake.'

 

She picked up the knife and began to work away at the wax-infused frosting, I wanted to get up and stop her... No, I couldn't. But I wanted to get up, to leave, but she was towering right over me. All I could do was watch her scrape the frosting and wipe it off on a paper towel which she then promptly threw away. Even the reds and indigoes of berries were injured now, bleeding onto the tattered snowscape, seeping into the yellow foam that lay beneath.

 

‘There we go, here,' she said, as she placed the knife back into my palm, closing my fingers around its grip, ‘May we now invite the birthday boy to cut the cake,' she beamed.

 

I stared blankly at the knife in my hand and at the cake. How cruel it was, that order and violence, that irony that I wished away. Of course, birthday wishes don't carry miracles and candles can't store wishes, they'll just burn away, that is, if they even did store wishes in the first place. And now I am forced to face this illusion of choice and enact order to my chaos. Well, maybe I refuse to go gentle into that good night, maybe I want more chaos.

 

I found myself grip the knife tighter and tighter, I could even hear the plastic begin to creak. And right before its breaking point I resonated with a sudden fury and stood up and stabbed the cake right in the middle with an ungodly roar as the chair fell behind me with a resounding thud. All I knew in that moment was a primal rage.

 

‘Ah!' She jumped away, shrinking into herself. Only then had I come to my senses again, and tried to salvage it with a softer, playful roar followed by a crooked smile.

 

‘Oh... Oh! You scared me half to death with that! Don't do that!' She chided me with a slap on my shoulder.

 

‘I'm sorry dear.'

 

But I wasn't. But I had to keep up the charade, I could not let myself out of control even once, even after five birthdays I could not let myself slip and resort to this. I didn't want to lose anything more of her. I could not try it... But how long can I stay this way? How long will she stay this way? I've already lost it just now. It might be worse the next time, maybe today's the day.

 

But I didn't want to lose anything more of her. I could not...

 

The cake was slashed haphazardly in unequal halves, almost unequal halves even, with the cut only making it a good four-fifths of the way. They were still connected by a small volume of cake.

 

‘Hey, the frosting is going to go bad if you don't hurry up, I need to keep the rest in the fridge!'

 

I severed the cake and approximated the rest into equal slices. The frosting was turning half-liquid by now, dripping from the knife like blood. I picked up two slices and served them on a plate each.

 

‘Cake time,' she said gleefully, as she put the rest of the cake into the box and took the knife from my hand as I was caught off-guard.

 

‘Wait!'

 

‘Huh?'

 

‘I... I'm not...'

 

‘Are you really alright, dear? What has gotten into you today? If this is a prank stop it, it's not funny anymore.'

 

‘No...'

 

I could...

 

‘I'm not done cutting it yet.'

 

‘What? There are six slices left.'

 

‘That's far too big per slice!'

 

Before she could protest, I grabbed the knife back from her hands and took the cake out from the box, beginning to examine how to slice it. ‘Surely we need twelve, at least,' and I began, but the slices were now even more uneven, thanks to the initial wound I inflicted, and continued to cut even more, even more carefully, more slowly.

 

‘That's twelve already!'

 

‘Yeah, but it's uneven, I'm evening it out.'

 

And then there were more.

 

‘You... you mind getting me that measuring tape from the storage room?'

 

‘What?'

 

‘Yeah, I think it's in the drawer.'

 

‘Dear, stop, you're turning it to mush.'

 

‘Yeah.'

 

‘Dear.'

 

‘Yes.'

 

‘Stop.'

 

‘Uh-huh.'

 

‘Stop!'

 

‘...'

 

‘STOP!'

 

‘NO! I don't want to stop! I never want to stop! You know what, this cake is far too small, let's go out and get another one. Oh, no, even better, let's make one ourselves, how about that! That would be fun wouldn't it? What do we need? Ah, I think we better make a trip to the supermarket, I don't think we have all the—'

 

‘STOP!'

 

‘I don't want the party to end! I don't want my birthday to end. I don't want you... to end...'

 

I could see my reflection in her eyes so vividly despite myself, I knew I was a mess, an endless stream on the sides of my cheeks, my nose running, spit even. But I could not see her in there.

 

She rushed to embrace me again, ‘Dear... Don't be like this... Please...'

 

I stuttered, I don't even know if she could understand me but I cried and cried, ‘I just don't want to lose you again. I don't want to wait until another birthday and constantly have to remind myself of who you are.'

 

‘I... I am just sick, dear. I just don't remember a lot of things,' it was as though I saw her for the first time in a long while.

 

‘The candle is to be remembered for its flame, dear, just as you find the moon from moonlight. Just remember that, and I will never be away.'

 

‘Happy birthday, dear.'

 

‘Yes,' I laughed, with tears still strewn all over I took a good look at her, ‘Happy birthday.'